#but so far i’m happy with the rendering

[cocoaletta]

working on garth

[kyurochurro]

dance with me , hero!!

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

*

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

*

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face. 

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment. 

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

*

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely. 

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

*

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on. 

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass. 

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest V

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 7,790 (you love me)

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: 18+ content, mentions of bruised skin, idiots in love, feels, a little crying, a little angst, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (don't do that), multiple orgasms. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part so far and no condolences to the jealous (iykyk) i love and appreciate you guys with my whole heart. also i suck at smut so please pretend to be aroused as you wait for the next part, thank you. please enjoy xx💜💜

~

She wiped her tears away, remembering Bucky’s words as she tried to calm down.

She bit her lip as her chest tightened at the pain she had heard in his voice, deeply regretting her part of the fight.

Did he really think she thought he was without feelings?

She might have seen him as a monster before, but that was in the very beginning when she didn’t know him at all, and she soon came to realize that she was wrong. Very wrong.

Her orc wasn’t a monster by any means. Not even close. If anything, it was the complete opposite. She saw him as a resilient soldier and admired the way he never lost the good things about him at war. To her, Bucky was a warrior; a hero.

Human or not, of course she treasured and cared about his feelings!

Bucky took care of her, brought her gifts without her ever asking, made her feel seen and heard and most of all liked. Loved even. He made her feel like she was some awesome friend worth laughing with and talking to.

She wanted to make sure that she made him feel the same way too. She couldn’t let him continue to believe the words he had said to her.

She opened the door of the cottage and looked outside, but Bucky was nowhere to be found. She sighed, shutting the door again and pressing her back to it as she thought about her next steps.

Life with Bucky was what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that truth.

She fetched the cloth she had tossed away before moving back to the kitchen.

She had only known real happiness alongside Bucky and she was going to let him know that. She was going to whip the cream for that cake even if they had to do without berries.

~

She was almost done smoothing the whipped cream over the cake when she heard the door to the cottage open and close.

She quickly rinsed her hands, ready to go out and make things right.

When she stepped out of the kitchen, however, she was met by the most endearing view she could have ever been met with and it rendered her speechless.

Her large snow orc was standing before her with a blush on his cheeks and a tiny fruit basket between his giant arms.

It was full of mixed berries.

She couldn’t hide her happy surprise as she stared at the sight before her, her mouth opening and closing a few times.

“Bucky?” She finally whispered his name, breaking the silence, her voice soft and laced with love.

Damn, that orc could steal hearts.

“I—  uhh—  borrowed the basket from Sarah,” Bucky muttered, pushing the basket forward for her to take as he avoided eye contact.

He really sucked at this and he knew it, but he was trying. He desperately wanted to make everything better. He knew he couldn’t take the yelling or the bruising back, but he badly needed to fix what he had so stupidly ruined, and the berries were his best bet.

She appreciatively took the basket out of his hand, hugging it to her chest.

“I’m sorry if they’re not as good as the ones you picked. It’s— it’s my first time uhm— picking berries,” Bucky admitted lowly, gesturing with his hands as his eyes wandered anywhere but on her, afraid of meeting her eyes and finding them disappointed or fearful still.

It was true. It was his first time doing any of this. Bucky was a rough orc. He did hunting, not foraging.

“They’re perfect,” she replied without even looking at the fruits, the gesture itself enough for her as she realized that under all this beef, her orc had hid a heart of gold and a softness to die for.

Bucky only nodded awkwardly, still unable to meet her eyes. He didn’t know how to act or what to say.

He was a soldier. He used to give orders and expect results, he didn’t do apologies or pluck raspberries as gently as possible in order not to squish them between his huge fingers.

She silently took the basket to the kitchen, a smile covering her face as her heart jumped.

Bucky walked in after her, leaning on the door frame and watching as she emptied the berries in a bowl and washed them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their earlier argument hanging heavy in the air.

“How’s your arm?” Bucky asked softly, swallowing in the fear of having left some serious damage on her.

Her smile faltered for a second when she remembered the way he had so harshly grabbed and held her, “it’s gonna be okay. Just a tiny bruise.” She reassured still, not wanting him to feel bad anymore.

Bucky’s fingers trembled as he ran a rough hand through his unkempt hair, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his conscience.

“I hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I really am sorry, little human.” Bucky sincerely apologized again.

Before she could reply, he stepped closer, taking hold of her hand before lowering his lips to her forearm.

The feeling of Bucky’s tusks ever so softly digging into her skin as Bucky left tender kisses all over the abused area made her shiver.

“I’m sorry; I’m a fool,” Bucky said into her skin as he pressed another kiss, “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.” He pressed one final kiss before letting her arm go, “I will never doubt you again, sweet thing. Please forgive me.”

He stood there with the bluest puppy eyes, silently begging for her clemency as his hands hugged hers.

“I forgive you, Bucky.” She nodded with a shy smile, her own guilt gnawing at her insides as the fire that had rose on her skin in the wake of Bucky’s lips dissipated.

“It scared me when I came home and didn’t find you. I— I thought you were leaving me again.” He confessed lowly, “I didn’t know what to think.”

“I know. I should’ve at least left a note,” she thought out loud, her head down in regret, “I thought I would be home before you arrived so I didn’t feel the need to write one. I’m sorry, Bucky.” She gave his hand a desperate squeeze, “I really didn’t mean to scare you or make you feel like I was running away.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky smiled softly, regretting how poorly he had reacted as he brought her hand to his lips.

She was amazing. His night’s firefly.

“I don’t think of you as someone who doesn’t have feelings, Bucky,” she blurted out, her voice quivering with sincerity. “The kindness you show me... it's unlike anything I've ever known from humans. It's genuine, and real, and it's the reason I wanna be with you.”

Bucky listened in silence, an appreciative smile breaking on his handsome face.

“I care about you, Bucky, and I respect your feelings more than you know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to keep you when you didn’t want to stay, but it still hurt every time you left,” Bucky finally voiced his thoughts, sharing a part of his feelings and fears with her.

“Who—” She stopped to clear her throat, “who said I don’t wanna stay?”

“So you wanna be here for good? With me?” Bucky’s eyes lit up with hope as he intently watched her.

“Well, I made a cake, didn’t I?” She wouldn’t let her eyes meet his as she placed the berries on top of the smooth cake, her heart drumming in her chest.

“Let me hear it, sweet thing,” Bucky begged, unable to believe what he was hearing from her despite everything that has happened.

“I thought I’ve said it before,” she tried to tease, “and I’m wearing your ring, Bucky,” she chuckled shyly, her face hot.

Bucky kept waiting, wordlessly pleading her to tell him the words he so badly needed to hear.

She looked at him and saw passion drawn all over his face and she could only imagine she looked the same.

“I… wanna be here… with you, Bucky, for good,” she said before biting her lip, her own admittance sending a shudder down the back of her hot neck.

The simple sentence hit Bucky like a warm cup of cocoa on a stormy evening as he smiled.

He grabbed her hand and gave the palm of it a long kiss, getting berry residue on his cheek.

Thankfully, she didn’t take her hand away, giggling softly as her orc got his skin stained.

She smiled timidly when he pulled away, wiping his cheek clean with her other thumb.

“I know I haven’t made it easy for you, Bucky, but you’ve got to trust me. I don’t wanna leave you, not now, not ever.”

Bucky nodded, his heart soaring at the reassurance, “I trust you, little human.”

“Let’s eat our cake?” She asked, biting her lip.

Our. It was the first time she has ever used that word.

Bucky nodded with a grateful smile of his own, carefully carrying the cake out to the table outside.

She grabbed plates, forks and a knife and followed him.

Her heart was beating like crazy, yet it was the most relieved it had ever been now that they have made up.

She handed Bucky the knife and he cut through the cake.

She took the chance that he was busy and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering against his warm skin for a fleeting moment, “welcome home”.

Bucky could feel his chest burning up with the love it held for her.

For years, he had believed himself unworthy of love, of kindness, of anything resembling happiness. But in that short second with her lips on his cheek, he felt a twinkle of hope ignite within him, dispersing the darkness that had cloaked his heart for years.

The commotion that happened earlier had made him forget all about his kiss, but she didn’t.

She kissed him and with a smile too.

Bucky was love-sick, her gentle features stirring unparalleled emotions inside of him, softening his rough edges without even trying.

With a hesitant hand, he reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against the smooth skin in a silent promise of devotion. And as she leaned into his touch, cupping his hand with her tiny one, Bucky took an oath to cherish her, to protect her, and to love her with every fiber of his being for as long as he lived.

“Is there anyone around left from your tribe that I can meet?” She asked after Bucky had filled their plates with cake, interested to know more about her husband’s life as she handed him his fork.

She couldn’t help her curiosity anymore. She cared about Bucky and she needed to know why he was out here on his own. Where was his clan? Did he even have one? Do they know about her?

“No, just the two very close human friends,” Bucky sighed his answer before slipping a raspberry in his mouth, his thoughts running to his clan; the clan that had rejected and abandoned him years ago.

Okay, but where were the orcs? Now she was more curious and confused.

“What about your family?”

“You’re my family,” Bucky answered without hesitancy and she felt her heart flood with love as she speechlessly stared at his face.

“Where did you see me?” She wondered aloud, her tone hushed as she ached to know how and when he got to choose her.

“At the orphanage,” he started, a smile already spreading on his face as he recalled the memory, “me and Sam were delivering chairs and a few beds for the new rooms they had built.”

She listened, knowing exactly what he was talking about. She was part of the group that was instructed to clean the new building.

“I had just taken a bed down from the truck when I felt something drop on my head and before I knew it, it was raining. I was wiping the raindrops off my forehead.” Bucky’s fork played around with the berries on his plate before he looked up and into her eyes, “and I let my arm down and there you were, breathtaking as a daydream, laughing with another girl as you both ran inside before the rain could catch you.”

“How did I not see you?” She whispered, eyes welling up at the adoration she could see in his gaze.

“You were too busy being scared of the rain,” Bucky teased, “but I saw you.” Bucky’s thumb stroke drown her cheek, “I saw you and I knew I just had to see you again.”

“So that was when you asked the manager if I could be your wife?” She bit her lip, the thought now flattering to her rather than appalling as it used to be.

“No, that was when I intentionally slammed a chair down on the concrete and broke it to pieces so we could be one chair short and I could come again and hopefully sneak another peek at you.” Bucky laughed, remembering Sam’s reaction as he watched the chair he had so carefully put together get smashed down, “Sam wasn’t so happy about me destroying his work”.

“Oh my gods,” she laughed with him, feeling bad for poor Sam.

“Yeah, he didn’t believe me when I said I dropped it, swore he wasn’t coming with me that next time and everything. It was a whole thing.” Bucky shook his head as his laughter faded into a soft smile.

“Can’t blame him.” She shrugged with a grin.

“He was fine.” Bucky waved his hand in the air, “I honestly only cared that I’d secured myself a chance to come back.” He admitted unapologetically.

“And did you see me when you came back?” She asked, her elbow on the table and her cheek resting on her hand, cake long forgotten.

“Yeah, I had to sneak to the back to see you, but I did. You were even more beautiful that day,” Bucky told her, making her blush under his affectionate gaze, “you had a messy flower crown on top of your head and you were taking laundry down from the clothesline. You were so focused as you tried to pull the clothes down without getting on your tiptoes,” he chuckled, recalling how cute she was as she struggled to reach the peg clips.

“Hey! They hung that clothesline way too high! No one could reach it!” She shook her head.

“Yeah, I’m sure they couldn’t,” Bucky teased, laughing at her defensive reply.

“They couldn’t, I swear! Not just me!”

“I believe you,” Bucky said with a provocative smile.

“You’re annoying.” She pouted, digging her fork in her cake slice.

“Nah, you’re just too little, little human.” Bucky teased again and she couldn’t help her smile.

It was all making sense now as she admired his gorgeous grin: the yearning for Bucky’s touch when he wasn’t there, the longing for his presence that had replaced her previous fear or repulsion, and the way she so desperately looked forward to the weekends so they could hold hands as they walked and talked could only mean one thing.

She was in love. She was in love with Bucky and she didn’t want to run from that feeling.

“I— I think I’m in love with you,” she admitted in a tiny whisper.

A smile lit Bucky’s face up before he gave her forehead a long kiss, trying to convey his adoration for her as he held her close to him, “I know I’m in love with you, little human.” He sighed in her hair.

He couldn’t believe she said it and he couldn’t believe she said it first. He couldn’t believe how far they have come and how beautiful life could be.

But he knew now and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Bucky finally had someone who loved him and cared about him; someone he could trust and surrender his heart to.

She stood on her tiptoes, making him chuckle as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him so close that he could feel her heartbeat.

“They renounced me a long time ago,” Bucky whispered in her hair, feeling brave enough to open up to her about his past.

Her heart sank at the gut-wrenching piece of information.

“What?” She pulled away in shock, “why?”

Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the idea of a clan having Bucky and willingly letting him go.

“My mother was a human; wanted to name me James, but she died during my birth, heart condition,” he started, closing his eyes to stop his tears from forming, “they eventually did name me James, but I think I never liked it. My grandma gave me the name Bucky, from my middle name ‘Buchanan’. She was the one who raised me because me and my father weren’t close. He could never forgive me for taking my mother away from him, I guess.” Bucky shrugged, swallowing his emotions.

She listened silently, her own tears brimming. What kind of father does that? Bucky had already lost his mother and instead of being there for him, his father made him lose him too?!

“Before I knew it, I’m a teenager and my father had passed away and my grandma before him… I had no one left and my cousins weren’t about to let the half-orc with the human mother become chief.” Bucky sighed as he recalled the events of his youth.

She stayed in his arms, hands on his chest as she listened closely, her heart breaking at the expression on her orc’s face.

“And when I started ‘working with the humans’, they found the perfect reason to kick me out of the clan for good.” He finished with a sad smile, shaking his head as if to shake the memories away.

“That was when you started fighting for the kingdom?” She asked, softly running the back of her fingers down Bucky’s cheek as a tear rolled down her own.

“Had nowhere else to go.” Bucky shrugged with a teary smile, trying to pull himself together.

“But that was where you met Sam, right?” She reminded with a tender smile, her thumb tracing his stubbly chin.

Bucky nodded with a chuckle, “yeah, used to drive me crazy at first, but he was a good soldier; an even better friend.”

“And then you opened your shop.” She tilted her head, her fingers catching the tips of Bucky’s soft hair by his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, reminiscing at how things have turned out.

“And you started making beautiful furniture that you needed to deliver to the orphanage, where you saw me.” She grinned fondly, a fingertip tracing the orc’s nose.

“Yes.” Bucky sighed, his love pouring out of his dewy eyes as he enjoyed the light touches.

“And now I’m here with you, in our home,” she brought both palms to Bucky’s cheeks, “and I will never leave you, Bucky,” she told him seriously before getting on her tiptoes to hug him again, “I’m your family and you’re mine.” She whispered into his neck.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered into her shoulder, his arm squeezing her to him as if he wanted to meld himself to her.

“Copycat,” she joked, instantly feeling her orcs chest vibrate with a chuckle, “I love you too, Bucky.”

With her in his arms, hers wrapped around him as tight as she could, Bucky could then understand the meaning of safety, of love and family.

And she finally came to realize that she and Bucky weren’t all that different after all. They had both been abandoned by the ones who were supposed to have their backs before and more than anyone. But they have got each other now. She wasn’t going to let Bucky go and she trusted him not to let her go either.

~

As she leaned in to give Bucky his goodnight kiss that night, a different thought occupied her mind.

Sitting up against the pillows, she crossed her legs, her heart pounding with anticipation as Bucky looked at her with a quizzical tilt of his head.

She slowly got closer to his face, locking eyes with him to gain more courage, but it only made her more nervous.

She took a deep breath and when she pressed her lips, she pressed them to her orc’s mouth instead of his cheek, ever so tentatively getting a much needed taste of his full lips. They were so soft, so perfect.

She had no idea if she was doing this right, but she didn’t care.

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if he was dreaming.

She pulled away after a short second, scared that she might have crossed a line, “I’m sorry. Do orcs not do that—”

Before she could apologize or question her actions further, Bucky silenced her with a kiss of his own, swiftly bringing her down to lay on her back as he hovered over her, his kisses eager and desperate as he tried his best to watch his tusks.

“I don’t care what orcs do. We’re doing it,” he mumbled against her sweet lips.

Bucky allowed her one loud laugh before devouring her lips again, stealing her heart and breath with another tender, yet deep kiss.

In that very moment, time seemed to stand still for Bucky. All he could feel was the warmth of her cheek against his palm, all he could taste was the sweetness of her lips mingled with the faint flavor of berries, and he never wanted it to end.

As she allowed his tongue to gently explore her mouth, a promise of eternity passed between them in a moan, sealing their bond with a promise of a lifetime of love and devotion.

She has never had a real friendship. Rarely had anything to say. She would rather stay silent if she thought she didn’t have anything to contribute to the conversation. She was always afraid that others might find her boring, and was even more afraid that that may be her truth. So she always hid. She hid from others, from herself and her feelings. She hid from problems and fights. She hid from anything that could get her hurt.

But with Bucky it was different.

She didn’t have to hide anymore, didn’t have to be scared because in Bucky she had everything. She had a true friend, a loyal lover and a great husband.

And as she let herself drown in the feeling of his lips, she couldn’t be more grateful for the gods above for drawing her fate exactly how it was.

It felt so good to belong to Bucky and she could all but want more.

She let her instincts run wild, her body hot with need as she hesitantly slipped her hands under Bucky’s sweater, eager to feel his scarred skin under her fingers.

Bucky pulled away from her lips to look her in the eyes, his breath stuttering at her tender touch, “what are you doing, sweet thing?”

“I’m sorry. Was that too far?” She hurriedly tried to pull her hands out of his clothes, but Bucky was faster as he sat back and held his hands on top of hers, keeping them inside his sweater, right on his ribs.

“I’m your husband,” Bucky reminded with a sweet smile.

“I know— I just— I’ve never—” She struggled with her words as heat rose to her face, “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable… but I think I wanna do this.” She confessed shyly, her indexes caressing up and down his abdomen.

“This this?” Bucky tilted his head suggestively, already feeling his cock jump at the thought alone.

“This this.” She smiled, biting her lip shyly as she gave a nod.

“Little human, you better not be playing right now.” Bucky warned, his eyes growing the slightest bit darker.

“I’m not—”

“Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop myself, sweet thing.”

“Then don’t.”

Her newfound courage took over as she brought Bucky back to her with her hands tangled in his pullover.

Bucky kissed her with fervor, savoring the angelic sounds she was making as his tongue tasted hers.

He carefully ran a large hand up her hip, exploring as his lips trailed down her cheek and to her neck.

He could feel her pulse again and was about to stop, déjà vu from their wedding night attacking him, but then she said his name in the softest, sexiest and neediest tone as she squirmed underneath him, his covered cock fitting just right between her legs.

Bucky could all but put his lips back on her, his tusks grazing the sensitive skin as he nibbled on it.

“Can I see you?” He breathed, his eyes on hers as his fingers found way under the skirt of her dress.

She nodded, her face and neck flushed as she sat up and gave the orc her back.

Bucky wasted no time working the zipper down, revealing the back of her bralette to his hungry eyes.

She twisted herself back, seeking Bucky’s blue orbs for reassurance as she pushed her dress down her shoulders. Her heart pounded in her chest when she saw Bucky literally lick his lips at the sight of her.

It felt like it was the first time Bucky was seeing her naked to both of them.

He saw her hesitate with pushing the dress down further and so with a smile, Bucky pulled his own pullover up and off his head, “I got you.” He promised.

She bit her lower lip, pushing the dress down her thighs.

Bucky pulled the piece of clothing all the way down, throwing it behind his back with his discarded sweater. He kept his calloused palms on her shins, caressing the smooth skin while he watched her hands go behind her back to unhook her bralette.

She let it fall from her body, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths as she watched Bucky’s gaze switch from admiration to sheer desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, gently bringing her on her back, taking the bralette all the way down her arms as he pressed his mouth to hers again.

