#breeze looks friendly but that’s a lie. he will tell on you to the manager if he sees you slacking at work

[simcardiac-arrested]

i was asked to gijinkaify waves and then something happened

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

V. The Change and Desire

A/N: Here we go. Chapter five of Where Butterflies Never Die. I am so sorry for the wait. I have been having a hard time with inspiration recently, but I have been listening to music and then boom! While I was at work, I had an idea.

I realize that Royce’s temper is heavily hinted upon in his ghost file, so it was obviously a dominant trait of his personality. Which got me to thinking. What about Emily? Someone who is genuinely sweet and shy. With a sister like Emilia, she must be repressing some deeply rooted anger.

And I am not going to lie, I kind of want to give Emily a villain era.

RATED E for everyone. There is gooey sweetness.

Emily, Emily, Emily Has the murmuring sound of May All silver bells, coral shells, carousels And the laughter of children at play

Say Emily, Emily, Emily And we fade to a marvelous view Two lovers alone and out of sight Seeing images in the firelight As my eyes visualize a family They see Emily, Emily

Emily Frank Sinatra

April 10th, 1956 Pauly’s Diner

Emily grinned when she felt tiny arms hug her waist and cast her eyes down to see Elizabeth Clayton’s sapphire orbs gleaming up at her. Despite Emily’s own 5’1” stature, she easily bent down and scooped the soon to be six-year-old girl off the floor and into her arms, pressing a sweet kiss to her icy blonde curls.

“Bonjour ma petit.”

“Bonjour Emily.”

The bell on the door of the diner gave its telltale chime and both girls looked up to see Royce step through the door, his eyes locking on them before he strolled over. Even if it was only a second, Emily did not miss the way Royce’s eyes had swept from her head and down to her toes, lingering on certain aspects of her figure before locking back on hers.

Pleasant heat spread through her being and the chimes along the patio outside of the diner started tinkling rapidly, filling the air with their song as the April breeze picked up outside. Her ability to absorb sound waves and convert them to energy would be a lot easier to manage if it wasn’t tied to every tiny shift in her mood. Or if she knew its limitations.

Focus Emily.

The friendly voice of her Familiar filled her ears and she shook her head lightly.

She took a deep breath and focused on calming down her racing heart. As soon as her emotions settled, the wind died down and no one seemed to have noticed anything had happened to begin with.

Very good. You’re getting better at controlling it.

I’m sixteen. I went through the change. I shouldn’t have to learn to control it at all.

You heard your mother. Even when she gained full access to Witchcraft at sixteen, she still struggled to control the one ability the Goddess specifically granted to her.

Royce doesn’t have these problems with his.

Royce is a boy, Emily. And on top of that, he is only a half-witch. One of the stronger half-witches I’ve seen, I’ll give him that, but he still doesn’t hold a candle to a full blooded one like you, your mother, your sister, and your father.

“Pan is talking to you, isn’t he?” Emily blinked and looked at Elizabeth, still perched in her arms. “I get that far off look in my eyes when Hatter and I talk to each other.”

She nuzzled her nose against Lizzie’s.

“What did you and your brother do today?”

“We played hide and seek!” she leaned closer, as if telling a secret, even though Royce could clearly hear her, anyway. “He’s not very good at it.”

“Hey!” Royce gripped his little sister gently and pulled her from Emily’s arms, tickling her sides. “That’s not very nice.”

Emily leaned her hip back against the counter, watching the interaction between her boyfriend and his little sister. From the moment Elizabeth was born, Royce was smitten. He loved being an older brother and doted on her constantly, getting her a new teddy bear or doll and taking her out for ice cream whenever she wanted now that he had a car.

“She’s right, you know,” Royce looked up at his girlfriend and cocked an eyebrow in question. “You are terrible at hide and seek.”

Royce stuck his tongue out at her.

Elizabeth hugged Hatter to her chest and stared triumphantly up at her older brother.

“See! I told you Emily would agree with me!” she then turned back to Emily. “I like your eyes by the way, Emily. The old one’s were pretty, and I know you probably miss them, but mama says it isn’t uncommon for a Witch’s eyes to change color when they fully come into their power.”

Emily sighed but smiled none the less. It was true. She did miss her old moss green eyes. But Hecate had decided that when Emily came into her power fully that her eyes would be purple and that was the end of it. You did not argue with the Goddess. It never ended well.

Luckily, Royce got to keep his beautiful icy blues.  

“Elizabeth convinced me to take her out for ice cream.”

Emily chuckled.

“By that, you mean she asked, and you folded like a paper airplane.”

He held up his hands. “Guilty.”

She shook her head and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before shooing him off to a table, throwing a wink at Elizabeth as she followed her brother, clutching his hand tightly.

“You know,” Becky materialized next to her at the counter, leaning on it. “If I was a stranger watching you two and Elizabeth, I’d think you were parents.”

She nudged Emily in the side.

“But luckily for you two, you look your age,” After a moment, Becky got a serious expression and reached out, tucking a piece of Emily’s black hair behind her ear. “How are you, bug? I hear the transformation to full Witch capability can be a little jarring.”

Emily looked at her friend.

“I feel different,” she chewed lightly on her thumb nail. “A constant thrum of energy is surging through my veins. Before the change, it was there but it wasn’t as noticeable. But this new ability? My ability? It’s a hair trigger. The slightest switch in my temperament and sound automatically converts to energy on its own accord. Just seeing Royce eyeing me made me set off the wind.”

She sighed.

“And then there’s the physical changes,” she lowered her voice. “My eyes.”

“Your hair.”

Emily looked at Becky in confusion.

“There’s more wave than curl,” she pulled a few strands up to study them. “And there is definitely more blue to it now than there was before.”

Emily chewed on her lip.

“I don’t feel like me anymore.”

Becky chuckled.

“The fact that you said that proves you are still you, Emmy,” she gripped her chin. “Stop overthinking everything and just enjoy the changes. There’s no going back now.”

Emily watched as her best friend flounced off and after a moment, she went over to a table that was flagging her down.

March Mansion 10 :00 Pm

Emily sat upon the medium-high wall of the porte-cochere. She felt like she was suffocating inside the house. Everyone was constantly pestering her about how she was feeling. How she was handling the change. She felt like she had answered the same question, phrased a thousand ways, at least seven hundred times. She just wanted her extended family to go back to England and France, respectively.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she looked up at her father.

Nicholas March was an imposing man with curled dirty blonde hair and intense dark blue-green eyes that contrasted heavily with his pale skin. He was well built with a delicate yet masculine face. He could be harsh and unforgiving to humans and to his fellow witches. But to his wife and daughters, he was soft as a marshmallow.

“I remember my sixteenth, you know,” he nudged her nose lightly with his index finger before gesturing forward with a “I can remember it like it was yesterday” expression. “Your great nan decided to bake a blueberry-chocolate cake, completely forgetting that I am deathly allergic to blueberries, mind you.”

Emily hid a chuckle as he paused.

“I spent the change in the A&E listening to my mum yell at her mum about blueberry cake,” he shook his head. “Completely overlooking the way the Doctors were eyeing me when my hair and eyes changed color.”

“Like magic.”

“Exactly, my darling,” he laughed. “I use to be a brunette with dark chocolate eyes.” He scrunched his nose. “This was quite a bit bigger, too. Can’t say I miss that.”

After a moment, Nicholas quieted down and his expression became more sympathetic as he gazed into nothing, remembering how lost he felt during his change.

“I know it’s overwhelming, little dove,” he rubbed her shoulder as he spoke. “You don’t look the same and you have more power than you know what to do with but that doesn’t alter who you are as a person.”

After a moment, he stood up.

“You have company.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading inside.

She did not have to look up to know who took a seat beside her. The steady thrum of Royce’s heart gave him away when he was at the end of the driveway. She leaned her head into his chest when he pulled her close.

“He’s right, you know.”

Royce nuzzled the top of her head with his nose, subtly inhaling the aroma that was uniquely Emily’s. After his change, his sense of smell had become much sharper, and he found that he could now identify the individual notes that made up Emily’s scent.

Starflower. Sandalwood. Sugared Tangelo. White Agarwood. Amber.

“Do I still smell the same?”

He chuckled against the crown of her head and nodded.

“Your eyes and hair may have changed but you’re still my Emily,” he tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you put up with me.”

“Stop.”

“I mean it, I’m egotistical, and bad tempered,” he could tell by the way her lips curved that he was reaching his intended goal. “I have gotten into six fights this week,” he held up a finger. “And it is not even Wednesday, Emily. We are two days in. Two!”

She burst into laughter, but he wasn’t done.

“I’m a nightmare, kitten, honestly-”

He was cut off by her lips. An odd sound he did not quite recognize escaped him when the tip of her tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He surrendered to it, tangling his fingers in her inky tresses as the pink organ stroked against his own.

“You may be a nightmare Royce Clayton but you’re mine,” a pleasant tremor ran up his spine as she tugged lightly on his lip with her teeth. Enough to sting but not truly hurt. “And I’d like to keep you.”

His icy blue eyes turned molten in the light of the moon as dark red energy pulsed under his skin at the possessiveness in her tone. Women could be worse than men in that department, it seemed. But his sweet Emily could claim dominion over his very soul if she wished it and he would submit.

“I’m all yours, doll.”

He took her lips in a hungry kiss.

A/N: I wrenched this chapter out of the bowels of my soul. And I think I’m living for the chaotic energy these two generate.

Reviews are appreciated as they feed the muse.

[shuadotcom]

Hate U | JHS (M)

→ Summary: Your relationship with Hoseok wasn’t that serious. It was just fun and casual until the realization that you’re catching feelings for him hits you hard. The only rational thing to do is to avoid him… that is until you can’t anymore.

→ Pairing: CEO!Hoseok x Female!Reader

→ Genre & AU: Angst, smut, pwp, friends w/benefits au, office au, ceo au

→ Rating: 18+ | R (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

→ Warnings: Profanity, weed, alcohol, dirty talk, spanking, fingering, squirting, oral (male receiving), cumshot, Sir!kink

→ Words: 5.2k

→ Note: Written for the Suits & Ties collab hosted by @sugakookitty​! Songspo: I Hate U - SZA

Thank you to @yutasthetic​ for being a wonderful beta reader and to @sugakookitty​ for making this amazing banner!! Took me a few months to even get my brain working to write again but here she is in her angsty smutty glory!

“Hey, Y/n, are you coming out to grab dinner with us?” Victoria’s dark hair cascades over your computer screen as she leans over her cubicle wall into your space. Frowning, you shake your head.

“Nah, I have a very important meeting, remember?” You roll your eyes as you repeat the words your boss said to you during lunch. You, Victoria, and another co-worker were eating lunch in the cafeteria when Hoseok, in all his uber friendly, sunny CEO glory, found you and asked (see: demanded) you stay late for a critical meeting about a project you’re in charge of.

“Oh damn, that’s right. You’re going to the principal’s office,” Victoria teases. “Do you think he’ll tell you to scrap the whole project?”

“He better fucking not. I’ll quit if he does.” But, of course, you won’t, which Victoria knows, but not for the reason she thinks.

She makes another detention joke before promising to take a shot for you and saying goodbye. Your smile drops as you watch Victoria and a few other co-workers gather and head out of the office. A handful of others file out after a few minutes, and soon you’re all alone.

If you sit up and look directly across the room, you can see Hoseok’s closed office door. The light from within peers through the closed slots of the blinds, and you have to build yourself up to finally decide to head over.

Victoria and everyone else believe the words he said earlier about going over one of your projects but you know it’s a lie. You’ve been avoiding his calls and texts for a week and anytime he’d try and corner you in the office, you managed to dodge him, except for today.

Your knock on his door resonates through the silent space, causing you to flinch slightly. You try twice more before deciding to just go in, turning the cold knob with a deep breath.

Stepping into the warmly lit office, you immediately see Hoseok on the balcony of his office, the glass door shut as he leans against the rail. His cellphone is to his ear and when he spots you, he holds a finger up to you, indicating that he’ll be a minute as he continues to chat away on the phone.

Shutting and locking the door behind you, you make yourself comfortable on the cloth couch in the room, fidgeting as you watch him. His suit jacket is off, his white silk button-down and tie both loose on his body, billowing in the light breeze outside.

Hoseok plucks a lit joint from the ashtray balancing on the railing in front of him and takes a long drag. He holds the smoke in his chest as he makes a few nods of acknowledgment into the phone. He tilts his head back and blows perfect smoke rings up to the sky.

The sight is reminiscent of your ill-fated meeting with your boss during last year’s office holiday party.

“I need some air, I’ll be back,” You called over your shoulder, waving goodbye to Victoria and a few other co-workers on the dancefloor. Your company had rented out an entire event hall for your holiday party complete with an unlimited cap on the bar, a TV chef in the kitchen, and a well-known DJ playing nothing but bangers.

It was the most fun you’ve had at any company-sponsored event in your whole working career, but a breath of fresh air was needed. You couldn’t help but grab glasses of champagne, one for now and a second for later, on your way to the furthest balcony door for a few moments to yourself.

Inhaling as you open the door, you anticipated the crisp December air to hit your nose, but instead, the smell of weed is the first scent you encountered. It didn’t take any time at all before you saw none other than your boss’ boss, CEO Jung Hoseok staring back at you, wide-eyed.

Both of you froze, eyeing one another. You with two glasses of champagne in hand and him with a blunt dangling from his mouth.

“Hey,” he said, quickly overcoming his shock and flashing you one of his infamous, infectious smiles.

“Hi.” You couldn’t help but offer a grin in return.

He didn’t object as you walked over to join him and relaxed as you leaned on the balcony next to him, looking out at the city lights below.

“You smoke?” He asked casually.

“Yeah.” You offered him one of your glasses in exchange and he eagerly nodded, swapping the glass for his weed.

It didn’t take long before the two of you fell scarily easy into conversation. Only a few puffs had you feeling relaxed and coupled with the top-shelf drinks you’d been sipping all night, it felt less like you were talking to your boss and more like flirting with a charming stranger.

You had been with the company for almost a year and still didn’t know much about the man who ran it. All you knew was what the press knew: he and his family moved to America from South Korea when he was in elementary school and he started this company with his college roommate.

Hoseok quickly fixed that, making it clear that he’s an oversharer when he’s not sober. He told you all about his sister, who’s a fashion designer, his parents who own a successful chain of Korean restaurants across the country, and how he accidentally launched this million-dollar tech start-up because he was bored of dealing weed on the side of his shitty part-time college job.

You learned more about Jung Hoseok in the span of thirty minutes than you had since you started working here but you don’t mind. Typically, people that talk too much about themselves were an instant turn-off, but Hoseok was just too funny, captivating, and too unfairly handsome that you let it slide.

At some point in the night, you moved close enough that your sides were touching and his hand started to wander to your hips. From there, his hand found all of your curves and dips and you admired just how strong he felt beneath his shirt. You still don’t remember who moved first, but when the champagne glasses were empty and all of the weed was gone, you moved on to each other’s mouths, tongues intertwined and fists full of formal attire.

Your night ended in you fucking your CEO in an empty bathroom stall, mouth shoved full of his tie to muffle the feral moans he forced out of you.

Hoseok laughs loudly and abruptly on the balcony, the sound like a melody as it cuts your reminiscing short. He glances your way then, sending you a wink, promptly flustering you as you avert your eyes.

Your reaction serves as a reminder of how things between you and Hoseok changed after last year’s party. He went from just the boss to your friend with benefits.

During your 5 day work week, Hoseok continued to be his notorious, overtly friendly self to everyone as normal, but behind closed office doors and dark hallways, he was shoving his hands into your panties and cumming down your throat.

Work hookups shifted to after-work hookups which turned further to weekends spent at Hoseok’s condo having sex and getting high and you were more than happy with it at first until you begrudgingly began to feel more than lust stirring for him.

The more time together you spent together, the more you learn all about Hoseok and his quirks, his likes, dislikes, and overly flirty tone aside, there isn’t much you dislike about him. For the past six months, his presence was a staple in your day-to-day life and you hated that you can’t see yourself without Hoseok somewhere in it.

This is why you’ve been avoiding him. It was your last-ditch effort to combat the growing fondness in your heart for Hoseok. It doesn’t seem to work particularly well, but any progress will surely be halted tonight. It’s clear Hoseok knows you’re purposely staying away from him, and he’s likely to make you pay for it.

“Hey, Y/n, sorry about that,” Hoseok leaves the balcony door open as he comes in, tucking his phone in his pocket. “Yoongi needed to go over some last-minute numbers for the merger.” You nod along as he mentions his newest potential business partner, eyes fixating on his every move as he beelines to his office mini-bar, pouring you both drinks.

He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear as he moves across the room drinks in hand.

“Thank you,” you take the glass from him and sip. Your favorite wine. “So what did you want to see me about?” You try your damndest to sound casual.

It doesn’t work and Hoseok sets his drink down next to him so he can drape his arm over you. His fingers dance across your bare shoulder as he takes a hit of his still lit blunt before answering.

“Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know. Why exactly have you been avoiding me?”

“Have I?” Hoseok looks at you, clearly not buying your faux ignorance.

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/n. I’ve had a shit day and wanted to finally spend time with you,” he sighs, blowing a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. “I don’t know how I survived all week without you and your beautiful pussy.”

You force out a snort to hopefully hide the sound of your heart racing. “He’s just being flirty. Don’t take it seriously.” Hoseok, the always positive always flirty man that he is. Always making you laugh and making you feel more special than anyone else he's seeing and sometimes you let yourself be delusional and think he really means it.

Shaking off the butterflies, you snatch the blunt from him, taking a long drag and passing it back. “It was only a week. I was just busy is all.” You shrug, trying desperately to be on guard. It doesn’t last long as the fingers on your shoulder trail down to graze your nipple through your shirt and you jump.

“Well, now it’s just you and me here so you can be busy with me.” His voice is a trap: laced with sugar, spice, and everything naughty that you know him to be capable of.

“Wow, so you’re that into me huh?” It’s a joke to his ears of course, but you wish more than anything he’d say yes and truly mean it.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” The way he says it makes your hands clammy and you instinctively wipe them on your skirt.

Hoseok leans forward to place soft kisses on your face and neck as nimble fingers trail lower until they’re playing with the buttons on your blouse, undoing each one painfully slow. When he gets the fabric open and slips it off of your shoulders, his fingers are warm as they graze over your bra, brushing against your already hardening nipples.

“You smell so good. You always smell so good,” he mumbles between kisses on your neck. It’s embarrassing how quickly the icy wall you’ve been building to push him and your feelings for him away gets melted into a pathetic puddle. With each kiss, each nibble, each flick of your nipples, you relax in his arms more and more until you’re panting and pushing your body closer to him.

No one should be able to have you like this, yet here is Jung Hoseok, driving you absolutely crazy in every sense of the word.

Once he skillfully undoes your bra and tosses it aside, he takes a long, ring decorated finger and slips under your skirt, rubbing you softly over your panties and it’s enough to have you almost leap off the couch.

“Just as sensitive as always I see.” He muses, clearly enjoying how you fall apart at the mere touch of his finger against your clit. Hoseok reaches under your skirt completely, teasing your entrance momentarily before slipping inside.

“Oh fuck,” gasping, you drop your head onto his shoulder, inhaling his familiar Hoseok scent of weed and woody Hermes cologne.

He presses kisses along your forehead as he fucks you with one finger, then plunges another in. His other hand hanging around your shoulders inches down to roughly squeeze and play with your breasts. Your eyes slip close as you mewl out Hoseok’s name, barely keeping your grip on your half-full glass of wine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. A beautiful girl making all these beautiful noises just for me.” His words drip with a sweetness that only serves to drive you crazier until your hips are moving in tandem with his hand, rushing you embarrassingly further to an orgasm. He’s fucking you hard with his fingers, easily rubbing against your g-spot with the push and pull of those talented painted digits.

“H-Hoseok I’m so close…”

“Cum then, baby. Cum for me, all over my fingers.” The timber of his voice, egging you on is enough to make you whimper his name and do exactly what he tells you to. Warm pricks of pleasure ripple through you, the tightly wound coil inside you releasing as you ride out your orgasm, Hoseok helping you through it with gentle caresses against your core.

“Such a good girl.” Hoseok always praises you when you’re together, but after avoiding him like you have this bout of praise shoots straight to your heart and ricochets straight to your pussy.

Looking up, you make eye contact with the man you want so desperately not to love. His face is flush as he glances back at you and he licks his lips. You already know he wants so much more from you and you want to give it to him.

You don’t think twice before you lean up and kiss him, pressing your lips together with desperation. Hoseok kisses back immediately, and the hand that was on your breast moves to cup your face with a gentleness that you hope he reserves only for you. Hoseok kisses with just as much passion as he fucks with. He licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue, and glides his lips against yours as though he was always meant to kiss you and only you (which you know isn’t true but you like to pretend).

“Missed this pretty little mouth so much,” he breathes out when he pulls away to take your lip between his teeth. “Wanna use it and show me you missed me?” Hoseok frames it as a question, but you already know it’s more of a command than anything.

Without hesitation, you pull away and empty your glass in one go, then proceed to make your way to the floor in front of him. The white shag rug is soft under your knees and you try to focus more on that than the thumping of your heart. Hoseok sits above you, legs spread as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it to showcase his smooth, sculpted body.

Your hands make quick work of undoing his belt and fishing out his hard cock. You groan at the sight of him, hard and hot, leaking pre-cum for you.

“Mmm, someone’s eager. Missed my cock that much huh?” He smirks down at you before taking another puff of his blunt.

“Yes I did,” you pout and you mean it in more ways than one. Leaning forward you lap at the head of his cock, his hips jerking immediately at the contact. You don’t hesitate to begin sucking him off with the utmost sense of urgency. You want so badly for him to fuck you and can’t even feel ashamed.

“Fuck, Y/n, ” Hoseok throws his head back against the couch. “Just like that.” Large hands reach down to grip your head, stroking your cheeks, forehead, anywhere Hoseok can reach.

His cock is heavy and hot on your tongue, his pre-cum dripping down your throat. You revel in the taste of Hoseok and the way he chants your name over and over again. It only spurs you on to suck him down even sloppier, spit pooling in the corners of your mouth and dripping onto your breasts. You gag each time you take him in, but you won’t stop until he tells you to.

“Let me fuck your face, baby girl.” Going lax almost immediately, you release your hold on his length, and let Hoseok adjust to start thrusting up into your mouth at his own speed. His fingers press into your scalp and it hurts in the most delicious way possible.

Tears prick your eyes as his cock slams into the back of your throat over and over again, having you choking and gagging with each movement. Fuck, you love it when he’s rough with you. It helps you stay away from romanticizing him, only some of the time.

Hoseok is never quiet about the way you pleasure him and this is no exception. Hums and huffs and words of praise come from him, each one having you clenching harder and aching for him even more.

As if he knows how much you’re anticipating him, which he likely does, he pulls out of your throat suddenly and cups your head as you pant for air. Hoseok gazes down at your debauched state and leans down to kiss you again, keeping your lips locked as he stands you up and walks you over to his desk. He keeps you in his hold as he fishes in one of his desk drawers for what you assume is a condom.

Your lower back knocks against the wood, the molding pressing into your skin more the harder he kisses you. Any thought of avoiding him or pushing your feelings away is long since abandoned. If giving into Hoseok with a single kiss or a single grope makes you pathetic, then so be it. You’ll be pathetic for Hoseok as long as he never stops taking care of you the only way he can.

Hoseok pulls away first and turns you around, pressing himself against your back.

“Want you,” you rasp as he fondles your breasts from behind, placing kisses on your neck while he opens the square packet.

“Yeah, you want me?”

“Mmmm.”

“Fuck, I want you too. You kept yourself away from me for way too long.”

It’s easy for him to unzip your skirt and push it down your hips. Your panties come next, pooling with your skirt at your feet as he presses the pads of his fingers into the supple flesh of your ass. His skin is hot and sticky against yours, cock rubbing against your thighs, teasing you. The want for him is almost dizzying as your body buzzes with desire.

“You’re practically shaking for me, baby girl. You want my cock that bad, huh?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod as you mumble to him, but it’s not enough. A heavy hand smacks your ass, the sting making you yelp.

“Not loud enough, baby,” he chuckles, another slap against your ass nearly has your knees buckling. “I’ll ask you again, you want my cock that bad?”

“Yes! Y-yes please.”

Another spank against your tender skin. “Yes, who?”

“Yes sir! I want your cock so bad, Sir!” On cue, you clench your thighs together, hoping the sight of you underneath him will spur him on.