Bucky’s lips traced down the hot skin of her throat in open-mouthed kisses, moving to her collarbones, “can I touch you, sweet thing?”

“Yes.” She nodded and goosebumps instantly rose on her skin as Bucky’s palms cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her hardening nipples.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her back involuntarily curving as she pushed herself further into her orc’s touch.

“Oh, you sensitive on here, little human?” Bucky asked, biting back his smirk as his calloused flesh thumb rubbed over her nipple again, “’s my touch making your little nipples hard?”

“Bucky,” she whined at the dirty talk, her hands coming up to cover her hot face in embarrassment.

“Hey.” Bucky gently took her hands away from her face, “don’t hide from me, sweet thing. I love that your body is reacting to me.”

Before she could whine again, her husband was bringing her right hand down and between his legs, pressing her open palm to his hard cock, “this is my body reacting to you, my love.”

She gasped, the feeling foreign to her as she felt how big and hard Bucky was.

“This is what you do to me, little human.” Bucky wrapped her smaller hand around his clothed cock, giving himself a squeeze, making wetness pool in her panties at the sound that left him afterwards.

Knowing that she wasn’t the only one whose body was on fire, made her the tiniest bit more confident and she found herself giving Bucky’s cock another squeeze, making his head drop to her shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, you tryna kill me, sweet thing?” Bucky breathed a chuckle on her neck.

“Did— did I hurt you?” She asked insecurely, wanting to remove her hand and bury herself under the bed.

“Gods, you’re an angel.” Bucky shook his head and she didn’t understand until he said, “you have no idea how much your touch drives me mad, do you?”

She shook her head innocently and Bucky only smiled, moving his mouth to her chest, his tusks softly grazing everywhere his lips went.

“It’s something like this.”

“Ohhhh, Bucky!” She arched her back again as her orc wrapped one of her nipples in his lips, softly suckling at the tender nub, making her hand give a tighter pump to his cock.

She really was sensitive there.

Bucky groaned, moving to her other nipple, the vibration driving her crazy, making her squirm harder as her hand massaged around his cock, sliding up his back to unconsciously wrap in his long hair as she pushed her breast into his mouth.

She could feel herself clenching like crazy down there, her whole body aflame with lust from all the new sensations Bucky was introducing her to.

The way the tip of his tongue flicked against her nipples made her crave more.

Bucky’s kisses trailed down her ribs to her abdomen, worshipping every inch until they settled on top of her pubic bone, dark blue eyes looking up at her for permission to go further.

She nodded, aching for her orc’s touch to provide any kind of relief.

A little nervous about not finding her wet once again, Bucky moved closer to her center.

Bucky let his lips kiss her on top of her underwear first, inhaling the saturated fabric as he pressed a long kiss to her clothed core. He swallowed hard, her scent filling his nostrils and making him dizzy with desire.

She smelled so good.

“Bucky, please,” she pleaded before she could stop herself, desperate for him to do anything to help the throbbing between her legs.

“I got you, sweet thing,” Bucky told her again, quickly pushing the tiny underwear down her legs and getting himself comfortable between her legs.

He took a second to look at her, all naked and all his, writhing from and for his touch and his touch alone.

“Wh— what are you gonna do?” She asked uncertainly, not really getting why Bucky was bringing himself lower between her open thighs, eye to eye with her pussy, the position making her cheeks burn up.

“I’m gonna get a taste, little human. Would you let me? Can I get a taste of you, sweet thing?” Bucky asked as he pressed loving kisses to the delicate flesh of her inner thigh.

“You’re… gonna put your mouth there?” She whispered her question shyly, the thought making her want to close her legs and hide.

Bucky just smiled lovingly at her innocence; his untouched, pure little human, “if you let me.”

“Is it gonna feel good?” She asked curiously.

Bucky nodded, relieved she wasn’t scared of his tusks coming close to where she was the most sensitive, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Y—yes. Okay.” She nodded, swallowing her nervousness as she laid her head back.

Bucky knew what he was doing and she trusted him to take care of her.

Her permission was all Bucky needed to put his mouth on her, pressing a longing kiss to her lower lips, glad to find her soaking wet, making her gasp above him. The feeling of his blunt tusks framing her pussy set her heart racing.

He then locked eyes with her as he let his tongue out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up from her dripping hole to her pulsing clit before wrapping his full lips around it and she couldn’t help the tiny squeal that escaped her as her head fell back on the pillow, her hips pushing down against him

Bucky smirked on her heat before moaning himself. She tasted so good, better than anything he has ever put his mouth on.

He had fucked humans before and he knew exactly what to do, but she was different. Every breath she released, every moan, was making Bucky wild with desire. He has never cared about making someone feel good as he did in that moment with her thighs around his head.

Her delicate hands flew to her orc’s hair and she tugged hard, losing herself in the feeling of Bucky’s mouth on her pussy as she arched her back and pushed herself closer to his lips. Her orc’s touch was reducing her to a moaning, babbling mess in mere seconds.

Bucky decided to test the waters a little, slipping his tongue inside her hole a few times, tasting her sweetness from the source before bringing his flesh finger between her legs. He gently prodded the tip of his thick finger at her entrance, feeling her tense above him with a gasp.

“It’s okay, sweet thing, I got you. Just relax for me.” He reassured and she tried her best to relax her muscles, allowing Bucky to ease the tip of his finger insider of her.

Fuck, she was so tight; the tightest he has ever felt and it made him rut into the mattress when he thought about how tight she was going to feel around his cock.

Her mouth hung open as Bucky worked the thick digit into her pussy knuckle by knuckle, his lips sucking on her clit.

“I gotta open you up for my cock, little human.” Bucky couldn’t help but tease her, smirking when she whined, getting wetter on his finger.

Bucky started moving his finger in and out of her, his movements slow and deep as he tried to explore as much of her as his finger would go.

Her body was feverish with arousal and her mind was drunk on the feeling of being filled for the first time in her life as sighs and whimpers slipped from her lips without her permission.

It was just one finger pushing in and out of her cunt and she was feeling full already, clenching hard with her juices drenching her thighs and the sheets. She clenched harder around Bucky’s thick finger at the thought of how big his cock would feel and how full it would make her feel, the way he was suckling on her clit making a knot tighten in her lower stomach.

She has never felt anything like this before and was starting to panic at the sensation spreading from her pussy to the rest of her.

“Bucky, I— I feel weird,” she whined, yet ground harder on her orc’s thick finger.

“Are you in pain, little human?” Bucky asked worriedly, taking his touch and mouth away from her at once.

“No, no, no, why would you stop?” She whined louder, her glossy eyes opening and pleading him to give her her pleasure back.

“Oh.” Bucky smirked when he looked from her eyes to her pussy and saw her clamp around nothing, “oh, sweet thing, you were gonna cum?” He asked lowly, his index rubbing up and down her sopping hole without going in.

“I— I don’t know.” She writhed, her hips pushing down as she tried to take Bucky’s finger back inside her, “Bucky, please.” She begged despite not really knowing what she was begging for.

But Bucky knew. He knew and he was going to give it to her.

“I got you,” Bucky said as he pushed his finger back into her pussy with ease, “you think you can take another one, little human?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her answer breathy and desperate as she automatically opened her thighs wider.

“Gods, you’re perfect. So good for me, sweet thing.” Bucky took his index out before coupling it with his middle and pushing both fingers into her, stretching her once more.

She whimpered at the careful intrusion, her hand bringing Bucky’s face to her pulsing clit, making him smirk proudly at how needy she was being for him.

If she thought she felt full before, this made her realize she was wrong.

Bucky’s fingers were so thick, so skilled as they massaged and curled against her upper walls, making her squeal when they nudged a specific spot deep inside her.

“Oh, there you go,” Bucky groaned into her clit, knowing exactly what he was doing to her as he kept curling his fingers inside of her, harshly stimulating the spot that was making her thrash.

He could feel her walls contracting harder around his fingers and he wanted to watch as he brought her to her first orgasm ever.

Keeping his eyes on her blissed out face, Bucky replaced his mouth with the heel of his left hand, circling her clit tightly with his cooler palm.

She wailed at the new stimulation, the pressure from Bucky’s hand strong enough to rub both her clit and her lower abdomen.

Her loud whimpers were making Bucky’s cock leak in his pants as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

“I got you, sweet thing. Give it to me, my love. Shake on your orc’s fingers.”

Bucky’s words did it for her.

She felt the knot in her tummy tighten once more and before she could tell him about it this time, her toes were curling and her body was trembling as her pussy clenched and pulsated around the orc’s beefy digits.

Bucky watched with an open mouth, his lips shimmering with the remnants of her arousal as he almost finished in his pants like a teenager at the mere sight of her losing it on his fingers, “there you go, my love. Good job, sweet thing.”

He slowed down the curling of his fingers but kept his palm circling her clit, wanting to keep her convulsing for as long as he could before she gently tried pushing his touch off.

“Sensitive,” she panted and Bucky decided to have mercy on her.

She laid down on the bed, her tired body limp despite the ongoing throbbing of her pussy, trying to catch her breath.

A smile automatically formed on her lips as she felt Bucky climb up the bed again, mapping his way up her body in wet kisses.

“Hi,” she whispered, opening her eyes when she felt him kissing the corner of her lips.

“Hi.” Bucky smiled, more than satisfied with himself at the state he had managed to bring her to as he kissed her lips, making her taste herself on his tongue, “did you like that, sweet thing?”

She nodded coyly, “can I… make you feel like that too? With my mouth?” Her face was flushed, heat spreading on her skin as if she hadn’t just come on Bucky’s fingers.

The orc could barely hold his orgasm back at the innocence in her voice as she asked if she could suck his cock in the purest way possible. He wasn’t about to cum untouched during his first time with his human. Get it together dammit.

“Later, sweet thing. Right now, I need to be inside your pussy or I think I might die.”

“Bucky,” she whined shyly, covering her face with her hands.

He laughed at her bashfulness before removing the rest of his clothes, “look at me, little human.” Bucky urged gently, his touch soft as his thumb stroked her lower belly.

She removed her hands, eyes instantly landing on his huge cock as it stood proudly, leaking pearls of pre-cum down his length.

“Are you ready, little human?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure she wanted this.

She remained wordless for a second, taking in Bucky’s cock with an open mouth, wondering if it was going to fit.

“You can say no, sweet thing. We don’t have to do it tonigh—”

“Yes,” she interrupted with a nod, “make me yours, Bucky.”

Bucky bit his lip, stifling a groan, trying to stop himself from sliding home and pounding her into the mattress.

“I thought you were already mine, little human.” He growled lowly, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down her soaking cunt, tapping her clit teasingly just to see her shiver.

“I am. But I wanna be yours like this too.” She mumbled, her eyes mesmerized as she watched Bucky lube his cock up in her wetness, “wanna be yours in every way possible.”

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky growled before carefully popping the tip of his fat cock inside her aching pussy.

Her breaths were coming out in short pants, cunt already clenching around him and he almost doubled over, his knees weak as pleasure engulfed his senses, “fuck, sweet thing, you’re so tight. Pussy’s tryna kill me.” He moaned, unintentionally making her clench down harder.

She looked like she had already been fucked stupid when Bucky proceeded to push half of his fat cock inside her, letting out tiny mewls and whines as she felt every ridge and vein on her orc’s cock, holding onto his arms for dear life.

“Oh, you feel so good, my love. So wet for me,” Bucky sighed as he kept fucking her with half of his cock, wanting her to get used to the stretch before he could give her all of him, “so tight”.

“Please, Bucky,” she moaned, her heart and pussy simultaneously fluttering at Bucky calling her his love yet again, “I can take it.” She promised, opening her thighs as far as they would go for him.

Bucky could all but snarl hungrily as he leaned forward, burying his face in her soft neck before gradually pushing the rest of his cock inside her tight throbbing cunt inch by inch until he had bottomed out.

He took a second to calm himself down, not wanting to burst so fast. Then he was pulling out just enough for his bulbous tip alone to remain inside of her before sliding back into her cunt, gasping into her neck at the sensation of being totally wrapped up in her snug warmth.

She couldn’t help but cry out at the pleasure as he orc fucked her deeply, reaching places inside of her she never knew existed.

She thought it would take longer for her body to get used to Bucky’s girth, but it was like she was made for him, her pussy effortlessly accepting him every time he pressed back home.

The tip of Bucky’s cock easily found her special spot, ramming into it over and over every time he drove himself back into her heat.

“Oh, Bucky!” She squealed, her back already bowing once more as her vision got blurrier and Bucky knew he wasn’t going to last much longer when her nails dug into his skin again.

His breath was labored when he raised his head, wanting a taste of her lips as his thrusts became faster, more desperate. He swallowed her loud moans, leaving the only sound in the empty cottage to be the sound of skin slapping against skin as he fucked her faster.

“Bucky, it’s gonna happen again,” she whined and Bucky brought his hand down to her clit at once, wanting to see and feel her crumble on his cock.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my fat cock, little human?”

She nodded frantically, her legs wrapping around Bucky’s waist.

“Cum for me, sweet thing. Let me feel your tight little pussy cum on my cock.”

Bucky’s dirty whispers in her ear, his deep thrusts and his frantic rubbing on her sensitive clit were making her lose control; making her lightheaded with desire as she let herself go again, full body tensing before shaking in her orc’s arms.

Bucky could no longer hold back, his guttural growl making her clench hard. He gave a few more thrusts before pushing his cock as deep as it would go inside her quivering pussy, keeping his assault on her clit going to keep her clenching around him. He felt his cock twitch as he emptied his balls inside her. His cock wouldn’t stop throbbing as he filled his little human up with his hot cum.

Before any of them could comprehend it, she was cumming again just at the feeling of Bucky cumming inside of her, making him groan as her walls squeezed his cock, milking him for all that he was worth.

He let himself collapse on top of her for just a minute before feeling the need to pull out because she wouldn’t stop pulsating and shuddering around his sensitive cock.

Bucky didn’t think he had ever cum so hard in his entire life.

A smile spread on his lips as he flipped on his side, watching her chest rise and fall with her slowing breaths.

He trailed a finger up her still slightly trembling thigh, making her open her tired eyes to look at him.

She gave him a sweet smile, biting her lip as she squirmed, timidly closing her thighs and Bucky could see the exact moment she realized that his cum was leaking out of her abused hole, smirking at how bashful she got straightaway.

“Are you okay, little human?” Bucky asked, his finger tracing up her abdomen, around the curve of her breast and up under her chin, keeping her gaze on his.

She nodded, her expression cock-drunk despite the shyness, “when— when can we do that again?”

Her question pulled an astonished laugh out of Bucky as he wrapped a hair strand around his finger, “any time you want, my love.” He brought her forehead to his lips, kissing her adoringly.

Gods, he was so in love that his heart felt like it would burst.

She smiled bigger, satisfied with the answer as she moved closer, settling on her orc’s broad chest and snuggling close to his warmth, “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, sweet thing.” Bucky gave her lips a deep kiss.

“So orcs do do that.” She mumbled with a sleepy smile against his lips, making him laugh into her mouth.

She giggled a little before pushing her nose further into Bucky’s neck, gracefully falling asleep to his scent.

As she laid in his arms, vulnerable and exposed, Bucky felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he pulled the heavy blanket up her naked form, holding her closer to him.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her hairline, vowing to always be there for her. She was his, and he was hers, destined together through a love that defied all odds.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, Bucky knew that he had found his home, his safe haven, in the embrace of this one girl who had so easily stolen his heart.

Part VI

~

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[just-jordie-things]

the blackest day - fushiguro megumi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: shibuya + light culling game arc spoilers but not very canon compliant lmfao. suggested major character death, heavy themes of depression (not reader) including: not eating, insomnia, feelings of worthlessness + suicidal ideation. mentions of needles, stitches, + blood. heavy angst with a happy ending. summary: megumi tried to tell her not to go to that station. all he can do now is think that he should've tried harder. more info: rivals/friends to lovers, lots of hurt/some comfort, megumi has reached ultimate functioning angst in this ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s not easy for me to talk about // i have heavy heartstrings.  and not simple, it’s trigonometry // it’s hard to express // i can’t explain // ever since my baby went away, it’s been the blackest day ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I don’t care that they assigned me to go with Nanami,” 

Her voice came out in a huff, irritation getting the better of her, and it was starting to become quite noticeable.  Her chest was puffed, her lips were pulled into a snarl that looked completely unnatural on her usually bright features.  The hand that wasn’t holding a short sword was curled into a fist so tight it began to tremble.

“Itadori needs my help more” She finished, sounding sure of this change of plan.

Megumi cursed under his breath, this petty argument being the last thing he was in the mood for.  There was no time for some ridiculous change in team ups.  The pairings had already been decided, and had happened for a reason.  With a veil over Shibuya making communication impossible, a change like this was absurd.

“You don’t get to just pick and choose what you want to do, (y/n),” He snapped back at her, before aggressively pointing in the direction of Nanami’s team, where he and Takuma had just taken off.  

It hadn’t been until too late that Megumi caught (y/n) hovering away from her group, looking lost under a flickering street lamp as she gazed off in the opposite direction of her team, chewing on her lip as she worried about her other classmate headed for the train station.  Had Megumi noticed sooner, he probably wouldn’t be standing here fighting with her right now.  He probably could’ve hollered for Nanami or Takuma to circle back and drag her off if they had to.  But they were too far gone now to yell after, and his phone was useless.

“These teams were drawn up for a reason,” He muttered.  “Now you’ve rendered it useless” 

She rolls her eyes at his drama, turning to head off towards the train station, not caring about winning this argument.  There were more important things to do right now than stand here and bicker with Megumi.  She was getting tired of this repetitive game of his anyways.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He took a large step towards her, making her halt in her tracks before she could get very far.

“I told you,” She snapped back.  “I’m going after Yuuji.  Something’s not right.  I can feel it” 

Megumi’s eyes widened and twitched.

“You can’t be serious” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” 

Her expression didn’t flinch.  He could tell by the hardness in her eyes that she’d set her mind to this new plan of hers, and no matter how stupid it was, he knew deep down she wasn’t going to waver on it.

“You’re not going off on your own,” Megumi scoffs, hoping he could get her to see that she’d be walking right into a trap if she split off by herself.  “Do you even know your way there?” 

“I think I’m capable of reading street signs, Fushiguro” 

Surname.  Ouch.  He was only succeeding in pissing her off.

“Just- god, just come with me, alright?” He suggests instead, thinking a compromise would sway her.  “Going off by yourself right now is reckless and you know it.  Come on.  If the roles were reversed you wouldn’t let me do this” 

Her eyes narrow, and she clenches her jaw.

“I’m not going to stand here and play the ‘what if’ game with you,” She told him.  “You’re wasting time.  If you cross paths with anyone, tell them I went after Yuuji”

“(y/n)-” 

Before he could come up with another argument- or resort to picking her up off the ground and forcing her not to go- she was already turning on her heels and breaking into a full sprint.

Megumi had tried to follow her, but she’d always been faster than him.  He called after her until his throat burned raw.  Eventually he had to go off with his own team, knowing if he strayed too far then he was putting himself at just as great a risk as she’d been.

But fuck, had he made a mistake in not pushing himself to follow her.

Even if they’d both died trying to get to Yuuji, he thinks it would’ve been better than this.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Megumi wakes up that morning looking like he was in just as terrible of a state as he had the day before.  And the day before that.  And every day before that for the last six days.

It had been a week since the incident with Shibuya, and with every day that passed and the more ground they covered, Megumi was starting to feel worse.

Yuuta silently offered up an apple he’d found at the last shop they’d raided.  Megumi barely glanced at it before shaking his head, going right to work rolling up the sleeping bag that was starting to get worn and dirty.  Yuuta frowned, crouching down beside the younger man to talk quietly with him.

“You should eat something,” He suggests calmly.  “When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” 

Megumi tries not to appear annoyed.  He knows Yuuta is only trying to look out for him, he’d been trying to look out for everyone.  Unfortunately since the impact of Shibuya, it was hard to keep everyone in check and healthy.

“Ate last night” Megumi replied.

Yuuta frowned.

“You had a bite of a loaf of bread” He replied knowingly.

Megumi paused in his movements, his sleeping bag rolled up part way, and his eyes caught the beginnings of a hole that he hadn’t noticed before.  It must’ve gotten caught on some rubble or debris and torn the nylon.  He frowned at the supposed tear-proof material.  If it worsened it would be a nuisance, and if he was out of a sleeping bag, well, who knew when or if he’d come across another one.

Pushing that worry off for a later time, he glanced at Yuuta over his shoulder.  His face was blank, as it had been for the better part of the last week.

“You don’t need to keep tabs on me,” He said.  “I’m fine” 

Yuuta held his stare for a long moment, hoping that if he let the lie sit there for long enough, Megumi would realize how empty it sounded.  

But he didn’t budge.

So Yuuta sighs, standing and dropping the apple back into a paper bag and rolling it up so it’d tuck neatly in the backpack of supplies they’d been gathering.

“You know eventually, you’ll need to eat something,” He says matter-of-factly.  “If we come across something and you don’t have the energy to fight-” 

“I said I’m fine” 

Despite the harsh words, Megumi’s voice is monotone, and not all that loud.  In fact, he’s almost whispering.  It only sends a chill of worry through Yuuta’s demeanor.  He’d already been stressing over his well being- not to mention Maki’s, and Itadori’s- it was starting to be a weight on his shoulders keeping an eye on everyone.

It wasn’t that he was burdened by his friends or the guilt they bore, but after a certain amount of time, he just didn’t know how to help anymore.

Yuuji was completely unable to separate himself from Sukuna, taking on the destruction of Shibuya and blaming himself for the entire catastrophe.  All the death, the chaos, and where they found themselves now, the boy could barely keep it together.  Yuuta had only known him for a short amount of time, and even he found his behavior to be unsettling.

Maki had slain her entire bloodline.  All but her sister, who had died trying to protect her, trying to make her stronger, so that when she broke free from their twisted clutches, she was able to take down every single one of them.  Yuuta had barely approached the subject.  No one did, really.  Maki had briefly mentioned it when they all grouped together, and since then, it’d been radio silence.

And Megumi… well, Megumi was still beating himself up over (y/n).  It didn’t matter what anyone said.  It didn’t matter that Yuuji held onto some sliver of hope that she’d made it out of Shibuya before shit really hit the fan.  It was as though Megumi had tuned everything out.  They practically watched him dim before them, a burnt out bulb that wouldn’t light again no matter how much they prodded and tried.

For now, Yuuta let him be.  The gang packed up their supplies from the spot they’d crashed the night before, and without much talk at all began moving again.  Here and there they talked about direction, and brainstormed how to get around stealthily, but other than that, it was mostly a quiet journey.

Megumi remained completely silent.  One hand on the strap of his sleeping bag over his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket.  Distantly he recognized that his stomach was aching and his mouth was dry, and he was sure he was also in desperate need of a shower, too.  But even as the thoughts crossed his mind, they seemed to float away and fade into nothing.  Just like everything else that tried to fill the time in his head, it was always replaced by the overwhelming gnaw of grief.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to eat.  It wasn’t like there was much food to go around anyways.  Wasn’t everyone else much more deserving of a healthier portion? What had he done in comparison to everyone else in this makeshift group of people who were once peers but now that Jujutsu Society had fallen apart… did they even have anything else in common?

Just as the mental downward spiral began, it was washed away once more by the reminder that it didn’t matter anyways.  Guilt and loss settled at the forefront of his thoughts again, and he kept his head down as he continued walking.

The ironic part about all of this was that if she had been here, she’d laugh at him and smack him upside the head.  Everything matters, dummy, he could almost hear her scolding him, with no bite to her bark, just as always.  She always had something dumb to say like that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Stop being so gloomy, ‘gumi!” She’d hollered, followed by a string of laughter as she skipped up to him, turning her back to Nobara and Yuuji, who happily kept walking along to the next shop on their trip.

“Definitely don’t ever call me that again” He muttered back, crinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes in distaste for the nickname.  She laughed again, stopping just before him on the sidewalk, just as their friends entered a boutique, leaving them behind.

“Oh yeah?” She places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at him, and he wonders if she knows that their friends just abandoned them out here.  “Or what?” She asks defiantly.

He’d taken notice that when she was trying to instigate a bickering match, the corner of her lips tilted up in a proud little smirk.  She tended to get ahead of herself, always certain that she’d win whatever it was they were doing.  From petty arguments on the sidewalk to sparring to missions where she always wanted to compete and one up him.  Although after a while he had to admit it could be a little fun to show off on the easier-to-exorcize curses.

“Dork,” He rolls his eyes without a hint of genuine attitude.  When she gapes at him in mock offense he raises his hand to flick her forehead.  “C’mon, our friends dipped” He starts to head towards the shop Nobara and Yuuji had disappeared into, but she stays put outside.

“Yeah… I sort of let them…” She admits, a small, guilty smile stretching across her lips.  Megumi raises his eyebrows at her, smiling back in amusement.  Usually whatever those two were up to, (y/n) was following behind like an eager duckling.  “What?” She asks innocently.  “I just don’t want to spend all day looking at things I won’t buy and then carrying all of Nobara’s shit!” She defends herself.

Megumi laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at their corners and his shoulders shaking and everything.  (y/n’s) almost taken aback by the action, surprised that he looked so… joyful.

“Alright, you’ve got a point.  We have an opportunity here, and we should take it while we can” He begins to plot with her, and her smile stretches into a grin as she nods back at him.

“Bookstore and coffee?” She suggests quietly, as if it was more outlandish of an idea than it really was.

Megumi nods affirmatively, tucking his hands in his pockets before turning in the opposite direction, (y/n) following him right away so they could make it there before their friends noticed their departure.

She still pushed his buttons as they made their way to their destination down the street, but he couldn’t help but feel a blossom of warmth in his chest that for once he was the one getting her to tag alongside him.  He would never admit it, opting to poke back at her the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but it had felt… good.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The day that annoying chirping flyhead had announced a culling game, Megumi felt a glimmer of hope spark inside of him that he barely recognized.  It had only been nine or so days since the incident, but it seemed like ages since he’d felt optimistic about something- anything.  

But as the flyhead spouted off the rules to the games, he’d hoped that a lineup would be included.  Surely with so many sorcerers pitted against each other, there must be some condition of having all of the participants and their points on display, right? 

The others recognized a change in him then, an eagerness, an impatience as he barely took in what the flyhead was announcing, only waiting to hear what he wanted.

Announce the players’ names, he silently pleaded with the damn thing.  Say her name, tell me she’s a participant, tell me she’s alive.

But the rules concluded, the flyhead seemingly disappeared, and Megumi felt like a fucking idiot.

Yuuji and Yuuta shared a look, and the pink haired boy turned to give his friend an apologetic expression.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Megumi tightened his hold on the strap of his sleeping bag and kept walking before he could say anything.

He didn’t want to hear any bullshit about maybes or what ifs.  He just wanted to get to the next safe place by nightfall so he could lay awake on his sleeping bag for eight hours, and then repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.

His ever so present grief and his growing hunger was starting to blend into a concoction that made him more stand-offish than usual.  The others had almost cracked, barely acknowledging him at this point, simply not knowing how.  Yuuji still tried, of course.  Forcing a water bottle in his face, or a piece of food that hadn’t gone totally bad.  He’d maybe had a few bites here or there in the last few days, not nearly enough to keep up his energy, but somehow he pushed through anyways.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t finding some hidden source of energy, he wasn’t persevering, and he certainly wasn’t living because he had to.  If he was being honest, he’d been wondering why his body hadn’t given out on him yet.  Nothing felt good anymore.  If it wasn’t numb, it ached, and neither one of those options was more of a relief than the other.

He wasn’t pushing through the unmovable force of his grief.  (y/n)... Nobara… Gojo… Nanami…  He wasn’t staying strong in their memory, and if anything, he wished his body would just give up already so he wasn’t such a burden to those around him.  Megumi spent most of his time in his own head, but he wasn’t completely oblivious.  He saw the way the others talked about him with only their eyes.  Short, worried glances exchanged on his behalf, each of them trying to silently convince the others to do something first, no one wanting to be the one to address it.

Tonight when he rolls out his holey sleeping bag and lays back on it, he stares at the starless sky and pleads with it.  He begs the rolling clouds and inky black night to let him close his eyes, just this once, so that he won’t have to open them again.

He can’t possibly spend another long night wide awake, thinking about his hunger, thinking about her, no matter how hard he tries to shove it all deep, deep down and ignore it.

As exhausted as he is physically, sleep never takes over his body.

A tear rolls out of the corner of his eye, trekking slowly down his cheekbone.  It lingers at his jaw, fat and wobbly as he clenches his teeth together as hard as he can stand it, desperate to make this tear the last.

It falls with a near silent splat against the nylon material he lays on.

The following little splats come in quick succession, seemingly a little louder as they fall one after the other.  Megumi chokes down the sobs to be sure no one else could catch wind of his breakdown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

She momentarily glances up at him when he enters the room, only to scowl and turn away as soon as she recognizes it’s him.  Megumi fights the urge to roll his eyes, sliding the infirmary door shut and tucking his hands into his pockets as he approaches her.

“I’m not talking to you,”

Despite her sharp glare, he laughs at the ironic statement.

“I mean it.  I’m still mad at you,” She spits out, turning back to where she was stitching up the gash in her upper arm.  

It was a nasty thing to look at, and probably worse to patch up on her own, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten back from an assignment too late to request Shoko’s help- and reverse cursed technique.

“Seriously,” There’s more of a bite to her tone when she plunges the needle through the narrow end of the wound.  “Just go”  

She’s hissing and clenching her jaw before pulling the needle through and doing it again, trying to keep her stitches even.  It wasn’t the easiest task with her non-dominant hand, but she didn’t want to show an ounce of struggle.

“You sure talk a lot for not talking to me” Megumi hums, still coming closer, despite her warnings.

He earns himself another glare, but he ignores it, stepping up to where she’s sat on the edge of one of the paper-covered cots.  She flinches as though to lean away from him, and he raises a brow at her.

“You want sloppy stitches?” He asks pointedly, voice hushed and lacking any emotion.  “Fine by me, have it heal weird if that’s what you want” 

He starts to step away, and (y/n) huffs.  Her eyes shut and her shoulders slump, and he takes her nonverbal defeat as his cue to pluck the needle from her hand and get to work.  She wouldn’t say so out loud, but she knew his hand was steadier than hers anyways.

He works quickly and diligently.  His free hand placed gently around her arm to make sure it stays still as he stitches up the gnarly cut.  She tries not to react to how cold it is to the touch, but her muscles flinch when he first makes contact.

“Sorry” He mumbles without much thought, going for the fourth stitch.

“For what, exactly?” (y/n) mutters back with a furrow in her brow.  “For your freakishly cold hands? Or for letting me take this hit back there?” 

Megumi doesn’t respond right away, opting to keep his focus on his needlework.  This only annoys her further, and he can practically feel it radiating off of her.  He knew it was a matter of seconds before she blew up at him, she was probably just thinking through what she wanted to say when she screamed his head off.  He could tell her to shut up and stop acting so childish, but he doesn’t.

And he’s not totally sure why.  If this was Yuuji or Nobara in her place, he’d be telling them exactly where they’d gone wrong on that assignment, and to top it off walk them through how they needed to shape up before they took another one.  

But it’s not Yuuji or Nobara.  It’s (y/n).  And his mouth stays shut.

Truth was she wasn’t necessarily wrong.  He had technically let her take this hit from a Grade Two curse with a horrific set of claws.  But had he not sent her that way, then she would’ve wanted to tag team the Grade One with him.  And this particular Grade One had a gore streak in the deaths it had caused around Tokyo.  And on that fact alone, he took it on himself, and ordered (y/n) to take on the Grade Two.

“I mean seriously what the fuck was that? You think you get to boss me around just ‘cause you’ve been doing this a little longer?” 

And here she goes.  He braces himself mentally for whatever she was about to throw at him.

“Or is it something else? Hm? You needed the ego boost? Needed to feel like some kind of big strong man, Megumi?” Her eyes narrow at him but he doesn’t cast her a single glance.  His focus remains on the steady movements of stitching her up.  “Did it feel good to play hero? Did you feel good exorcizing that Grade One and laughing when I let a measly little Grade Two take me down-?”

“I wasn’t laughing” 

His voice is quieter than hers, and significantly calmer, but it still manages to shut her up.  For a moment, her expression is blank while she still stares at him, and he still keeps his eyes on his task.  

A lump forms in her throat, suddenly making it very hard to insult him.  It remains silent between them as Megumi finishes up the last stitch, finishing it off perfectly and dropping the bloody needle on the tray beside the cot.  The metallic thunk echos shortly, and then finally, he turns his attention towards her.

To his surprise, her eyes looked wet.  She couldn’t possibly be holding back tears.  Surely the stitches hurt, she wasn’t invincible, but she was strong, and never showed weakness.  Even when that curse had grabbed her by the arm and he feared it was going to rip it clean off her body, she hadn’t cried.  Screamed and swore, sure, but not a tear was shed the whole way back to campus.

“Think what you will,” He tells her, eyes flickering between hers curiously, wondering what it was that would make her tear up now.  “But I’m not so callous that I would take amusement in your pain,” 

She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only burns more, and she hopes that he can’t see the emotion on her face, she hopes that she’s expressionless, cold, even.

“In fact, when I sent you after that curse, it was for the opposite reason.  I was trying to do you a favor” 

“A favor?” She repeats, intending to snap the words back at him, but her voice is strained by her burning throat, and instead she almost sounds… lost.  Megumi can’t quite put his finger on it.

He nods his head once in a short motion.

“Sorry you got hurt,” He says, and he means it, but his tone still lacks any sort of emotion.  He plans to keep it that way.  “Just didn’t want to see you get ripped to shreds by a Grade One” 

He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t give her the chance to reply, or even fully react to that statement.  Instead he turns around and walks right back out of the infirmary, not so much of a nod in parting as he shuts the door behind him and leaves her completely alone.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Megumi had found Yuuji after the incident in Shibuya, he’d ran to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, asking if he was alright and hugging him shortly out of the pure relief that someone was there, someone lived.  Even though Yuuji was in rough shape physically and mentally after everything, he was a person that Megumi could see and touch, and relief flooded through him like pure ecstasy.

“Nobara?” He’d asked, unable to finish the rest of the question.  He didn’t have to for Yuuji to understand.

Yuuji didn’t have to answer aloud for Megumi to understand.  His glossy eyes turned away, desperate for something else to catch his attention before he thought too hard about the fate their friend befell.

Megumi frowned, his throat going dry as he swallowed harshly.

He didn’t want to ask anymore questions.  He wanted to relish the lone fact that Yuuji, his best friend, was alive and standing in front of him.  He not only lived through the catastrophe but they’d reunited.  He wished he could hold onto that joy for just a moment longer.  But he couldn’t help himself from asking another burning question in his mind.

“A-and (y/n)?” He stammered out uncharacteristically.  His panic was evident in his wide eyes and tightening grip on Yuuji’s shoulders.  The pink haired boy looked back at him in alarm.  “She- she left Nanami’s team to come find you, did she?” He explained the situation poorly, not wanting to waste time talking if Yuuji had an answer for him. 

He doesn’t respond right away.

“Did she find you?” He asks again, his voice quieter as his features begin to fall.

His heart hammered in his chest in a way he’d never felt before.  A deep rooted fear he can’t recall ever having before, even as a toddler and fearing a monster under the bed didn’t hold up against the icy hot pins forcing their way through his bloodstream now.  His face felt hot as it went pale.  The back of his neck felt sweaty as a cool breeze hit it.  He was sure he was about to have a seizure, the panic was all too much.  The longer Yuuji didn’t give him an outright response, the worse the taste of bile in Megumi’s throat became.

“I did see her,” Yuuji finally mumbles out, dropping his eyes to his hands, which he held palms up and trembling before him.  “After Choso- the people that…” Yuuji coughs, the need to vomit suddenly pushing through his mind and throat.  “She was trying to exorcize them all,” 

He was struggling to explain what he recalled seeing that night.  It was all too brutal, and his mind was trying to push the trauma into a dark corner where he couldn’t think about it if he tried.  But this was important.  Megumi needed to know.

“She… she was crying,” Yuuji looked up at Megumi again, who furrowed his brows and shook his head.  “She knew they were still people deep down, like… Junpei” 

Megumi’s head shaking grew more rapid as he processed this all too slowly for his liking.

“And then?” He asked.  “And then what? Where’d she go? You got split up?” Question after question tumbled out of his mouth so quick his words began to slur together.

Yuuji wanted to cry just seeing him so worried sick, much less actually remember what happened.

“I… I didn’t see,” The pink haired boy admitted quietly, shame bringing his eyes downcast again.  “I’m sorry, Megumi.  W- we got separated.  But there… there were so many of them…” 

Megumi had stepped away, his hands falling from Yuuji’s shoulders, hanging heavy at his sides as he took a larger step back.  

“I tried to find her,” Yuuji’s voice cracked as he hoped to explain himself.  “Really I- I didn’t want to abandon her, I didn’t want to leave her there, not after everything she did to get to me- she- fuck- she probably saved my life showing up when she did!” 

He could register that Yuuji was still speaking, but Megumi could hardly make all of it out.  His vision was clouding over, and his entire body felt weak, as though he could collapse at any point.  He hadn’t even realized he was heaving until Yuuji, Maki, and Yuuta were crowded around him and helping him slowly down to the ground to calm him down.

He’d never had a panic attack before.

Finding out that (y/l/n) (y/n) had likely died along with countless others in Shibuya struck the first of several panic induced attacks.  Most of which he managed to keep hidden from the others, but some hit so hard and so suddenly that it was near impossible to work through it in private.

He’d been replaying Yuuji’s account of that night over and over in his head for days now, trying to find some sort of hope that she could’ve gotten out of that train station before all hell broke loose.  But with a hazy recollection and no other witnesses, it was hard to pretend that she made it out alive.

At first he’d spent time looking for signs of her as they traveled.  Any remains of camps he was sifting through, hoping to find that familiar necklace she always wore, or the shortsword she’d carried that night, something- anything that could point to a sign of her still being out there somewhere.

But now he barely lifted his head as he followed the group blindly, kicking at loose rubble and keeping a tight hold on his unraveling sleeping bag that was almost at the end of it’s lifespan.  There would be no use in holding onto a tattered rag of nylon.  

There wasn’t a chance he’d ever see her again.  His denial was beginning to fade, reality giving him a cold slap to the face to wake him up.  It was harsh.  It left him rough around the edges, literally and figuratively.  His facial features were sharper, and devoid of color.  His muscles were sore, only growing more so the longer he put off eating a proper meal.  If he kept this up he knew there would only be a few more sleepless nights until he didn’t stand back up in the morning.

And still, when he was offered a piece of food, he took a mere few bites before excusing himself to go lay on his ruined sleeping bag and stare at the sky.  

He cursed it when it was empty and dull.  He cursed it when it was full of twinkling stars and a bright moon.  It was never quite right.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y’know any constellations?” 

Megumi startled upon hearing her tired voice creep up behind him.  When he turned to see her shuffling out of the doors in her bare feet and ducky-print pajama shorts and matching tee, he could almost laugh.  She was yawning, her eyes shut as she rubbed at them with the ball of her fist.  She looked like a child.

“It’s late” He muttered when she waddled up next to him sleepily.

“No shit,” She grumbles back with a roll of her eyes.  “So? Y’know any constellations or not?” 

Megumi wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing out here.  Had she heard him sneak out of his room to step out for fresh air? He’d left fifteen or so minutes ago.  If he’d woken her up, surely she would’ve followed him out here sooner than now.

Not to mention, she’d barely spoken to him since their last assignment together, and their sort-of argument in the infirmary.  The few times she had addressed him had only been out of courtesy to their present friends.  But even then, her eyes never quite met his, and her words were short.