“That’s better. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you better not forget your manners,” Hoseok tuts, following up with two more spanks, your ass burning in the best way possible from the impact.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” it’s a whisper as you momentarily recall your real feelings for Hoseok and why you’ve been trying to stay away from him, but all thought escapes you when Hoseok spreads your thighs, expertly finding your weeping pussy and shoves his cock into you. “Ahh!”

“There you go, baby. Keep making those pretty noises like that for me.” There’s a grin in Hoseok’s voice as his hands take hold of your hips. It’s easy to do as he says as he begins fucking you, rocking into you so hard you jolt into his desk over and over again.

There’s no fighting the way that Hoseok always knows how to make you feel good. He quickly learned all the places you like to be touched, the way you like to be kissed, and the positions you love to be fucked in the most. He knows you too well and you hate it - you hate him. You hate that he always knows you more than anyone.

Hoseok finds a tempo that can only be described as feverish. He’s making it clear that tonight is all about making up for the seven days you kept him away. Sometimes it’s slow and casual, both of you savoring one another and other times, like now, it’s nothing but a race to get off.

“I missed you all week, baby. Missed fucking you and touching you like this.” His words come out through gritted teeth as he plunges his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. He fucks the breath out of you over and over and over again, leaving you with only enough air to babble out what sounds like nonsense to you.

“I’m gonna ruin this filthy little pussy of yours,” another hard thrust. “I’m gonna make a mess of you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.”

“I know you would. My dirty little cockslut. I’m gonna cream this little pussy.”

“Sir! Please I’m so close!”

“Already? Do I make you that fucking wet? That needy for me that you’re ready to cum so fast?”

“Y-yes. I’m so close. Gonna cum for you.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fat cock.” Hoseok’s words are lewd and his thrusts are rough and his hands are soft and it’s all too much.

Eyes screwing shut tight enough to hurt, you cum hard, screaming Hoseok’s name along with a flurry of ‘fucks’ and ‘pleases.’ You grasp at the desk underneath you to stay anchored as your knees completely give out under you, but Hoseok’s strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you upright. His hips don’t stop driving into yours and the pleasure quickly toes the line of pain as he doesn’t falter his pace at all.

“H-Hoseok, I - AHH!” Your sentence is cut off when Hoseok smacks your ass harder than earlier.

“What did you just say?”

“I - Sir! Sir, please I c-can’t!”

A teasing scoff reaches your ears. “Can’t or won’t?” Both of you know you can keep going, but your senses are even more on edge than before. You can feel every drag of his cock against your sensitive walls and every swing of his balls against you. His fingertips feel like needle pricks when he reaches down to toy with your clit.

“Sir!” Hoseok ignores your screeches and continues to rub your sensitive bud. You squeeze around him and a growl of your name leaves his mouth.

“Yeah, clamp down around my cock just like that. You’re gonna have to call off work tomorrow when I’m done with you. Gonna bruise this messy little cunt.” His words ring in your ears as he rocks against your body, plowing you further into the wooden desk. Skin slapping skin, Hoseok’s grunts, and the squelching of your juices echo in the room. For a moment you worry if anyone outside on the street below can hear you getting destroyed by your boss through his open balcony, but thoughts don't stay coherent in your mind for long.

“P-please…” you beg, your body tingling as your third orgasm creeps up.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby girl. So wet and tight for me. I love this pussy so much.”

“And I love you.” You can’t help but think. How can you even think something like that right now? You’re getting your guts rearranged and your heart has the audacity to jump at Hoseok saying the word love about you in any capacity.

The thought is thankfully fucked out of you with one particularly harsh thrust, Hoseok pushes a scream out of you. He drapes his large body over yours to fuck you deeper, his lips and teeth kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Sir… Hoseok, please…” You sound pathetic even in your own ears. The tone only serves to spur Hoseok on as he calls out your name, his voice husky and full of lust.

“You ready for me, baby? Ready for me to cum all over you?”

With clenched fists, you cry out a yes right as you cum again. Stars explode behind your clenched eyelids as your juices squirt all over Hoseok, covering you both. Your mouth opens but you can barely tell if you even make any noise.

“Fuck, yes, make a mess all over me. This pussy is all mine, I love it so much, fuck!” Hoseok moans with his whole chest, hip bones digging into the flesh of your ass seconds before he pulls out. You barely have any energy, but you manage to lean up on your elbows to look behind you and watch as Hoseok yanks off the condom and jerks himself off once, twice, then he’s cumming all over your ass, hot ropes of cum painting your sore skin.

At some point, tears had welled up in your eyes, realizing your cheeks are damp with both sweat and tears.

“Shit, you’re so good for me, baby. So messy with my cum all over you.” Hoseok smirks down at you, reaching up to swipe at your face. “Aw, I’m sorry I made my baby cry.” Whether the tears came from Hoseok or your overactive brain, you smile anyway, the gesture feeling fake but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he stands up straight to stretch, your eyes following every muscle as it moves under his beautiful skin. He takes your hand and gently brings you to stand in front of his couch. Quickly, he grabs a few tissues and cleans the cooling cum off of your ass, then sits you down. He joins you after grabbing his earlier forgotten joint and relighting it. He hums as he scooches next to you still naked and takes a hit.

“You’re never allowed to leave me hanging that long again. Seriously, a week felt like a year.” He’s so casual with his words it makes you angry. The idea of him only missing sleeping with you whilst you missed every bit and piece of him feels unfair.

“Like, no one else I’ve been with ever makes me feel like you. Especially not this week. Like this one girl, I met up with the other night? Couldn’t give me a blowjob anywhere near as breathtaking as you. You’re the only one I wanna get high with and fuck.” You swat away his hand when he offers you his weed. How can he just sit here and say something so casual about fucking other people?!

“Goddamnit, Hoseok! You drive me fucking insane!” Your outburst surprises even you, but you can’t take it back now.

He blinks at you, truly clueless. “What did I do?!”

“You walk around the office laughing and smiling at every girl you see and I’ve even seen you flirting with them! How do you think that makes me feel?!”

“Oh come on, you know me, Y/n. I’m too fucking friendly for my own good.”

“Yeah, no shit! You do the same to me and it makes me so confused because you can go from fucking me stupid to talking about how you’ve fucked someone else. Sometimes I really hate you, you know. Like, do you know how all these mixed signals make me feel?!”

“Huh? Y/n, you know I like you right? You’re special to me and I always tell you that.”

“Yeah, Hoseok you do. And you tell me how much you love fucking me and eating me out and smoking with me and that’s always all it ever is with you!”

The words come out faster than you can stop them. The confusion on Hoseok’s face has you wishing the floor would open up and consume you already.

“Y/n, listen, I -”

“Actually, never mind.” You rush to gather your clothes, pulling your skirt on backward.

“Hey, wait I’m sorry if I hurt you or something. I just really like spending time with you. You’re special to me.”

But he doesn’t like you as more than what you are now. It’s obvious. He isn’t trying to hurt your feelings but it does hurt - so fucking much.

“Just forget I said anything, okay. Thanks for tonight.” Your buttons are done up haphazardly but you don’t want to cry in front of Hoseok so you leave it as is.

Before you can open the door, his hand is on yours, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn to him and anticipate his next words. “Let me know when you get home, okay?” His brown orbs are rimmed red, eyelids drooping as he watches you. If you’re lucky, he’ll be too high to remember you pouring yourself out to him and getting nothing in return.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get home safe.”

You’re out the door after that and it’s not until you’re out of the office, out of the building, and in your car do you let yourself cry. With blurred vision and a bruised heart, you make it home somehow.

Even after everything you text Hoseok, letting him know you’re safe.

[Hoseok] Good :)

He stops typing after that, then starts, then stops again. Wiping away the tears that refuse to dry, you hold your breath, waiting to see what else he possibly has to say.

[Hoseok] If you need to take tomorrow off, that’s fine. Sleep well.

That’s all he says. You feel empty. You haven’t gotten outright rejected like this since high school and it fucking hurts. Hurts so much more than any foolish school crush.

[You] Thanks.

Your night is somber as you silently go about your routine and climb into bed without dinner, no semblance of an appetite in sight. The only thing that haunts you is Hoseok which isn’t uncommon, but this time it’s not the positive, bright times with him. It’s the heartbreaking reality that you love him so much more than you thought you already did and now it just hurts.

Thinking of him and being with him, it’s like you’re swallowing glass and you can’t breathe at the mere thought of him. Tomorrow will be hell and seeing him in the office hallways will suffocate you, so you decide you won’t go in tomorrow. You’ll stay in bed and get a three-day weekend to yourself to wallow in self-pity.

Even so, in the back of your mind, you just know that come a new workweek, you’ll still go running to Hoseok’s office when no one is around. Hell, you wouldn’t even be surprised at yourself if you let him come to your apartment this weekend if he asks. In your love-drunk heart, you know that having Hoseok superficially is better than not having him at all, even if it contorts your heart in your chest. Even if it makes you hate him and hate yourself more for giving in, at the end of the day, you can’t help who you fall for; and you finally accept that you truly have fallen for Hoseok even though he doesn’t and may never, feel the same.

[ev-pierce-writes]

Quantum Entanglement

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 6.4k (oops)

Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)

Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.

Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.

AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.

---

There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.

As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.

So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.

He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.

And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.

"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.

You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."

"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.

"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."

Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."

"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.

"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.

Steve nodded. "Just moved here."

"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."

You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.

So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.

The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.

Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.

Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.

"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."

You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.

"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."

"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."

"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."

You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.

"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.

But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.

When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.

As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.

Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.

"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."

"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."

You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.

"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."

He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.

"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."

Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"

Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."

He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.

"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."

Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.

Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.

"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.

You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"

Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.

"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."

You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?

But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.

It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.

And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.

But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.

It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.

At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.

"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"

"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"

The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.

You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?

"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"

Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.

You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.

"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"

Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.

"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.

"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.

"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.

You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.

He waited for your instruction.

"Undress me."

He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.

Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.

"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.

"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"

There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."

You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.

You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."

Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.

"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."

Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.

"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.

"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.

Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.

Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.

"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."

"No, definitely not."

"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."

"Where?" he teased.

"Everywhere, big man."

Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.

Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.

Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.

"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.

He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.

And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.

Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.

"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"

"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."

"Kiss me, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am."

He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.

You gasped. "Oh, God."

Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.

"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.

"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.

You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."

"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.

"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"

"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."

Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."

"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.

"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."

The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.

But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.

"Tell me what you need, darling."

"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."

Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.

"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."

You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.

When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.

He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Stables ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

PAIRING: Prince!Yoongi x StableGirl!Reader

GENRE: Prince AU, Angst with fluffy ending, mentions of a childhood accident, memory loss

A/N: Hope you enjoy thiiiissss! I didn’t make it too angst since he did end up liking her in the end so I hope this is okay for you!

Ever since you were a little girl you'd lived in the huge palace that was just beside the beach. It looked out on the shore with a huge Kingdom right behind it with loyal subjects. Everyone within the kingdom was kind and caring, always going out of their way to make the people around them happy which was why the Kingdom worked so well. The castle was well respected as well as the people that lived inside of it since they were the royal family but just because you lived in the castle it didn't mean that you were a Princess of any kind. 

"Y/n?" You heard your grandmother ask as you walked through the door to your part of the castle. It was split up so that the royals had their castle but you lived in the servants quarters with your grandmother. She'd been running the stables since before you could walk. After poking your head through into her room she smiled up at you. 

"How was Star today?" Star was the name of the Prince's horse, you'd been having a lot of trouble getting him to trust you which was why your grandmother was asking. The horse didn't seem to take too kindly to your grandmother randomly not coming back to work with him and instead, replacing her with you, 

"He was better," A barefaced lie but you knew if you told your grandmother the truth she would risk getting out of bed to go and see what was wrong but nothing was wrong. Star just didn't seem to like you being around him, he was fine with other people but just you.

"How was your day?" You moved into the room as she questioned you and you walked over to her bed, running your hand up to her head to see if her temperature had gone but it was still hot to the touch. 

"It was okay. Have you eaten? Shall I heat up some soup?" She placed a shrivelled hand on your wrist and asked you to sit with her. It had been far too long since the two of you got to sit down together like this. Ever since she got sick you'd taken over her jobs in the castle, working in the stables as well as your own job which was a part-time bar-maid job in the Kingdom centre it was hard to get a minute to yourself but you needed the money for her medical bills. Although you worked for the King and Queen and your grandmother had worked there since she was a little girl they weren't keen on paying for her to get better. 

"I ate some soup. The young prince came by and gave me some from the kitchen." The mention of Yoongi made your blood boil. The thought of him stepping foot in your house made you even madder but you tried to play it down in front of your grandmother. 

"I felt you tense. He's a nice boy if you just got to know him..." She continued on with the nice boy speech while you drowned it out in your head. Yoongi had been nothing but a rude stuck up kid ever since you met him. You figured it was because he was a Prince he thought he could push people around whenever he wanted and get them to do what he pleased. He always acted as though he wanted nothing to do with you, to everyone else he was the kindest person in the entire world but whenever he was around you it was a different story. He'd either completely ignore you to the point where it feels like you don't exist or he would be rude to you. There was never an in-between. 

"Besides, you'll be working for him when the King and Queen pass, you need to get along." You rolled your eyes before getting up, mumbling to her that you would bring her a fresh cold cloth for her head but you just needed to get out of her room and away from the Yoongi talk.

Once your Grandma was asleep you slipped into your barmaid skirt, pulling a cape over your head as you headed out of the back door. 

"Evening," Jimin - one of the night guards - said as he saw you walking in his direction. Every night without fail he would accompany you into the town so you wouldn't have to walk alone in the dark. The kingdom was safe sure but it was better to be extra safe than sorry. 

"How's she's doing?" The question you always hated being asked, everyone within the Palace and Kingdom seemed to know that your grandmother had fallen ill as much as you tried to keep it under lock and key. Everyone thought that it was their business to know what was going on, 

"She's doing okay. She said she had some soup from your friend earlier so that's good...She didn't eat yesterday," Jimin chuckled as you called the Prince his friend instead of using his real name. 

"You can call him Yoon-" You covered Jimin's mouth with your finger and he rolled his eyes at you.

"You know, there was a time when the two of you would-" He stopped speaking when you began curtsying so he bowed to the King that was passing you in the street followed by guards and Yoongi who didn't even glance at you before he smiled and greeted Jimin. 

"I'll see you later, thanks for walking me again." You rushed out your words before running in the direction of the bar, you didn't want to hear that you and Yoongi would have been friends one day or that he was nice but you just weren't seeing it. 

"There she is! The woman of the hour!" Your boss cried out bringing the attention of the local drunks over to you, you waved your hand before heading over to the bar. Hanging up your cape before taking orders right away, wanting nothing more than to earn your money and head home before waking up extra early for the stables the next morning. 

"Shit, shit, shit." You mumbled running as fast as your legs would carrying you towards the stables. You'd slept over the guard that normally came to wake you up and now you were going to get into trouble if anyone found out that you were late,

"Y/n? I fed Star and changed the water but-" The other girl who worked in the stables with you began to curtsy so you followed her lead, looking at the shoes of the man in front of you. 

"Is Star ready for his morning ride?" You knew it was Yoongi from the tone of his voice, 

"I'll go and get him." The stable girl mumbled leaving you alone with him as you raised yourself from the curtsy. Going over to your own horse as you run your hand down her Maine, there was an awkward silence as you tried to act as though Yoongi was there.

"You were late this morning," Yoongi commented as he watched you from behind, he stared at you as you continued to stroke your horse. He could remember when you first got her and how attached you were to her and his heart swelled watching you still be so friendly with her,

"I know, I slept late because I didn't finish until late last night." You were doing your best to be as pleasant as you could with him, after all, he was the Prince and he was above you. 

"I don't appreciate Star being taken care of by someone who isn't qualified." You turned around to face Yoongi as he made a remark and he took a step back once he saw you. The scar that you had gotten when you were kids was on your forehead and guilt washed over him as soon as he saw you. The scar that changed everything in your lives. The two of you had been close friends but after your accident, Yoongi felt so guilty for you not being able to remember anything he pushed you away. Ignoring you whenever he saw you around the palace and being rude because he couldn't handle the guilt he felt when he saw you and the large scar on your head. 

"Star is acting up because he can sense a storm coming, be careful." The stable girl mentioned as she brought Star over to Yoongi, handing him the reigns and smiling. 

"I'm sure myself and Star will be fine. Y/n, don't be late tomorrow or you'll be out a job," He snapped as you rolled your eyes, your back still turned on him as you hummed out an answer for him. 

"How can you be so rude to him, he'll be our king soon." You ignored the stable girl, taking your horse out and smiling. 

"Going for a ride, clean the stables." You mumbled to her as you swung your leg over the horse and climbed onto her back.

The rest of the day you'd managed not to bump into Yoongi and you didn't have the bar to work in that night. 

"You should have been on time, do you know how tardy that makes us look?" You didn't want to spend time arguing with your Grandmother who was sick so you agreed with what she was saying, nodding your head and feeding her some soup you had made. 

"It was an accident, I was late because-"

"I don't want to hear excuses! Do you know how embarrassing it was to have Yoongi come around and tell me you were late?" You ignored her just trying to make sure she ate but there was a loud bang from outside the door. 

"The thunder," She grumbled, shivering as she felt a breeze come through the small window in her room. Your eyes glanced over at the window to see rain hammering down against the floor and it wasn't the smallest of storms. 

"The horses must be scared," That was the one thing your grandmother worried most about, the storms always affected the horses and whenever there was a storm she would make sure she could be there for them whenever. 

"I'll go down and check on them," You whispered, tucking her under the covers while you went to get dressed to brace the storm. 

Yoongi stared out of his window and down at the stables as he heard you trying to calm down the scared horses. The sounds of their scared neighing could be heard from his room and he could see the rain was getting worse, 

"Star, hey, hey hey." Yoongi could hear the desperation in your voice as you tried to calm his horse down and he raced down the stairs to see if you needed his help, his heart pounding as he saw you backed against a wall. 

"Star, look it's going to be okay." You tried speaking with him normally to calm him down but it wasn't working, the sight of seeing you backed into a corner by a horse sent memories swimming back to Yoongi as he stared at you. 

"Y/n?" Yoongi called out when he galloped back over to where he had seen you last, the two of you were on a horse ride that morning trying to clear his head. His parents had just told him about most of the responsibilities he would be facing when he turned 16 and this was his chance to clear his head with you. You'd grown up alongside one another as the best of friends even though he was of Royal blood but that never stopped you from being friends. This morning after riding off together the two of you decided to see who could beat one another home the fastest, racing along the side of the cliffs near the beach so you wouldn't be seen by the king, queen or the guards that were hunting for you both.

"Y/n?" Yoongi's voice grew with worry as he realised your horse was on her own laying down on the grass and you were nowhere to be seen. He climbed down from Star and walked over towards the edge of the small cliff that was near him, it was a small drop to the beach nothing that would hurt but he couldn't help but feel panicked seeing you laying there. Facedown in the sand with blood around you, 

"Y/N!" He screamed out in pain as he began climbing down the side of the small drop and to your side, he rolled you over to see a large cut on your forehead. 

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" He panicked, taking off some of his shirt to wipe the sand away from your wound and trying to get a response from you but you didn't move. 

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" He screamed out but there was no one around, you'd both ditched the guard's miles away and it was the two of you out there alone.

If he hadn't left you alone and ridden off so fast you never would have lost your memory that day. You could barely remember anything from your childhood, most of the memories you had were from 16 and up and Yoongi blamed himself all of the time. Because of that he never let himself get close to you again, in fear of losing you or hurting you again, he loved you far too much to let that happen.

"Star, here..." Yoongi clicked his tongue and Star began backing away from you, walking towards Yoongi as he whipped his tail from side to side. 

"That's a good boy," He breathed out as you relaxed at the back relieved that Star was out of your face. 

"I'll get him out-" Yoongi was cut off when a large clap of thunder sounded, Star kicked the back of the stable wall and you screamed as the wood began to splinter off. 

"Y/n!" The way Yoongi screamed your name felt as though it was echoing in your head, you sat on the floor holding your fingers over your face trying to get the thought of Yoongi out of your head but he yelled out your name once again and images flashed in front of you. Riding a horse and falling down a small cliff before everything faded to black. 

"Here, drink this," Yoongi whispered as he handed you a glass of water looking at you. You glared at him as he held your face in his hands, turning it towards the light of the flame in his room. 

"You have a cut, stay here." He mumbled going towards his bathroom and coming back with some tissue and more water. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" You mumbled as he began cleaning up the small cut on your cheekbone, some of the wood that had splinted off hit your face cutting you on impact but it was nothing large. 

"Believe it or not I'm not always nasty...I just- feel guilty whenever I look at you," You hissed as he touched the cut on your cheek, it hurt a lot more than it should have for something so tiny.

"Why?" You mumbled as you stared up at him, he looked back at you with wide eyes, 

"Do you not remember anything from when you were younger?" You shook your head at his question so he sighed to himself, 

"I supposed it's for the best...Just...Just if you want to know you should ask your grandmother but don't come complaining to me when you do, tell her to tell you the truth" You stared at him as he finished cleaning up your cut and then walked to his door, opening it and waiting for you to leave.

Walking through the door to your grandmother's bedroom you frowned seeing her awake, 

"The storm," She mumbled as you crawled into the bed beside her, she took one look at your face and sighed as she saw the small cut. 

"What happened?"

"Star kicked the wooden wall behind me and I got caught. Yoongi cleaned it up actually," You mumbled as you laid your head on her shoulder, thinking back on the weird memory you had when he called your name out. 

"Grandma? Did something happen when I hurt my head? I know you said I was horse riding but-"

"We've been through this, what you remember is what happened," That was the problem, you didn't remember what happened you only remembered what everyone told you. You were out riding your horse alone when you fell off, 

"Yoongi said you knew the truth." The mention of Yoongi's name made her sigh. 

"You have to know why we kept it from you first," She whispered to you as she began to draw invisible patterns into your skin. Explaining why they told you that you were alone after the accident. After it happened Yoongi couldn't bring himself to look at you without feeling responsible for what happened, it had been his idea to go for a ride, his idea to lose the guards and his idea to race back home but he never would have expected you getting hurt. The two of you were always such amazing riders and the path was clear, once he knew you weren't behind him he knew something was wrong. 

"If he'd found you a minute or two later you'd be gone," You were trying to wrap your head around the fact that yourself and Yoongi had been friends before the accident, 

"I know that face...I told you, Yoongi was a nice boy," She laughed softly but you still couldn't work it out, he had been so rude and mean to you all these years because he felt bad for you getting hurt? 

"So because we were friends and I got hurt-"

"Friends? Honey, friends didn't look at one another the way you and Yoongi used to," You froze in place as she started to laugh loudly, your eyes were wide as you realised she was insinuating there was something more between the two of you. 

"You may not have been together but I have no doubt in my mind you would be now if it wasn't for the accident," She taped your nose but your head was starting to spin at the thought of everything, small memories starting to come back to you the longer you thought about things.

"Star is ready for you," You said to Yoongi the next morning as he came into the stable, he looked unsure about coming over to you but you smiled at him. The night before you'd had nothing but memories coming back to you from when you were younger, all of the times you spent with Yoongi. 

"Yoongles, you don't have to feel guilty..." You said as Yoongi turned his back on you, his whole body tensed at the mention of his childhood nickname that you had for him. Only you knew about the nickname, slowly he turned back to stare at you. 

"Yoongles?" You nodded at him smiling as you moved closer to his body, 

"That day we went riding...My horse kicked back because she was scared of a stick shaped like a snake...You have nothing to feel guilty for." Yoongi's mouth fell open as you spoke to him as though you'd never lost your memories, he couldn't believe it. 

"I remember everything...After my grandmother told me about why she never told me about that day and why you were so mean to me all these years..." He felt his heart twinge at the thought of being so cruel to you but he smiled at you, 

"I'll make it up to you...We could go for a ride like old times? Maybe get some food?" You nodded at him as you agreed to spend the day with him, looking forward to catching up with him and learning about the true Yoongi he'd grown to become after all these years. Although it was never going to make up for what he'd said and done to you he was going to do his best to be the friend he was all those years ago and hopefully one day be more.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @jin-from-the-block​ @sweeneyblue1​ @acciocriativity​ @that-anxious-bisexual​

[21burritoseavey]

Hahah sorry 😬I meant y/n as the reader and Daniel are in a secret relationship

hey! I'm sorry this took so long. It's a little unedited and long...and for what?? but anywaysss i hope you enjoy it i kinda went a little crazy.