“Actually, yeah,” Megumi hums thoughtfully.  “Tsumiki loved ‘em.  She used to show me when I was little” 

(y/n) nods, wrapping her arms around herself after realizing she wouldn’t relieve the ache in her eyes if she kept irritating them.  She lets out a soft sigh as she stands beside him, tilting her head back to glance across the sky.  She wasn’t sure of the last time she’d appreciated the stars.  It must have been when she was still a child.

Megumi clears his throat uncomfortably, before raising his hand to trace a pattern in the sky.

“Obviously that’s the Orion’s belt,” He says, before mapping out the rest of the hunter’s shape.  “The rest of Orion,” He mumbles, and he’s surprised when he glances down to see (y/n) carefully following his hand.  He wonders if she can see it the way he does, like the picture in the Astronomy book Tsumiki used to haul around.  Curious to see how interested she really was, he continued on to another constellation.  “That’s Ursa Major,” He says, tracing the shape out slowly to give her time to adjust to the image.  “And, uh, Ursa Minor is… there” He does the same for both bears.

(y/n) hums curiously, a small smile tugging at her lips in amusement.  She never would have guessed that Astronomy of all things was one of Megumi’s interests.

“Do you know what your star sign is?” He asks, dropping his hand and glancing down at her.  She raises a brow at him in surprise, slowly delivering her answer, half expecting him to come up short and sheepishly admit he didn’t know where that one was.

But he surprises her again, eyes darting around the sky for a matter of seconds before finding it in seconds and dragging his fingers along the main stars of her constellation with a great amount of ease.

“Alright, that’s pretty cool,” She finally confesses, shyly glancing up at him.  “You’re a pretty good brother for learning all of this” She tells him.

His attention is brought back down to her as soon as she says it, finding a soft smile on her face and a look in her eyes that he can’t quite decipher.  He thinks it’s akin to worry, perhaps empathy.  His eyes flicker between hers a few times as he tries to pinpoint exactly what it is.  She doesn’t shy away from his long silence accompanied by the eye contact that made her feel like she was an artifact under glass.  

It’s quiet for a while, until eventually Megumi looks back up at the sky again.  She wonders what brought him out here to begin with, but she doesn’t ask.  Instead, she clasps her hands together behind her back and admires the stars with him.

“What else can you show me?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If it had been up to him, Megumi would’ve rather stayed behind at Jujutsu Tech to guard Tengen.  Maybe if he’d sat alone in the warping hallways of the school he could pass out from the mindfuckery of it all.  Then maybe, once Kenjaku arrived…

It doesn’t matter now.  Yuki and Choso had already decided they’d be the ones to stand guard.  He and Yuuji were already on their way to find Hakari, and there was no point in changing plans now.  Besides, he didn’t want to burden Yuuji any further than he was sure he already had.

“So, you’ve met this guy?”

Yuuji’s the first to speak, and Megumi doesn’t exactly have an answer.  He shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head side to side with a blank expression.

“Sort of.  I guess” 

Yuuji waits for further explanation, but after a few beats of silence, he realizes that Megumi isn’t going to explain what that means.

“Okay… well, do you think we can convince him to help us?” 

“Don’t know” Megumi replies.  

Yuuji frowns, and turns his gaze forward, fixing it straight ahead before slowly exhaling through his nose to ease his nerves.

Megumi glances at him out of his peripheral vision, and seeing his clear disappointment in his features, huffs out a breath and tries to explain himself.

“I met him for, like, a minute.  One time.  Before I was even enrolled at Jujutsu Tech,” He said.  

Yuuji turned towards his friend with a grin, eager to hear him opening up, or at least, trying to.  For once he keeps his mouth shut in the hopes that Megumi continues to talk.

“Gojo introduced me,” He went on.  “And I really don’t know if he’ll help us.  He’s a bit… eccentric” He mutters the last part with distaste.  

“Like Gojo?” Yuuji chuckles, and Megumi tilts his head from shoulder to shoulder once more.

“If Gojo had a gambling addiction so twisted it got him kicked out of school, then… maybe” 

Yuuji’s eyes widened, and he snapped his mouth shut before he could ask any other questions.  Megumi’s patience may have been thin- and perhaps nonexistent at this point- but he had a feeling that he should let his friend save up some energy for his social battery.  If Hakari is anything like Gojo, then he’d certainly need it.

When they stop to rest it’s not for long.  Yuuji gets Megumi to eat a bit more than usual, though not by much, he takes it as a good sign.  They rest just long enough to soothe the ache in their feet, but as soon as they’re moving again, the pain returns.  Neither one of them complained.

THe sun was just starting to set when they finally reached their destination.  Megumi stopped them both just on the perimeter of the territory.  An unsettling feeling spiking in his chest had his instincts telling him not to step any closer without a plan. 

Silently, he glances over to Yuuji, who’s already surveying the area.  He must have felt it, too.

“Cursed energy?” Yuuji mumbles, his brows furrowed as he meets Megumi’s hard stare.

The dark haired boy nods his head once in confirmation.

“Yeah,” He hums back.  “And a lot of it” 

It was impossible to ignore.  Cursed energy in great quantities had a natural buzz, like static electricity in the air.  This wasn’t that at all.  If Megumi closed his eyes and focused on it, he was sure he could feel the ground below him vibrating with thick waves of energy.

One thing was for sure, they were in the right place.  But whatever it was that was happening here put him on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” He muttered, stepping past the brush they’d been hiding behind and heading towards the building.  He tucked his hands into his pockets as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Yuuji was following.  “And your expectations low” He adds upon seeing the grin on his friend’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Arms up, Megumi!” 

Despite her offensive stance and the glow of cursed energy around her fists, (y/n’s) voice was full of pure delight.  Sometimes when Megumi would spar with her, he would be reminded of Maki.  He never understood why she never sought her out instead, surely the older sorcerer was a better match for her twisted delight with training.  Nonetheless, here he was on a Saturday, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands to keep his face behind his arms so that when she hit him she didn’t break anything.

(y/n) spoke as if she could read his thoughts.

“Skipping out on training doesn’t get you to Grade One, y’know,” She told him as they started circling.  “And if Yuuji can’t teach me Black Flash, I’ll have to learn it myself!” 

“Did you even ask Nanami?” Megumi grumbles, already knowing her answer.

She wasn’t one to ask for help.  Only ever requesting a training partner- or victim, as Nobara had once affectionately put it.

She didn’t give him an answer anyways, throwing a fist towards his exposed stomach, trying to apply her cursed energy at the last possible moment.  She not only didn’t succeed in using Black Flash, but she missed hitting him too, as he dodged with a graceful sidestep.

“If you’re so scared, why’d you say yes?” (y/n) asked, gearing up to find a weaker spot on him to aim for.

He doesn’t want to answer that, but she clearly isn’t going to make her attack until he gives her something, so he huffs.

“No one else would wake up at this hour on a weekend” He says lamely.  It feels like a lie when he says it, even though Megumi knows it’s the truth.  

It was seven in the morning, after all.  Yuuji and Nobara likely wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours.  If (y/n) needed a partner to train, her options were severely limited.

“Guess you’re right” She shrugs.

In the same motion she throws another punch at him, this time her cursed energy crackling in her hand, giving her some hope. But even though she landed a hit on his shoulder, it was still unsuccessful.

She groans loudly, to which Megumi scowls, seeing as he was the one that just got punched.  He rolls his shoulder to work out the ache before taking his defensive stance again, waiting for her to try again.

“You’re not in the right mindset” He points out.

She raises a brow at him.

“You wanna chase me around a bit?” She suggests, only half jokingly.  Megumi snorts, but stops himself before he could actually laugh at the idea.

“No,” He shakes his head.  “You should try something else” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” He huffs, annoyed for trying to walk her through a technique he’d never even used.  Still, he finds himself brainstorming another approach.  “Try psyching out,” He suggests, nodding his head as he thinks it through.  “It’d be more effective that way anyways.  If you’re using hand-to-hand with an opponent but don’t lead with it, you’ve got the element of surprise on your side, too,” 

(y/n) nods along with him, finding the advice to be surprisingly solid.

“So if you let them underestimate you, then catch them off guard, you’d probably be good as gold” He finished.

She beams at him as she raises her fists again, ready to take his advice out on him right away.

“Just remember you suggested it when I take you to the infirmary later” She teases.

Megumi smirks, widening his stance and raising his arms to protect his face again.

“You’ll still have to figure out the technique” He reminds, but the coy look on his face suggests that he had no doubt in his mind that she could master it in no time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The inside of the building was so loud and rambunctious, it was downright overstimulating.  Megumi fought the urge to cover his ears as soon as they entered the premises.  Crowds of people swarmed multiple levels- he counted about six before getting distracted by all the pushing and shoving- and it was no secret what it was they were wildly rooting for.

“A fighting ring, huh?” Yuuji grinned, not out of delight for the sport, but surprise for the timing of a setting like this.  Did these people even know about the games?

“Great,” Megumi clicked his tongue bitterly as he surveyed the crowds with a furrow in his brow.  “Should’ve expected he’d pull some shit like this” He muttered too low for Yuuji to make out what he was grumbling about.

The squared ring where the current match was taking place wasn’t too far from where Yuuji and Megumi found themselves, but with all of the people in the way it made it difficult for them to see who was winning.  Too many arms in the air with money in their fists blocked the fight.  But it seemed whoever was up there was getting thrown around like a ragdoll.  The sound of a body rapidly being smacked against the rough mat or against the chains surrounding the ring were heard in quick succession.

However despite the sound of someone being brutalized, the match continued.  Neither of them have caught a glimpse of either combatant, but they knew it must’ve been an impressive lineup as it had been a few minutes of this now.

“Is this even legal?” Yuuji asked.  Megumi scoffed, although he wasn’t trying to deliver a rude response.

“Not even a little bit” He mutters back with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, they decide they’re going to push through the horde of chanting people to get a better look at what was going on.  They pause in their shoving when a booming voice erupts from an intercom, the screech of an excited announcer sounding throughout the building and echoing across the concrete infrastructure.

“Place your final bets now!” He drawled every word out for dramatic effect.  “Will our resident Panda live to see another day?” 

Yuuji and Megumi locked eyes instantly, and without having to say a thing, began pushing and shoving forward again.  The sea of people cast them dirty looks and occasionally pushed back to scold them for their rude behavior, but they paid it no mind.

There could only be one Panda in that ring, right?

Sure enough when they got closer to the square, they could see the wide, furry expanse of a panda- The Panda’s- back.  His shoulders were trembling, not from pain or fear, but from the rambunctious laughter he let out.  He raised his paws, tilting his head back as his howl boomed.

Yuuji’s face brightened excitedly upon seeing their old friend.  Megumi couldn’t help but feel some relief as well.  Neither of them had considered the possibility of scattered sorcerers they knew being here.

They were close enough now that when Panda spoke, they could make out what he was saying.  The crowd around them was too busy screaming and chanting threatening cheers to care about what the fighters in the ring were saying to one another, but Yuuji and Megumi did their best to listen in.

“Just try not to knock me out this time!” Panda said through his laughter.

Was he throwing the fight? Megumi didn’t quite understand the context to this statement.

“Last time they didn’t bother to move me off the ring, I slept here all night!” Panda continued, his laughing ceasing as he took on an irritated tone.  “Ruined my back!” 

His opponent only laughed.  Something feminine and twisted, but undoubtedly genuine.

Megumi’s heart plummeted to his stomach.  He recognized that sound.

When Panda’s body was knocked back into the chains of the ring from a swift but heavy kick to the chest, his opponent was finally made visible.

A girl.  Not that girls couldn’t fight, but this particular girl had a cutthroat attitude when it came to fistfighting a bear.  It seemed every swing of her arms as she landed hit after hit on him grew faster in speed.  Half of her face was covered with a black mask, but the bloodied grin on her face was that of someone who believed they couldn’t possibly lose, no matter what beast of an opponent they might face.

Recognition flashed in Megumi’s face, making him go pale as he watched her strike two blows to Panda’s jaw so quickly it had to have given him whiplash, sending his furry head back and forth with such great force.

If Panda was throwing the fight, it didn’t really look like it.  He blocked a hit here and there with his massive paws, but she always seemed to move quicker to outsmart him.  Ducking and weaving around him with graceful feet and agile movements to keep herself from getting caught by him again.  Clearly she’d learned a lesson when he’d been throwing her around earlier.

When Panda did try to land a hit on her again, she grabbed his large wrist in one hand, still grinning as she used the momentum of his swing to swing herself forward and kick her feet into his chest.

The first from the right foot, directly against his ribcage, knocking all wind out of him.  

The crowd began to go wild, anticipating something Megumi hadn’t caught onto yet.

The second from the left foot, kicking lower against his stomach, making him curl over and heave.

But before he could catch his breath or clutch his stomach, she struck with her right foot again.  

The third and final blow came with a shock of blue energy, an abundant amount of cursed energy striking him in the chest so hard it sent him a few feet backwards, crashing into the chains and crumpling to the mat in a heap of black and white.

It was undoubtedly Black Flash.

She didn’t taunt him as the referee began his countdown before calling a knock out and declaring her a winner.  She didn’t strut around or try to rile up her fans in the crowd.  Not that she needed to, the people around Megumi and Yuuji were clawing at their own faces in astonishment from watching her take her opponent down with ease and showmanship.

And when the match was officially over and the announcer was hyping the crowd up for the next fight over the intercom, she slid out of the ring and left the area without so much as a wave.  It took a few minutes for Panda to get up, but eventually he was sauntering his way out of the ring too, waving to the few people who were his diehard fans and didn’t take his defeat tonight as anything more than some bad luck.

“Come on” Megumi beckoned Yuuji to follow him, his feet already moving as fast as they could take him through the mob, struggling to follow the exact direction that Panda and his opponent before him had gone.

Yuuji kept up fairly well, but Megumi wouldn’t have noticed.  He was driven forward by absolute panic, his heart racing in his chest with a feeling he’d thought he’d relinquished days ago when he’d tried to stop living in denial.

But he couldn’t get the image of that girl out of his mind.  She was so… he couldn’t get his hopes up.  Her laugh was so familiar he couldn’t have possibly mistaken it for someone else's… he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Yo! Panda!” 

Eventually the crowd thinned out enough that Yuuji tried using the power of his loud holler to get their friend’s attention.  Panda perked up immediately, spinning around and searching the crowd for the familiar voice.  It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the waving boy with the unmistakable head of pink hair.  He grinned, and his ears twitched a bit as he turned completely and began to make his way towards the pair.

“Itadori!” He beams wider as he reaches them, as if they could have turned out to be figments of his imagination.  “Fushiguro!” 

He hugs them both at once before either could protest.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Did you come to see me fight?” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head before they could even say anything.  “Really though, what are you doing here? It’s not as fun as it looks, y’know” 

“We’re looking to talk to Hakari-” 

“Who was that with you?” Megumi speaks up before Yuuji could begin his explanation.  

Yuuji turns to him with a confused look, which Panda shares for a moment, before he chuckles.

“She went down that way,” He said, pointing behind him in the direction he’d been heading.  “(y/n/n) always ditches fights fast.  Hates the crowd, I guess.  Not me, I love the-” 

“Wait, (y/n/n)?” Yuuji repeats the semi-familiar nickname, his jaw going slack and his eyes widening.

He turns to share a look with Megumi, but it seemed the raven haired boy was already processing just whose nickname that could’ve been.  His face was flushed so pale he looked sick.

“As in (y/n)-(y/n/n)?” Yuuji continues.

“Yeah,” Panda nods affirmatively, not understanding just how devastating his casual response was for the younger sorcerers in front of him.  “She’s-” 

“She’s alive?” Megumi finally speaks. 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, but the words are like a dropping bomb.  Clear, and unmistakable.

Panda blinks in shock, his features contorting in realization as he looks between his two friends.  He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know where to start.

So he nods his head, and turns to point down the corridor he’d been heading once more.

He gives them specific directions to where she’d been likely to go.  Megumi listens but doesn’t quite hear a thing he’s saying.  His heart is pounding in his ears, his body is going hot, and even once his feet are moving on their own accord- apparently having understood the directions just fine without his ears- he frets that he might break down into a panic attack if he’s not quick enough.  

The warning signs are there, the labored breaths, the hot and cold flashes in quick succession, his blurring vision- but he ignores all of it, racing through what was left of the crowd to slip into the near empty corridor.  Yuuji is hot on his tail as they dart through, eyes moving in all directions at every doorway and passerby, just to be sure that they wouldn’t miss her.

“(y/n)?” 

Her name leaves his mouth in a strangled choke of syllables, as though it were his first time speaking in months.  

She hadn’t been facing his direction, her hand still on the handle of the door she was about to open.  Her movements had been rushed, like she were hoping to sneak into the room and lock the door behind her as quickly as possible.

But now, as her hand stilled and a chill shot up her spine at the familiar voice, her movements were far too slow as she turned towards the owner of said voice.

Megumi and Yuuji are standing a few feet down the hall, their heavy footsteps having skid to a stop when they finally did see her.  She’s closer to them now than she had been in the ring, and although she still wore the mask, she was far more recognizable now.

Her hand trembles as she raises a hand to her head, pulling at the black material of her mask until it gives way, sliding off her head and pooling in the palm of her hand, revealing her face completely now.

Her eyes were wide as they moved between Yuuji and Megumi slowly, disbelief written in her features from the way her brows drew together, to the part in her lips but no words coming out, to the way her eyes began to water as they snapped back into reality and began to move closer to her.

“Megumi?” She drops his name in a mumble, barely audible even to herself, but seeing him here, right now, has her in such a state of shock that she could have believed Panda threw her around too rough and now she was experiencing delusions.

But then she’s moving too, her feet shuffling at first before picking up pace and running towards them once she’s close enough that she didn’t even need to.

“(y/n)!” Yuuji cheers when they’re huddled close together again.

“Yuuji!” She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight, rocking back and forth in bliss upon seeing her beloved friend safe and before her now.

When they part, Megumi still hasn’t figured out what it is he should even say.  He doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and suddenly feels so anxious he worries he might throw up.  To his luck, (y/n) acts before he has to, and she’s giving him the same warm welcome.

Her arms are tight around his shoulders, and her fingers curl into the material at the back of his uniform jacket.  She gathers the fabric in her fists, making sure that he won’t pull away until she’s squeezed every bit of comfort out of his embrace as possible.

And to her surprise, he returns to affection with more force than she would’ve thought.  One arm around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest, the other laying upwards against her spine so that he could bury his hand in her hair and cradle her head close to him.  He’s shaking, she can feel it, and she pushes closer until her face is buried against his shoulder, hoping to ease his panic.

“We- I thought-” He gasps between struggling breaths, and she’s never heard him sound so broken.  He drops his head so his lips hover over her ear when he finds his voice again.  “I thought you were dead” 

Her heart spikes with an odd feeling, and she squeezes him a little harder before pulling back.

“Alive as ever” She says with a weak smile and an awkward shrug of her shoulders.

Megumi has to shove his hands into his pockets to hide their obvious trembling.  The rush of adrenaline in his system hadn’t quite worn off yet, and at this rate he wasn’t sure that it would.

“Well what happened?” Yuuji asked.  “How’d you end up here?”

She lets out a humorless chuckle before wincing.  

“It’s… it’s not an interesting story,” She explains, then beckons with her hand to have them follow her back to her door.  “Here, I sorta have my own space, if you want to come in I can tell you about it, and then you can tell me what you’re doing here, too” 

Yuuji begins a long winded rant right away.  He tells her all about meeting Yuuta and dying again, and despite Megumi sending him a dirty look for going into too much depth about the parts that didn’t matter as much, (y/n) was an attentive listener, taking in every detail and asking him questions, too.  A lot about Yuuta, seeing as she hadn’t crossed paths with him in months, it was good to know he was still out there and on their side.  Yuuji continued on about the culling games, and how they had come here originally looking for Hakari.

“But then we found you and Panda- hey wait, do you know Hakari?” Yuuji asked excitedly.  “Maybe you could talk to him for us-!” 