Hollywood Fix (d.s.)

Daniel always loved to spend time with his girlfriend, but since Why Don’t We’s album release back in January, all of his effort went into making music at the studio. Out of sheer love and passion for creating, his thoughts would be filled with new song ideas or random melodies he hummed quietly before bed. Daniel and Y/n only met up sometimes throughout the past few weeks. Y/n was busy herself of course. With homework piling up (literally) and work right after school, she hardly had time to come over, and when she did it was for a little while. Daniel would notice her slightly less cheerful mood when they’d FaceTime before saying goodnight every night. He wanted to remind his girlfriend how much he loved her.

With his Friday night free of work, he made a reservation for dinner, sending Y/n a fake urgent message to surprise her when she’d come over that same evening.

Y/n, I need you please come over

The door burst open just ten minutes later. Y/n leaned her arm on the door handle, tired and breathless as she scanned the kitchen and living room. “Daniel!” She called; her voice wavered in panic. The eerie silence of the house only made her more anxious. Daniel was crouched behind the grey L-shaped sofa in the living room, biting back the giddy laughter that tried to fall past his lips. Kobe squealed and squirmed as he saw Y/n and Daniel tried his best to shush the puppy in his arms as he watched her quietly.

“Daniel? Where are you? You got me all worried!” She yelled again, kicking her shoes off at the door out of habit. She walked over to the counter to set her keys down and as she lowered her gaze, she noticed Daniel’s phone sitting on the tabletop, readily showing the confirmation email for his reservation at the restaurant he’d talked about on their nightly call the night before.

Daniel lingered behind the couch a little longer than intended just to see her neutral lips curve into a toothed smile and he let Kobe leap out of his arms when he stood up. “Surprise!” He shouted happily, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Y/n shot back in surprise, wide eyed and open mouthed. After a few seconds of trying to wrap her mind around the fact her boyfriend was standing right there, she ran into his arms with a squeal, pressing her hand to her mouth as she giggled. “Dani!” She exclaimed, snuggling into his warm embrace. “I missed you!”

“Hey, my love.” Daniel kissed the top of her head. He dropped the flowers onto the couch and smoothed out the wisps of her hair with his free hand soothingly. “I missed you too.” He said quietly, learning back to press a few soft kisses to her lips.

Y/n stepped back and smacked his shoulder playfully, her joyous expression veiled with annoyed furrows. “You scared me, you dummy! No wonder that text was sketchy.” She tisked.

“Hey! I had to think quick, okay?” Daniel defended. He pulled her back into a tight hug and Y/n let them linger in each other’s arms for a moment before rushing over to the flowers she glanced at.

The bouquet of tulips slipped slightly in the brown paper wrapping, as fresh and soft as the sunset that bloomed outside. Y/n looked down at them fondly. Her fingers stretched out to touch the petals and she stared up at Daniel with a pout on her lips. “These are so pretty,” She pressed a hand to her heart and wobbled on the tips of her toes to give Daniel a kiss. He gladly accepted, sliding his arms around her waist and dipping her down just a little to kiss her deeper.

---

“Thanks for taking me out, Daniel. I needed this.” Y/n said sweetly, squeezing her grip of his hand as they sauntered down the footpath. He looked beside him and gave Y/n a warm kiss on the cheek, “don’t thank me yet," he whispered into her ear.

Daniel made a reservation at a newly opened restaurant downtown and as soon as he finally told Y/n, she ran to her brand new, emerald dress she hadn’t even touched yet, nearly ecstatic that she’d finally have an occasion to wear it. Daniel thought her excitement was cute, and on their extra slow walk to the restaurant - just to savour each other's presence - he complimented and flirted with her every chance he could. Teasing glares, blushing cheeks and light chatter filled their walk, until Y/n noticed...a crowd of people in the distance, near the restaurant’s entrance. She’d thought that they were merely there for dinner, since the place just opened and all, but they seemed like they...were waiting. Suddenly, it seemed all too familiar. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and peered at the large cluster of people through a narrowed gaze. Daniel stood beside her, confused. Y/n heard the high-pitched screams of what must’ve been excited fans and saw their small signs held up by flailing arms.

“Is that Hollywood Fix?” Y/n asked, gently tugging at Daniel’s hand.

Daniel met her gaze. His white button up shirt rose and fell with the soft evening breeze that murmured along the lit-up trees around them. “Very funny, Y/n.” He tisked.

“No, seriously. Look over there” Y/n shot her hand up to point at the bright blinks of light getting closer and closer.

Daniel lifted his gaze, noticing the black exterior of the cameras peeking through the mass of people. “Wh-what? What do we do?” Daniel paused in thought for a second, “Should we hide?” He puckered his eyebrows towards his girlfriend.

“No, you dummy!” Y/n slapped his arm. “Just let go of my hand...” She spoke gingerly, unravelling her fingers from his and she stepped further to the side of the footpath, “and... we’ll just have to stand further apart.”

Daniel nodded after a few seconds and wrung his hands nervously. “Okay, okay. Act natural.” He cleared his throat and raked a hand through his hair.

“You call that natural…” Y/n giggled, pressing a manicured hand to her mouth.

Daniel glared at her with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Baby-” He started, only to get cut off by the sound of photos and fans right in front of him.

The interviewer nearly ran into Daniel in excitement. “Hey, Daniel! How’s it going dude?” He spoke with a sort of enthusiastic haste, shoving the microphone just below his chin as he waited for an answer. Y/n walked backwards to follow behind the both of them. She left a decent space between the two young men who talked. She was silent.

“It’s going well,” Daniel started, “how are you?”

“I’m great. What’s going on with the band? Any music coming soon?” The interviewer pulled a grin towards Daniel as they both weaved through the group of young people. Multiple camera guys walked backwards behind them too, catching every word that Daniel uttered through the mic. Daniel paused at times to give a fan a hug, or take pictures and sign autographs, but Y/n kept her distance. She walked silently down the walkway.

“Yeah, yeah. You know, we’ve got some stuff ready..” Daniel shrugged with a cheeky smile.

“Anyone with you tonight, or…?” The interviewer piped up. Y/n couldn’t help but lift her gaze at the question and she turned to Daniel to hear his reply.

Y/n hoped with everything in her that he’d say the truth, what they both wanted to finally tell the world but felt too scared or anxious to say. She, at times, loved the secrecy of their relationship. It was freeing not to worry about what his fans would think, but at the same time, it felt almost humiliating, like she was a dirty secret that his management didn’t want to crawl out his band’s perfect boyband image.

Daniel looked towards the interviewer with a toothy smile and bowed his head as he racked his brain for a lie. He stuttered out a “Nah...n- not right now, the band should be here soon though.” and let a strained smile play on his lips.

Y/n gulped hard at his words and dropped her gaze to her feet walking over the cracks of the footpaths, precariously trying not to step on them. It was a little game she always played when she was nervous. Daniel and the interviewer exchanged conversation while Daniel continued meeting his fans. Y/n tried to plaster on a friendly smile as they talked just in case she might appear in the frame, but after a few long moments, she let her lips droop into a frown.

She quickened her pace and slipped past them with an expressionless glare that wandered anywhere but them. Daniel noticed her but shrugged it off, watching her walk to the host stand.

The autumn sky met Y/n’s gaze. It was the perfect shade of orange, coloured by the slanting rays of the setting sun and she let her face soften at the sight of it. “It says here the reservation for Daniel Seavey is for two people?” The hostess glanced up.

Y/n drifted her head back towards the lady and smiled. “Yeah, he’ll be joining me later,” Y/n replied quietly. The hostess nodded and continued checking her in.

“Alright dude, we’ll see you later!” The interviewer shouted.

“Nice meeting you, bye!” Daniel couldn’t have been more thankful that the conversation finally ended. He let out a relieved sigh and studied the crowd for his girlfriend, but she had already disappeared through the doorway. He huffed and walked over to the host stand, mindlessly tapping his foot against the concrete as another couple checked in. The cameras kept filming from a few paces away until they watched him enter the restaurant.

On opening night, the restaurant was bustling and glowing with overlapping chatter and vibrancy. Fairy lights were strung along the ceiling and across the freshly painted walls. Y/n had made her way over to the table Daniel had booked. She smiled down at the vase of tulips that sat on the centre of the table and stuck at her fingers to pick one out and smell it.

“Y/n!” Daniel called through the loud room behind her. His voice startled Y/n and she popped the soft pink tulip back in the vase, watching it slip back into the water as Daniel settled into the seat across from her. “Hey, where’d you go?” He asked, panting slightly from rushing in so fast.

“I...” Y/n paused and thought about what she would tell him, but merely sighed and shook her head seconds later. “Nowhere, it’s fine.” She said, fidgeting with the gentle, green silk of her dress. “I’m just so hungry that I couldn’t wait.” She pulled a smile towards Daniel, but of course, he wasn’t fooled.

“Y/n,” He glared at her teasingly. “You could’ve waited for me,” he said gently.

“Oh and watch you lie about our relationship?” She murmured, lifting her glare to Daniel. “No thanks,” she unfolded the napkin a little too harshly and watched the petals of the flowers shake.

Daniel frowned towards her. “Lie? Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You lied Daniel... said you weren’t with anyone tonight.” she mumbled. Daniel opened his mouth to say something but the waiter behind Y/n walking towards the table stopped him.

“You know I can’t say that we’re together, Y/n.” Daniel whispered as the waiter lingered between them, pouring their glasses of water.

“I know, but you said you talked to management about it.” She lifted her gaze to Daniel and met his eyes with an equally upset expression.

Daniel stayed silent.

“You didn’t talk to them, did you?” Y/n asked.

Daniel sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “It’s not that simple, Y/n. You can’t have everything the way you want it.” He slid his hand across the table to tuck his hand in hers, but Y/n drew her arm back and dropped her gaze to the table. “Y/n,” he spoke gently. “Hey, listen to me,”

Y/n didn’t look up.

“My love, please, I planned this date so we could have fun, and not have to worry about all this other stuff.”

“It’s not just all this other stuff, Daniel. This is our relationship. Doesn’t it upset you that we can’t post about each other? Or that I can’t be there for you when you perform? Or that I can’t even be within 3 feet of you when we’re in public ‘cos your fans will go crazy?!” Y/n hadn’t realised how loud her voice had become until she received awkward glances from other customers. She leaned back in her seat and huffed. A roiling anger took root within her, and even though she tried to hide it, Daniel could see the tears pooling her eyes. They both took a few moments to calm down amidst the lively buzz of the restaurant.

“Yeah, it bothers me, Y/n. You’re right, I’ll try...and talk to them. You know, maybe they won’t agree at first but I’m not gonna give up, okay?” Daniel spoke up gently. Y/n nodded and let a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. She let their hands meet in the middle and intertwine.

“I love you...and we’ll find a way to figure this out, okay?” Daniel said, pulling a fake pout towards her. Y/n giggled lightly and pressed her fingers to the corner of her watery eyes carefully.

“M’kay...I love you.” Daniel leaned in again and held her face with his palm. Their noses bumped lightly before their lips met. They kissed, softly at first, then as Daniel turned Y/n’s head slightly, their kiss intensified, kindled by the heavy emotions released seconds ago and love that radiated from them, as strong and vivid as the warm lights surrounding them.

taglist: @chilling-seavey @marthagryffindor @randomlimelightxxx @hiya-its-amber @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @hackerXavery @jonahlovescoffee

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[crescentsteel]

When in Brazil - Beach

pairing: Oikawa x f!reader genre: SMUT wc: 7.8k (i am deceast bye) warnings: fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, edging

Let me bore you to death zzz

I promise the last chapter will be exciting (in my head it is at least) :(

Prior to this series, I have zero knowledge about Brazil. So if there's anything sus somewhere there as I describe Rio, pls be kind to me.

No beta for this one once again uwu

Lmk if you wanna be part of taglist

Sunshine || masterlist

In the hustle and bustle of a busy city as Rio de Janeiro, one finds themselves having their time stolen away from them as they get swept up in all the craziness the place has to offer.

That’s you, except the craziness is in the form of a never ending cycle of wake up, work, then go home.

You’re just glad a certain orange-haired boy joins you from time to time to ease your thirst for something exciting.

Yet sometimes, you crave the silence, the quiet, to be alone and actually enjoy it. Living in one of the most tourist-infested places in the world, you rarely find yourself in such a situation.

That’s why you dragged your feet outside even if your clock tells you it’s 2:48 in the morning.

You woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. Rather than waste your time away in bed, you grab a can of beer from your fridge and decide to make the most out of it.

The thing about Rio — it’s almost never silent. Even at this time, you can hear the soft beat of music from the local bars and clubs alongside the sound of the sea right across the streets where they’re located. The shores of Copacabana, being the most famous beach in the city, are never empty as well.

But what good is being a local if you don’t know places you can hide from the crowd?

A tad bit more than kilometer away from Copacabana is Posto 1 in Praio de Leme, a beach not as crowded as the others.

With the absence of people flocking here and there, you easily make your way to the beach, almost prancing on your steps for the slight tang of freedom and muted noise you haven’t had in forever.

Despite the stroll being an all-familiar route you take, it feels blissfully different. And when you arrive at Posto 1, you suddenly feel grateful for living in Rio. You take your slippers off and feel the sand beneath the soles of your feet. The smell of salt water permeates the air while you welcome the dainty breeze brought by the sea.

You savor each step, taking your time to reach a certain spot you consider yours as the darkness of the dims the bright liveliness of the city.

Luck must be in your side as you find the place still as you remember it the last time you went there. Trees surround the area abundantly compared to the more famous beaches in the city.

Lifeguard stations that separate the area covered by each beach look like mini lighthouses made of white stone. Posto 1, being the first station, is situated beside rocky shore that signals the other end of the beach.

In between Posto 1 and the clump of rocks, that’s your secret spot. The station blocks the view of the rest of the shoreline, the trees behind you conceal you from the buildings across the street, and the rocks perfectly completes the set up as it eludes you to think that you’re hidden from the tropical urban jungle that is Rio.

You pick a spot near a tree so you can lean on something when you sit down. You unknot the canga on your hip and sprawl it on the sand. You seat yourself comfortably and cross your stretched legs. You open your can of beer and savor the first taste as you stare in the vast darkness

You don’t know how long you’ll stay there, but you don’t care. You have the day off tomorrow and you don’t mind if you’re there long enough that the sun will rise on you.

Damn. You should’ve brought at least two cans of beer for this.

However, your paradise of being alone was quickly interrupted when you hear coarse footsteps approaching somewhere behind you. Shortly after, a figure emerges from the trees, much to your displeasure.

He notices your presence too as he looks your way as soon as he comes to your view.

“Hi!” The stranger greets you all too friendly, which adds to your irritation. You haven’t even enjoyed your time alone and you’re already disrupted. What’s worse is that it’s not even a local. It’s a freaking tourist, probably Japanese based on his features.

“Sorry, but the beach is closed at this time,” you announce in an amicable manner despite being annoyed, something working on a diner has instilled in you for years.

“Oh? But you’re here,” he responds with an easy-going smile that pisses you off even more. You should’ve spoken in Portugese. Maybe then, he would’ve left you alone. “Yeah. It’s not open for tourists at night,” you lie with a fake smile, still hoping that he’ll leave.

However, he does the opposite. He crosses the few steps away from you and crouches to get to your eye level. You stare at his face for a few seconds and realize that he’s actually attractive — brown hair, brown eyes, and a dazzling smile.

Still, you came here to be alone. You don’t want the company of another, no matter how good looking they are.

“Can’t you make an exception for one tourist?” He flashes you a grin that you’re pretty sure would sway a lot of women when directed at them. Maybe you too on a different night. But not this one.

“I’d be honest, mr tourist. I prefer to be alone. If you go past that station, you’ll find a lot of space for yourself.”

He purses his lips. “But it seems more fun here, ms local.”

How is this place fun? There’s literally nothing here. That’s why you claimed this place for your own because people rarely go here when the night deepens.

He’s most likely looking for someone to bother and entertain himself, as expected of tourists.

You sigh when you realize he’ll probably keep pestering you until you give in. You take one sip of your beer and turn to him.

“You better hold one hell of a conversation, tourist. Or else I’ll be the one leaving,” you announce with a deadpan voice.

He chuckles lightly before sitting on the sand. He extends one leg on the side while he bends up the other so he can rest his elbow on his knee. “I’m sure I can manage,” he declares with unshakeable confidence that makes you scoff a bit.

The guy is full of himself. If he wasn’t very pleasing to look at, you would’ve left already.

You return your gaze to the dark waters to distract yourself from his presence. “I’d offer you a beer, but I only brought one.” You say out of courtesy as you lean back to the tree and try to relax despite the stranger beside you.

“I won’t mind sharing yours,” he responds casually.

You take one more sip and face his direction to hand him the drink in your hand. He grabs it with a smile and a wink that would’ve made you cringe if he didn’t look so damn good when he did it.

He puts the drink on his mouth and nips it casually. “So what’s a pretty local doing at the shore at this hour?”

You raise an eyebrow at the subtle flattery he included in his question. “Like I said, I wanted some time alone. Unfortunately for me though, a very rude tourist arrived a few minutes after I just settled down,” you eye him meaningfully which earns you a pout from him.

You almost want to laugh. What is up with this guy? He’s a bit weird, but in a charming kind of way. “What about you, tourist? What’re you doing out this late at night?”

“Jetlag. Our hotel’s just across the street and the people I’m with are already tired. I’m so bored,” he whines as he drinks again from your can before he hands it to you.

“So you decided to take a stroll in a completely foreign city?”

He feigns a surprised look. “Are you a fortune teller?”

“A witch, actually. Better leave now before I curse you,” you warn him with a straight face.

Not even fazed a bit, he meets your dead eyes with affable ones. “I don’t mind being cursed by you, ms. witch.”

You shrug off your shoulders, unaffected by the flattery. You’re used to it with the amount of foreigners hitting on you during tourist season. “You better decide what you’ll call me then,” you respond coldly.

“You really want to keep being strangers, huh?”

Something surfaces in his orbs that unnerves you, a glint that tells you there’s more to this man behind the pompous persona he’s purposely showing you.

“Uh-huh. Ms. local sounds fine to me.” Not that he seems dangerous or anything, but you don’t want to get to know him. You’d like to remain as strangers. This is just a small chat for you both to pass time. There’s no need for names when you already have a way to address each other.

“Alright then, ms local. Lets play a game.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What game?”

“A guessing game. The person who first gets three correct guesses about the other wins.”

“What does the winner get?” You ask with intrigue.

“Anything they want.”

You tap the can of beer dangling from your fingertips while you study him. What can he possibly ask of you if he wins? He looks friendly, but you can’t be too certain. He might ask for something like your number. You have no intentions of giving it to him and getting involved with a tourist. The most you can get from the is a one night stand and a “thank you for the experience” message, as if fucking a local completes their whole Rio trip.

He suddenly laughs. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask for anything weird. I just want the tree you’re leaning at.”

You frown at him. “Seriously? There’s another tree over there.” You point a tree a few steps away from him.

“I want that one specifically,” he says firmly as he ignores where you’re looking at and eyes the trunk you’re leaning on.

“Okay then, tourist. If I win, will you leave?”

“Deal” he quickly agrees. “Go ahead, ms local. Ladies first.”

Without even thinking, you make your first guess. “You’re probably a model or an actor in Japan.”

He breaks into a wide smile at your hunch, which doesn’t tell you anything whether you were right or wrong. “You really think so?”

Did you get it wrong? He seems like someone who has a nightly skin care routine to make sure he doesn’t have any breakouts. His skin looks nicer than yours too. So it makes sense for him to be either of the two.

You don’t tell him that though. He looks like he’s well aware that he’s a pretty boy.

“I mean you do look nice. You’re tall and stuff,” you justify briefly.

He gives out a pleasant laugh that sounds way too rehearsed, like he’s been practicing it in case someone compliments him.

“I’m flattered, but no. Sorry!”

He doesn’t look sorry at all. “Actually, I’m a starter for a pro Volleyball team in Argentina,” he says with his face becoming a little bit more serious as it oozes with pride. You find it interesting — how he glorifies being an athlete. He does have the build for it, but he’s kinda too pretty to be a professional athlete.

Your thoughts suddenly go back to Shoyo now that he mentioned the sport.

“Oh oh oh wait,” your enthusiasm shoots up when a hilarious assumption hits you. “I’ll go again then you’ll get two turns after this,” you clear your throat before voicing out your thoughts.

“Let me guess. You traveled all the way from Japan to Argentina to pursue Volleyball,” you declare with all smiles despite how ridiculous it might have seemed to him. You could waste one guess to entertain yourself.

He stares at you wide-eyed with disbelief. “How did you know that?”

You gape at him in surprise. You were just goofing around with Shoyo’s story. You don’t expect that he’d have a similar story.

“For real?”

He nods. “Yeah. That was frighteningly accurate.”

Wow. What were the chances that you were actually right? What was just a ridiculous hunch was actually on point. Now, you’re far more entertained. You’ll ask for his name before you part ways and tell Shoyo about him. You don’t have a clue what the Volleyball scene is like in Japan so maybe somehow, they know each other.

He recovers after a quick while and regains his composure. “Okay, my turn. I’m guessing…,” he looks up as he scurries what guess he’ll make before his gaze lands back to you, “you’re into nice guys.”

You let out a scoff at his too safe of a guess. He must be frolicking when he appears to be thinking earlier because that’s kind of a no-brainer.

“Who isn’t?” You ask back sarcastically instead of confirming that he’s right.

“A lot of women actually,” he swiftly responds. “So that’s one for me. And I’m also guessing you don’t go out much.” This time he doesn’t pretend to be thinking and straight up tells you, as if he’s figured it out already earlier.

You squint at him. “How did you know?”

“You wouldn’t be out here at this time of the night if you did,” he cocks an eyebrow as he answers.

Shit. That’s two correct guesses off the bat. The stakes are not that high for you. You’ll just lose a back rest, but it unnerves you that he’s this astute. You just assumed that he’s nothing but good looks.

You put a little more effort to the game he initiated and thought of a hunch that’s very likely to be correct.

“Umm. I think you like beer,” you surmise. If he didn’t mind sharing one with a stranger, he must like it enough.

He purses his lips to the side and shakes his head. “Nope. I think it’s vile. Also, our fitness coach will chew me out if he finds out I’m drinking tonight.”

You furrow your brows together at what he just admitted. “Then why’d you ask for mine?”

“I wanted to look cool,” he confesses without shame which makes you palm your face.

“My turn.” You remove your hands away from your face and hope that he gets it wrong this time. You’re kinda enjoying the game and want to continue for a tiny bit more.

“It’s been a while since you got laid.”

It’s a staring contest between you after he utters it. He holds the same seemingly good-natured expression in his face despite the sexual nature of his statement. You, on the other hand, can’t suppress the frisky smirk that’s creeping up on the corner of your lips.

You roll your eyes and look away with the smirk still planted on your face.

He finally bares that certain wickedness you saw a glimpse of earlier, and he does it at the right time. He’s probably waiting for the moment you start getting drawn to him, and when you do, he lures you a step deeper into his trap.

You feel stupid for thinking this game is his way of small talk. It definitely isn’t. Yet, you find yourself taking the bait he set.

“Actually, I had a good fuck the other night,” you answer indifferently.

The look that surfaces on his face mirrors yours a while ago, except he doesn’t try to hide the sensual gleam in his eyes when flashes you a grin.

“Boyfriend?”

You suddenly miss the bitter taste of the beer so you drink again prior to answering, “Friend.”

The curve of his lips twitch up, evidently amused with your reply. “I didn’t think you were the type, ms local.”

“Why? You thought I was boring?” You question with haughty disdain from what he was implying.

He stretches his bent knee as he plants both palms on the sand and leans back a bit. “No. Just really uptight.”

Only because his company was unwelcomed, but you’re positive he’s aware of that so you don’t comment on his remark. You move on with and proceed to make your guess.

“Right. Okay, my turn.”

You’re absolutely sure of this one, so you go for it without hesitation.

“I think you’re trying to get me in bed.”

Oikawa doesn’t know if he’s going to give you a free pass on that one. You’re not entirely wrong, but you’re not totally right either.

He does want to fuck you. You’re hot and you’re as interesting as he thought you’d be. But he’s not trying to get you in bed, not yet at least. He hasn’t taken any action yet.

He was still treading carefully until you were no longer treating him like a bothersome stranger, which seems to be the case when you unfiltered your words and then willingly gave him intimate information about your sex life.

“Yeah,” he says with no hint of shame. He decides to grant you a second correct answer since that’s the last one you’re going to get. His next guess will be the start of his attempt to actually get you to have sex with him, like you speculated.

“You like beer.” He already had three probable guesses in his head before the game even started. He just panned the game longer so you’ll ease into him. He reserved this particular guess to seal the deal.

“That’s no fair, tourist. That’s too obvious,” you complain yet you still wear an entertained grin.

“Not my fault” He chuckles at his already calculated victory.

“Ugh. Fine. The damn tree is yours.” You start to get up but he grabs your arm, causing you to frown inquisitively at him.

“I didn’t say you have to leave. Move a bit to your front,” he commands which you do even though you still look confused.

He stands up and takes the place you’re sitting at earlier. Your neck is craned towards him as you gawk at him while he comfortably seats himself behind you, stretching his legs just a bit so you’re positioned intimately between them.

“What are you doing?!” you ask with a panicked voice.

He ignores your question. He takes it just a bit further and grabs your waist to pull you closer to him so your back is pressed to his chest.

You gape at him with a scandalized expression, your body rigid with his touch.

He only smiles innocently at you. You might be frozen solid, but if you really don’t want him to, you could easily tell him to fuck off. But there you are, eyes wide open as you try to grasp what he just did.

“I just claimed my prize. I can see why you chose this tree. So comfortable.” He tries to sound nice and friendly, but knows it’s useless as he can’t help the sarcasm that tainted his words now.

You let out a deep breath and shake your head as you rest your back resignedly on his chest. You snuggle even closer until you fill the spaces between you two perfectly, your head nestled comfortably on the nook of his neck.

Still, you don’t seem pleased. The look in your face is a mix of frustration and defeat, but it only strokes his ego even more because despite that displeasure on that lovely face of yours, you’re still leaning cozily against him.

You straight down gulp the remaining liquor you have and put the empty can down on the sand.

“You played me well, tourist,” you mutter, the bitter taste of the beer matching your resentment towards him.

“Not sure what you’re talking about, ms local,” he continues playing innocent.

“Oh please. You planned this from the start. That’s why you asked for the fucking tree.”

He lets out the laugh he’s been holding in since you made him admit that he was trying to bed you. “You finally caught up, mi querida?”

You hoist yourself up to face him. “You speak Portugese?” you ask him curiously.

“Español. I did say I’m from Argentina, mi bella dama.”

You’re stunned with the way the supposed foreign words roll off so naturally from his tongue. It didn’t sound pretentious nor forced, proof that he’s fluent with it. You definitely underestimated him. There is so much more to his charisma than just his pretty face.

“So, ms local,” his gaze drops to your lips with uninhibited hunger that he doesn’t make the slightest effort to hide. “Can I start claiming my actual prize now?”

You open your mouth but no words come out. You don't know how to respond because you’re at war with yourself with the direction of your supposed small talk is heading to. Yet, you can’t deny that you want to reciprocate his overt desire for you.

He takes his thumb and skims it lightly over your lower lip as he keeps his eyes on it. “Say yes,” he orders you with the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

The wind suddenly feels colder as your body heats up from the ache that’s beginning to set in your core.

He completely has you in a trance, mindlessly obeying his dainty command.

“Yes.”

He smiles darkly at the consent you gave him. He moves his thumb down to your before he slowly dips down and presses his lips against yours. It was gentle, too gentle for your growing arousal as he’s deliberately teasing you to want more of him.

He peppers your cheek with the same soft kisses that are making you more and more impatient.

“Kiss me already,” you mutter when his lips reach your ear, causing the sound of his amused chuckle to be heard crisp and loud.

“But I am,” he whispers before licking the sensitive shell of your ear.

You snap your thighs together from the sharp pleasure the action sent to your pussy, your eyes almost half closed from how fast your desire is engulfing you.

He must have sensed it for he turns his gaze to your clenched thighs. “Well, well, well, ms local. I didn’t think you’re this sensitive. I’m barely doing anything,” he teases while his other hand skims your bare waist.

You want to wipe the smug expression off his face but you’re too horny to fight back. You just want him to kiss you properly already.

A triumphant glint surfaces in his orbs as he dips down and gives you what you’re silently asking for. He parts your mouth with his thumb on your chin and claims your lips, flicking his tongue on your lower lip before sucking it.

You grab his shoulder for support as you push yourself up a bit to feel him closer.

“Mmmm, beer tastes way better from your mouth,” he mumbles then quickly returns to your lips, slipping in his tongue as he deepens the kiss.

His hand on your chin travels to the side of your head, fiddling the other ear his mouth hasn’t touched earlier. You whine into the kiss, fully revealing to him how sensitive your ears are.

His other hand skims the bare skin of your waist he easily accessed because of your cropped top. Then, he moves it up to squeeze a clothed boob, earning him a moan you deliciously deliver to his mouth.

He pulls away to get a glimpse of you and he can’t help but be pleased with himself for a job well done. He’s totally got you, hook, line, and sinker with your eyes pooling with lewd desires, completely different from the cranky stranger you were minutes ago.

But he’s not done yet. He’s not yet satisfied. He can do more than this. He can break you just a teeny tiny bit tonight.

He gets back to your lips, your tongue seeking his while he fervently moves his mouth against yours. His hand lets go of your face so he can pay attention to your other boob he’s been neglecting, kneading both supple mounds with his huge hands at the same time.

You lean your head on his shoulder as he trails his lips down your exquisite neck, softly nipping the delicate flesh as he entertains himself by watching you squirm within his hold.

He lugs your bra down so he could feel your bare breasts, and as his idea of fun, he softly bites the nook of your neck while he harshly grips both tits.

A very indecent moan from your throat erupts in the tranquil air of the beach. You must have realized it too because you bite your lip while your other hand tightens its grip on his thigh.

“Let’s see how well you can keep it down,” he breathes on your neck as he puts his fingers to work, rolling both your nipples with his thumbs while licking the spot he just bit.

You plan to protest, but you’re scared that when you open your mouth, an obscene moan will come out instead. So you do your best to stay as silent as you can, your muted whimpering reaching only his ears.

His mouth goes back up again to your ear, his hot breath gradually melting your resolve to keep quiet. “Should I lick your ear again so you’ll moan for me, hmm?”

You ferociously shake your head, certain that you will lose it if he does. “I’ll do it if you don’t use your words,” he threatens you by grazing his lips on your earlobes.

“N-no,” you weakly answer.

He laughs lowly and withdraws his lips away from your ear. You feel a little bit of relief as he shows mercy. Only to feel stupid when he suddenly pinches your nipples, the surge of pain and delight causing you to lose to your own body as another moan rips out of your windpipe.

“Aahh! ”

You bury your face on his biceps to muffle the next ones as he continues tweaking the hardened buds while he sucks the curve of your shoulders.

You can feel the strain in your hips from how hard you're clamping your thighs, desperate to alleviate the ache in your already sopping cunt by grinding your inner thighs together.

Being the scum the tourist is, he hooks his foot on your ankle and does the same to the other, successfully prying your legs apart, worsening your need to be touched down from the lack of any sort of friction.

He removes one hand away from a boob and drags it down to your stomach, the cloth of your loose shirt catching on his knuckles before it comes to a stop in the waistband of your shorts.

“Can I?” He asks while he traces circles on the skin just above the garter of your cloth.

Despite the overwhelming lust, you look around. Even though you used to have this place on your own at this wee hours of night, the possibility of someone going there is not completely zero.

You let him get as far as this because you can just swat his hands away the moment someone emerges from the other side of the lifeguard station.

Instead of putting his hand in, he dips his hand further down on your crotch, cupping your sex over the fabric of your shorts. Even with just that, your pussy is already throbbing.

You look at him with hesitation.

“What if someone comes?” You ask apprehensively, your lust-induced mind hoping he comes up with a sensical answer that you can accept.

“I won’t remove your shorts, ms. local. I’ll just,” he teasingly tugs the waistband, twisting it around his index finger, “put my hand in, yeah?”

He gives a drawn out lick on the spot behind your ear as he tugs a nipple, making you shiver with the unspoken oath that he can satisfy your needs.

You nod agreeably, impatient for the touch you’ve been craving for.

With your permission, he slowly slides his hand in, the leisure drag of his fingers almost making you mad with anticipation. Your torment only increases when he steadily traces his middle and ring finger on the length of your slit.

“You’re practically dripping,” he remarks as he continues the tortuous caress of his fingers. “Holy shit. You’re twitching already.” He laughs sardonically behind you.

“Jerk.” It’s supposed to sound angry, but it comes out as a needy whine.

You throw your head back on his chest, the night sky and the leaves of the tree you’re under starting to become hazy with how feverish your whole body feels.

“You’re really mean, you know that?” He mopes flatulently before he suddenly pinches your clit, the abrupt pang of pleasure causing you to arch your back as you cry out.

“Oh my. I’m starting to think you actually want to be heard.”

You’re no longer able to respond when he starts rubbing the bundle of nerves, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to suppress the erotic sounds coming off of your mouth.

“Mmmmmpp,” you whimper when he gives your boob a firm squeeze again.

You close your eyes shut as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Gonna cum already, hmm?” His question drenched with mockery.

Yet, you don’t give in to his taunt as you’re completely distracted with his fingers sending you to a frenzy. You nod your head frantically, shamelessly admitting that he can easily make you cum.

Then he stops. He slides his fingers down and spreads your folds open as your cunt throbs from the climax he’s defied you of.

“What I’d give to see this view,” he purrs on your ear, “this pussy twitching at nothing.”

You hate the way he’s treating you, but you hate yourself more for letting him do so. As if teasing wasn’t enough already, he starts massaging his fingers around your folds, keeping you spread open while deliberately avoiding any spot that will feel too good.

It’s utter hell for you.

You’re about to ask that he puts it in, but thankfully, he does so before you almost disregard your dignity and actually plead for him to do it. He inserts one steady digit, pushing it deeply until the whole length of his finger is in.

“You’re too wet,” he comments as he thrusts another finger in.

You bite your own hand as the stretch of his two fingers brings back the pleasure he thwarted earlier. But this time, he makes sure to not let it escalate as he keeps the speed of his fingers to a bare minimum. He drags them out incredibly slow and lunges them back in in the same excruciating tempo.

Your eyes flutter shut as you relish the sensation, his digits hitting their deepest reach at the same time the waves crash into the rocks of Leme beach.

Oikawa watches with utter fascination, seeing and feeling the rise and fall of your chest as he prolongs the pleasure his fingers can give you.

But he already misses how you sound when you lose control.

Without any warning, he increases his pace from tedious thrusts to ruthless ones.

Your clutch on his biceps almost hurts, but he really couldn’t give a shit when your moans start to seep out of your hand despite how hard you try to contain them. He can bet you’re not even aware that you’re already rolling your hips against his hand.

But it’s still not enough for him.

Luckily, he knows how to make things even better .

He flicks his tongue on a certain spot on your neck while rolling your nipple between his skilled fingers.

“Too much!” You bat your eyes open and face him, successfully unlatching his mouth from your neck. “Its too muuu aahhhh haaa. ” Your eyes instantly become cloudy as he makes sure that the base of his wrist rubs your clit while he continues ravaging your pussy with his fingers.

His cock is getting stuffed in his shorts with your back grinding against it as he witnesses you lose yourself with your mouth falling open as you whimper with wanton need for your release.

“To- hnnngg, tooouurist.”

Damn. For a moment, he thought you were going to moan his name. He would tell you right now but he kinda likes the idea that you’re a literal stranger allowing him to do vulgar things to you as he pleases.

Your feet leave the seams of the cloth you sat on as the pleasure stretches out to the tips of your toes, the coarse grains of sand getting stuck between as you curl them with your orgasm tingling too close.

The simultaneous stimulation of your most erogenous places is coercing you to let go.

“I’m gonna cum mmmppp.”

Then he withdraws his fingers completely, causing you to regard him wide-eyed with a confused look as he denies you of your high that was a thrust away from your reach. All the while, he just smiles pleasantly at you like he didn’t do anything wrong.

He takes his middle finger in his mouth while you watch him with both impatience and intrigue.

He gives it one thorough suck before sticks his tongue out and licks it, effectively making you wonder how it’d feel if he does what he just did directly on your pussy.

Then he turns to you with a naughty grin. “Why are you staring at me like that, ms local?”

Your eyes lingers on his fingers and tells him instead, “Put them back.” You can’t ask him to do what was just on your mind. The place isn’t right for it. But that’s just fine. His fingers prove to be good enough.

“You want me to put my fingers back in your pussy?” he reiterates your request haughtily.

You look down on the sand before you nod.

He hums on your nape while he inserts his hands back in your shorts, his fingers ghosting just above your slit. You buck your hip up to feel them but he retreats them when you do so.

Your mind is staggering from how much you want him to fill you up again with his digits. You look at him with your eyes begging him.

“Please,” you whimper.

He goes for your lips, kissing them passionately as he traces your slick opening. He plunges his tongue in the same time his fingers enter your cunt, easily pushing you at the very edge you were at earlier.  

Then stops again.

“Why?” You sound almost sulking, your foiled orgasm looming over you.

“Like you said earlier, ms local. I am trying to get you in bed.”

He presses his lips in your temples and drags them down back to your ear. “I don’t see any bed here. Do you?”

The sultry drawl of his voice makes you shiver, the ungratified ache in your groin making you succumb to him.

“My place is near,” you answer timidly.

“You’ll really take a stranger home?” He sneers at you, making you doubt your own decision. Yet, convinces you otherwise when he slowly rubs your clit again.

You shut your eyes and nod frantically with parted lips.

He takes his hands out of your shorts and cheerfully says. “Let’s go then.”

You fix your clothes before standing up to which he quickly follows. You take your canga and wrap it back again on your hips then picks up your empty can of beer. You plan to lead the way, but not even three steps away from where you were, he grabs your wrist and tugs you back to where you were.

He shoves you to the tree he was previously leaning on. Your hand flies to the trunk of it while he wraps one arm around your waist and pulls your ass against his erection, an entertained chuckle coming out of his lips.

“I lied, ms local.” He slides his other hand under your made up skirt, trailing his palm from the side of your knee up to your thigh.

“I didn’t want you in bed. I want you right here right now.”

He briskly tugs down your shorts while you worriedly grip his forearm, alarm evident in your orbs as he reveals his actual intention.

“We’re gonna get seen!” You warn with a cautious whisper while you look around to check for the possible presence of another.

He ignores you and hitches up the cloth hanging from your hips as he takes out his cock and traces it against your moist slit.

You drop the empty can as you drive your nails deeper in the tree with your eyes getting misty from the reminder of the little death he’s relentlessly and purposely deprived you of.

He leans over your back and reaches for your cheek with his lips, tenderly placing a kiss before speaking. “Then they’ll see a tourist with a local whore.”

Flames of fury spark in your eyes as you hiss at him. “You fucking asshole!”

He ignores your futile anger and grips his cock to align it on your entrance. He sees you try to keep up the resentful facade but you’re twitching wildly again for him to even take it seriously. He easily makes you crave for him again by grinding his shaft on the length of your cunt.

“I’m kidding, ms local. You’re too pretty and too interesting to be one,” he says with his lips latched on your shoulder.

“Do you even have a condom with you?” you ask exasperatedly.

“Nope. Should we stop and get one?” He asks back as he once again rubs his member on your opening.

“I.. uhh,” you mumble undecided even though you unknowingly just grinded against him.

He places featherlight kisses along your nape. “I promise to pull out. How about that?” His voice is delicate, persuading you to abandon your hesitation.

“Fine! Just make sure you do it right,” you firmly forewarn him, which he doesn’t even bother answering.

He begins to sink himself inside you, feeling your fluttering walls swallow his cock inch by inch.

“Shit, it’s so hot and tight inside you,” he groans.

Your knees buckle a bit as you cover your mouth with your palm this time. “You okay there?” he asks not out of concern but because he wants to entertain himself with how you sound when you’re trying so hard to keep the obscene sounds at bay.

You shake your head but your face is one deluged of sinful desires.

“But you look like you're enjoying this,” he pants as he’s starting to feel good too with how well you’re squeezing his cock. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder as he rams his length completely inside you.

“Fuccck,” he moans on your shirt while you deliver a muffled one on your palm, which he didn’t like.

He snakes his arm from your waist up to your chest once again, forcefully lugging down your bra that he hears it rip a little.

“I want to hear you feel good,” he says as he toys with your boob he wasn’t able to pay much attention to earlier.

In between struggling puffs, you manage to say, “I don’t wanna be heard uughhh.” You let out a suppressed whine as he pulls his cock back all of a sudden and languidly slides it back in.

“You’re lucky enough I’m allowing this,” you continue on.

“Make me luckier then,” he hums on your shoulder as he aggressively tugs the nipple poking at his palm.

“Gaaah!” You snap your head back, prompting him to softly bite the flesh of your throat you exposed to him.

“Yeaaah. You sound so hot, ms local. Just like that mmmm.” He originally planned to take his time with you, but shit, your pussy feels too good clamping on his cock like you’re already about to cum.

It’s taking all of him not to pummel his cock stupidly fast into you and sought his own pleasure.

“Faster, tourist. Fuck!” Your voice cracks at the last word you uttered from keeping it from being too loud.

Instead of quickening his pace, he stops moving at all. He needs a moment to regain control of himself despite how splendid your insides feel. He wants to tease you some more until you lose that fiery pride of yours. He finds it sexy, but it would be sexier if you drop it and desperately beg for him to fuck your brains out.

He lifts himself off your back and retrieves both his hands to skim them over the curve of your ass.

He kinda wonders what face you’ll make if slams one hand against the meaty flesh. Oh well. No need to wonder if he can just see it for himself right now.

The solid sting of his palm hitting against your skin pierces the quiet air of the shore, quickly followed by a sharp gasp from you that is just as audible.

Fuck, he put a little too much force on that one. He can see the pinkish mark he’s left on one cheek. He checks on you and expects a pained expression but what he finds is eyes lidded with intense carnal longing while panting heavily.

He looks around briefly, checking to see for any unwanted onlookers before landing another slap on your other ass cheek.  

Your hand grips his that just struck you as you turn your neck to look at him with utmost desperation he’s been wanting to see from you.

“Make me cum already,” you mumble with a wavering voice as you start moving on your own, wobbly withdrawing your hips and pushing them back against his cock.

The sensation in his shaft as you use it to give yourself pleasure is nowhere near enough for him, but he continues to stare at your cute attempt to make yourself cum.

“Please!”

Ahh, fuck. Yes. That should do it. You look just the right amount of pathetic he can get himself off to with satisfaction.

He plants both hands on your hips, holding them in place so he can give you what you vehemently begged for. He buries himself inside you in one swift thrust and repeats it again, and again, and again until he sets a steady rhythm.

You wretchedly grasp the tree again to support yourself as he does his way with you.

Harsh slaps of skin to skin contact can be heard, but he figures it won’t be heard from a distance.

“Ah, ahh, aaaahhhhhh!!”  You practically yelled out that last moan, causing him to lean over again and put a hand over your mouth.

“As much as I want you to- shiiit -hear you scream for me, I’d rather not be caught here,” he tells you in a raspy voice. He doesn’t know the laws in this country. He might get arrested for this if found. Their coach would probably take him off the starting roster as punishment if he gets in trouble because of this.

But fuck, you really feel unbelievably good. Even the vibrations of your stifled wails on his hand is an added stimulation for him.

Even he himself is having a hard time to keep his voice hushed as he feels his orgasm about to explode. He removes his hand away from your lips and replaces it with his mouth so he drowns out his groans as he swallows yours.

With his knee, he nudges your leg apart from the other as he dips his hand from your hip down to your clit, rubbing the swollen bud ferociously to finally push you to your peak he previously kept on declining you to reach.

You start trembling beneath him so he wraps his other arm around your waist again to support you.

He pulls away a bit to look at you become undone and holy shit, you do not disappoint. You look so fucking pretty with your moist lips gaping as you puff while your eyes have completely surrendered to the sinful goodness he’s giving you.

“So good, so good, so fucking good uuhhhh,” you mewl shamelessly.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on a stranger’s cock?” He goads you even though he’s about to cum himself just to see if you still give a crap about that.

To his delight, you just nod thoughtlessly.

“Cumming, ahhh, A-“

He covers your mouth again with his before you’re able to let out a scream that will probably expose you two.

He feels too good that all your senses are filled with nothing but the intense carnal bliss as he batters the insides of your pussy by ramming his cock wildly into you without restraint, probably chasing his own high as well.

Your vision becomes a static blur as the coil in your stomach snaps viciously, making your whole body convulse with how intense you came. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’d probably be a thrashing mess on the sand.

You hope that he keeps his word and pulls out because honestly, you just don’t have it in you anymore to stop him as he prolongs your orgasm by seeking his own.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he spews while his forehead rests on your spine as his thrusts become wilder and more erratic.

He takes out his cock a second before you feel hot spurts of liquid on your lower back accompanied by his hoarse grunts.

He unties the canga around your waist and uses it to wipe off the mess he made on your skin while you’re still holding on for your dear life on the tree.

“My legs,” you whine as they give out with exhaustion.

Thankfully, he catches you in time and releases the soiled clothing he used to wipe off his load. He pulls up your lower garments before he settles you back to how you two were seated a while ago, except it’s less compromising this time.

You’re all curled up within his grasp, still catching your breath from what just happened as he puts a hand on your forehead to make you rest against his heaving chest.

The sound of the waves, the blow of sea breeze, and the sand beneath your thighs are lulling you slowly back to the present, making you aware that you just had sex with a stranger, with a freaking tourist

“So,” he speaks first but you keep your eyes closed and pretend this is just one sexy dream then you’ll wake up in the morning and realize that you actually didn’t go out at this time.

“Ms. local, helllooooo?”

He’s obviously recovered based on the familiar, frivolous tone he had when he came out of the trees a while ago.

You sigh since you aren’t able to convince yourself enough that this is just a dream. The sex felt too good and too hot for it to be unreal.

“Do I finally get a name?”

You open your eyes and find him looking eagerly at you.

“No,” you respond immediately which visibly turns his excitement upside down.

You also discard your previous plan to get his name. There’s no way you’re telling Shoyo about this guy.

Sunshine || masterlist

Taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @aphroditeschambers​ @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @crescenttooru @yashuaaa @liberhoe @richkookie @hqbeesun @megatron-1199​

[animeyanderelover]

Sorry, sorry for a second request! Do you think you could do Prompt 9 or 17 with Shisui Uchiha?

I recently got so many requests about him which is kind of funny since he was a minor character in Naruto. But he is an Uchiha so I guess that explains it.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, manipulation, sabotage, intimidation, Shisui revealing his dark side, threatening, mentioning of killing

Prompt 9: “Do you want me to break your legs or lock you in a cage to prevent you from running away?”

Would you kill for love? Would you be ready to go as far as hurting, threatening and manipulating everyone in your way just to be able to know that the person you were madly in love with would return the favor and love you back? And would you feel guilty if you did so? Or would you tell yourself that this was necessary? Would you even feel ashamed of it in the first place?

Maybe it was sometimes easier to be obvious and more naive, maybe being blind was sometimes a good thing. Because seeing things very clearly and remembering whatever he did took it's psycological impact on Shisui, a lot more than he let others see. He was sure that he had every time be lenient with people which had saved a lot of stupid asses from him. He had been careful with whatever he had done, be that stalking, killing or other things he had done due to his obsession.

Everything had been hidden under multiple layers of friendliness, charm and intelligence, a nice guy act he had put on so he wouldn't scare you away and make you suspect him. Shisui had been rather determined to make you fall naturally for him without having to rely on anything else besides his natural charm and maybe a few threats here and there to scare potential rivals away. He had worked hard for all of this, having invested months to bring you to confess your love to him and a few other years just to keep a strong relationship with you. There were imperfect times as well, but that was normal and both of you had always been able to discuss it out. Shisui had been proud of this, that both of you were able to always talk about things and find a solution.

But even the sweetest lie must find it's end and looking back on it, he should have seen it coming. Love was in the end the strongest yet most fragile thing in this world. It could either go through the toughest of times or shatter with the slightest breeze of the wind. Truly ironic. Only one small mistake had been all that was needed to expose him to you, though many things were still in the dark for you and Shisui was not willing to tell you detailed everything he had ever done.

And now you were afraid of him, something he had never wanted. Instead of a smile you wore a mask of horror, instead of leaning into his touch you flinched away, instead of warmth and trust there were pain and tears in your eyes.