Her eyes widen with uncertainty, a nervous smile stretching over her lips as she shakes her head quickly.

“I- I don’t know about that,” She tells him.  “He doesn’t really come out much, I think I’ve seen him once since getting here.  I wasn’t exactly trying to get on his radar.  He doesn’t love those affiliated with Jujutsu Tech, you know” 

“What? Why! He must like you, your fight was very entertaining!” Yuuji gushes.  Megumi sends him another look that he ignores.  “And you mastered Black Flash! He’s got to be interested in- ow!” 

Megumi smacked his hand upside the back of Yuuji’s head, making sure this time that he didn’t miss the look he was giving him.  His displeasure wasn’t exactly subtle.  (y/n) laughed through her nose at the pair that hadn’t seemed to change too much in their time apart.

Besides the fact that Yuuji had a few more scars on his face.  And Megumi looked like he had lost a bit of weight.  Besides that, their demeanors hadn’t changed one bit.  For a second at a time, she could pretend things were normal again.

“Go find Panda and tell him our plan,” Megumi orders gruffly.  “See if he has any ideas on how to get Hakari to see us” 

“What? But-!” 

Megumi widened his eyes, silently telling Yuuji to go.  The pink haired boy huffed, but stood from his seat on the floor and shuffled towards the door.

“And keep a low profile!” Megumi called, only for Yuuji to wave him off nonchalantly before shutting the door behind him.

(y/n) chuckled when it was just the two of them, turning to face him again.

“So,” She breathes out a heavier exhale than she’d expected.  “How’s he really holding up?” 

“How you’d expect,” Megumi replies honestly.  “It was really rough for a while.  We all were… pretty messed up.  Still are, I guess” 

(y/n) frowns.

“Yeah,” She mumbles.  “Shibuya… was…” She drops her head before she could finish her thought.  There wasn’t a word strong enough to explain the devastation of the incident.

Megumi’s fingers begin to twitch, fiddling and locking together as he thought over what he wanted to say next.

“Look, before we…” He starts, but loses momentum quickly.  He clears his throat to try again.  “When I last saw you, I-” 

“It’s okay,” (y/n) cuts him off before he could say anything more.  The face he makes is uncertain, and she gives him a nod as she repeats herself.  “Really, Megumi, it’s okay.  It was just a fight, it didn’t mean anything” 

“But I-” He starts, only for her to shake her head again.  “But it did mean something” He argues.

“We fought a lot, Megumi,” (y/n) chuckles.  “Trust me, if I was holding onto resentment over every time we ever argued, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now” 

“No- not like that,” Megumi shakes his head.  “It meant something because you left and I- I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, (y/n),” His voice holds a grave tone that has her kind smile faltering and her brows pinching together as she watches him.  “Yuuji said he lost track of you when you were dealing with all the transfigured humans and- and then you were just gone” 

(y/n) blinks, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she realizes just how long it had been since they’d seen each other.  How long he must’ve carried around guilt and grief over her.  It makes her heart sink, and she shuffles forward on her knees to sit closer to him.

“I got dragged out of the train station pretty quick,” She tells him.  “There were so many of… them… and I knew that I was worrying Yuuji while exorcizing them.  Cause- cause it didn’t feel like exorcizing,” 

Megumi nods, recalling how Yuuji had told him she’d been crying during the whole ordeal, something quite out of character for her.  Even now as her eyes begin to tear up, the sight is alarming.

“It felt like… like killing,” She whispers.  “So I started leading them away and got outnumbered and got dragged out further.  By the time I… once they were all gone, I was out of it.  I must’ve passed out or something, because when I came to, Shibuya was… gone.  I tried finding you- I tried finding anyone-” She tries to catch her wording, but she’s not quick enough.  “But it was just rubble and dust.  It was nothing.  After a while of trying to find somewhere to land to… to rest and regain some strength, I found this place and Panda with it and I just… stayed.  It sort of started to feel like this is all that was left,” 

She lets out a shaky sigh, rubbing her clammy hands over her thighs to relieve some of the stress building up in her body.  It doesn’t do much, but she continues the action a few more times.

“You know, I didn’t necessarily think I’d ever see you again, either,” Her eyes are downcast as she speaks.  “For a while I wondered, um, if you’d show up here…” 

“Sorry it took so long,” Megumi replies quietly.  She lets out a short, watery chuckle.  “But we’re here now,” He adds, moving closer to her, until she looks up at him, surprised by the sudden close proximity.  Her eyes are wide as they flicker quickly over his face, trying to read his expression.

It was a new one for Megumi, one she’s not sure she’s ever seen on him before.  Except maybe the night in the infirmary, when he’d stitched up her arm.  Her face feels warm, and she can’t decide if it’s because of the memory, or if it’s because of how close he is to her.

“And I’m not going anywhere without you” He tells her.  His voice is low, but instinctively, she doesn’t feel a shroud of doubt in his words.

She blinks to try to rid the tears from her eyes, but after reliving the last week and a half, and reuniting with the people she’d been naively hoping were just missing and not gone was starting to get on top of her.  She’d spent quite some time shoving down bitter thoughts and choosing to stay in denial.  As long as she focused on her matches and made enough of an earning to have a place to crash, she tried to stay as blissfully ignorant as possible.

Still, there had been a few sleepless nights when she’d wander outside and try to find a few constellations in the sky, or when she’d lay wide awake and let the tip of her finger trace over the perfectly straight scar on her shoulder.

“Really?” 

The question comes out with a shaky breath.  She held no uncertainty in him, Megumi was a man who was always true to his word, but reality was beginning to settle in and the urge to hold on to him and never let go was growing stronger.

Megumi nods, clearly amused that she even had to ask.  It felt like the first time in a long time that a smile began to twitch on his lips, the muscle feeling awkward from underuse.  His eyes gleam as he reiterates his intentions.

“We’re not splitting up again,” He tells her, a weight hanging on to each word.  His eyes move between hers, and when she blinks, a tear sticks to her lashes.  “I’m not losing you again” He adds in a smaller voice.

A choked sound that almost sounded like a laugh comes out of her as she nods back at him, shaky and fast.  For once, agreeing with him completely.

To (y/n), there had always been something about Megumi that drew her to him.  He was easy to pick on, easy to tease and laugh at.  She found joy in their banter, even when it was less petty and more serious, there was a magnetic spark between them that she just couldn’t deny.  She’d tried to explore that feeling, before Shibuya.  But she’d never known how exactly to approach it, always becoming apprehensive of the foreign feeling.

Now, it felt so easy to jump into the unknown territory that she felt silly for never having worked up the courage to do so before.  The fear of losing someone she cared so much about was too great, and there was no time to waste.

Her tear dropped onto her cheek, the fat droplet rolling slowly across her skin until it dipped into the edge of her wobbly smile.  A few more followed shortly after, unable to be stopped no matter how hard she willed herself not to cry.

Just as she raised the back of her hand to hastily rub the wetness away, Megumi beat her to it, moving closer to her as both hands worked softly to catch each tear.  They were cold against the hot wet skin, just as she’d remembered, and she found herself shutting her eyes and leaning into how comforting they felt.  The tears didn’t stop, but she didn’t seem to be in any anguish.

“I’m not losing you again either,” She whispers, her fingers skimming over his wrist before she clasps her hand around it, making sure he doesn’t pull away just yet.  “I- I can’t” The words come out in a small whimper.

Megumi nods in understanding.  His thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, and softly under her eyes, trying to catch every last tear.

“I know,” He says softly, still nodding as his eyes wander her features, making sure there weren’t any lingering tears he’d missed.  “I know, and you won’t, ‘m not goin’ anywhere” 

When their eyes lock again, she’s overwhelmed by an influx of emotion.  An eagerness to have him back by her side, a desire to keep him there next to her and never let him go, to never let anything take him away again.

“Listen, ‘gumi, I-” She tries to put words to the feeling, wanting to explain to him that having him here with her was sending her heart into orbit, wanting to tell him that knowing he was alive and he was okay was the first time she’d felt happiness in what seemed like weeks.

But the words are too difficult.  They’re too big and they get caught in her throat.  Rather than try to force them out, she acts on it instead.

Megumi anticipates the movement before she leans forward, catching the way her eyes rapidly shift between his and his mouth.  He reciprocates the look, curious to see if it meant what he’d thought it did, but just as quickly as his eyes land on her parted lips, she’s shooting forward and pressing them against his.

It’s a rushed kiss at first, full of anxiety and grief that hadn’t fully been relieved yet.  It’s  messy lips and clashing teeth, but once they both realize that whatever this feeling was, it was reciprocated, they relaxed.

Megumi sighs through his nose as he cups her cheeks and keeps her close, kissing her a little more softly, a little more deliberate in his need to display to her just how much he’d missed her.  In turn, (y/n’s) hands rest against his shoulders, squeezing just firm enough that he could feel her there, without being too aggressive.

Kissing her like his life depended on it made him feel like everything could turn out alright now that she was with him again.  Now that he was sure she was here, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and her soft breaths against his cheek, Megumi thinks his life had depended on this.

Up until about an hour ago he’d been mentally checked out since Shibuya.  Seeing her again brought him back a sense of purpose he hadn’t even really noticed he’d been losing.

Her hands are gentle when they card into his hair, combing softly through the dark locks that seemed a little longer since the last time she’d seen him.  He sighed at the sensation, unintentionally breaking their kiss.

The tips of his hair tickle her skin as his forehead drops to rest against hers.  (y/n) lets out a soft, breathless giggle before opening her eyes.

He’s smiling at her.  So full of delight that his blue eyes seem to gleam, and they’re crinkled at their corners.  She can’t help but smile back at him, her heart full and her face warm, even with his cool hands still holding it.

Megumi moves then, fingers catching a loose strand of hair.  He twirls it thoughtfully for a moment before tucking it behind her ear carefully, and laying his palm across her cheek again.  His long fingers splay out, wanting to touch as much of her as he possibly can, just to keep sure that she really is in front of him.

“No more runnin’ off, alright?” He murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing hers.

Her hands latch behind his neck, her focus on his lips as she thinks about kissing him again.  They linger there for a moment before shyly meeting his gaze again.

“Don’t let me go again” 

He shakes his head, a silent vow to never do anything to push her away again, and even if he fails to keep her by his side, he swears he’d follow her, wherever she may go.

With his eyes falling shut he leans in again, lips grazing hers as he speaks.

“I won’t,” He murmurs, and then once more before he seals their lips again. “I won’t” 

She could never part from him again.  She loved him too much to even conceive the idea.  What was next to come would be difficult, she may not have known Hakari very well personally, but she knew enough to be anxious about approaching him.  He was a bit of a loose cannon.  However she was sure that with Megumi- and Yuuji and Panda of course- they would come up with the right plan of action to gain his help.

With needy hands and a needier heart she clings to him now, just to be sure that she could never look back and regret not holding onto him tight enough.  He does the same, dropping his hands to circle his arms around her waist and pull her in impossibly close to him.

Whatever it took, he’d keep hold of her for the rest of their lives.  Nothing could ever take her from him again as long as she was right there in his arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i got you where i want you // you did it, i never // i’m falling for forever ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[outsideratheart]

A Return Worth Celebrating (Fridolina Rolfo x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little something to celebrate Frido’s return to team training!

Monday’s had the reputation of being terrible but not this Monday. No, today was a good day. Today was the day that Fridolina Rolfö, your girlfriend, returned to team training. 

“You ready?” You ask as you walk out onto the field together. 

“As I’ll ever be” the blonde wore a smile on her face but you knew deep down that she was nervous. The two of you had spent the night previous cuddled in bed discussing what the blonde was feeling and why she was feeling it. 

Before you reach the group you wrap your arm around her waist, pulling her close as you place a gentle kiss on her hairline. 

“You’ve got this. You are strong and you are powerful” 

“What? I’m not beautiful today?” Fridolina knows the mantra well, you had made her say it to herself whenever she was having a bad day. 

“You, Miss Rolfö, will always be beautiful in my eyes. Now let’s get going. I’ve haven’t been late once this season and I won’t have you tarnishing my impeccable record” you jog off towards your team mates. 

“Right because I’m the bad influence out the two of us” the swede says sarcastically. Everyone knew it was you who corrupted her. 

The session goes better than Frido expected. Her passes were accurate, her movement fluid and much to her surprise her fitness wasn’t far off from where it was before. It did come as a shock to find your cubby empty as she entered the locker room. She assumed you had gone for a shower until she saw a note sitting in her locker. 

I had to go. See you at home. 

I love you, always. 

Y/N. 

“What no celebrations for your return?” Ingrid asks. 

“Looks like she had a meeting or something. We discussed our schedules on Friday and she didn’t mention anything. It must be something last minute” Frido defended your actions even if they had hurt her. 

She had been so excited to be back on the pitch for numerous reasons but being able to play with you again was top of that list. You seemed so happy for her this morning and she automatically assumed you would do something together to celebrate. 

Little did she know you did have plans to celebrate. Your celebrations were a little bit more intimate than what was planned with the team. 

As on queue, Frido walks into your shared apartment just as you finish setting the table. 

When the blonde walked through the hallway she smelt home, more specifically a home cooked meal. Then, as she turned the corner, she saw you standing next to the candle light table. 

“Baby, i’m so proud of you” 

She was rendered speechless. 

“Say something, please” you ask politely. 

She says nothing. She lets her actions do the talking and you don’t complain at all. You loved moments like this when it was just the two of you. When you could express your love with kisses and other displays of affection. 

“Is that my —“

“Kött” you pull away from her hold to read the name of the meal of your hand “Köttbullar” 

Frido pulled your hand towards her to see if you had really written down the name of the meal. Lo and behold, you had. 

“I think I did it right. I was this close” you pinch your thumb and index thumb very close together “to going to Ikea and buying some” 

You follow to the take and pull the chair out for her. 

“For you, m’lady” 

“Why thank you” she kisses your cheek as a show of appreciation. 

You watch nervously as she takes a bite of the meatball. It mimicked the nervous energy you feel as you watch a team mate take a penalty. She takes her time and it feels like she chews it 100 times before giving any indication of whether it’s good or not. 

“5 stars” Frido does a little happy dance in her seat “who knew this is what you were preparing for when you ate my Mamma’s Köttbullar by the bucket full” 

“It was all apart of my master plan” you raise your eyebrows playfully. 

“Is that right? What else does this master plan entail?” Frido asks curiously. 

“Stick around and you’ll find out” 

You had a lot planned for you and Fridolina. Some things had been ticked off, some were in motion and others were due in the future. 

[silverstonesainz]

august

─── august slipped away into a moment in time... 'cause it was never mine

daniel ricciardo x fem!reader warnings; just sad. 17.8 k words

Everything with Daniel came easy. It came naturally, beautifully, and all at once. It was a good thing.

You met him in August, under the scorching summer sun and bottomless margaritas. Between glasses of mango and lime, you bumped into him. He smiled, you smiled too, and the rest wrote itself. You were drunk– a little too drunk for three in the afternoon, but what was summer for? You stumbled on your feet,  toes slipping through the straps of your flimsy shoes as you staggered for your own balance. And in a failed attempt to keep yourself upright, you reached out for a chair but instead found your fingers gripping onto the white linen of his shirt. His hands were quick to find their place on your torso, like it was always meant to be there, like he’d done this a million times before. Daniel helped you find your balance, knees bent so that he’s at your eye level. His smile was sobering, knocking the air right out of your lungs. Thank you was caught in your throat, even if your lips were parted to give them way. But you were rendered speechless. 

“You alright?” He asked, the warmth of his hands seeping through the thin material of your sundress. 

“Y-yeah.” You finally managed, putting your weight back onto your feet. “I’m alright.” 

“Good. I’m Daniel, by the way.” 

He let you go, and you missed him. He held his hand out of you to shake, one you gladly take as you tell him your name. He repeated with a smile. You were the first to pull your hand from his. “Could I buy you a drink? As a thank you, for saving me?”

He obliged. And after another strawberry– or was it watermelon? You couldn’t distinguish the details by then. All you could remember is that Daniel sat at the bar with you and  laughed at jokes you’re sure made no sense. You have a vague memory of the party ending, of having to bid adieu even if you weren’t quite ready to say goodbye to your new friend. But that’s when your memory goes spotty and the next thing you know you’re waking up in yesterday’s clothes with a pounding in your head. The sun beckons a new day, your last day in Mykonos begs you to fight through your hangover to enjoy your last twenty-something hours in paradise. So you do. You rinsed all your mistakes under the cool water, flashes of honey brown eyes and a smile so wide it hurt your cheeks thinking about it. 

Two texts sat waiting for you when you stepped out of the shower. 

Unknown   9:19 AM Hey, it’s Daniel.  Care to join me for breakfast? 

You weren’t sure when you had given him your number, but you silently thanked your drunk-self for doing something sober-you could never muster the courage to do. By then, your friends had already gone on their final adventure, leaving you to recover in the hotel room. You had no plans for your last day, so you replied with a quick sure, and got ready. 

Daniel is already sitting at the table when you make it down. He’s seated at the far corner of the hotel restaurant, nursing a cup of coffee as he read something on his phone. The nerves rattled your chest with every step you take, hoping silently that he would look up at you so you wouldn’t have to awkwardly announce your presence. And he did, setting his cup and phone down the closer you got. Hey you he says softly, standing from his chair to greet you with a hug. 

He was warm, smelled of rain in the spring, of the happy earth after a downpour. He smelled like a backyard of freshly watered flowers, of home and comfort. You tried not to let yourself drown in it, but you know it would be something you’ll be chasing for the rest of your days. 

You sat across from him, allowing small talk of the weather to unravel into a two hour conversation. You talked about work, about your best friend’s bachelorette party– the reason you were in Mykonos in the first place. You told him about your hopes and dreams, the silly ones and the serious ones. And he spoke of the world, of the places he’s traveled, the people he’s met. He made life sound so exciting, He speaks of life so happily, you were almost envious of him. His eyes glistened with every word, every laugh, every ounce of hope you could ever wish for yourself. 

“So when do you leave?” Daniel asked, sipping on his water. 

You blew out a sigh, “Tomorrow morning.”

It was the first time you saw him frown. A deep frown that had his lips curved down and brows furrowed. That’s too soon he complained. It was. It was far too soon, but you didn’t have the heart to admit it outloud. So you nodded, a soft hum buzzing past your closed lips as you brought your hot tea up to your mouth. 

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” You shook your head. “Would you let me take up your time then?” 

You could feel your cheeks turn red, heat rising to the tips of your ears. Daniel smiled, eyes wide and bright like they knew what your answer was going to be. How could you deny him? 

Daniel didn’t have much of a plan, but it didn’t matter. You enjoyed his company, you enjoyed the laughter and the way he looked at you. You walked the streets, played tourist with him. You walked in and out of shops, convincing each other you needed this little knickknack and that tacky magnet. And by the end of it, you had handfuls of cheesy souvenirs to remember the day by. 

The last stop was the gift shop in the hotel lobby. You followed each other up and down the aisles of the little store, past overpriced snacks and toiletries. Sneaky glances and smiles after catching the other, you and Daniel play cat and mouse throughout the store till you part ways. You found yourself spinning the display of touristy jewelry. Leather straps, tarnishable chains, with beachy charms attached. Flowers, a turtle, even a single wave. You stole a glance at Daniel who looked up at the shirt selections, flipping through the sizes in search of his own. A bit of sadness settled in your chest as you came to realize that the end of your day– of your time– with Daniel was coming slow & torturous. You ached at the thought, biting on the inside of your cheek as you crouch down to get a better view of the adjustable bracelets. 

You met him at the register with an exchange of sad smiles. You paid for your stuff, he paid for his. And as you stepped out of the  gift shop, your heart lacked a heaviness you had been expecting. The sadness was there, but no dread. You stopped with a soft stomp, turning on your heel to look up at Daniel. He stared down at you with a certain kind of softness, the smile maybe a bit dampened by the incoming goodbyes that you were yet to exchange, but you had an inkling that it wouldn’t be the last time you were going to see him. 