It was distraughting to see for the Uchiha, to know that the person he had planned on loving and protecting with all he had was now afraid of him. Life didn't go always his way and it was something normal, but even he had been mad at no one in particular because he hadn't had someone to blame except the person who had tattled too much and they had gone silent already, Shisui had guaranteed this to happen. But now he had been left with the knowledge that you knew the truth, wanted to break up with him, wanted to let others know the truth about the golden boy who was together with Itachi one of the most talented Uchiha.

How could he ever let that happen? He had a reputation and didn't want to disappoint his friend, his Kage, his village. Much less could he imagine a life without you on his side, he had never felt that desperate before like when he had seen you in such a devastated state, crying and shouting at him to leave, to go away, to never show his face in front of you again.

What other choice had he left except not only having to use his Sharingan on you and to make sure that you wouldn't be under too much humans for a while? You would have ruined everything he had worked on. Shisui had quickly thought about all sorts of excuses to why you would be gone for a long time, why you wouldn't be able to see friends and family for a while anymore. He knew that this wouldn't work for forever, even he was not allmighty. But he had been able to buy more time to think of something better because controlling you with his Sharingan for the rest of his life was tiring even for him and he disliked the thought of forcing you to love him. It didn't feel right to do. Not like anything he had done so far had been right.

But recently there had been something that had unnerved him a lot, managing to make him question his sanity. The way he had suddenly turned so much more threatening and intimidating on you. The first time he had done it, it had been quite surprising and he had paused when he had noticed what he had done. Never before had he been forced to do this, using threats on you. But now he had to, a new and frightening thing for you to witness, making you understand just why he was so feared by rival villages. Shisui had a cold and rational side to him, only doing what was best for his village and his comrades.

But being so selfish over it was something you weren't used to see, Shisui always made sure to be fair. But what had you known about him anyways? All you had known was his one side, the other side of him had always been a mystery to you. And you knew why. Now you knew why.

"Do you want me to break your legs or lock you in a cage to prevent you from running away?"

Because no one wanted to be near a cold killer like him, someone who kept all his emotions hidden under a perfect poker face with the red eyes that reminded you of a demon gazing at you. There was nothing on his face, no sympathy, no guilt, no nothing. It was probably best to not let emotions get the better of him, not when he was being assigned to kill people without hesitation.

His words had a numbing effect on you, causing you to stop struggling instantly, instead slowly falling down to your knees, trying to get your trembling breath under control. You had troubles to stay the smallest bit calm, not when fear was pumping through every single cell of you and made you flinch by even the smallest noises.

You didn’t know what was even scarier. The words he had just spoken or the person who had said them. Or maybe it was even the fact that you didn’t even know anymore whether to believe he wouldn’t do it or he would. There might have been a time where you would have taken all of this as a joke, but as you felt his cold presence lingering right over you, the glimmering eyes feeling like attempting to drill through your head and the tight grip he had the moment he wrapped his fingers around your arm, the hands with which he had killed and hurt others, made you doubt that he wouldn’t do it.

Still though, you wanted to play with your luck. Maybe you would be able to calm him a bit down and make something more human appear on his face.

Maybe.

“You wouldn’t.”, you stated with a more firm voice than expected, looking him daringly in his eyes. The glimmer of hope in you must have been still there inside of you.

You saw him quirking his eyebrow slightly when being met with the sudden courage of yours despite the fact that you were still shaking like a mice in front of it’s predator.

“What makes you feel so confident?”

“I might not have realized what you’ve been up to. But I’ve known and loved you long enough that you wouldn’t hurt those you cherish and love.”, you replied, continuing to endure his Sharingan despite the knowledge that he might trap you in a genjutsu at any moment.

He stared at you for a while, scanning you up and down in an observing way.

“I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you. You do not know what I am capable off.”

This was discouraging because you couldn’t tell if you had managed to hit a nerve of his or not, Shisui was an excellent actor. He didn’t give anything away.

“That’s true. I don’t know what you’re capable off. But I know that you have your honor and duty as well. So you wouldn’t hurt an innocent citizen, not if you are loyal to the Leaf. Because if you do, you are a terrible person. If you really love me, you won’t hurt me. Otherwise I am just an ignorant fool who still believes in love. In that case I would like you to do what you just threatened me you would do so I can stop seeing you as my love, but as the manipulative and cruel person you are. I won’t sugarcoat anything anymore. However, be aware that I will hate you for eternity afterwards and would rather die than acting like nothing ever happened.”

Your tone sounded warning and he knew that you had just threatened him just as much as he had done. He was a bit surprised that you had still the guts to talk to him like this, but you had always been someone who often managed to feel brave in a tricky situation.

You still had faith in him despite everything he had done? Shisui felt his inner conflict growing more and more, feelings clashing with each other and he maybe felt himself moving his poker face the tiniest bit, though it was too short for you to be sure you had really seen it.

Why had this to happen to you two? You could have been a happy couple. But it was too late to regret this. The past was the past. And Shisui had to focus on the present and the future.

“You think too highly of me.”, he told you, bending down so he didn’t have to stare down at you like this.

“You do not know what I had to do already in my life (y/n). You have no idea what I could do. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t want to hurt you. However, I won’t take the risk of you potentially ruining everything I’ve worked on so hard. So do not test me and my patience.”

For a short moment he looked a bit exhausted, though this moment flashed by rather quickly and he went back to his emotionless face.

You felt bitterness stirring up inside of you as well as the feeling of losing hope and disappointment. Did he really mean this?

You jerked away when he suddenly grabbed your shoulders, looking like he wanted to say something else.

“I don’t have a choice (y/n). You left me no other options. I do not expect you to understand why I do what I do. But at the very least please understand that I never wanted this to happen. I still love you.”

The slightest bit of distraught, marking all his actions slightly, specifically the sudden desperate tightening of his grip.

“I’m sorry. But I have to be this way.”

[a-pretty-nerd]

Self Indulgent Shigaraki Nonsense Part 5

Tomura Shigaraki x pregnant!reader

A/N: Oh wow part 5 and I'm still not done with this.

Warnings: Emotions? Cursing?

You tossed and turned in your sleep, groaning and moaning in frustration. Your joint ached, and fatigue plagued your body. You tried everything you could to get to sleep but nothing was working and on top of your aching body, the nearly fully developed fetus in you thought now was the perfect time for exercise.

Tomura laid beside you, having fallen asleep hours ago. But your movement and sounds of anguish gently woke him up. Groggy and a little frustrated he looked over his shoulder to see your upset form shift back and forth.

"Is it the baby?" He asked in a low, hoarse voice. You huffed.

"Everything hurts and they keep moving around and I'm exhausted but I can't fall asleep!" You cried. You felt silly crying like this to Tomura, you felt like a little kid throwing a tantrum. Weren't you supposed to be the mild mannered, mature and wise mother?

Tomura turned over to face you, his gloved hand reaching out and planting firmly on your enlarged belly. He gently ran circles around it, trying to sooth the mysterious being inside. He had grown used to this routine, grown used to the idea of you being pregnant. But the idea of being father and actually having a baby was still out of his reach. For now, he was content to have you tucked away and all to himself where he knew you would be safe.

"My fucking BONES hurt." You complained as you rubbed circles into your eyes. He chuckled at your declaration for a moment before wrenching himself from the bed and shuffling into the kitchen where you could hear him rustling about. You laid there and closed your eyes, trying to emulate the soothing sensation of rubbing circles across your belly. They clearly liked it better when Tomura did it. You didn't even know how they knew the difference.

"Here." Tomura entered the room with a hot cup of tea in hand. He sat it down on your bedside table as you struggled to sit up properly. You laid against the head board and slowly took the mug. "Careful. It's still hot." He noted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you."

"Mhm." He watched you blow and sip on the tea, running his gloved hand up and down your calf.

"This is new." You scoffed.

"What?"

"You taking care of me." You smiled.

"What are you talking about? I've taken care of you before. Remember Jaku?"

"Ugh, I don't want to." You cringed. A particularly rough battle had left you broken and beaten black and blue. If it wasn't for Tomura, you would have been dead. But that was before you knew he loved you. Before you knew you loved him. "You're right you have taken care of me. But not like this before." Your smiled made him blush.

"This is a different situation." He explained. You chuckled.

"I know." You finished your tea and he took it from you to put the mug in the kitchen sink. But before he left the room you called to him. "Hey...Tomura?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Sure."

"No. Really. Thank you. For everything." He watched you for a moment, engraving that sweet smile of yours into his brain forever. Before nodding and walking back to the kitchen. You adjusted yourself, laying back down and watching him come back in and lay in bed. You watched him, your hand reaching up to gently scratch down his bare back. A comforting gesture he loves but will never out right ask for. It put him to sleep quick, and soon you followed him.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself alone in bed. You struggled to get up to use the bathroom and wash your face before waddling into the kitchen. A note had been placed over wads of cash on the kitchen counter. The note read:

I'm sorry there was an emergency and I had to leave early this morning. I left money on the counter for breakfast. Take it easy. I'll see you soon. I love you.

- Tomura

Money for breakfast? You looked down at the wads of 20 dollar bills and giggled. Tomura still had very little grasp when it came to money. He just never had to really worry about it. It's not that he wasn't good at budgeting or math, but, this was enough to pay the mortgage and groceries for the rest of the month. Some breakfast you'd be having. You took the cash and put it away where the rest of it went. You were to pay for everything in cash. The mortgage, the car payments, groceries, furniture, absolutely everything. As if that didn't make you look suspicious enough. But Tomura insisted on it because it wouldn't leave a paper trail to your name.

Your new name would have no debt no credit, nothing. It had to be perfect and unremarkable.

You fed, washed, and clothed yourself which took all morning now but finally you made up your mind to take a short walk to the local grocery store and do some shopping. Normal house wife shit, right?

So you waddled your fat ass out the door to take a leisurely stroll all the way to the super market. You looked up and watched grey clouds gently float above, bringing a cool breeze and the faint smell of rain in the air. You made it to the store before it started to sprinkle. The bright and fresh atmosphere of the store made you uneasy. Public spaces still made you feel out of place. Suspicious. Like you still had to hide.

You paused in the middle of an aisle, sudden movement stopping you dead in your tracks. The baby had been moving less, and the false contractions had started. Your midwife had taught you that this was normal, you still weren't due for a while longer, there was no need to worry. But they were a big pain in the ass.

You held your belly and took a deep breath. It soon passed and you went back to searching for your grocery list.

"First one?" A voice asked. You turned and found a young woman standing there pushing a stroller. She gave a friendly smile.

"Oh, yes."

"How exciting. I had a lot of false contractions with my first too. How far along are you?"

"I guess about, eight months. Give or take a week or two."

"You sure look it. I'm kim by the way, nice to meet you." She held out a hand and you shook it. Her bright smile and relaxed attitude bring comfort and warmth. You looked down to the stroller, an infant cradled towards Kim, and an absent-minded toddler glaring at the floor sat in the front. He angrily pouted at the ground, before his gaze slowly came up to you.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/-...." fuck! What was your new name again? You almost blew your cover. "Ota." You remembered. Thank God.

"Your the new family down the road aren't you?" Kim nodded in recognition.

"Yeah, yeah. How long have you lived here?" You tried to make conversation.

"Oh I've lived here all my life."

"Wow."

"Yeah my husband and I met in high school here and been together ever since. He travels for work now though, so,"

"My husband travels too." You told her. Shit. Was that the right thing to say? Could you really call Shigaraki your, husband? What would he think about that? He'd probably be irritated you even bothered to socialize at all.

"Oh really? What does he do?" You paused.

"Uh, he works closely with heroes." You croaked.

"Oh like management er' whatever?" She was so nonchalant.

"Yeah, yeah. Real boring stuff." You agreed. 'Er' whatever' what a great way to put it.

"Yeah mine's a lawyer for cities suffering from 'big hero blow-outs' they call em'. He works with cities about destruction of public property and what not. I don't really know the details or anything but hey, maybe our guys have crossed paths a couple times! What did you say his name was?" Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Uh, Ota. Ota Kurai." You lied.

"Kurai...huh..." Kim thought for a moment, taking in a deep breath and sighing. "Well, that doesn't ring any bells. How long have you been together." Was this something you were supposed to lie about?

"Five years now, I think." You pondered.

"You think?" She chuckled at you.

"Yeah, it's hard to remember sometimes. All of a sudden we went from friends to more. Its difficult to explain." She smiled.

"Yeah, I understand. Well, I better be off. The boys need a nap before lunch. It was lovely meeting you, Ota."

"Likewise!" You smiled back.

"See you around."

"See ya." And with you that you went on shopping, a successful venture. You were lucky you were able to purchase an umbrella in the store, it was really coming down now. You waddled along the sidewalk, making your way back to the stretch of suburbs you occupied. As you walked the final stretch to your home, the wind began to pick up. Violently wrenching the umbrella out of your hand and throwing it behind you. You turned, panicked and now vulnerable to the heavy rain. It came down fast and hard, the droplets almost painful on your skin.

You turned around to find your umbrella flying through the air, tumbling over to a distant figure. A young man, no, a teenager. The kid snapped to attention, jogging for the object from under his own umbrella and quickly making his way back to you. You tensed up, the weight of your groceries, the rain, your condition. Clearly you were in distress. You cursed yourself. You were once a feared villain. You fought the greatest heroes Japan had to offer and lived to tell the tale. You were an activist, pioneer, warrior, leader. You had the scars to prove it. And now look at you. A helpless, pregnant house wife.

"Here miss!" The boy called. You sniffed and reached for it as he handed it to you.

"Thanks!" You barked, trying to shuffled off without anymore talk.

"Let me help you with that!" He insisted, taking your groceries from you and shielding you from anymore rain. You were soaked by now. You couldn't argue, he insisted and you had to admit that the help was nice. He walked you home, standing and waiting at your house's gate as you took back your bags from him.

"Thank you for your help." You tried to be polite.

"Sure thing miss. No trouble. Are you sure you got it?"

"Yes. Thank you." You insisted, turning back to disappear into your home. Only to find the front door open. You let out a startled gasp. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, dark eyes glaring at the boy behind you. Your eyes shuffled back and forth between him and the boy. Shigaraki wore a painfully mediocre disguise. A face mask, and a black wig. From far away he easily blended into a crowd. He was always good at hiding himself in a strange way. He was an oddly good actor.

"Sara. You should be more careful." He barked your fake name in a fake tone. Like he was a concerned husband.

"Sorry Kurai, I didn't think the storm would get this bad." You chuckled in a panic. He approached you, averting his gaze from the boy. Hiding his face and taking the bags from you. You turned back to the boy who's eye shifted from Shigaraki then back to you. "Thank you for your help. Here." You shuffled around in your purse before handing him a few hundred yen.

"Oh no Mrs, really it's fine."

"No. I insist." You huffed with a smile.

"Thank you. My names Sato by the way, I live just down the road."

"Nice meeting you Sato." You smiled and closed the gate before waddling back inside. You closed the door behind you, panting as you recovered from your adventure.

You watched Tomura remove his disguise in a frustrated huff before putting the groceries away. You leaned against the wall after shuffling into the kitchen, leaving water to fall from you and pool on the wood floor. Soon he turned to look back at you.

"I thought there was an emergency."

"False alarm." He muttered.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked. He paused and gave a frustrated huff.

"...I told you not to get friendly with people. That puts you in danger." You scoffed. "You're soaking wet, you better shower off before you catch a cold."

"I didn't have a choice, okay? It's not like I sought out his help! He was just there, he insisted he help! And yknow what, I can't say I didn't need it. Because I'm incapable of doing anything apparently!" You shouted. Oh shit. He angered you. You could see it in his eyes. He hates it when you get angry, it makes him uneasy. "And I'm a walking beacon of chit chat too! Everyone wants to talk to the new pregnant lady. Last week, I had fend off like four old ladies from touching my belly. And the week before that, the clerk at the bookstore kept trying to sell me these weirdly religious parenting books. And- And today even! Today some other mom stopped me to talk about my false contractions at the store and I almost forgot our names and I- I-" You're crying now. He hates seeing you crying more than he hates seeing you angry. He slowly approached you, watching as you sniffled and sobbed and wipped away your tears.

"Come on, let's get you comfortable." He guided you to the bathroom to help bathe you in a warm bath to calm your nerves and ease your aching body. You shuffled out into the living room, the warmth of your pajamas easing your tense feelings.

"She wasn't that bad." You mumbled.

"Hm?"

"The other mom at the grocery store today. She was actually nice. She has two boys. She was really chill."

"Mh."

"I told her you worked in management with heroes and you travel a lot." You chuckled to yourself. "Her husband works as a lawyer for cities regarding damage from heroes. She said you might have crossed paths." Tomura pause and flashed a goofy smile.

"You never know. Maybe we have." He joked. You laughed for a moment before finishing your bath and getting changed.

"How come you came back?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well usually you stay away. But you've been here so long I figured you'd have left by now so you don't take any chances getting caught. Why'd you come back?" Tomura starred at your stomach and placed his gloved hand over it before looking up at you.

"I'm just finishing a few preparations. But I've made plans so that I'll be able to stay longer than I usually do." He didn't answer your question.

"Plans? Like what?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me you put Dabi in charge." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Toga? No!... Spinner!?"

"Y/N. Please." He begged.

"Sorry. But you never leave someone else in charge."

"Well now I have a reason. I'm...I'm taking a few months."

"What? But what about your work?"

"I'm not quiting. I'm still the true ruler. It's just a small...vacation. I can go back at any time if an emergency occurs. But for now, I'm staying here."

"You really miss me, don't you?" He pulled his hand away and rolled his eyes one more time before strolling away.

"Of course I miss you." He said it like it was a well known fact. "I miss you every second. I miss working with you. It's so frustrating without you. You understand, you got it. You always knew what needed to be done, what I was trying to do. Now it's like herding cats to get the simplest of tasks done sometimes. I mean you- you were always one step ahead. Half the time I didn't even need to ask you to do something you were already there. You were so smart and cunning and strong."

"And now I'm just a housewife..." He slowly turned to look at you. "I'm just the knocked up mistress you gotta hide."

"No. You know that's not what I meant."

"It's how you make me feel."

"Y/N..."

"I miss it too, y'know. Working with you, with everyone. I miss doing something that actually matters. I miss the planning, and the training, and the fighting. I miss it all. And now look at me. I couldn't even fucking walk home from the grocery store without needing to be rescued. It sucks, it really sucks. I know I chose this life. I know I chose...." Your hand hovered over you belly. "But I just...I just..." You're crying again.

Tomura places a hand on your back and hold you close and the other to stroke your hair in an attempt to calm you again. You clung to him, rocking the two of you back and forth.

"I know. I know." He whispered.

"I just wanted...wanted to be happy. Like how- normal people are happy." You cried.

"I know."

"And I am- I am happy I just... I miss working so much. And I miss seeing everyone and seeing you and fighting heroes and just...I even miss negotiations!" You sobbed. Tomura couldn't help but flash a smile.

"I know. I'm sorry." Your crying started to subside for a moment. Giving him the opportunity to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Tomura?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you." He nodded and placed his hand on your belly once more.

"So you'll be here for it?"

"Yes I'll be here." You smiled.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's the bare minimum."

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stone Triplets Fic (Chapter 2)

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise

Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF

Summary: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

The last time Eliot saw Alex was when they were 16 years old. Alex had been living with Uncle Danny for 6 years at that point, so the brothers didn't have much of a relationship even then, and the reunion had been awkward and tense. Jake was the one who tried to keep them together, who talked their father into hosting Christmas that year. He was the one who'd called Alex and begged him to come home for a week. Just a week.

They'd lasted three days.

At the time Eliot had blamed Alex—immature, bull-headed Alex, whose verbal and then physical fights with their father had led to his living with Uncle Danny in the first place. If he could have just learned to keep his mouth shut, most of the fights wouldn't have happened. Eliot and Jake had learned that lesson—why couldn't Alex? He always had to have the last word, no matter what the cost.

That last visit was what finally convinced Eliot to leave home. He thought about college, but eventually decided to enlist as soon as he turned 18 (without telling their father). Jake was supposed to go with him, but he'd wanted to see Alex one more time before they left. When months went by and Alex didn't come back, Eliot left both his brothers behind.

Age had given Eliot perspective, but by the time he was ready to apologize, Jake wouldn't take his calls. Alex had already joined the DEA, and a series of undercover assignments for both of them made it impossible for Eliot to reach out. And then he got involved with Moreau, and getting in touch was no longer an option. It would have put them in too much danger, and that was one thing Eliot would never do. But after a while, even that became an excuse. After he escaped Moreau, after Nate created a team and a family for him, he let the silence continue. He'd made that choice on his own.

And now apparently Alex was in the Philippines. Permanently, according to the detective who introduced herself as Kai Mendoza. That was all she would tell him (through gritted teeth, as though Eliot had committed some unforgivable sin by asking). "We have to take care of this mess," she'd grumbled. "Then we'll take you to see Alex."

She hadn't asked if Eliot wanted to see Alex, and part of him was glad for that. If he'd been given the option, he wasn't sure he'd have said yes. It would have been easy to say that he was too busy, that he couldn't stay, that it was better for them not to meet. But now that the offer was there, Eliot couldn't turn it down. One way or another, he was going to see his brother today.

Kai and her partner Ernesto drove him and the two men they'd arrested to the police station, where Eliot was firmly told to stay in the car. Kai paused after giving the order as if waiting for him to argue, even after he nodded and promised to stay put. Apparently Alex hadn't changed much since they were kids.

While the others were inside, Eliot took a few minutes to call Hardison and update him on the job. It was just the two of them on this one, with Hardison pulling the strings from somewhere in Vietnam while Eliot worked on the ground in Cebu.

Hardison picked up on the first ring. "All done? I booked you a flight back to New Orleans on—"

"I ran into a little snag," Eliot interrupted.

"What kind of snag?"

Eliot explained most of his encounter with Kai and Ernesto, but he couldn't bring himself to include the fact that he'd been mistaken for one of his long-lost triplet brothers. Hardison knew he had siblings, but Eliot hadn't ever gone into details about them. He wasn't sure what he'd say now, and he knew Hardison would have questions. Best to leave it be. He'd give Hardison a more in-depth explanation later.

"So now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we wait and see if they can salvage the sting. If they arrest Flores, our work is done."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll let you know."

There was a pause, as if Hardison was trying to decide whether or not to voice his next thought. "Is there something else?"

Eliot sighed. He tried not to lie to Hardison or Parker, but he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Not about the job," he answered. "I'll explain later."

To his credit, Hardison didn't argue, even though he had to be burning with curiosity. "Okay. Call back when you have more to share."

"Yeah."

It was another twenty minutes before Kai and Ernesto emerged from the police station, both wearing grim expressions. They were talking as they approached the car, and Eliot caught the tail end of their conversation through the open windows.

"I didn't want to bring him in on this," Kai was saying.

Ernesto shrugged. "We don't really have a choice anymore."

"Things get messy when his family is involved. It'll only complicate things."

Interesting. Which of his relatives had already come to the island? Evidently Eliot's family had a knack for disrupting the locals.

"Ocampo's orders," Ernesto said. He opened the passenger door and slid into the car, turning to look over his shoulder at Eliot. "We'll take you to see Alex, but you're going to have to come back to the station and explain what you were doing with Flores."

Eliot crossed his arms. "Figured you'd want to know that first."

"We do," Kai said, with a frown at her partner. "You owe the delay to Alex. He's helped us out in the past, and Ernesto thinks we should tell him you're here before he finds out from someone else."

"The surprise could kill him," Ernesto said mildly.

"You just want to see his face when we show up with his doppelganger."

"Don't you?" Ernesto asked. Kai huffed and dropped into the driver's seat.

They lapsed into silence during the drive, which Eliot appreciated. His stomach had begun an uneasy churn, though he told himself it was just because of the heat. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure Eliot hadn't reached out, but neither had Alex. Neither had Jake, for that matter. Eliot had gone home once, just after he got out of the service, and found Jake had taken over the oil company. Their neighbors said that Jake was turning things around, digging out of debt and even managing a profit, and Eliot accepted the blessing and drove out of town without stopping by the house. It was enough that Jake was happy. He didn't need Eliot coming back and ruining things for him.

Kai pulled into the parking lot of another hotel, dodging groups of brightly dressed tourists as she went. "He owns the gift shop here at the resort," Ernesto explained, flashing a friendly smile over his shoulder. Kai didn't look at him as she got out of the car, but Eliot was happy to keep his silence. He trailed behind her as she led the way through the resort, winding around pools and umbrella-covered tables, slowing every few moments so Ernesto could greet someone. Apparently the friendliness wasn't an act—or else it was a very good one. But something about the man felt genuine, as if he couldn't be bothered to put up a front.

Kai, on the other hand... she was harder to read. Especially now that she wasn't giving Eliot anything to work with except the occasional glare.

Before long the bustle of the resort faded as concrete transitioned to sand beneath their feet. A small building rose ahead of them, still against the backdrop of gentle waves and lazy clouds. A soft breeze ruffled Eliot's hair, filling his lungs with salt and sunshine. He wanted to stop, to look out at the water and breathe in the sea spray and the silence, but the others kept walking.

No wonder Alex had picked this spot. If retirement was in Eliot's future, he could see himself in a place like this.

Ernesto reached the door, and Eliot took one last windswept breath to brace himself.

"You look nervous," Kai murmured.

No he didn't. He knew he didn't, because the only emotions he gave away were the ones he wanted people to see. And he was most definitely not nervous. But her eyes lingered on his, and something softened in her expression.

"Don't worry," she said, giving him a small, hesitant smile. "It'll be fine."

"Alex," Ernesto called, and Eliot's stomach gave another roll. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He tried to back away, but Kai put her hand on his arm and cut off his retreat, guiding him inside.

The gift shop was empty besides one man restocking a rack of post cards. He stood with his back to them, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He had the same build as Eliot, the same brown hair he'd have to fight to keep straight in this humidity, the same scarred hands from years of work and fighting.

"Hey!" Alex said without turning around. "Check it out, I got new cards."

Ernesto started across the room, gesturing for Eliot to follow. "How come you didn't tell us you had a twin?"

Alex looked at him. "A twin? I don't have a tw—"

His eyes fell on Eliot, and his words died. Eliot could feel Kai watching them, waiting for a reaction, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, how've you been the last 30 years? Oh, me? Well, first I was an international assassin, and now I work with a group of thieves who steal from the rich and give to the poor. I still punch people for a living though. How about you?

Something started beeping. Eliot started—no, not started, just looked around for the source—but Alex slapped his hand to his wrist and the sound stopped.

"Everything okay?" Ernesto asked. Alex made a noncommittal sound, glancing at him before returning his attention to Eliot. His eyes seemed bluer than Eliot remembered. It was probably just the lighting, but since it was the only thought that didn't spiral out of control, it was the one Eliot clung to. Blue eyes like their mother's, like the pond water in the back yard. Blue eyes that had been red with anger and hurt the last time he'd seen them.

"Which one are you?" Alex asked.

Behind him, Kai made a choking sound. Ernesto shushed her.

"But—" she sputtered. "Are there more of them?"

Eliot refocused on his brother. "You don't recognize me?"

"You both look the same," Alex deadpanned.

"Well, we're in the Philippines and I'm speaking English."

For a long moment Alex simply stared at him as if trying to read the details of their separation in his face. Then he reached out, and Eliot braced himself for the punch. He wouldn't fight back—not at first, not unless things got out of hand. He could take a hit or two, let Alex burn off some of his anger, and then try talking. They weren't 16 anymore. They could handle this like adults.

But Alex didn't hit him. His arms flashed out past Eliot's head, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "Eliot," he murmured, crushing him in a hug that drove the breath from Eliot's lungs. He didn't care. He grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and squeezed, pressing everything he couldn't voice into the embrace.

"It's good to see you," Alex said at last, gruffly. He pulled away without taking his hands from Eliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh... work."

Alex frowned at the hesitation. "What kind of work?"

Eliot sent a look over his shoulder, where Kai and Ernesto still waited. They clearly had some kind of relationship with Alex, but how far did that extend? Likely not far enough to keep from arresting Eliot for the half-dozen laws he'd broken to secure his meeting with Flores. "I'll tell you later."

"Now's as good a time as any," Kai said. "You can tell us now or at the station, whichever you prefer."

"We can give them a little longer," Ernesto argued.

"Flores is still out there. The longer we wait, the more time he has to act."

"Who's Flores?" Alex asked. He let his hands slide from Eliot's shoulders, a frown settling over his face.

Kai gave him a pointed look. "I'll tell you later."

"I think you should tell me now."

"I don't care what—"

Ernesto held his hands up, putting himself between the two of them. "Kai, we can give them a few more minutes to catch up. We'll be outside, Alex. Ten minutes." He looked at Eliot. "Then you come to the station with us. Understand?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Ten minutes. I got it."

Though Kai looked like she wanted to argue, she allowed Ernesto to guide her toward the door. "Nice friends you've got," Eliot muttered.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Alex gave a serious nod. "Yeah. They are. They're closer than some of my family."

Apparently they were going to fight after all. "I didn't know how to contact you," Eliot said.

"You're smart. You couldn't figure something out?"

"Couldn't you?" Eliot countered. "The last I heard you were undercover. Reaching out would have put you in danger."

"I'm retired now," Alex said.

"So I hear."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I did try to find you. There was a rumor going around that you'd died."

"I didn't. Well, I did once, but it didn't stick."

"How long ago was that?"

"While you were still undercover."

Alex gave a frustrated growl. "Fine. We both could have done more, alright? Just... fill me in on the case."

The case was a safe topic, so Eliot embraced the change without complaint. He gave his brother the basics as he knew them: Robert Flores was looking to set up a base to smuggle drugs to the United States. Hardison had been tracking him throughout Asia, but when business kept him in Vietnam he'd contacted Eliot about finishing the job. "Should have been simple enough," Eliot said. "Set up a meeting, figure out his weakness, take him down."

"But you weren't the only one after him," Alex said. He heaved a sigh. "How mad was Kai when you showed up?"

An involuntary smile pulled at Eliot's lips. "She thought I was you. I think she wanted to kill me more than Flores's men did."

Alex chuckled, sobering a moment later. "So this is what you do? You go after international criminals?"

"More or less."

"With who? I mean—CIA? Interpol?"

"It's kind of a freelance operation."

Alex shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a lot to explain," Eliot said. "And I will, I promise. Soon as we have the time."

"Right." Alex gave him another long look, and a small grin appeared on his face. "It's good to see you, man. It's been too long."

Eliot didn't try to stop his answering grin. "You go by Walker now?"

"You'd already taken Mom's name. Didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"Yeah, but... Walker? As in Texas Ranger?"

Alex hissed and shot a look toward the door. "Don't say it out loud, man. I've got a reputation to keep up here."

Eliot laughed, but Ernesto chose that moment to knock and peek into the gift shop, effectively ending the conversation. "You two finished?" he called.

"For now," Alex answered. "Where's Kai?"

"She went to get some coffee. She'll be back any minute."

Alex nodded. "Good. I wanna be back before the afternoon rush."

"You're not coming," Ernesto said. "I don't think Kai can handle two of you."

Eliot folded his arms. "For the record, I'm not Alex's double. If anything he's my double. I'm older."

"By eight minutes," Alex snapped.

"That's older."

Alex huffed a wordless reply, and Eliot felt a glow of something familiar in his chest. This was an argument they'd had hundreds of times—Eliot, being the oldest, started it most often when they were kids. Jake had come next, and then Alex—Baby Alex, they called him, whenever he was being annoying. Eliot was pleased to find the joke still funny.

Even better, Alex seemed to still find it annoying. Eliot couldn't say why that felt so comforting. Maybe it was just that he was thankful to see a glimpse of the old Alex, the one he'd known before they let their father and their pride get in the way of their relationship. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was relaxed enough to have this conversation in front of Ernesto. Maybe Alex had found a team the way Eliot had.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd come here after all.

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 19

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Tallpaw was crouched low in the long grass of the pastures. He wasn’t searching for any prey, instead he was just sitting alone in the empty fields, looking in the direction of the twoleg barn. It had only been a couple days since his disastrous attempt at tunneling, and his father had been making a point of avoiding him, giving him nothing more than a distant glare. By now, everyone in camp had heard about the incident. He didn’t know what Heatherstar had to say about it yet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. No one brought it up but he always felt like they were watching him with pity, or worse, scorn. Tallpaw hadn’t been able to focus at all, and had slipped away from team hunting training with Shrewpaw after he’d missed his third catch. Shrewpaw had gotten fed up with him and growled in frustration “Just forget it, I’ll just catch something myself and say we caught it together!”

 He felt terrible. He had no idea how to make the cats he cared about happy. Dawnstripe wanted him to focus on moor training, Sandstone wanted him to become a prodigy tunneler, he had no idea what his mother wanted at all.

He wasn’t sure he felt worthy to train as anything anymore, he wanted to curl up under a gorse bush and stay there, not have to ask any cat for anything ever again and have no cat ask anything of him. It was a cowardly wish. And it wasn't like him to desire hiding in the undergrowth. Maybe that was why he had found himself walking towards the northern treeline, and why he now crouched at the outskirts of the farm, the woodland strip behind him blocking the breeze. He hadn’t consciously intended to come this way, but this is where he was. Just somewhere far away where he couldn’t disappoint anyone, where the wind wouldn’t catch his scent and invite anyone to come after him.

Tallpaw shouldn’t be in the pastures, he kept telling himself that, but some part of him was so desperate for some respite from the anxious buzzing in every part of his body, he was willing to try anything. His tail flicked restlessly. I don’t even know where Jake is, this was a mouse-brained idea. But before he could get up and leave, a bright orange shock of fur bounced out of the grass, making Tallpaw jump.

“Tallpaw!” Jake cried, “You’re back already! I didn’t think you’d come out this far again. I saw your tail in the grass and knew it had to be you. I was practicing my stalking, did you hear me coming?”

Jake looked so happy to see him. Tallpaw managed to get out a purr, “I didn’t. You’re a fast learner.”

It certainly wasn’t a lie, but mostly because Tallpaw had been too busy arguing with himself to pay any attention to a kittypet sneaking up on him.

Jake studied him, his eyes narrowed in slight concern “You doin’ ok? You seem a little down.”

“I’m fine,” Tallpaw lied. It didn’t sound convincing even to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was confess what a mouse-hearted stunt he’d pulled before when he went into the tunnels, especially not when Jake had tried so hard to encourage him before.

“I won’t make you spit it out. I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle.” Jake said politely.

Tallpaw hummed quietly but he avoided Jake’s gaze “I really just wanted to make sure you were doing ok. How are you?”

Jake seemed happy enough to oblige Tallpaw’s push for a change of subject. He told him how he caught a tiny mouse after a kestrel dropped it, and was practicing swatting at birds, and how his twolegs had been extra nice to him that day. Tallpaw still had some doubts about that last part, but he wasn’t going to interject about it today. Although Jake didn’t mention the obvious tension Tallpaw held in his body again, there was more understanding in his deep green eyes then Tallpaw would have expected. He had thought of Jake as a bit of a flighty cat who didn’t pick up on emotional cues very often, but he got the feeling the kittypet was perhaps a lot more perceptive than Tallpaw had been giving him credit for. Maybe his friendly nature wasn’t a result of naivety, maybe he was just… like that by choice. He was just nice. Why was that surprising? He smiled softly to himself as Jake talked.

“You know,” Jake said, “I’ve been getting a feeling lately that somethings going to change for me soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it. I just feel it in my gut. I finally met some of those nicer cats you mentioned, Reena and Bess. I thought about what it would be like to travel the way they do, it sounds so fascinating. ”

“Are you...considering it? Leaving with the visitors?” Tallpaw wasn’t sure he could picture it. Though he had to admit Jake and Reena had a similar friendly disposition.

Jake shrugged. “Oh I don’t know about that, they seem nice but I barely know them. I’ve never been a stray before. I think I would miss my housefolk too much, you know? It upsets them when I disappear. They’ve been acting strange lately, moving stuff out of their den for days. I have a feeling they're getting ready to leave, and I think I may go with them.”

 “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea. Don’t you like it here? You can’t just let them take you! You don’t even know where they’re going to go!” Tallpaw said more quickly than he intended.

Jake flicked his tail casually. “Yeah I know, but I’m not that worried. The rest of my family went their separate ways like this, and honestly I never imagined I’d stay here my whole life. Just staying put in the same place? I always wanted to see somewhere new. I guess I’m just going to see where life takes me”

Jake seemed so chipper at the idea, but Tallpaw was surprised at how sad he suddenly felt at the idea of the kittypet leaving. He shouldn’t be here, he knew that, but...it was nice to have something to himself. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Tallpaw didn’t think about how stressed out he was in camp when he went to see Jake. He didn’t want to lose this, as selfish as it was. Well, he thought. My father wasn’t really wrong, was he? I’d rather do anything to run away from hardships. Of course this is where I’d end up.

“Well...good luck.” Tallpaw said quietly, “I should get going. Maybe it’s for the best. I’m breaking the rules coming here so often.” He turned very abruptly to leave, painfully aware it was probably rude.

“Oh! well...I’ll see you Tallpaw!” Jake called with some uncertainty.

Tallpaw wasn’t sure that he would, and felt a hollow pang in his chest at the thought. But he shouldn’t have run off and left Shrewpaw to do the assignment alone. But when he got back to the moor, instead of Shrewpaw, he was surprised to see Reena and Sparrow padding along the treeline. Tallpaw’s first instinct was to worry, but he remembered Sparrow apparently already knew he visited Jake sometimes. Reena waved her tail when she caught sight of him. She smiled in a friendly way, but the rest of her betrayed her worry. Sparrow wasn’t even looking at him. He kept staring down at his paws.

“Hello Tallpaw,” Reena said. “Have you seen Hen or Mole? They suddenly aren’t in camp and no one is sure where they’ve gone.”

“Hen? Not recently...I think I saw her just outside camp when I left early this morning.”

“Well she’s not here, so we should look somewhere else,” Sparrow hissed, already padding away.

Reena dipped her head to Tallpaw apologetically. “Well...if you see her or Mole...please tell them to return to your camp. Hen hasn’t been doing well, we’re worried about her.” With that, she turned and hurried after her companion.

***

Shrewpaw was waiting for him with a small rabbit and a disgruntled glare as Tallpaw tried not to look guilty. He was hoping he’d find the other apprentice soon enough to still be able to help. 

Shrewpaw just gave an irritated flick of his tail. "Whatever. This gets us back to camp faster. I’m tired. You can owe me for it later.”

On the way back, Tallpaw scented the air carefully and kept his ears pricked for any sign of Hen. Such a frail old cat surely could not have gotten far alone, but he still didn’t see any sign of her or Mole. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten lost. 

A very tired looking Briarpaw was the first cat to catch them.

“Hey Briarpaw,” Tallpaw called. “You haven’t seen Hen around have you? Reena said that she’s wandered off.”

Briarpaw looked grim. “I’m afraid we have.”

Tallpaw expected the worst judging by the look on his friends face, and his suspicions were quickly confirmed.

 “She wanted to go on a walk with Mole. Apparently she needed to stop and rest while out on the moor, and she just...didn’t wake up again. Some of the warriors found Mole laying with her and had to carry her back. Hawkheart tells me she was already passed before they got her to camp. We’re not sure what the visitors will want done.”

Sure enough, when they walked into camp, there lay the still white shape of Hen, with Mole pressed close to her side. Tallpaw was a bit stunned. He had never actually seen a dead cat before. She had been alive just before he left, and had even spoken to him not long before that. And now here she lay, her fur messy and tangled with bits of thistle that Mole was attempting to lick out of her fur. Tallpaw felt a twinge of guilt then.

“She had to have gone at almost the same time as me…” He murmured to himself. “I was so distracted when I left to catch up with Shrewpaw. Perhaps if I’d paid more attention...They shouldn’t have been allowed to go walking around.” 

Briarpaw pressed his nose to his shoulder softly. “A walk on the moor isn’t what killed her, her sickness was one beyond our powers to cure. She died with her mate at least. Cloudrunner and Brackenwing have gone out to find the rest of their friends.”

Tallpaw nodded solemnly, but he still felt bad. The visitors were so lively and kind--most of them anyway. He really had hoped they would be able to help. 

Bess and Algernon returned shortly, approaching Mole with their heads bowed as they both in turn pressed their noses to their old companions' bodies. The clan stood back in quiet hesitation. There wasn’t a ceremony to perform for cats who weren’t clanmates, but no one wanted to step forward to offer condolences yet either, so they were silent. Do Sparrow and Reena know yet? Tallpaw thought. Sparrow had seemed so sure Hen would get better soon. However prickly and unapproachable the little loner could be, Tallpaw wouldn’t have wished this on him, or any cat. He didn’t envy whoever had to break the news to him. Who knew how he would react? 

Unfortunately, they didn’t have to wait long to find out. Mole hadn’t moved from Hen’s side until he heard the two young cats’ return. Sparrow stood rigid at the top of the shallow slope leading into camp and Mole began to limp over to him, standing in front of him as if he wanted to block his view. Tallpaw was too far away to read Sparrow’s expression or make out Mole’s hushed words until eventually he heard Sparrow raise his voice, tight as he fought to keep it steady.

“Then why did we even come here!?” he snarled, “we only went so far out of the way because they were supposed to help us, and most of them didn’t even want to!”

Sparrow’s sharp gaze snapped towards Hawkheart and Briarpaw, who sat some distance away from the body of Hen. Hawkheart didn’t give much away but he narrowed his eyes at Sparrow’s accusing glare

“She didn’t get better at all! If anything she got worse, did they even try? They just wanted us to leave, the quicker she was gone, the quicker we were gone. Is that it?”

Tallpaw was afraid Hawkheart would turn on the little cat at the accusation, but he didn’t even ruffle his fur. “My orders were to treat her to the best of my ability, so that is what I did. My feelings played no part in it. There was a sickness forming from the mass inside her. It was already taking her life when she arrived here. All the herbs and remedies StarClan has gifted us could not remove what was already set fast.”

“Then why was it so fast?” Sparrow looked back at Mole. “She was alright not more than two moons ago, and she could still walk when we got here, why didn’t we have more time at least if their healers were good for anything?”

“Sparrow, please,” Bess’s voice was firm, but raspy in barely concealed grief. “This isn’t what Hen would want at her place of passing. It was her time.”

“I don’t want her to be here. She shouldn’t be here.” Sparrow's eyes darted around to the staring strangers surrounding him. He looked like he wanted to spit more insults but couldn't find the words for them as he dug his trembling claws into the soil. Mole stepped closer, but Sparrow backed away and was gone back through the entrance in a heartbeat.

 Reena insisted on going after him to make sure he was ok, although Tallpaw couldn’t help suspecting he'd want to be alone, away from prying eyes idly observing his pain. It was hard to blame him for that.

Heatherstar eventually approached the small group and offered to keep vigil for her in the camp. 

“Thank you for your kindness, Heatherstar,” Bess said quietly, “but we will find our own place. Wherever we bury her for her final sleep must be carefully chosen, and it can’t be here.” 

They took several moments to rest before they attempted to carry her. Tallpaw spent a long while watching them silently grieve in their own way. Hen looked a bit like she was sleeping on her side, if it were not for the stiffness in her limbs, all the more noticeable when the visitors lifted her body between Algernon and Bess and slowly made their way out of camp. That unnerving scent he had smelled on her earlier came to him again. Unmistakably he knew it was the scent of death. Where would a cat go if they did not know their way to StarClan? Where was Hen now? Was she anywhere? 

Tallpaw couldn't help the curiosity to look over the ridge around camp to see where the visitors were taking their friend. They were out of sight, but he did see Reena not too far off, looking around with her tail and ears drooping. Tallpaw felt an urge to approach her, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. She caught his gaze and offered a small friendly blink that he took as a sign it was alright to come closer.

Tallpaw dipped his head. “I’m... really sorry about Hen. I’m sorry we couldn’t help.” It didn’t really feel like much, but it was the best he could think to offer.

“I believe that you all did what you could. I’m just glad she was with Mole at the end…" she said.

“Did you find Sparrow?”

Reena let out a small sigh “No. I suspect I won’t. He is good at not being found when he doesn’t wish to be. I’m terribly sorry for his outburst, he’s really a good cat deep down, but...this will hurt for some time. He'll find us himself when he’s ready. We won’t lay her body to rest until he does. Now that we have no reason to hurry, we will probably travel back south to the housefolk town for the cold seasons, give ourselves time to recover. We have friends there that will make finding shelter and safety easier.”

“Will you continue on your travels as you did before?” Tallpaw asked meekly. He didn’t have time to wonder if that was inappropriate to ask after he’d said it. He wasn’t sure the right way to navigate around this topic.

To his relief, Reena gave him a small smile. “We will, eventually. There was only one thing Hen ever asked of us, and that was for us to continue telling her stories after she was gone. It all started because of her, and she wanted nothing more than for it to outlive her. You know, I really am grateful we got to perform that story to you all. It was one of her favorites. So...Thank you for giving us a chance to tell it with her one last time.”

Tallpaw walked along with her for a short ways. He hadn’t planned on it, but it felt like the right thing to do as Reena spoke.

“I think we all knew Hen’s time with us was running short, even if we didn’t want to admit it. We hoped we’d be able to get her to the sea first.” Reena trailed off with a little sigh. “She was so excited to take Sparrow there. This would have been his first time. She was so much happier when we found him as a kit. Those two were closer than anything...We’re confident she will still travel with us, and we’ll guide her spirit home to the sea come next newleaf. She always believed we all end up where we are meant to be sooner or later, in this world or the next.” She paused, looking ahead to the far woods. “I should join my family now. I hope your clanmates will forgive us being a bit distant for a little while after all your hospitality...Thank you for walking with me.”

Reena touched his nose briefly and padded away. Tallpaw could only wish the strange cats well. Even when he couldn’t see them anymore, the image of Hen’s body unnerved him and lodged in his mind like a burr. 

He had a memory that was perhaps not quite real before this moment, of a still body no bigger than a mouse lying close at his side, stiff and covered in that distinct scent of death. Death shouldn’t unsettle him as much as it did, but it made him feel terribly lonely. He wished he took comfort in the ghosts that Reena’s family believed in. To him, StarClan still felt so quiet and far away, if anything more of a stern distant force staring over his shoulder to judge whether or not he was behaving as a worthy descendant of his clan. Ultimately, this sadness wasn’t meant for him. He wasn’t a visitor, and he could not afford to dwell on grief like them. Not for cats, or kits, he never really knew.

The life of a warrior meant living alongside death closely, an unforgiving force that could strike the life from a cat that he’d known and walked with just days before. He knew it was something he should accept, and feel no fear towards. But Tallpaw still hoped in vain that he would not have to meet it again.

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[doodledrawsthings]

Her Aim Was Getting Better

(Ahit ““““““Coffee Shop AU”““““““ rp log)

This is part of an RP between @displacedentities and myself detailing the meet-up between Luka and Vanessa, when she spikes his coffee with the curse. We did this a while back to get a feel for the characters and how that scene would go down, and they nailed it with how they wrote Vanessa. So I asked them if I could post it. Some of the stuff here was written before we had other things established, so some things like Hatties’s age and how long ago they split might be inconsistent with other posts I’ve made, but Enjoy!

(also forgive me for the way i write my parts, I’m not as practiced at writing rip)

(MysticDoodles) Despite the warm paper cup in her hands, Vanessa couldn't deny the chill in her bones. It had yet to go away since that day in court, biting at her skin and hovering just at the base of her brain stem. It always seemed to grow colder whenever she thought about how she got here... the things she'd said. What she almost did to that poor briefcase jockey in the courthouse.

But it didn't matter, anymore. If anything, her mom was happy she lost that case. Losing her husband and... child had stripped away all excuses she had not to throw herself into her work, and her mother was happy. 

Vanessa was not happy. 

In fact, she was seething. 

Luka took everything from her, that day. Her love, her place in their home. His adorable smile, his laugh... they weren't hers anymore. He only gave them to that- little gremlin. The parasite that took his love away from her, her precious nickname given to their daughter. 

Nobody got to be Luka's princess except Vanessa herself. Never again.

She lost the custody battle and her efforts to take Luka's obsession away from him, but she was going to make sure he lost so much more.

Vanessa waited in the autumn breeze, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the coffee cup. Chestnut-infused Columbian. His favorite. A sister cup sat opposite the table, waiting for him. If he was brave enough to show his face. .

(DeusExMakena)  He could see her from his car as he pulled into the parking space, sitting at a table by the large window at the front of the coffee shop. How long had it been now? Around five years, right? Hattie was barely a year old when they split.

He used to get so excited about meeting her, being in her presence, making her smile... and now the very thought of just getting out of his car and making eye contact with her left a pit in his stomach. As much as he'd loved this woman in the past, the way she treated their newborn daughter.... he had to stop thinking about it. Starting this meeting out in an angry mood wouldn't be a good idea.