“Thank you for today,” You said softly, “I had a lot of fun.” 

“Me too.” 

Silence. Shifty feet. An unwillingness to say farewell. 

You looked down at your small gift bag, pushing around the crumpled receipts to pull out a bracelet. It had black, adjustable straps, looped through dark blue beads. You held it out to him, “For you. Something to remember…” 

Remember what? You couldn’t say. But Daniel understood. He took it, ripped apart the plastic and slipped it on. He shook it on his wrist, smiling up at you like a kid who did something right. Then he was fishing his bags until he pulled out his own little gift to you. He held it out in his palm, a silver keychain with a photo of the windmills in the middle of it, uttering the same words you had moments before. Something to remember. You took it with a soft thank you, holding it tight in your fist. 

This was it, the impending goodbye, the inevitable end to it all. Neither of you wanted to say it, to end the chapter– close the book. 

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” He asked hopefully, the grip on his bags suddenly tighter. 

You smiled. “I’ll visit you in Monaco.” 

“I’ll visit you in London.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

One breath. Inhale. Exhale. 

You threw your arms around him, savored the way his own found solace around your middle. You tried to memorize the way it felt to be in his arms, the smell of the fresh rain– the feeling of home. You’d known the man for twenty-four hours and yet, all this came easy. Melting into him, picturing the rain, promises of flying country to country, it all came so easy. 

His hands rubbed your sides as you pulled away from him. Safe travels, doll. 

You too Danny. 

Maybe walking away wasn’t the easiest thing, to turn your back on him while silently wishing he would stop you. You wished you lived in a movie where the guy impeded your travel plans. Because truth be told, if Daniel asked you to stay a little longer, you might’ve done it. But you made it to the elevator all by yourself, turned to catch a final glimpse of Daniel, who stood in the same place you left him. He lifted his hand, waved one more time before the doors shut. You huffed a sigh, tried to turn your focus to repacking your luggage. Your friends were all back in the room, pestering you on your whereabouts. But you smiled, shrugged your shoulders as you let the day behind you play in the back of your mind.

You finished packing most of your things by ten that evening, promptly falling asleep as the exhaustion from walking all day swallowed you whole. Your dreams were filled with fantasies of a boy with curly hair and honey brown eyes, and his warmth engulfing you. It was pleasant, comforting, homey.

And in the middle of all that good, your eyes sprung open. You had a sudden burst of energy, unable to fall back asleep even if your flight wasn’t for another five hours. You tossed and turned, trying to find a sweet spot that would allow you to slip back into a slumber. But to no avail, it’s three-thirty and there was no hope in falling asleep. You sighed, sitting up and reaching over to grab your phone off the nightstand. Your phone pinged. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Daniel   3:32 AM Are you awake? Please say you’re awake

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip. 

You   3:33 AM I’m awake.

Daniel   3:33 AM Good. Meet in the lobby. PJs mandatory. 

You’re giddy, slipping out of bed as quickly and quietly as you can. You grabbed your room key and cellphone, slipped on your slippers, before taking the elevator. The doors slid open, revealing Daniel standing in the same place you left him. His smile was contagious, making your cheeks hurt as you took quick steps over to him. He held his hand out, palm facing up as he mocked a bow while whispering a soft m’lady.

You grinned, taking his hand and letting him whisk you away. You walked the length of the hotel beach, up and down, chasing your shadows given by the warm lamps that illuminate your path. Your toes dug into the wet sand, leaving an imprint of yourself with every step. You bumped shoulders with Daniel, exchanged sleepy smiles, all too happy to bask in the other’s company for a moment longer. Finally, Daniel pulled you down on the sand by him, higher up the property, but still close enough to the threat of the tide. The stars glimmered, twinkled down at you. 

“Why were you up?” You asked, turning to look at him. You traced the arch of his nose as he stared up at the sky, traced the curls that lay on his forehead. Daniel blew out a breath through puckered lips, shrugging. 

“Why were you?” 

The question rested in the air above them, leaving the other to assume the answer. Another comfortable silence, accompanied by the ocean coming and receding. Fingers unknowingly inch closer and closer, begging to be laced between each other. But they danced on the sand, pinkies brushing but never linking. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to look at you. His turn to trace the curve of your lips, the curl of your lashes, to commit you to memory. “I want to see you again.” 

You smiled, coughed a laugh. “I leave in a couple hours Daniel.” 

“Yeah I know. But… we could meet again.” 

You turned your head. You searched for the joke, for the punchline, the goofy smile followed by light-hearted laughter. But all Daniel did was smile. Lips touching, dimples deep. His eyes read with so much hope, it sent your heart into a frenzy. 

“We could.” 

He grinned. “We could.” 

You nodded, teeth digging into your bottom lip to hide the dopey smile that threatened to peek through. 

There weren’t many words exchanged for the remainder of the hour. You memorized the placement of the stars in the night sky, the sound of the tide rolling to and fro. You remembered the night exactly as it was: just you, Daniel, and the world quietly watching. 

The fifth hour rolled around, forcing you on your feet. Your hands found themselves in Daniel’s, giggling as you tried to pull him up onto his feet with you. You brushed away the sand, shook out your hair. You looked up at Daniel as he did the same, smiling over at him when he looked at you. The walk back to the lobby was slow, filled with small talk about the weather and travel plans. He rode the elevator up to your floor, walked you to your door, just as a gentleman does. He tucks your hair back, chuckles softly. 

“I’ll text you.” 

“And I’ll respond.” 

He smiled, taking a step backwards, “I’ll see you soon.”

Another step back, and another, and another until he’s at the end of the hall and waving at you. You stood at your door, watching him leave, waving back before he turned the corner and disappeared. You tapped your key against the door, unlocking it and shut it softly. With your back pressed against the hardwood, you exhaled softly. Head in your hands and a hole in your chest in the shape of Daniel. You felt crazy, maybe a little delirious. Another huff, another hopeful sigh as you pushed yourself off the door and got ready to fly home.

The morning flew past you. Between security lines and scrambling to buy some coffee, you barely had a moment to breathe. And when you finally did find the time, all you could think of was Daniel. Of his laughter, the smell of his cologne, the sweet promise to see each other soon. You slipped your phone out of your pocket, a bit disappointed at the lack of a text. But it was half-past seven in the morning, the man must’ve been asleep… right?

You boarded the plane, buckled yourself into your seat minutes before eight. Still not a single text from the Australian. Your fingers hovered above your keyboard, thumbs shaking as you searched for the words to say to him. 

You   7:56 AM Don’t forget about me.

And after four hours, when the plane touched down in Heathrow, you took your phone off airplane mode. Notifications come rolling through, emails from work, a missed call from mom, and one text from the man himself. 

Daniel   10:05 AM Never

You learned how much Daniel loved Monza in September. He found victory in his despair there, saw the triumphs and falls of so many racers before him. Daniel loved Monza. 

Daniel   11:03 AM The energy is great, you should’ve come out. 

The invite was on the table, he had asked you two weeks ago if it was something you’d be interested in attending. You should’ve said yes– any sane person would’ve. But you couldn’t, as much as you wanted to see him again, to be able to talk to him in person and just be with him, you couldn’t say yes. You’d never be able to explain it, other than the fact that you were shy, and holding onto a bit of your Mykonos fantasy. You liked living in a world where your friendship was only something between you and Daniel. You liked the bit of distance, found comfortability in it. At least for now. 

So you opted to keep up with him through text and the telly. You exchanged messages until he had to set his phone down, then watched each session, each day. Practice. Qualifying. Race Day.

You   12:01 PM Good luck. I’ll be here for the debrief.

The debrief was a series of texts, mostly from Daniel. It’s every broken hope, every could’ve, should’ve, would’ve that ever crossed his mind. It was you trying to console a broken spirit, to reignite something in him that was already dead. He took your words with grace every time, even if you both knew he didn’t believe a single letter of it. 

You   12:02 PM You’re gonna do great.

Daniel   12:04 PM It’s gonna be great.

You smiled at the optimism, at least you hoped that’s what it was. You sat back on race day, watched every second of coverage– from the driver’s parade to the pre-race talk. You saw glimpses of Daniel, of the beloved honey badger. And oh how everyone loved Daniel. Everyone rooted for Daniel, to bring glory to a gloriless team like he had just one year prior. Oh how everyone believed in Daniel too, even if he didn’t quite believe in himself. 

Daniel loved Monza, even if  Monza didn’t love him back. 

It was a painful watch, the final lap of the race was coming into view… and then his car sprung a leak. And that was it, that was the end. Goodbye to the glory, goodbye to the hope. 

You didn’t expect to hear from him that night, so it was to your surprise when your phone pinged as his name appeared on your screen. You set your little late-night snack aside, leaning back into the couch as you open the message.

Daniel   9:00 PM Wish you came anyways. Would’ve made the weekend worth its while

You smiled. 

You   9:01 PM Next time. Promise. 

Daniel   9:03 PM Next time <3

Daniel facetimed you for the first time in October. It caught you off guard. You had been exchanging texts with him since you had seen him last, an occasional voice note from you or him, but it was never anything more than that. 

You were cooking dinner. Your hair was up in a disarray, looped carelessly through an elastic in hopes to cool your body down from the heat in your kitchen. You had marinara sauce on the collar of your old high school t-shirt, and you looked less than flattering in the maroon basketball shorts from an ex-boyfriend long long ago. But he was calling, his name and face occupying your screen. He was interrupting a video you were watching because he was calling. 

You swiped your phone across the screen, holding it up to give a view of your shoulders to the top of your head. Daniel smiled, wet curls stuck to his forehead. He was clad in black hoodie, airpods tucked into his ears. You hadn’t seen him so happy post-race, the string of bad results and over all bad luck had been wearing him down. You knew it, he knew it, hell the whole world knew it. But here he was, smiling like he had won the whole damn thing. 

He said your name like it tasted sweet, dripping like honey from his lips. “Did you watch?” 

You propped your phone against the towel holder, shaking your head as you do. “No, I was working on a project. I meant to watch the highlights while I ate dinner.” 

“What are you cooking?” 

“Pasta.” You felt your cheeks heat up. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“This is the third night in a row.” 

“I just need something quick. Pasta’s always quick!” You defended. 

He rolled his eyes playfully, biting back a smile. You saw it in the way his cheeks began to round, lips pursed. “Well hurry up. I’ll be your highlight reel for dinner.” 

True to his word, Daniel gave you the brief play-by-play of his race in Singapore, the whopping fifth-place finish– best finish he’s had all year.  You listened intently, shoveling penne pasta and red sauce into your mouth. You listened and listened, even if he repeated the same moment over and over, with the same excitement, same enthusiasm like he was back in the moment. There was a twinkle in his eyes, the slight inflection in his tone as the words spilled from his mouth. It made your heart soar for him, it made you happy to see him. 

But then someone flipped a switch, the mood suddenly dampened as his eyes trailed off camera and his smile slowly began to fade. You pushed your empty bowl aside, pulling your phone closer to you. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “I just wish it was always like this, you know? Miss feeling this… this good after a race. God and it’s almost ridiculous how happy I am for P5. P-fucking-5. But it feels like I’m on the podium. I just wish I had felt this all year.” 

You didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? You couldn’t exactly relate or empathize, and you know that the last thing he needed was your sympathy. He’d been getting sympathy since he had lost his seat, and the last thing he needed was to hear it from you. So you hum, pulling his gaze back to you. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“You say that all that time.” He scrunched his nose, a teasing expression almost as if he didn't believe you. .

“Maybe because it’s true.” You snarked back, biting back a smile.

A brief pause. You watched his honey brown eyes dart around the screen, staring at you. At every freckle and beauty mark, surely the smeared mascara under your eyes or the faded color that stained your lips. But he wore a smile, wore a bit of adoration and… god you couldn’t identify what that ‘and’ was, but it was nice. 

“Thanks.” 

He kept you company for the rest of the evening, even sat on the phone staring at your bedroom ceiling while you showered and got ready for bed. And when you finally rolled into your duvet, hair brushed and skincare, Daniel was snoring softly on the phone. It was four in the morning in Singapore, the weekend had finally worn him down. You only indulged in the serenity for a moment, before whispering a quick goodnight Daniel and hanging up. 

He called again when he got to Japan, showed you the tiny hotel room he had in Tokyo, gave you a list of places he and Lando planned to visit. 

He called before he flew out to L.A. When he landed. When he traveled to and from and across the States until COTA weekend came around. 

Daniel never stopped calling, and you never hesitated to answer. 

Daniel gave you a nickname in November. You argued about it over the phone, while you packed your work bag for the following Monday. You had him propped up on your nightstand, phone leant up against your lamp. He laughed at your reaction, the grimace on your face as he called you again.

“Oh come on toots, I think it’s cute.” You shook your head, “Why not?”

“I’m not toots Daniel.” You slipped your new pens into the little pocket in your purse, “Look at me, do I look like a toots?”

He laughed. It’s the kind of laughter that’s from deep in his belly, the kind that fades out a bit with every syllable. He fell back into his bed, sinking into his gray pillow case as he held his phone over his head. He watched you pack the rest of your bag before slipping into bed yourself. It was the first time since meeting him that you were in the same time zone. He was back in Monaco, and you in London where you had always been. There were only two races left in the season. Two weekends left of Daniel in the car.

He was calling more often than not. And maybe you could blame the short break before Brazil and Abu Dhabi, but you knew Daniel a little more than that. You didn’t make a comment about it though, just accepted the opportunity to talk to him more. 

You turn in your bed, setting Daniel up against the pillow by you. It was a good kind of quiet, a comfortable silence. The kind that brings about a certain… domesticity to the feel of your home, even if he was just on your phone. You liked having him there, even if really wasn’t there. 

“How ya feeling?” You asked softly, pulling the covers under your chin. 

He huffed a breath, “It just doesn’t feel quite real, if I’m being honest. My brain knows it’s happening but my heart… I don’t know. It’s cheesy. It’s weird.” You hummed in acknowledgement, shifting a bit in your place. “But it’ll be good. It’ll be fine.”

“It will. It will. You will.” 

He smiled, nodded. “But you know what’ll make it better?” You raised your brow, a soft hm buzzing from behind your lips. He grinned cheekily, “If you came and watched me in Abu Dhabi, toots.” 

Your heart swelled even if you scowled. Daniel hadn’t bothered to invite you to a race since Monza, which is fine. You were busy with work, and there really wasn’t a break long enough for Daniel to get an invite together for you. And plus, you had already declined him once. 

“My family is coming out, close friends too. But the entourage wouldn't be complete if I didn’t have you in the garage.” 

You pulled the blanket over your face to hide the way it turned red. And much to your surprise, he didn’t tease. No playful comments or layers of compliments to make your cheeks tinge red. No knowing laughter, or gentle chuckle. Just soft, patient breathing, waiting quietly for your answer. Your heart, however, was beating out of your chest. It was so loud you could hear it in your head. It echoed, bounced off the curve of your skull. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to ease the uneasiness that resides in your chest. It was the nerves, the threat– a mere opportunity to make all this real. 

Three months and some days had passed since you met Daniel. Three months and some days had passed since you said goodbye. Three months and some days spent dreaming of the smell of fresh rain, warm hugs, and honey brown eyes. Three months and some days. 

“Absolutely no pressure. But it would mean the world to me if you did.” 

Seeing Daniel in person would mean that you are more to him than some girl on the phone. It would mean that all this was more than the twenty or thirty something hours together in Mykonos three months ago. Flying out to Abu Dhabi would mean the world to him, and a galaxy to you. 

You pulled the covers off your face just in time to see Daniel run his fingers through his frizzy curls. He works his fingers over his head, stuffing it between him and the pillow behind him. The muscles in his arms bulge, stretch the sleeve of his athletic t shirt. You wondered if your cheeks got redder. His eyes move off screen, humming a soft tune that barely makes the airwaves to you, but you can hear it just under his shuffling about. He pulls up the covers, you see the edge of his gray sheet come into view. You watched for a few seconds more, watched him settle into his space, snuggled under the covers, before his eyes come back up to meet your gaze. 

He smiled. You smiled. It was nice. It was good. 

“So… when do I fly out?” 

Abu Dhabi was a spectacle, buzzing with energy for the final race of the season. It was impossible to escape that kind of excitement, even outside of the paddock. You heard the buzz, the excitement of who was going to win the race, even if the winner was already spoken for. You enjoyed the optimism, the smiling faces, the feeling of being there in that moment. It was a last for Daniel for the foreseeable future. You were privy to the toll the last couple of years have been on him, the stress, the sadness, the disappointment at the results he continued to produce. But the end was finally here, his final race in orange before a much needed break. It was sad, but it was good.

The hotel was swarmed with fans, waiting for the opportunity to meet their favorite driver. There were heads of bright orange and red, contrasting against the black and navy. The entrance was crowded with people, it was damn near impossible to get through and check in. But you managed with the help of a young busboy, who complained and pushed through a group of crazed fans. It wasn’t long from there, and soon you were flopping onto the queen bed of your hotel room with a loud sigh. Nearly seven hours on the plane had wiped you out, and if it weren’t for the fact you promised to meet Daniel, you would’ve fallen asleep right there. 

But alas, you forced yourself out of bed, stood in the hot shower to wash away the dirty air. You were cleaner, and in turn much more nervous. Have you scrubbed enough? Did the scent of your shampoo stick? Oh god how did you have enough time to do your hair? Will it dry in time? 

You couldn’t stomach finding out the answer. 

You pocketed air in your cheeks as you paced to and from the mirror to your unzipped luggage. You had overpacked– of course you did– and had about half the items strewn across the floor as you tried and failed to find an outfit worth meeting Daniel in again. A dress seemed a bit much and somehow every single pair of jeans you packed squeezed on your stomach a little more than you’d like. You huffed after the fourth outfit, soured mood as you stepped into sweat shorts and an old sweatshirt from college. You were meant to meet Daniel in less than an hour and you were stuck at square one: your hair a ratty mess, make-up strewn across the bathroom sink (untouched), and your luggage exploding with clothes you suddenly hated.

You stood, stared at yourself in the mirror as you gripped on your hairbrush, running it through tangles and an otherwise unruly mess. You dragged and pulled until your hair was smooth. But even then it wasn’t smooth enough, you just didn’t have it in you to care. Your makeup was dragged across your face. You went through the motions, all muscle memory and not a thought about the colors and products. And even at the end of all that, after getting yourself to look less haggard and have your hair somewhat presentable, you still couldn’t stand to look at the mess you’ve made in your room. 

You went back over your options, moving through the motions of retrying combinations, mixing and matching, and then putting them away when you concluded you didn’t like the choice. By the end of the hour, you had gotten your room semi-presentable but were still stuck in your loungewear. 

And then there’s a knock. 

You scratched the back of your head, a little more nervous and a little more irritated. A soft whine escapes you as you stomped your way to the front door. You yanked it open without even bothering to look through the peephole, mind far from any clue as to who it might even be. 

But who else could it be?

Daniel smiled with his hands stuffed into his pockets, Enchante hoodie hanging loosely on his shoulders. His curls sit atop his head, messy, flopped over his forehead. His stubble has grown, or maybe it just appears thicker in person. But he stood there, smiling in the hallway, lips parted and ready to greet you if you had given him a chance. 

You jumped into his arms like you belonged there, like a magnet pulled to metal. You held on for dear life, arms wrapped tightly as you stuffed your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled just as you remembered– smelled just like home. Slowly, one arm finds its rightful place around your torso while the other comes up so that his free hand could hold your head securely against him. His hold is firm as he lifts you off your feet, squeezes you so nicely you never wanted him to stop. You could’ve stood in that hallway like that forever, if it was ever an option. 

Daniel inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I missed you more.” Your voice seeped into his skin– hot, meaningful, and everything else left in you to give. 

He put you down, but you didn’t want him to. His hands come up to hold your face in his hands while his eyes scanned every bit of you. No words, just a gentle hold. You stood there, head heavy in his hands as you stared right back up at him. His tan had faded a bit, his hair much more kempt than you remember. And his hands, oh his hands are rough, loved so well by the life he’s led and yet they move with so much care, so much tenderness. The dim hallway light reflected off his wrist, off blue beads tied together by a black straps. Your heart jumped, warmed at the bracelet you bought him all those months ago around his wrist.

“Looking good toots.” 

He laughed loudly as your face contorted into a grimace. Your hands come up to his chest to shove him off, a blow he takes with a grin as he takes a step back. And in succession, his slender fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you back into him. 

“I don’t like that nickname.” You swatted his chest, palm and the back of your hand colliding with the soft material of his hoodie, over and over until he’s holding your wrist still while muttering I’m kidding over and over.

You rolled your eyes as you removed yourself from his hold. You invited him into your room, taking quick steps to shut your open luggage before he had a chance to see the carnage of it all. Daniel closed the door behind him for you before he followed your lead into the small hotel room. He plopped himself onto your bed, kicking off his shoes before pushing himself further up. He watched as you folded up the bit of clothes that you had left out sitting on top of your closed luggage before sitting across from him. You smiled, he smiled. Just how it’s always been. 

Things sort of unraveled from there. Plans were canceled, phones tossed aside– nothing really mattered anymore. He asked about your flight, you asked about his. He asked about your work, you asked about his. It was back and forth, back and forth, jumping from one bit to the next until three hours had rolled by and Daniel had taken notice. By then you rolled onto your back, hair handing off the bed and legs lounging on top of Danny’s. He’s leant up against the headboard, arms crossed across his middle as he hum contentedly. You looked over at him, reaching over to squeeze his arm. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” 

His hand removed itself from underneath his arm, placing it over yours. “Thank you for coming.” 

November in Abu Dhabi was not as hot as you expected it to be. For once you were grateful for over packing because otherwise you would’ve been miserable and slightly embarrassed by the initial four outfits you deemed as enough for the trip.

You met Daniel’s family on Friday. They were just finishing breakfast when you walked up to the McLaren building. Daniel was quick to stand on his feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he gestured to each family member with his free hand. You were introduced as a friend, shook the hands of his relatives with a tight smile as you went down the line. They were sweet, offered to sit with you while you ate breakfast. But you were quick to decline, having already eaten before getting to the paddock. 

There were a few familiar faces amongst Daniel’s friends, if your drunken memory serves you correctly. You were greeted with enthusiastic hellos and semi-awkward side hugs. You stood with them in the garage, arms crossed tightly around yourself as you stood around waiting for the man himself. The garage was chaotic, multiple bodies moving too and from and all at once, trying to ready for the two practice sessions of the day. Your headphones were tuned to the live broadcast, so you spent the next fifteen or so minutes of commentary about Red Bull this and Ferrari that, Max this, Charles that. But then you hear it. Here comes the Honey Badger, about to hop into the car for the first Practice session of his last weekend with McLaren– his last weekend in Formula 1. 

Your head turned to look up at the screen just in time to see Daniel smiling at the camera, tuning out the conversation about Daniel between commentators. He waved into the lens before turning to Michael. They exchange a few words, the camera just zooming in before switching back to the Ferrari garage. You avert your gaze back to the present, the bodies clearing to make way for Daniel to climb into his car. The loved driver walks down the line of his friends, exchanging fistbumps and a bit of laughter before finally standing up before you. 

You could feel the stares, the careful watching to see what you two were about to exchange? A couple of light hearted jokes? A fistbump? Maybe even a hug?

You tried to ignore it, looking up at him with a smile you hoped resembles the bit of faith you had in him. “Have fun out there.” Your hands fiddled with each other, nervous nails picked at the skin of your cuticles. 

“Thanks. I’ll see you for the debrief?” 

You blew out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you.” 

You didn’t see him until after the round of press after both practice sessions, but of course it was only for a fleeting moment. He had his arm wrapped around your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze as he asked about you– always you. And then, with much reluctance, he allowed you to return to the hotel while he stayed back for another briefing. 

Quali day proved to be even more energetic than the last. People moved faster, time ticked louder, and the cars pushed and pushed. You enjoyed the smell of burnt rubber, of the adrenaline that ran through the track. You held your breath for most of the day, eyes trained on the times put up, jaw clenched as Daniel clawed his way to Q3. The air in the McLaren garage is light, happy, hopeful, as the boys stroll back into the garage. Rough pats to the back and loud words of encouragement roll through. Daniel was followed by a crowd of people. They all spoke atop each other, trying to get the last word in and trying to get a response from the driver before he disappeared. But he was already gone the moment he laid eyes on you. He waved the people away. Later, later he mumbled, offering them a smile before speeding up the pace and leaving the people to wait on later. You stood when Daniel approached, allowing him to wrap one arm around you in a quick squeeze. 

“Congratulations Danny,” You looked up at him, smiling widely as you leaned into his hold. 

“Thanks sugar.” There was a pause, allowing the nickname to sink in before he scrunched up his nose and shook his head. You burst out in soft giggles and he grinned widely. “Somehow that’s worse than toots.” 

“Definitely worse.” 

Race day was exhilarating. It was a rush, even if you were only sitting in the garage. You had your legs crossed over each other, muscles tense the entire time. You couldn’t relax, not while you held out for a bit of hope in Daniel’s race. Maybe no one expected much from him these days, but you expected nothing short of greatness. You sat in your chair, silently praying that Daniel would find that sweet release, the sweetest satisfaction in that car. You gripped the lanyard of your pass tightly, leant forward towards the screens as if it would make him move faster. You spoke to him, even if he couldn’t hear you through the turns of the circuit. 

And then it happened. The checkered flag was waved, the race had been won, the champion continued his reign. The night saw multiple ends, the night closed on the last of the honey badger in McLaren. While everyone jeered for Max, applauded for Sebastian, bid adieu to Nicky and Mick, you held your heart for Daniel. Your eyes watered as he spun the MCL36 in circles, sending smoke and his love to the crowd as they said their goodbyes. Quietly, you slipped back into the McLaren Hospitality, sat around by the door of his driver room as he got done with the last of press. You watched on the screens, like you always do, watched the laughter, the happiness, the adoration exchanged between Daniel and his comrades. All the hugs and see you soons, all the hope every single person held for him and his return. 

Daniel was a friend to everyone, beloved by everyone, and that included you. You felt a bit of pride at the thought, but maybe a bit of emptiness at the potential. Daniel was your friend, albeit your best friend. He had become your person, even if you had spent most of your time getting to know him through the screen. But that didn’t negate the fact. It didn’t change the affection you had for him, the adoration and respect you kept for Daniel in your heart. It didn’t change the fact that maybe, just maybe, you felt more for him than you’d ever admit. But that was a little secret between you and your bedroom ceiling. 

Daniel returned to you by himself. No crowds of people begging for a second of his attention, no staff reading off his agenda, not even Michael trying (and failing) to make Daniel laugh. He was all by himself, tired, disheveled, shoulders slumped and his face expressionless. You stood at one end of the room of the McLaren Hospitality and Daniel at the other. You stared at each other, unsure what was left to say after everything that happened in the hours behind him. 

And then you see it– the water brimming in his eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. You saw the frown that curved into his lips, the way his chest puffed shakily as he drew a breath. He was stuck in his place, stuck in the sadness that had finally settled in his spirit. So you met him where he stood, arms wrapping around his frame so that he could finally, finally, let go. His hands held you close to his chest, the pads of his fingers pressing into your shoulder blades. He buried his face in your shoulder, squeezing you so tightly that you found it hard to breathe. 

“It’s really over.” 

You pulled his face from your skin to hold in your hands, pouting as your thumbs collected the sadness that spilled onto his cheeks. Left to right, up and down, you scanned his face– every freckle and wrinkle, the way his bottom lip protrudes in a pout. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay. It’ll be good. Okay?”

He nodded, head shaking quickly in your grasp as his hands scramble to pull you back into him. He held you like you were going to slip away just as every single good thing in his life had this last year.  His hand comes up to the back of your neck, holding firm and warm, as he inhales deeply. “ It’ll be okay. It’ll be good.” 

It’ll be good. 

Daniel sent you flowers in December.

An arrangement of yellow and orange poppies arrived at your door two days before Christmas. They were waiting for you when you arrived from last minute shopping. You picked up the vase, cradled it in your arms as your keys jingled into the keyhole. The windmill keychain from August twinkled in the dim hallway lighting, reminded you of the day spent with your favorite person. 

You set the flowers down on the counter, all other belongings forgotten at your feet. You picked at the small envelope that sat in the middle of the vibrant flowers. Inside, a note– typed, but the sign off was enough to tell you who had sent them. 

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚢. 

-𝟹

Your heart swelled. Swelled so big you were sure it was going to burst underneath you. You bite down on your bottom lip, hard, trying to fight the awe-struck– no, lovestruck, smile that creeped onto your face. You tried to swallow those feelings down, just as you had for months now. Forget the butterflies and what they symbolize, or the way you jumped at the sound of your phone pinging or ringing. Forget, forget, forget.

Except that you can’t forget. You can’t forget or ignore or pretend like you haven’t fallen for this… this… for him. It’s not doable, and you had been fooling yourself thinking that if you pretended for long enough, that those feelings would cease to exist. Instead they festered, grew into a monster that held you tightly. In between blue and gray text bubbles, after hour long facetime calls, you found yourself falling for him. It was hard to admit to yourself because you felt silly at the notion that you could feel that way for someone you talked to on the phone. But it wasn’t silly, it was so fucking real. You were consumed by the smell of fresh fallen rain and curly hair, consumed by chasing the feeling of him gnawing at your heart. You were all consumed by Daniel. Him, him, him. 

You took a photo of the flowers, sending it as a text. 

You   5:24 PM Poppy, huh? 

His response was almost immediate. 

Daniel   5:24 PM You like it? 

You smiled. Smiled so wide your face ached. Daniel was halfway around the world. Fourteen something thousand kilometers away from you. He spent Christmas in the warmth, surrounded by his family while you were bearing it in bitter cold London. Thousands and thousands in distance, and still he makes you smile like he was sitting in the room with you.

You   5:25 PM Love it. Thank you Danny 

Christmas came and went as it always does. And in the week between then and the end of the year, Daniel called you. His face occupied your phone screen, that stunning smile plastered on his face. It was ten in the morning on the 27th of December, you were in the middle of a book– one you had been putting off because of work and traveling and enjoying the reality with Daniel in it. So you were reading, but then he called and the passage was forgotten. 

He claimed he had no reason to call you, that it was just because. It made your heart do flips, stupidly and erratically beating at the notion just because. You smiled, hummed as a response as you set the book aside. You asked about his holiday, he asked about yours. And just as easily as it has been before, the conversation sprouted into hours on the phone. You had slowly retreated into your bedroom, under the covers, had Daniel propped on the pillow just like he belonged. It was space reserved for him, even if he’s never laid in your bed before. God you left so much room for him in your life, he didn’t even know the half of it. He had become part of your equation, part of every what if that came across your mind– it was truly terrifying. 

Daniel quieted around twelve for you. He was sitting back on his couch, phone resting in his palm as he held it up high enough you had a view of his face. His gaze was soft as he stared at you, smiling sweet. 

“What?” You asked softly. 

“Nothing.” 

Another pause in the conversation. A brief moment of silence with an unasked question hanging in the space between you. You almost wanted to pry, but he beat you to the punch– answered the impending what you were about to whine.

“I’m flying back to Monaco for New Years… and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

You raised a brow. “You miss me?”

“I always do.”

Your heart screeched, cheeks ached with another smile. God you couldn’t stop fucking smiling. 

You shook your head, “Silly.” 

“Not silly. Just true. Come to Monaco. Please?”

How could you ever say no to him? How could you ever allow yourself to miss an opportunity to see Daniel again?

So on the 29th of December you flew the two something hours to Nice, took the train to Monaco and jumped straight into Daniel’s arms. He held you like it's all he ever knew, arms wrapped so tightly you’re sure you’d be stuck to him even if he let go. Your face is pressed into his sternum, his scent consuming you with a sharp inhale. Fuck, you would never get tired of this. 

December 30 was quiet– the calm before the storm. You were glued to the couch, Daniel’s hip attached to yours, while you watched movie after movie. In the first hour your legs were on top of his, then you switched the next hour. After the second movie, you were tucked into his side while his fingers twirled a lock of your hair. Round and round, a semblance to the way your mind circled him. Your thoughts ran in circles around Daniel, about what it would be like to be able to live that reality for longer than the week you were spending with him. You allowed yourself to imagine more Friday’s spent lazily with him. 

Daniel looked down at you as the credits rolled. “Thanks for coming out. I haven’t said it, and I should’ve the moment you landed.” 

You hummed, leaning into him further. He tightened his hold on you, it made you feel safe. “Anything for you.” 

Truly, anything for him. You would do it all, all Daniel had to do was ask. 

You woke up later than normal on the last day of the year. You laid in the guest bedroom of Daniel’s Monaco apartment, alone, tangled in sheets that regrettably smell just like him. The sound of glass clinking and heavy footsteps moving about the space travels into your room, muffled by the shut door. And as easily as you fall into a state of bliss at the sound, your mind rolls in daydreams about what it would be like to wake up to it over and over and over again. You were losing yourself, you knew that, but there was nothing stopping you from doing so. You free fall into the imagination of domesticity with Daniel and how easy and good it would all be. 

Three soft taps. Are you up? 

“Yeah, come in.” You sit up in bed, doing your best to comb down your bed head with the palm of your hands. Daniel poked his head through first before his body followed. You watched quietly as he made his way around the room, rolling into bed right next to you. He laid his head down against the pillow and you fought the urge to lay with him. Instead, you lean against the plush headboard and stare down at him. 

“Happy New Year's Eve,” His voice is hoarse, thick with sleep. Surely he’d just woken up.

You rubbed your eyes, smiled all the while. “Happy New Year's Eve.” 

He turned over, smiling into the fabric of his pillow case as he threw his arm over your thighs. Like it’s normal, like he’d done it before. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to get breakfast, but I think I could use another hour of sleep.” 

Your fingers twirled his curls, round and round, as you nodded. “Sleep then.” 

“Wake me in an hour? Then I promise we can go get breakfast.” 

“One hour. Gotcha.” 

Your fingers grazed his scalp, massaged his head of curls as he quickly fell back asleep. His body was limp next to yours, hot breath beating down on your skin. 

True to your words, you shook him awake an hour after he fell asleep. It’s been an hour. He groaned softly, arm tightening around your legs and pulling himself against the soft skin of your flesh. Five more minutes. You didn’t have it in you to pry, so you let him fall back asleep. Soft snores fill the space of the guest bedroom, and you sit there for another five minutes. You shook him once more, but he was a goner, lost in a deep sleep and dreams you could only wish to know. 

Slowly, gently, reluctantly, you pulled yourself from Daniel’s hold. You padded your way through his apartment, getting yourself acquainted with where things belong, in search of breakfast because while Daniel was too tired to care, you were hungry and needed food sooner rather than later. 

You cooked an omelet, made use of the last of his eggs and the veggies that were in his fridge. You could do without bacon for now– well you had to because he didn’t have it. You allowed the soft sizzle in the pan to lull your nerves to a sort of calmness you haven’t had since being here with Daniel. You tried to find a bit of clarity for yourself as you made breakfast. And right when you think you’re okay, that the daydreams and the yearning mean nothing, he’s in the room with you. 

He hadn’t said a word yet, but you knew the sound of his feet shuffling. He leaned up against the counter, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before watching you expertly flip the cooked egg over. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I promised you breakfast.” 

You shook your head, taking a quick glance up at him with a smile. “That’s okay, Danny. Want one?” 

He nodded, moving around you as he reached for the cupboard above your head. The kitchen was large, spacious, so clearly put together for a bachelor who didn’t spend too much time there. But despite the space, you found yourself bumping into Daniel, feeling the way his fingers trailed along your back as he moved behind you. You moved in sync, bumping into each other was just part of the dance. That’s what it felt like with him, a dance to music only the two of you seem to hear. It was always a dance, of pushing and pulling, going round and round until your head spun. It was beautiful. It was good. 

You didn’t get ready until much later. The sun had just begun to touch the ocean, painting the sky shades of orange. You watched from the guest room, legs crossed while your make-up laid sprawled out on the bed. And while you swiped brush after brush, a pat of a sponge here and there, you grew to envy the ocean. How lucky it is to be kissed, to be loved so badly that the sun returns to it every day. You yearned for the same, to have such warmth sink beneath you and make you feel whole. But most of all, you yearned for Daniel. 

You felt a little ridiculous. You felt stupid, insecure, so goddamn undeserving of the way your heart ached for him. You felt crazed, your head was a mess of thoughts of curly hair and the comforting smell of rain after a drought. You felt ridiculous because Daniel seemed to consume you, and you aren’t even sure if you consumed him in the same way. That’s when the fear settled, the need to run in the opposite direction because my god, what were you doing here? 

You had to stand from your spot on the bed, make up half done and not set, to pace the room. You tried to shake off the way every nerve ending fizzled with this… you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit it. Because how could you? Why should you? 

Maybe you hadn’t fallen, maybe this was a misplaced infatuation. Give it a couple more days, maybe even a couple more weeks and he would be nothing more than your friend, nothing more than a person who made life a little easier. Nothing less, nothing more.

But the tears cloud your vision, your hands shook, bile was climbing up the length of your throat. You felt so fucking sick. 

You sit back down in the bad, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. You flopped onto your back, tubes and compacts of make-up clattering against each other as the bed rippled your movement. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. It was fine, you were fine, everything was okay. 

Right? 

You aren’t sure how managed to finish getting ready, truth be told the last hour or so were a blur. But you were ready, buckled into the front seat of his McLaren 720s, trying to pace your heart with the heavy bass song playing through the speaker. Daniel was oblivious to your sudden mental turmoil, more than excited to see his friends and celebrate the end of one of the worst years of his life. He had expressed multiple times just how excited he was to let loose, to pretend like his reality isn't real, even if it was just for a couple of hours. 

The club was bass heavy, so loud that you could hear it as Daniel’s car slowed to a stop. Valet opened the door for you, stuck his hand out to help you exit the rather low sports car. Daniel grabbed the ticket before resting his hand on the small of your back and led you into the club. 

It was packed, filled to the brim with people who were probably so drunk they wouldn’t make it to midnight. You followed the bouncer’s lead, along the perimeter of the club and into the section behind the DJ booth. You recognized a few faces, some who were in the garage with you, others who drove the car. You were introduced, reintroduced, Daniel shouted your name over the blaring music. This is my best friend! 

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend. 

You smiled, tight lipped and polite, even though the panic had begun to return. You shouldn’t be there, you shouldn’t have come. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed a drink.

You needed several drinks– and several were served to you. Vodka this, vodka that. Oh a round of shots, why not? You had begun to lose yourself to the booze and the music, the nerves and the panic long forgotten. All that mattered was that you were moving along to the bass and that you felt good. You couldn’t feel the way your toes screamed in pain, begging you to sit down, even for a second. 

You only stopped because you had taken another shot and the world suddenly tilted to the left. Daniel met you on the sofa, arm resting on the back of it as he leant down to talk into your ear. “Slow down Poppy, we still got an hour til midnight!” 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, leaning into him because god you just needed to feel him. His hand fell onto your shoulder, holding you firmly. His lips mouthed something. Water? It must’ve been. You nodded, throat suddenly dry. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth in a feeble attempt to get rid of the cottonmouth. Daniel handed you a glass, and you sipped. You sipped until the ground leveled and your mind didn’t spin in circles. Sipped on the glass until Lando pushed it out of your hands and replaced it with a flute of champagne. Ten minutes! Fuck had that much time pass you by already? 

Slender fingers slipped onto your waist as you stood from the couch, the pads of his digits pressing firmly into your flesh. You felt secure, safe. Your mind still teetered between sobriety and inebriety, but you knew you’d remember the following moments for the rest of your life. 