With a sigh he finally willed himself to leave the vehicle, and just as he looked up their eyes met. The pit in his stomach deepened as he walked up to the cafe doors.

(MysticDoodles) The ice crept up her neck again. Vanessa forced it down, and put up a smile. No reason to start this off as cold as the ice in her veins. 

 Luka can see from her attire that she's doing rather well- financially, anyway. A thick coat against the autumn chill- or maybe from her heart, so closed off- and a scarf stuffed into her bookbag. Her mother must have improved her stipend, now that they split. What a beastly woman. It's pointless to ponder what-ifs at this point, but maybe if Vanessa's mother had been someone else... no. No point.

 With one hand, she gestures to the chair opposite her. Empty and waiting. "Hello, Luka. I got your favorite. You're doing well?" 

 ...the tenor isn't as friendly as it sounds, and feels more plastic than her smile appears.

(DeusExMakena) He hesitates, looking around the venue at the other tennants before wordlessly taking the seat across from her, mostly staring at the coffee cup in front of him.

Why is he having such a hard time looking at her?

"I'm... fine," he manages to force out as he takes the cup in both hands. Come on, man just get this over with and you can go home. "So uh, what brings you here?"

He wishes he could kick himself in the face for how out of place he feels, right now. What do you even say to someone you haven't seen in years, when the last time you saw them had been after an intense battle over the custody rights of the child you fought so hard to protect?

At least the warmth of the cup in his hands provides him with some reassurance.

(MysticDoodles) Something in Vanessa's smile twitches, but it's gone before he can really tell what it was.

"Oh- I just wanted to chat, catch up on old times, you know? I'm guessing the bar exam went well?"

...

Awkward silence, as Vanessa turns her smile away. She lifts her own coffee cup to her lips and takes a long drink, looking at the pavement.When she sets it down, there's a brief moment where her fingertips looked blue. It soon fades back into perfectly trimmed nails.

"...you know why I called you here, Luka. Don't make me lie to you." Her voice grows quiet, though pensive or frustrated is difficult to parse. "You were always better at lying, anyway."

(DeusExMakena) He squints slightly at that last remark and has to do enrything in his power to hold his tongue.

"I dont, actually. With the way things ended the last time we saw eachother, I was almost sure that would be it." he says, probably with a bit more venom in his tone than he should have used, but he was here for less than 10 minutes, now, and he could already feel his patience waning.

"But if you're really just here to reconnect, you'll have to forgive me" he takes a moment to swirl the cup in front of him before lifting it towards his mouth "I'm not very good at small-talk."

Chestnut-infused Columbean bean. Cream and Sugar. So nice to know that she never forgot.

(MysticDoodles) Vanessa smiles as he takes a drink. It's gone by the time he removes the cup again.

"...sorry," she says. Her stony expression shifts into a frown. This wasn't how she expected this conversation to go- but really, she had been expecting nothing, so no pain or gain thus far. "I'm not being very polite, am I? I guess I just- missed you, Luka. It's very different, going back to my mother's apartment after-... well. Being with you."

...

Another quiet sip. Vanessa runs her finger on the plastic cap.

"...do you miss the nights after we studied, when we'd just sit on the couch together and watch garbage movies?"

Before Harriet came along, she didn't say aloud.

(DeusExMakena) Of course he did, he loved her. And as much as he'd love to revisit those moments, to relive the sense of elation he felt when he got her to laugh over awkward acting and nonsensical writing... He just couldn't forgive her for what she did.

He sighs, opting to indulge in her to see where she's going with this.

"Yeah," He takes another sip, looking back down at the table "Sometimes I still wonder why that had to stop."

(MysticDoodles) There's no way he misses the way her fingers tighten on the paper coffee cup. Especially since it's accompanied by an audible pop of paper crumpling in a half inch, and liquid sloshing within.

"They did stop, Luka."

How could he be so blind?

"They stopped when you stopped spending them with me. You spent all your time with our daughter, and not with the loving wife who gave her to you. Don't you see how unfair that is? I deserved your time, too."

Vanessa sighs, her words almost chastising. It reminded of the times she shifted into 'disappointed mother' mode around Harriet. Their one year old, at the time, who didn't understand consequences for things like dropping a toy in the sink. She even had the nerve to sound hurt as she speaks those words.

(DeusExMakena) He is absolutely apalled.

"I-" he doesnt know why he cant find the words to respond. His eyes wide and his eyebrows furrow as he glares directly at her. He shouldnt be surprised by this, really, he saw this coming. Five years, and some things will just never change.

Luka pinches the bridge of his nose, he MARRIED this woman.

"I'm sorry, are we- are we really doing this again?" He sets his coffee cup on the table with a little more force than he wanted to, "You do realize you're getting jealous over a literal one-year old that we both agreed that we wanted to have. I'm her father, I'm sorry, again, for doing my job and raising our child."

(MysticDoodles) Vanessa's long-suffering expression hardens back into stone, pouting out her lip as once more, Luka shows no signs of budging on his stance. How very lawyerlike of him. To the bitter end, he would fight for his side of the case against the opposition. She wished they didn't have to be on opposite sides, anymore, yet here she was for the second time.

"Is it so wrong that I wanted to spend more time with my husband? All toddlers need to learn to share, anyway." Vanessa shrugs, as if this were no big deal. "You never spent evenings with me, anymore, Luka. Every night that you came back from graduate classes and networking with firms, you would go right to her. The honeyed words for me didn't come until dinner, if they came at all. And don't talk to me like I wasn't a good mother- I kept her out of trouble during the day, whenever I was out of rotation."

...

"How is my little Harriet doing? It's been so long since you've squirreled her away."

(DeusExMakena) No. No, no, no, he's not doing this again

"You..." He tries to hold his tongue, but peck, he doesnt want to deal with this right now. He feels his hands ball into fists "No. I'm sorry, no, you don't get to ask how my daughter is doing. You had every opportunity to join us, no one was stopping you from being happy but yourself! You wanna talk about sharing? Then why are you throwing a fit over a over a child spending time with her father?"

 ...

"She wanted a relationship with you, you know. It's... really hard having to explain to a five-year-old that she doesnt get to see her mother because she was too immature to realize 'oh hey! I could hang out with both my daughter AND my husband at the same time!'" He says that last bit in a mocking tone as he picks up his coffee and goes in for another sip, glaring straight at his ex-wife with pure exasperation.

(MysticDoodles) There he goes again. His daughter.

This time, Vanessa doesn't look away as she returns the glare. The medical graduate holds unflinching eye contact as she lifts her own cup and downs half the contents. Trying to make a statement, maybe? She always did have issues with competition.

"...so where does that leave us, then? You drink the coffee I got you, and walk away? Are you really so set on burning this bridge, Luka? Things can go back to the way they were, if you really want it that way. My stipend will get us through the rest of exams, and then we can live a good life together - high paying jobs, a comfortable apartment, as many dates and trashy movie nights as we want. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

...she didn't say a word about five-year-old Harriet.

(DeusExMakena) Luka takes a moment to stare at her, eyes half-lidded and tired.

He picks up the cup and downs the rest of his coffee, before placing it back on the table and standing up from his seat, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Allow me to light the match for you."

With that, he turns towards the door, ready to leave. Why would he feel bad about burning a bridge that leads nowhere?

(MysticDoodles) Luka can hear the squeal of the metal chair legs as Vanessa stands abruptly from her seat. There's no click of heels on riverstone, but he knows she's got her fists clenched at her sides, watching him. She always did that when she was angry. Maybe this time she'd have some ice on her wrists, now that her abilities were public. She'd put less effort into hiding it after the court case, anyway.

"YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE!" Vanessa yells after him as he continues, stride unbroken. "You'll regret this! You won that case, but you'll always be my prince, and I'll always be your princess!"

But legally, she couldn't touch him, now. Luka and Harriet were no longer family. He knew that, and she knew he did.

...

Oh well.

The door closes with a crnk-ling of the bell, and the background noise of the cafe starts to fade back into her awareness. Or lack thereof. Everyone nearby was staring, not that she cared.

Stiffening her upper lip, Vanessa grabs her bag and loops it back over one shoulder. She pats the side, removing the scarf off the copy of 'Ancient Botanicals & You' she'd found at the antique bookshop, and tying the garment back around her neck. With one hand she picks up Luka's cup, and looks inside.

Empty.

A smile traces her lips as she takes it along with her own, and tosses them both into the trash can.

Now all she had to do was wait and see.

[infinitegalahad]

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ 

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”  

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake,  and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested  in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.  

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

[mldrgrl]

Would You Lie With Me and Just Forget the World?

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A little ‘what if?’ AU during Fight the Future, if Scully had gone to Salt Lake City.  Inspired by the wonderful little poem Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.  (Sweet midnight, Anon, I think this fits nicely with your prompt as well)

“Salt Lake City, transfer effective immediately.”  She hesitates in his doorway for only a moment, and then she turns to leave.  “I have to go.”

His head is spinning and his heart is racing.  He springs up from his desk to chase her down, to stop her from leaving.  He makes it to the hall, but all he can manage is her name.  She stops at the elevator, her back to him.  He sees her ball her hands into determined little fists and the way she takes a deep breath and straightens her spine.  When she turns, the wobble of her chin and the tears in her eyes threaten to break the composure she’s just worked so hard to muster.

There’s an ache in his chest.  He wants to tell her everything in that moment; how much she means to him and how much he needs her.  He’s as afraid that she’ll think he’s only talking about their work as much as he’s afraid she’ll know he isn’t talking about work at all.

“Is this...is this what you want?” he asks.

The elevator doors open up behind her and she turns away from him to step inside.  He moves a few steps closer and then she turns around again and he stops.  She only gives him a glance before bowing her head.  The doors close and he’s alone in his hallway.  He doubles over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.  It feels like he’s been kicked in the gut.

With Scully sent to Utah, Mulder is reassigned to counter-terrorism.  He hates it.  Hates the work, hates the other agents in the unit, and hates his new superior.  They’ve got him chasing down suspicious purchases of fertilizer and harassing confused farmers day in and day out.  Shit detail.  He’d quit, but he doesn’t like the thought of how smugly satisfied They’ll be knowing he had given up.  Easy as it would be to search the directory for her new information, he doesn’t even contact Scully.  Nor does she contact him.  He doesn’t drive by her old apartment and he takes her number out of his speed dial.  He refuses to be broken.

He lasts six weeks.

Six long, torturous, miserable, and painful weeks and then he’s at the airport one Friday afternoon, booking the next flight out to Salt Lake City.  For four and a half hours he gorges himself on tiny bags of peanuts and shreds his cocktail napkins into tiny pieces on the tray table in front of him.  He rents a car and drives the few miles to the field office in the area, solely relying on hope and a hunch that she’ll be there.

His badge gets him in the door without issue, but he can’t go aimlessly wandering the halls.  He stops a woman pushing a cart, assuming she’s a mail clerk that will know every office blindfolded.  Luck is on his side.  When he asks where he can find Agent Scully, she tells him to take the stairs down one flight, third door on the right.  He takes a few deep breaths in the stairwell and wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his pants before he heads down the hall.

He passes a janitor’s closet and a storage room.  The third door is missing a real nameplate.  Someone has scribbled SCULLY onto a piece of lined paper, ripped that in half, and taped it to the empty slot where a nameplate should be.  The door is open, but he knocks anyway, just a few light taps with his knuckle as he enters.

Scully is hunched over a small table in the corner, squished between a bookcase and filing cabinet.  The room is cold, dimly lit, and not a window in sight.  It’s barely bigger than a broom closet.

“You can take the girl out of the basement,” he says.  “But, I guess you can’t really take the basement out of the girl.”

Scully blinks as she looks up and drops her pen on the table.  She looks the same to him, but changed somehow.  Her eyes, he realizes, look grey.

“Mulder,” she says.  “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.  Thought I’d check out the new digs.”  He looks around.  He bets if he stretches his arms out, he’d be able to touch both sides of the walls.  “Please tell me this is just temporary while they renovate the corner office for you.”

She doesn’t answer, just looks down at the papers on the table and begins collecting them into a neat pile.  Watching her gather her things in this pathetic excuse for an office, he feels like his heart is being squeezed in a vice.  She doesn’t deserve this.

“What’re you working on?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she answers.  “Reviewing autopsy reports.”

“Can I take you to dinner?”

She checks her watch and glances past Mulder to the door.  He turns to see what she’s looking for, but there isn’t anything there.  She’s nervous, he realizes, but he doesn’t know what for.

“Or maybe I should go,” he says.  “I didn’t mean to...catch you off guard.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, softly.  “It’s been a long week.  Do you mind if...we could order in.”

“Sure.”

He scans her bookshelves as he waits for her to pack up her satchel.  Nothing but textbooks on forensics and pathology, some of them with cracked, ancient binding.  She turns the light off and he follows her down the hall and up the stairs.  She pauses for a moment and waves a file folder in her hand.

“I just have to…” she says.

“Take your time.”

She nods and knocks on the first door to the left.  He hears a mumbled conversation and nonchalantly steps into the view of the open office.  Scully is in the antechamber of another office, passing the file folder to a woman who looks like she just sucked on a lemon.  Her disdain is more than obvious and Mulder wonders what it’s about.  For a fleeting second, the woman’s eyes meet Mulder’s and her expression turns from sour to suspicious.  He turns his head and keeps moving past the door to wait for Scully.  She comes out a few moments later with her eyes forward and doesn’t look at him, doesn’t wait for him as she heads to the exit.  He follows a few paces behind.

“You drove?” she asks.

“Got a free upgrade to a Toyota Corolla,” he answers, waggling his brows at her.  “Riding in style around the Beehive State.  What was the deal with the wicked witch of the west back there?”

“Things are different here.  People are...different.”  She turns her head and a slight breeze ruffles her hair.  He almost lifts his hand to brush it out of her eyes.  “I’m over there.”  She points to the left of the parking lot.  “You can follow me out.  It’s not far.”

“After you.”

He watches her walk away.  The tired slump of her shoulders and bowed head is depressing.  He doesn’t even have to see her face to see how sad and defeated she is.  He’s angry with himself for waiting so long to come to her.  He should’ve been on a plane immediately.  He should have never let her go.

The drive to her apartment is only about ten minutes.  The building is compact and lacks character, bland and beige and ugly.  Next door is an empty lot of dirt and shrubs and a clear view of the highway.  He hopes the interior makes up for the exterior.  His hopes are dashed as soon as he steps foot inside.  It’s even worse.

Her apartment is a studio with ancient appliances and worn carpet. Clearly, it came furnished with pea-green, threadbare chairs and a pull-out couch.  He doesn’t recognize a thing.  What little she does have is still in boxes, pushed up against the walls and stacked to make as much room as possible.  They’ve stayed in nicer motels throughout the years.  He hates everything about it, but especially that this is what she’s been calling home for the last six weeks.

“It’s temporary,” she says, watching him look around.  

“You don’t deserve this,” he replies.  

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“It’s over, Mulder.  You need to accept that and move on.”

“Move on?  Are you serious?”

“What do you want from me, Mulder?  The files are destroyed.  The OPR was quite clear that there’s no hope of ever reinstating the department.  I’ve been exiled to what’s arguably the least friendly, most backwards and misogynistic field office in the country, which I’m sure was intended to break my resolve somehow.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“If I quit now, they win.  I don’t see you walking away.”

The defiant tilt of her chin ends the debate.  He nods in agreement and shoves his hands into his pockets in frustration.  She’s right, as usual, and he hates that she’s right about this.  But, he didn’t come here to argue.  He takes his hands out of his pockets and swings them awkwardly for a moment.  He wants to touch her, but he doesn’t.

“I need you,” he says.

“You don’t need me,” she whispers as she sinks down and perches on the edge of one of the chairs.  “You never have.  I just held you back.”  For a few moments, she holds her face in one hand and rubs her temples.  When she looks up, her eyes are heavy and tired.  She blinks and then her eyes well up and she looks down at her lap, picking at the skin along her thumbnail.  

“You’re wrong, Scully.  You are so wrong.”

“Why did they assign me to you, Mulder?  To rein you in.  To shut you down.”

“And you saved me.  Your goddamn strict science and rationalism have saved me a thousand times over.  You kept me honest.  You made me a whole person.  And I’m not...”  He pauses and swallows hard against the tightening in his throat.  He’d built up his courage and come out here to tell her all the things he’d held back, but fear has a merciless stranglehold on him and steals his voice.

She looks up at him with her brows furrowed and he kneels down in front of her.  He puts his hands on her knees, palms up, and she automatically slips her hands into his as if they’ve done this a thousand times.  He bows his head over their hands for a few moments and then looks up and gazes openly into her eyes.

“I’m not just talking about the work,” he says.  “When I say I need you, I mean you are the other half of me.  You’re right, they’ve taken everything from us and I’ve spent these last weeks being furious and disgruntled and railing at the injustice of...we were so close, Scully.  We were on the verge.  But...but…”

She squeezes his hands and he bows his head again.

“It’s not the work I want back,” he says. “It’s you.”

She chokes on whatever reply she’s about to give and then lowers her head so her forehead rests against his.  He pulls his hands free of hers and wraps his arms around her, nearly pulling her from the chair and into him.  She hides her face against his shoulder and both hands slide over the back of his head and through his hair.

“What do we do?” she asks.  “I know you, Mulder, you’ll never give up.”

“I’m not giving up.  The only thing I know for sure is that I’m not leaving here without you.  Everything else...I don’t know.”

Her fingers tighten, pulling gently at his hair.  He leans his head against hers and they stay that way until finally she picks her head up and stares at him.  He brushes his thumbs along the crescents beneath her eyes, damp with tears.  Her lips part even before he leans in as though she anticipates his kiss.  He whispers her name as their mouths meet and her whimpered reply makes the six weeks away from her worth the lost time.

When they pull back, maybe minutes or hours later, there’s a mixture of shock and awe in Scully’s expression and Mulder can’t help the lopsided and goofy grin that pulls at his cheeks.  He can feel every muscle in his face lift in happiness and then Scully smiles as well.  She’s the first to look away, glancing to the side at the pull-out couch and then biting her lip when she returns to his gaze.

Like most things, they don’t discuss the next step.  Mulder gets up and takes Scully’s hands to help her from the chair.  They empty the couch of cushions, stacking them in a little space next to the arm that she’s designated as the holding area, and then they unfold the bed together.  They remove blazers and shoes and belts, but come to an unspoken agreement that that’s enough for now.  Cuffs and collars are loosened for comfort and then they lay down facing each other, nose to nose, Mulder’s arms around her and Scully’s arms folded between them with her hands on his chest.

They take turns pressing soft kisses to one another’s face; her cheek, his brow, the side of her nose, his chin, the back of her jaw, the corner of his mouth.  Things escalate slowly and gradually.  The lazy circles Mulder makes against Scully’s upper back move lower until his hand rests lightly at the hint of a curve below her hip.  Their legs shift and twine.  Scully moves one hand to Mulder’s side, fingers tugging unconsciously at his shirt.

The bed is surprisingly comfortable, not that Mulder would notice if it wasn’t.  It does squeak though with nearly every move they make and they can’t help laughing at the absurdity every so often.  He can’t believe the anger and heartache he’s been holding for the last six weeks has evaporated so quickly into joy.  He can’t believe he’s here and that they’re doing this.

And then things simmer and slow and then they’re back to where they started, nose to nose, albeit a little more entwined.  He could be afraid she’s changed her mind or that this isn’t what she wants, but he isn’t, not with the way her fingers play at his nape or the way she moves to trace his lips every so often with the pad of her thumb.  No skin has even been uncovered and yet he feels more exposed and naked than he ever has been, and he’s not afraid of that either.

“What do we do now?” she whispers.

“Got any good Chinese takeout around these parts?”

She smiles and brushes his nose with his.  He shifts and sighs and they both tighten their hold on each other, just a little.

“I don’t know,” he says.  “You should...be a doctor.  Go be a doctor while you still can.”

“Maybe one day I will be.  But, you haven’t found the truth yet and I have my own questions that need answers.  I have...my own injustices that need to be resolved.”

“You wanna go rogue?”

“I’ve been out here for the past six weeks thinking that I didn’t want to burn bridges.  I thought maybe if I kept my head down, stayed below radar, I’d earn the chance to come back.”

He nods.  “How’s that been working out?”

“Not very well.”

“I’m at the end of my rope, Scully.  Tell me you feel the same.”

She slides down and curls herself up against his chest.  He makes a shelter out of his arms and curves himself around her in return.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says.  “Just maybe not right now.”

“Thank you for coming after me.”

“I’ll always come after you.”

“I know.”

They fall asleep twined like a yin and yang; two halves, one whole.  He’s needed respite from his crusade for so long and tonight he has it.  Tomorrow, they’ll form a plan, but for now, they’ll lie together and just forget the world.

The End

[basicjetsetter]

Part IV

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Little angst, Lot of anxiety, Fluff if you squint

▹ Words: 2.8k

▹ A/N: This chapter’s a bit on the short side, but it establishes a lot. Happy reading!

You’re not exactly sure how you pull it off, but you somehow manage to elude Peter for five straight days.

Playing the impromptu game of hide-and-not-be-seen was touch and go for the first two days, mainly because you weren’t sure what time you’d see Peter in the diner’s entrance. All you knew was that he’d show up early, whatever that meant. Almost every chiming bell sent your heart into overdrive, and whenever you thought you saw him, your stomach performed painful somersaults as you mapped out all likely escape routes.

No place in the diner was safe. Hal’s has a pretty simple layout: front entrance, booths to the immediate right, and bar with barstools to the immediate left, all in a shotgun fashion. If one were to try looking for someone, especially from the front entrance, all they’d have to do is marginally widen their field of vision, which is why the first two days were tricky.

The next day after the first run-in, about three hours earlier than his initial arrival, Peter came in through the front door, buddying up with Chris and asking for you.

You were clearing off an unoccupied table, piling dirty plates, when Chris called out, “Hey! How’s it hanging, Peter?” With the stack of dishes still clenched in your hands, you dropped down and crawled under the booth, coming face to face with an unsavory assortment of chewed-up gum underneath the table, holding your breath for dear life. Peter stayed for about ten agonizingly treacherous minutes as Chris failed to locate you.

On the second day, a sluggish Tuesday morning with only four regular patrons at the bar and no one in the booths, Peter had just walked through the entrance as you were coming out of the back, hand-carrying three of Hal’s famous Thin Mint Milkshakes. Without a thought, you spun right around and dashed in the opposite direction, busting through the employee door and colliding straight into Wendy. You’d never seen someone throw such a fit, but then again, you’d be pretty pissed too if someone coated you head-to-toe in milkshake.

That day was… eventful, to say the least, but it gifted you with the best estimate for Peter’s arrivals. Early meant 11:30 a.m. on the dot. Lunch. You tested out the time the next day, waiting behind the employee door and peering out the medium-sized port window. At 11:30 a.m., right on cue, was Peter, dapping Chris and ordering a slice of Banana Cream Pie to-go while also asking for your whereabouts, staying for only half an hour.

He left you a note each time he departed.

Can’t seem to catch you. I’ll try again tomorrow :) – Peter

Is this not a good time for you? I’ll stop by later if you want – Peter

Is everything alright? Text or call anytime you need me. I’ll be there – Peter

From the second note on, you found yourself captivated by his neat little scrawl and the way he always signed his name at the end, as if you’d forget it was him. You’d read them on your way home and right before falling asleep, trying and failing not to picture him smiling at you while you absent-mindedly smiled at his words.

Your friendly boy-next-door is so easy to fall for, but you just can’t do it. You can’t allow yourself to fall. Nobody would be there to pick you back up.

Some nights, you lied awake drafting a message that would effectively convince Peter that things wouldn’t work between you, that you’re a lost cause, and he should probably find some other connection if such a thing exists. But then, unfailingly, you’d think about his concerned little notes and sadly acknowledge that he deserves more than a measly text. After showing up to Hal’s for almost a whole week just to get to know you, Peter deserves the truth.

Your heart is not ready for a Soulmate, and it might not ever be.

By the fifth day, you spend a good chunk of time pondering over the right words to say to Peter while simultaneously hiding in the kitchen, pretending to prepare more fries. You never looked forward to hiding from him, but what other option did you have? Going out there and letting your coworkers and boss know he’s your Soulmate? They wouldn’t shut up about it, especially not Chris, the open romantic.

When your shift ended that day, and you walked up to Chris so he could hand you Peter’s fifth note, he emphatically shook his head.

“On behalf of my new friend, Peter, I can’t in good faith give this to you,” he stated, tucking the folded paper into his back pocket and crossing his arms. “Not until you tell me why you’re dodging him.”

You frowned, crossing your arms too. “It’s really none of your business, Chris.”

“True, but it’s his.” The little dig got to you, making you wince. Chris continued softly, “Look, he won’t tell me what’s up with you two, either. And, trust me, I've asked. It's just... I’m kinda involved now, being the messenger and all, so shouldn’t I know some of the situation?”

“No…?” you hedged.

Chris didn’t budge.

You couldn’t think of a lie on the spot, and a half-truth would only further complicate things. Treading the fine line of what’s too much information and what’s not enough left you frustratingly tongue-tied. What’s specific enough to still be vague? Chris stared at you expectantly with a petulant little lift in his brow, ignoring a customer’s disgruntled calls for a refill in the napkin dispenser. 

In the end, you huffed out a resigned breath and hesitantly admitted, “Peter's someone I knew from high school—a really nice guy.” For Chris’s benefit, you added, “He just likes to check up on me every now and then. You know how I don’t get out that much…”

And in a heartbeat, Chris morphed from a tough enquirer to a softened pile of dough, sagely nodding his head as if he knew all too well how reserved you are and how much of a losing battle it is persuading you to venture out. Or maybe it was because he understood how difficult it is to reconnect with people you unwilfully lost touch with for five years.

How everything and everyone fell right back into step with everyday life, like five years was just five minutes, continues to boggle your mind. It’s not normal. You won’t ever pretend that it is.

The disgruntled man shouted, “Can I get any damn service around here?”

Chris immediately broke from the conversation and left you behind the bar, off to go charm the customer’s socks off and earn a nice $10 tip even though he clocked out ten minutes ago.

You went on your way home, the ever-present anxiety of confronting Peter growing by the second.

Hours later, dressed down to your pajamas and reading his words over again, you’re still thinking about it, dread now gnawing on your insides.

You couldn’t even enjoy your newfound peace of mind. Ever since the voice stopped, Peter twined into all of your thoughts: his notes, his visits, his smile, your connection to him. There had to be a reason why destiny paired you. Besides being your Soulmate, what is he to you? What are you to him?

Unrest barred you from sleep for most of the night, and when you woke up the next morning, showered and ready to tackle another day, it hit you. 

It’s Saturday—your day off this week—and you’re not scheduled to go back to work until Monday.

You could put off telling him… but what would be the point? It’d only prolong the inevitable. You needed to come clean today.

Picking up your phone, you steadily tap in his memorized cell number, then type:

-Hey Peter, it’s Y/N. Can you come by my place? We need to talk.

Three minutes later, he texts back.

-On my way.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

A nice, early summer breeze billows around you, doing its best to calm down your erratic nerves as you wait for Peter on the roof.

Are you doing the right thing?

Will Peter be okay with this?

What if he isn’t?

You jump out of your skin at the muffled Thwip and sudden appearance of Peter standing a few feet away.

His chestnut hair is windswept, and he’s wearing regular clothes, a faded blue Midtown High hoodie and denim jeans. You weren’t sure why you expected him to come dressed in his suit. It could be because you heard the sound of his web-slinger first and immediately thought of Spider-Man, but it’s more likely that your brain hasn’t connected that they are one and the same. You don’t see Spider-Man when you see him. All you see is Peter.

He’s tense, not moving an inch closer and keeping his shoulders pinched up like he’s on the defense. You can’t guess why he would be.

Gulping down a hard lump lodged in your throat, you stutter, “H-hi.”

He gives you a polite smile that doesn’t reach his sullen eyes. “Hey”

You both begin at the same time.

“Peter, I—”

“Look, Y/N—”

Ice floods your stomach, freezing your veins and squeezing your pounding heart. He has something to say to you? About what? You subtly jerk your head up, signaling for him to speak first.

Peter clears his throat, looks down at his shoes, then back up at you. “I know you’ve been hiding from me.”

“You do?” you squeak, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and it’s okay.”

Your voice hikes an octave. “It is?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s fine. I get it.” He stops to scratch the back of his neck and dejectedly rambles on, “I’m not the safest person to be around, and it’s all super weird and a lot to take in. Like, a lot. My Aunt May freaked out too when she found out. Anyway, I… I get it if you don’t, y’know, don’t want me.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupt, trying to wrap your head around what he said. “You think… you think I don’t want you because you’re Spider-Man?”

“Well, yeah.” He says it like there couldn’t be any other possible reason.

You lower your gaze to the ground, unable to meet his curious gaze. “No, Peter, that’s not it.” Tears prick your eyes, but you fight like hell to keep them from falling. Steeling yourself, you quietly confess, “It’s me. I can’t be your Soulmate because…” A rebellious tear rolls down your cheek. “Because I’m not ready.”

As soon as you spoke the truth out loud, laying yourself and your broken soul bare, you dimly sense the previously severed string quiver deep down inside your chest. It’s the first time you felt it in five years, and it’s not how you remember it. It’s not severed, but it’s not whole either. Its presence only reminds you of what you can’t have, what you aren’t ready for.

In the ensuing quiet, you swipe the tear off your cheek and look at everything except Peter. Yellow tulips are blooming on someone’s balcony in the neighboring apartment building. A handful of fluffy clouds float in the piercing blue sky. An orange tabby cat is sun-bathing in a window.

It’s such a beautiful day. Yet, here you are, struggling not to cry on a roof.

Peter breaks through the silence, murmuring, “To be honest, I’m not ready either.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too hopeful, bringing your eyes back to his. They look so weary yet resolute.

“Yeah. I was actually freaking out that night we met.” He timidly grins, and your heart flips. “I didn’t know what to say, then I screwed up and forgot to ask if you were okay after I had literally just saved you from falling. Not really a glowing first impression.”

Astonishing yourself, you laugh. You couldn’t help it. There was absolutely nothing remotely hilarious about that night, but the way Peter described it, as if it were a blunder solely on his part, was so ridiculous that it was funny. Peter joins in, too, his laugh coming out airy and wondrously addictive. That smile you couldn’t stop thinking about for a whole week brightens his face.

When the laughs fade, Peter soberly says, “Even if we aren’t ready, maybe we can try being friends, just to see where things go? I mean, we were meant to be together for a reason, right? This could be it.”

You unconsciously nibble on your lower lip, considering his proposal. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might want to be friends. Would you want to do that? These days, you aren’t really open to platonic relationships, and Soulmate or not, being in a friendship would require some sort of connection. You don’t like those much.

Be that as it may, Peter seems like the type to respect your many boundaries, and that’s exactly what you would prefer in a friend at the moment. Someone who doesn’t pry. Someone who doesn’t uphold generic expectations. You could go for a diner talk every once in a while.

Besides, it’s just a little friendship. Most are surface level, and some don’t even last a year. What’s the worst that could happen?

You sincerely smile at Peter, wondering about the last time your smiles were sincere, and say, “Okay. Let’s be friends.”

His face radiates joy. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. But I have a few terms.”

Peter eagerly nods, waiting.

You try not to focus on how his happiness thrills you. “One, don’t tell anyone we’re Soulmates. I don’t really want any of my coworkers to know.”

His smile drops into a sheepish wince. “I kinda already told Ned. But he won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“That’s okay. It’s mostly my coworkers I’m worried about,” you reassure. You weren’t going to berate him for telling his best friend. If things were different, you’d have done the same. “Two, don’t ask me to hang out with your other friends. I don’t do big friend circles.”

“Got it,” he militantly nods again. “It’s mostly just Ned and me anyway.”

“And three,” your grin broadens. “If Chris asks you what’s going on between us, be super vague.”

“Done.” He smirks back at you, then extends his hand. “Friends?”

When your hand touches his, and you shake on it, the warmth of his palm thaws out all your remaining anxiety. “Friends.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

When Monday rolls around, a tiny ball of doubt weighs you down.

It’s not that you were afraid of talking to Peter. You were actually looking forward to getting to know him now that you officially became friends. It’s the future you’re stuck on. What happens if you get too attached to this friendship and want more? What if friendship is all he wants? What if it’s the other way around?

If you were honest with yourself, you’d know which way the gage is leaning, and it’s not in your favor.

You’re cleaning off the bar top when Peter comes in, doing his usual greeting with Chris before settling down on a barstool in front of you. He’s a little high strung, leaning his chin on his hand, then thinking against it, only to do it again. It was oddly comforting to know that he was overthinking too.

The corners of your lips tug up in a soft smile. “Hi, Peter.”

Your face warms as he smiles back. “Hey, Y/N.”

Chris barges in, leaning his elbows on the bar top and gaping incredulously at you and Peter. “Woah, woah, woah! Did I miss something? Since when are you two speaking in public?”

Peter checks his watch. “About thirty-seven seconds ago.”

“Oh, come on, dude. At least tell me what happened.”

You and Peter share a knowing look like two conniving co-conspirators sharing an inside joke, and you giggle as Chris huffs in annoyance. He glumly storms off when you two stay hushed, muttering, “Fine, next time you need a middle-man, count me out.”

“Does he hold grudges?” Peter asks after Chris walks out of earshot.

You’re still shaking with giggles. “Not at all. He’ll be back to his happy self in less than an hour.”

Peter only stays at Hal’s for twenty-five minutes, but they were the funniest and most intriguing twenty-five minutes you ever worked.

The conversation began slowly at first, but each question loosened the formalities. Peter asked about easy things: when did you get into art, when did you start working at Hal’s, and when was your birthday, all while digging into his slice of pie. He caught on fast enough to know the topic of parents was off-limits, and he thankfully chose to stay away from any talk of the blip.

When you asked him questions, he was open and responsive, jumping at the chance to talk about his passion for bio-sciences and Star Wars, sometimes covertly mentioning some of the duties he has a Spider-Man. Not a minute was wasted. You talked while serving customers and cleaning tables, keeping up the joke of staying quiet when Chris tried to meddle.

It all turned out smoother than you expected. Almost too smooth, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

You are sure about one thing, though. You like having Peter as a friend.

...

Part V

[kiribaku-queen]

Home [8/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader

Fluff, angst, werewolf!au

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Let me know what your predictions are for the end! 

Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard and the strongest in the pack?

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

17 year old Kirishima was ecstatic. It was his first time exploring the clan’s boarders. Usually, teenagers aren’t allowed to help patrol so early, but since Bakugou was going to be the next alpha and Kirishima was supposed to be his personal guard, this was an exception. Bakugou didn’t show it, but everyone could tell that he was just as excited. As they were all in their wolf forms, Kirishima couldn’t help but show how excited he was by his wagging tail. Even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. It was annoying Bakugou because his tail kept hitting him so he had to physically hold his tail down with his paw.

Patrolling the boarders was fascinating to Kirishima. He learned where not to cross and what parts were their territory. He learned different scents to look out for and what to do if you do see something. But going over boundaries once wasn’t enough for him. No, he needed to do multiple rounds so that the trail is embedded within his memory. So, he snuck out in the middle of the night to go over the tracks again.

The grass felt good under his paws, the cool, night breeze tickled his muzzle, and the view of the whole clan light up in his eyes. Now he could get used to this every day. All he had to do was train for two years, get a ripped body for all the ladies and he would live his dream out. Kirishima was so immersed and excited that he forgot all the basics that he learned earlier that day. He didn’t even notice or smell two others that were watching and following his every move. While he was too distracted by everything around him, the two mysterious strangers who were way bigger and way stronger than him attacked him from behind. They pounded on his back, making Kirishima unable to react properly. It all happened to fast. By the time that he knew what was going on, it was already too late. They were taking him far… far away. Farther way from the town. Far enough where the lights started to dim out and can no longer be seen. Far enough where even if he screamed, no one could hear him.

He was doomed, he thought. They were either going to cut him up and kill him, even worse eat him! Or they were going to sell his body to a slave trade and his friends and family would never see him again. The two strangers tied his hands behind his back and put a muzzle around his mouth to prevent him from attacking. Not like he could do much to them anyway. He didn’t know how to fight yet. At least not for serious occasions. There was a feeling of nervousness in the pit of his stomach that just would not go away. He was getting anxious and fidgety not knowing what was going to him. The strangers weren’t even talking. Just silently dragging him to wherever they wanted.

It wasn’t longer until Kirishima could spot lights up ahead. Hope started glimmer in his eyes. Perfect, they weren’t taking him somewhere shady or taking him somewhere to kill him. At least, he hoped. They were entering another clan. This clan had a whole different vibe compared to his. His clan was always bright with lights. No matter what time of day it was, buzz and chatter was always happening. Everyone was so friendly with one another and it was almost like the clan never sleeps. This clan was like the opposite. Although there were lights lit, it was very dim. No one was out and about. The aesthetics of this clan was more sophisticated than what he was used to back home. The strangers took him inside this gigantic building, bigger than Bakugou’s house. But how could anything be bigger than Bakugou’s house? His house was the biggest in all of the clan? And to know that someone here has an even more massive house, they must mean business.

The strangers took him to this room and pushed him forward, causing him to fall straight on his face. He was going to feel that in the morning. He got up and rested on his knees. He looked up to see a girl, probably around his age, sitting on a throne-like chair with her legs crossed and a bored expression on her face.

“Kirishima Eijirou?” she questioned. Kirishima cocked his eyebrow in confusion. She knew his name? How? He had never met or seen her in his life. He couldn’t speak due to the muzzle that was still on him. Without saying another word, the girl on the chair gestured with her finger to the two strangers. They went up to him and set him on his feet, taking the muzzle away but still keeping his hands tied together.

“Do I know you?” Kirishima questioned back once the muzzle was taken off.

“No,” she replied curtly. “But I know you. Upcoming personal guard of Bakugou Katsuki, son of the current alpha of your clan.” Shit, how did she know all of that? Before anything could makes sense, she continued. “I have a proposition for you.” Oh, he knows where this is going.

“I will not kill my best friend!” Kirishima screamed determinedly. He’s seen this in movies. The villain kidnaps the one closest to the main character and forces them to kill them or else they would do something horrible like kill their family, torture them or take their loved one! How pitiful. It was a shame that he had to go like this.

“Cute. But that’s not why I called you here,” Kirishima looked even more confused. And not gonna lie, a bit disappointed. Look like he wasn’t going to be a part of a real life movie. “I’m going to marry Bakugou Katsuki and I need your help.”

“Uh sorry to burst your bubble but Katsuki is taken.”

“Hmm,” the girl faked a pout and went to dig for something. She took out a picture of you and then Kirishima was on high alert. “I’m assuming by this? (y/n), was it? Yeah she’s going to get in the way, but that’s where you come into play. And it’s as easy as pie, make her fall in love with you.”  When she showed him that picture of you, panic and anger started to rise in him. But when she told him to make you fall in love with him, then he got flustered. What kind of demand was that? Sure he had a bit of a crush on you for like a 12 years but never in a million years would he backstab his friend to get the girl… right? And even if he did, you were head over heels over Bakugou so he didn’t even have a chance. She got sense how hesitant Kiri was by the slow response which ticker her off. Rolling her eyes, she threw your picture aimlessly on the floor.

“Well if you don’t, I’ll just have to kill her myself,” she smirked when Kirishima finally reacted in pure rage. He leaned forward but was pulled back by the same people who kidnapped him and served him a few punches to the face to calm him down.

“You’re going to kill her all for some guy?!” Kirishima yelled even though he was in pain. She laughed out loud, obnoxiously and over the top.

“Aw you don’t get the big picture. See, when I marry Bakugou, I’ll be the alpha’s wife and our two clans will be united. And all I have to do is get rid of him and I will dominate both clans and have all the power!” The brown haired girl laughed and smiled at her own, devilish plan. So no matter what he chose, one of the two people he cares most about is going to get hurt. “Help me and you’ll also get the girl. It’s a win-win situation really. But if you don’t, your precious little love will be dead by sunrise.” she made it seem like it was an obvious choice. She didn’t him much time to answer because she was already beckoning for those two guys to do the deed.

“Wait!” he managed to get out. This was all too much for him. All he wanted was to do his job to protect his people by going over the clan’s boarder but now he had to chose who he wanted to protect: the girl he likes or his best friend. Bros before hoes but it seemed like your life was in more serious danger at the moment. “Fuck…FUCK! Fine, I’ll help you. Just, don’t touch (y/n) alright?” he said, defeated. She smirked, having known she won and her plan was coming along.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

 And so from then on, Kirishima worked on trying to make you fall in love with him. He knew you loved eye candy, no matter who it was. So throughout those two years off at training, he tried his hardest to have the best body at camp. It was easy to work out with a goal in mind but hard because he had to compete with Bakugou. Everything he did, he matched that or tried to one up him. And it never got noticed because Bakugou loved a challenge. It was also common for the two to do everything little thing together cause they were so close. Shredded body? Step 1 complete. Step 2? In progress.

If Kirishima wasn’t in this dilemma, he would still admire you from afar while Bakugou has you all for himself. Of course, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to flirt with you once in a while, but that’s as far as he could go. And if you fell for him on the way, then a plus for him. He wouldn’t intentionally try to steal you away from his best friend. Now this was a different story. Although his feelings towards you never changed, his intentions did. It didn’t feel right at first. But the more and more he purposely tried to make you fall in love with him, the more he wanted.

When you were crying when you first heard about the engagement to Uraraka, he comforted you like a friend. And only as a friend because he didn’t know how to flirt with someone who he had a major crush on. But he knew he couldn’t chicken out because if you were still in the picture by the time Uraraka and Bakugou were to be wed, then she would come after you herself. That’s the last thing that he wants. So he got more bold with his actions.

The first time, it was the promise. He pulled you in for a kiss to seal the deal, but backed off. Push and pull and they will always come running back to you. His heart jumped when you blushed at his actions. Did you really just get flustered with him? His confidence level surged. But he was going to go step by step to not scare you off. So he spent as much time as possible with you. He followed you around and did things together so that you could be comfortable around him. He would touch you here and there so that you could get comfortable with his touch. He sat on your bed and did your laundry so that he could leave his scent wherever you are. When he saw that your reactions were going to become a regular thing, he bumped it up a notch. Staring at you until you noticed and smirking when he got caught. He was told that really got the ladies. He tried it and what do you know? It worked like a charm. You stared at him right back. He got lucky that day too because he had the perfect opportunity for a kiss. He leaned in to kiss you because he knew that you would get flustered. But god, how he really wanted to kiss you. But he had to remember the push and pull method.

As days go on, he was falling for you deeper and deeper each day. Honestly, forget about the deal that he had with Uraraka. It really looked like you were forgetting Bakugou and started having feelings for him. Even if he was treated as a rebound, if it turns something pure then it would have been worth it. Hell, even if there was no deal, he would try to protect you at all costs. At the market, it was pure coincidence that they were there at the same time as Bakugou and Uraraka. Kirishima knew that Uraraka smelled them a mile away and wanted to take this opportunity to mess with them. But he avoided that to protect you.

When he goes to kiss you again in the kitchen, he wasn’t going to take advantage of you like that. He wanted to do this properly and wanted for you to make the first move. Because if his suspicions were right and you were falling for him, you kissing him first would confirm it. He get up boundaries and restrained himself. He was going to make you fall in love with him, with or without this mission.

 Back to present day, Kirishima has to sneak out once a week to meet with Uraraka to give her updates on his progress. It was dangerous and risky but if he didn’t comply, Uraraka always manages to threaten something. Not only did he almost get caught a few times by you sneaking out in the middle of the night, but Uraraka wanted to meet at Bakugou’s place. She was too lazy to meet him anywhere else and whatever she says, goes.

“Hes so easy to toy with,” Uraraka is satisfied that her plan is almost complete. “Tell me, have you made her fall in love with you yet?” she raises an eyebrow but Kirishima stands there tall, arms crossed behind his back.

“No,” very blunt and straight to the point. Uraraka knows that Kirishima isn’t very fond of her but who cares? He was hired for a job not to be friends.

“Still? I’ve given you enough time. How much long do I have to wait?” she massaged her temple with one hand. She was running out of patience and was getting more irritable by the second. “Where do you two stand?”

“Just a… just a kiss.” He was shy to admit it to someone who wanted to kill you.

“Well, speed up the process! Our time is coming to a close and you know what will happen if this wedding fails, right?” Kirishima gulped because he knew what was ahead of him if this mission didn’t succeed. You could die. Or Bakugou. Even worse, both of you could. Hell, he could too if he didn’t play his cards right. But it started to feel wrong. He was feeling guilty about forcing you to love him when he knew you were in a difficult position. But it was too late to back out now because they were already too far in.

It was hard sleeping that night. You were confused. You thought you were doing so well without him but then he shows up in your life again, telling you how much he missed you and that he still wanted you? Dumb feelings. You don’t even know what you want anymore.

You woke up feeling groggy. Even if you went to bed early, your mind was up all night. Thinking about the past, the future. What could have been. What would have been if you two were still together. But it broke your heart every time because you knew you couldn’t be together. He was engaged. You would just get in the way of his success and his bright future. There wasn’t a better match for him. Sighing, you finally got out of bed and the first thing in sight was a red rose sitting on your windowsill. You were surprised and all thoughts of Bakugou were gone. Your mind drifted off to Kirishima and the kiss you shared. Did he do this? How sweet of him. You blushed and pulled the rose to your nose to give it a good sniff. A smile grew even wider on your lips. How did he know that roses were your favorite? This didn’t just happen once. It happened day after day after day after day. Every day you woke up in the morning, a new rose would be sitting there, waiting for you. And every morning you would gush at how cute Kirishima was for doing such a romantic gesture. Day after day, your collection of roses was just getting bigger. You didn’t confront Kirishima about it because you knew he would get shy. And you were afraid that if you did, he would stop doing. So you secretly enjoyed it while going about your day like usual.

Kirishima was getting bolder ever since you gave him that little kiss on the lips. He was pulling you in closer and being more handsy but you didn’t stop him this time. You enjoyed it and actually flirted back. He was giving you more attention that ever but at the same time, he looked distracted. Like something was eating at him. But you were sure that was just your imagination. It’s been a long time since you felt comfortable around someone that made you feel like you were on top of the world. Like you were the only person who mattered. And it felt really good to be wanted again.

Your dad needed help with chopping up fire wood so of course, manly Kirishima comes in hand. You were setting out plates for dinner while your mother was finishing up the food and Sero was setting out napkins and utensils. Standing side by side with your brother while setting up the table, Sero nudges you with his elbow.

“Hey,” he whispers. Weird, why was he whispering. It’s only us that are listening. What did he not want people to hear? Pushing your initial thoughts out of the way, you elbowed him back because damn, his elbow poking hurts because of his stupid quirk. “Hey (y/n)! Are you and Kiri… you know,” he was making weird hand motions and you slapped him on the shoulder.

“Stop that. If you’re asking if we are together, no we’re not.” You firmly state.

“Yeah? Well do you like him?”

“Eh? Uhm… Yes? No? Maybe?” you side eyed your brother and he was just nodding his head slowly, a small frown could be seen on his face. “What’s with that look?” you asked, little concerned about that face he was giving you.

“Nothing,” he simply says but you know that’s a lie.

“No, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Sero sighs and thinks a bit before speaking.

“Just… make sure you are 100% of your feelings for him before you guys are official, kay?” You tilt your head to the side, confused. “I don’t know! I just don’t want you using Kirishima as a rebound, you know?” he continues.

“I am not using him as a rebound,” you tried to defend yourself but Sero thinks otherwise.

“Not intentionally. But from what I see right now, you kind of are,” he admits and goes to put food on the table. Before you could retaliate or even think about it, Kirishima and your dad burst through the door ready to be fed.

“Who’s ready for food because I’m starving!” your dad erupts, kissing your mom on the cheek and sitting down at the table. Kirishima follows suit, glancing up at you, giving you a charming smile. You smile back. You weren’t using him as a rebound, were you?

 Bakugou made it his mission to get you back. After that night, he knew he approached it the wrong way. He was too forward and too aggressive. You didn’t like that. You like romantic things. Things that are seen in TV shows and movies. He was going to do just that.

Every morning, he would tag along with the morning pack to patrol boarders because that would give him an excuse to visit you. But from afar. On the way, he would pick up a rose and lay it on your windowsill while you were still sleeping. Then he would wait in a nearby tree, where he could see your room clearly, to see your reaction when you woke up to a rose waiting for you. He knew he scored the jackpot with that move because the way your face brightened up at the sight of something so romantic told all. So he continued to do that everyday until you physically couldn’t hold any more roses in your room. He was determined to make you his again and do anything to make you gain his trust again.

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