Ten minutes turned into five, turned into one. And then you were counting down the seconds. The club was loud, the excitement building as you ticked closer to one. Daniel’s arm moved from your torso to hang over your shoulder. He pulled you into his side, squeezing tighter and tighter as he counted down. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Happy New Year! The crowd erupted into a mess of cheers, of heavy bass and the pop of streamers. Lights flickered, and you caught brief glances of hugs and kisses, of happy welcomes and excitement of what 2023 was meant to bring. And oh how you wished that it was you. That you were a person in the crowd being kissed, even if it was some cheesy cliche. You just wished it were you. 

You made the mistake of looking up at Daniel, of letting curiosity get the best of you to see if he was seeing what you were. You wanted to know if he had the same desire written on his face as it was on yours. But instead, his gaze was already on you. Your cheeks burned, and you thanked the heavens that the lights distracted from the fact that you were blushed. Daniel smiled widely, removing his hand from your shoulder to rest on the side of your head. He pulled you into him, lips pressing into the soft skin of your temple. Once, twice. Then he craned his neck, pressed a kiss to your cheek before letting his lips hover over your ear.

“Happy New Year, Poppy.” 

You smiled, turned your head again so you could selfishly look into his honey eyes again. And maybe you knew that in doing this, your face would only be mere centimeters apart. All it would take is a simple lunge, an accidental shove. So close, so fucking close. You silently wished that he would, that he’d give into the cliche and kiss you. Your brain was screaming, begging. Kiss me! Just fucking kiss me! But all he did was smile. Dimples imprint themselves into the soft skin of his cheeks, his gaze so soft you wanted to vomit. He looked at you in a way that made you dizzier than all the liquor you consumed that night.  His hand comes up to cup your cheek, touch just ghosting your skin before planting firmly on the junction of your neck and jaw. Kiss me! Please kiss me! Won’t he do it?

You felt his fingers leave your cheek, creep to the back of your head and once again he’s pulling you in to kiss your forehead. 

You sighed, spirit deflated, even as you shut your eyes and leaned into the kiss once more. 

He cupped your cheeks again, both hands this time, squishing the soft flesh as he forced your  gaze up at him. He couldn’t see the disappointment in your features, too distracted by the lights, the music, by everything else. He smiled. He always smiled. “I love you Poppy, I love you, I do!”

Your heart flipped, rattled your ribs, beat loudly in your fucking head. You bit back a smile even though all you wanted to do was grin. You scrunch your nose, feigned disgust even if you were elated. He loved you, he loved you he did. 

You fell in love with Daniel in January.

Though, you’re sure that you had loved him for much longer. January was when you fully admitted it to yourself. No more denying, no more panic. Pure acceptance for the fact that you were in love with Daniel Ricciardo. 

You left Monaco on the second, much to your dismay. If you had it your way, you would’ve stayed forever. But work had resumed and your boss only let you take off an extra day and nothing more. So Daniel drove you to the train station, dragged your luggage out of his car and walked you all the way to the gate. Your ticket was clenched tightly in your first as you looked up at him, a bit of wind blowing at the stray hairs that couldn’t be held back by the elastic. He reached out, tucked a hair behind your ear before resting his hand against your cheek. It was warm, reeked of generic hand sanitizer. You leaned into him, smiling even if your chest ached. 

“Wish you could stay longer.” He muttered. 

“Wish you would just come with,” You countered. With me, you wanted to emphasize but… the statement seemed too intimate. With me. Come with me, please. 

He hummed, fingers hooking around the back of your neck to pull you into him. Your face collided with his chest in a soft thump, nose dug deep in the plush material of his t-shirt, just above his sternum. His hands readjust themselves around you, conforming to your frame against his body. Like a puzzle tab finding its perfect nook. He hugged you tightly, planted a kiss to the top of your head before flattening the hair in the same spot. You’d miss this, you thought to yourself, the few kisses given, the plethora of hugs exchanged, you were going to miss this. You were going to miss him. 

You’re the first to step out of the embrace, blinking away tears that had just begun to blur your vision. You coughed an awkward laugh, smiled, tried about anything to hide how sad you really were in the moment. But Daniel saw right through you, clicked his tongue as he nudged your chin playfully. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t cry.” 

His words had the opposite effect, pushed the tears over the brim of your waterline. You tried to laugh it off, mock yourself and the ridiculous splay of emotions. You shook your head and swatted his hands away as he reached out to you again. “I’m fine, I'm fine. If you hug me again, I’m afraid I may just end up staying.” 

Daniel’s reflexes were quick, right hand jolting forward to latch onto yours. He easily pulled you into him, quick enough so that you could catch the way his body rumbled with a chuckle beneath your touch. “I don’t see why that’s such a bad thing.” You indulged, melted right back into him, inhaled the sweet sweet smell of his cologne, committed every node to memory. 

You wondered what the travelers walking to and fro, squeezing past you without an ounce of politeness, were thinking of the two of you. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Or were you just two losers standing in a train station delaying a needed goodbye? 

Daniel pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek, soft lips catching you by surprise. His head dipped into your neck, arms squeezing you tightly. “I’ll miss you my little wildflower.” 

You grinned, stifled a little laughter at the cheesy nickname as you inhaled deeply, “You’re getting really good at this nickname thing,” You teased, fingers coming up to play with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. “I like Poppy more.” 

His body vibrated in a quiet chuckled, nodding against your shoulder. Noted. 

You pulled away again, eyes flickering to the clock for a brief moment before your fingers latched onto the handle of your luggage. Daniel sighed, tilted his head in a sad smile. You caught the way he flexed his fingers at the release of your own, rings glinting in the light. 

“So… goodbye?” You shrugged and he grinned, “See you soon?” You bit back a smile, “Arrivederci?” 

You giggled, nodding your head, “See you in London.” 

His lips part, a playful and breathy ah falling from his mouth as he nodded. London, London, London he says softly. “I’ll see you there Poppy.” 

You had a multitude of responsibilities waiting for you in London, your boss made that perfectly clear with the two lengthy emails sent to your inbox as you sat on the train. There were unfulfilled plans with friends, a declutter day penciled in for the following Friday, and dinner with your parents. You had a million and one things that needed your attention, and for whatever reason, the five or so hours of travels back home, you spent in thought of Daniel.

His kiss, his touch, his everything was stamped onto you, it was as if it were all happening in that moment.  It made you miss him even more, made your heart ache as you continued to move further and further from him. In the bits of sleep you found in your travels, your mind was consumed by him. Always him. You imagined that this was love, it was the only logical explanation. And so on the plane, while watching your flight path on the screen ahead of you, quietly and honestly, you admitted to yourself that this was love. You were in love. 

And you were terrified.

London greeted you coldly, the wind biting at your cheeks as you lugged your luggage from the Uber to the warm lobby of your complex. The doorman greeted you with a smile, wished you a happy new year as you passed him by. Exhaustion had you by the talons, gripped at your body and spirit and forced you into bed. You crawled underneath your covers, pulled a pillow to your chest as you let sleep take over you. And in your slumber, as you drowned in the fantasy of Daniel and all the what ifs, you miss his call. You missed the first, the second, the third, and then finally the soft ping of his text tone. 

Daniel   8:53 PM Are you awake? Please say you’re awake.

And another.

Daniel 8:55 PM You should’ve stayed. I wish you stayed. 

Daniel flew into London from New York in February. After he had fulfilled every press, interview, tiktok, whatever kind of  obligation being a third driver entailed– he hopped on a plane and flew straight to you.

What was meant to be a surprise turned out to be spoiled by his slight recklessness. He accidentally sent his pinned location to you instead of his friend, and in turn showed you that he was standing in the middle of Heathrow Airport. Then half an hour later, with excited text after text sent and a frenzied cleaning of your apartment, he was at your door and you were jumping into his arms. He laughed, walked you back into your home with one hand wrapped around your torso to keep your feet off the ground, and the other dragging his suitcase. 

You’re here you mumbled into his hoodie, arms squeezing tight. 

I’m here. 

Being with Daniel at home felt good. It felt normal. It felt right. And the longer he stayed, the longer you watched him fit himself in your life, the harder you fell. There was a small part of you that wished he didn’t mold into your routines so well, that a bit of awkwardness had struck and maybe even cured you of this hopeless feeling that clenched your heart so tightly. You wished that his place in your life didn’t make sense but it did. Daniel sitting across from you for breakfast, nursing a second bowl of cereal made sense.  His fingers looping your hair messily through a scrunchie while you cooked dinner made sense. The smell of fresh rain imprinted in every corner of your home just made sense. 

Daniel, walking into your room and sliding into bed next to you while you read a book, made the most sense. You didn’t flinch at the dip in the bed, or the way his shoulder leaned onto you, or the smell of his shampoo in his damp hair. Ignoring your sporadic heartbeat was a challenge, but being here with him was easy. You hummed in acknowledgement, resting your head on his shoulder as you finished out the chapter. You see the glow of his phone screen, the flicker in color as he taps through stories and posts, leaving them all on mute as a courtesy to you. You flipped through a couple more pages before tucking your bookmark in and shutting it. The book falls on your night stand with a soft thud, discarded and forgotten as you turn your attention to Daniel. 

“So I was thinking,” He mused, tapping something on his phone before setting it on his lap, “I leave in three days, so I think it’s only right we have a real sleepover.” 

Your heart did flips. Back flips, cartwheels, a double back handspring with spin and perfect landing. Danced its way all the way to the top of your throat, supported by the nerves and the intent of his proposal. “You tired of the couch?” You teased, stabbing your index finger into his bicep playfully. He chuckled. 

“Only a little. But I’ll gladly sleep on the floor if you’re too chicken to share a bed.” 

You swung your pillow over at him, smacking him in the chest. Shut up, you stuttered, sinking deeper into your bed. You try not to let his loud laughter tinge your cheeks red, to make the tips of your ears heat up as you silently wish the world swallowed you whole. You were being dramatic, maybe. He was teasing, of course you knew he was. But fuck the accusation could not be any truer. You were fucking terrified of sharing a bed with Daniel, how it would blur another line of your friendship, confuse you further, and in turn making saying goodbye in three days time infinitely harder. But you were a little dumbstruck when it came to your affections for Daniel, a little self-indulgent and allowed your little heart to take the reins of all your decision making. 

So that's how you end up lying dangerously close to the edge of your bed, watching as Daniel moved your pillows around to make a little more room for himself. Daniel. Making room for himself. In your bed. 

You were gonna be sick.

He didn’t take too long to settle into his side, pulling on the duvet over his abdomen. Pillows had been thrown to the floor, stuffed animals perched nicely on your desk after you so kindly asked him to. The mattress was bare between the two of you– no pillow wall or some imaginary line established. No claims to a side, or a little jab to remind the other to stay on their side of the bed. Just the plain sheet and a bit of space rests between you. 

Daniel clicked the lamp on his side of the bed off, darkness engulfing the space immediately. It took a minute or two for your eyes to adjust to the dark, to finally be able to trace the silhouette of Daniel’s features against the streetlight bleeding through your curtains. You trace the curls resting on his forehead, the bump on the bridge of his nose, down to the curve or each lip, and the point of his chin. 

“You’re staring,” He muttered. 

“No I’m not.” Yes, you were.

He didn’t comment, just turned onto his side so that he could look at you. Daniel tucked his hand underneath his pillow, pulling it flush against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The space between you was gaping, large and awkward, begging to be occupied by the warmth of a body– maybe yours. He noticed, pulled the covers down before patting the cream sheet softly. 

“I’m not gonna bite Poppy.” 

You scrunch your nose, reaching out to poke him with your index finger. “How can I be sure?” 

A single poke, pushing the tip of his nose inward before he juts his chin upward, catching your index finger between his teeth. 

“You can’t.”

You turned your face into the pillow as you flexed your hand open, using the force of your other four fingers to push against his face. His laughter rumbled against your palm, lips wet and leaving a stamp of him in the middle of your hand. You feel his slender fingers come up around your wrist to pull your hand away and push it back into your chest. The warmth that emitted from his skin stayed with you, molded into your skin lest you forget how Daniel felt against you. 

You didn’t budge from your position on the bed, and neither did he. Two people with an unreasonable amount of space between them– it was almost laughable. You wondered if he was as scared as you were to cross this line drawn in the sand. You wondered if he was afraid he’d get addicted to holding you, that he might never want to leave. Because you were afraid. You were afraid of losing yourself to a man you had no claim over, and falling so deep into him that you’d never find a way out. So you kept the bit of space, forced a bit of restraint on your heart that seemed to be reaching out to him. 

Sometime between hushed whispers and the soft sounds of sheets rubbing together as you adjusted and readjusted yourself in your place, you fell asleep. You dreamt of the rain, the way it kissed your skin, kissed the Earth and all that is in it. You dreamt of a garden filled with poppies, of bright colored petals that poked out of the grass. You dreamt of familiar smiles, the sound of laughter. God, you dreamt of happiness. 

The sun seeps through your curtains, golden light flooding the room. It shines the brightest between the curtains, peeking through to pull you from your slumber. You groan softly, burying your face deeper into warm skin, pulling the duvet over your shoulder. Toned arms shift around you, hold you tighter before mumbling incoherencies and drifting back to sleep. 

Without the cologne, Daniel  smells like citrus scented soap. Bright, sweet, stuck to his skin even after tossing and turning all night. You almost envy the way he never seems to smell bad, how beautiful smells like peeled oranges or rained-on flowers stick to him. You envy the way he snores softly, clutching on to sleep better than you ever could. Because now you’re awake, mind racing against your heart as you wrap your head around how you laid: tangled up with Daniel. 

You lay stiff, terrified out of your fucking mind as Daniel holds on to you for dear life. He’s so warm. The kind of warmth that compared to the sun beating down on your skin on a cool spring day. The kind that relieves you of goosebumps, of chilly fingertips and the feeling that the tip of your nose might just fall off. Daniel was like the sun in a lot of ways, you conclude. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to return back to your dreams. But it burns where your skin meets Daniel’s– hot, sticky, melting together. You can feel the dips of his muscles against you, the firmness to them even if he held you so softly. His arm lays over your torso, curled in towards you to keep you close to him, while his chin rests on the top of your head. Your face is positioned between his collarbones, tip of your nose just ghosting the supple skin there. You try to turn your head, find a place in which you didn’t drown in him, but no matter where you turned, you were comfortably stuck to him. 

Daniel groans above you as you try to turn your head again, squeezing you tighter. “You move too much in your sleep.” Sleep weighs down on his voice, makes it heavy and gravely, rough with exhaustion. You smile, humming as you stuff your face back into his chest. 

“Sorry.” 

He hums, “Morning.” 

“Morning.” 

You lay with Daniel quietly, stuck in the position you woke up in. No one moves, no one speaks, just enjoying the soft lull of steady breathing and the world starting its day without the two of you. Cars pass by your street and birds converse outside your window– you imagine they were talking about the sun. You lay wrapped in Daniel until he shifts, pulling his arm from your torso to rub his sleep-riddled face. You look up, chin resting in the middle of his chest. You watch his lips stretch into a yawn, the way his index finger and thumb come up to wipe the tears that brim at his eyes. And then he cranes his neck, points his chin downwards so that he can catch a glimpse of you. 

And he smiles. 

“Told you I don’t bite.” 

Daniel leaves in three days. He reminds you over breakfast, biting into a piece of toast like it isn’t a big deal. Three days left of this, of breakfast in the mornings and his face before bed. You smile sadly into your oatmeal, mixing the fruit around the slurry before spooning it into your mouth. Silverware clatters against porcelain, it echoes against the walls of your home. It makes your heart miss him before he’s even gone. 

The days blend into the other, no memory seemed to have a cut off. Daniel’s last three days with you were a lump sum of memories, colliding, meshing into each other, dependent on the hours before so that the now made sense. And in every moment, all the laughter and smiles, the almost-touches and almost-kisses, the larger the space in your heart grew for Daniel. Your mind let you wander treacherously through the what-ifs, the maybes, and the could bes. What if we. Maybe we. We could be. We, we, we. 

The night before his flight, you took him to a work thing. That’s how you described it as you helped him pick between two polos. You point at the striped one before flopping onto bed. “It’s just this weird game night. It’s supposed to boost morale, help us bond. It’s been a rough couple months in the office so this is corporate’s way of building– well, rebuilding the peace.” 

Daniel nods, pulling off his shirt before shrugging on the navy striped button up over his shoulders. “So what is it… like poker? Black Jack maybe?” 

You ignore the way his abdomen flexes as he readjust the shirt, the buttons still undone and swaying with his movement. “Maybe. I dunno, I heard someone from accounting was gonna bring scrabble.” 

He laughs like you were joking. But low and behold, as he walked into the pub behind you, three people were already seated at a table elbow deep in a game of scrabble. Tiles scattered the board as two of the three players argued about the validity of the word. Cards were thrown around, smacked on the table to show off a good hand. Poker chips clatter as they’re pushed across the tables, and littered in all that mess is booze being bought left and right. Between the bustling of bodies and the sweet buzz of conversation, you can just hear the bass of some EDM mix playing on the loudspeaker.

You and Daniel make your way to the bar, immediately greeted by the people who work in your department. They smile up at Daniel, wide-eyed as they shoved you playfully. You didn’t tell me you were friends with the Daniel Ricciardo! You mouth a quick I’m sorry as phones are thrusted in his direction– all of which he takes gracefully, taking selfie after selfie. And after maybe the tenth one, you reach into the crowd of people, gripping his wrist tightly as you pull him to you. 

“Alright guys, he’s meant to be on break, leave him alone now.” You wave your hand in the air, shooing away coworkers who just grin and nod, a sea of thank yous sent his way his wrist slips from your grasp to offer them a wave. Daniel grabs the beer set out for the two of you, before slinging his arm over your shoulder and pulling you to a table top in the far end of the bar. He sets the beers down before pulling your chair out for you, hand out for you to boost yourself up onto the lifted chair– a hand you gladly take.

Daniel sits to your left, fingers snaked around the neck of the amber bottle as he brings it up to his lips to take a sip. You watch quietly, spinning the bottle between your index finger and your thumb, eyes fixated on the way his adam's apple bobs up and down as gulps his beer. He doesn't seem to notice– or maybe he just doesn't care. Instead he leans in towards you, eyes fixated on the crowd ahead of him, the hands reaching over tables and the soft slaps of cards being shuffled. “So, what do you think, Uno or Cards Against Humanity?” 

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, sucking in a gust of air between your teeth. “I don't know, as appealing as playing Cards Against Humanity with my coworkers and in turn finding out a little too much about their personal life is, I think Uno might just be our safest option.”

Daniel laughs at your sarcasm. Nodding as he slides out from the table, hand out for you to take. C’mon then, he hums as he encloses your fingers in the warm grip of his hands, tugging you between tables and passer-bys, plopping down at a table of five. You recognize one other person at the table, the dealer, who smiles at you as she deals you and Daniel in. It was meant to start as a friendly little game, with lighthearted laughter and maybe a bit of peaking over at the other’s cards. But between the third and fourth deal, people had begun to throw quid on the table, then all of a sudden you’re down twenty and Daniel was happily collecting the bills on his end. You scowl over at him, nudging his leg with the toe of your shoe. 

“You don’t need all this money.” 

“Not my fault you suck.” He puckers his lips, sends a kiss over to you in the space between you two. 

“Bite me,” You sneer, picking up your new set of seven cards, organizing them by color. 

You catch a whiff of his cologne as he leans in. You pull your hand close to your chest, pressing the cards flush against your being as he lines his mouth up to your ear to whisper, “Careful what you wish for.” 

Your cheeks flush, bright pink though no one at the table seems to catch it under the dim lighting of the pub. Another game, you’re sure you’ve got the upper hand this time around but then Daniel drops a skip… and then another… and then he stacks a draw two… twice. By the end of the game you had about half the deck of cards in your hands and Daniel counting about forty quid in his hands. You’re scowling again, and he laughs at your misfortune. 

You excuse yourself from the table, running up to the bar to get yourself another beer. Stacy– you think her name is Stacy anyway– slides next to you, picking up a bit of conversation. It’s small talk, surface level shit until she’s asking about the boy you had been stuck to all night. She teases you, refers to him as the boy, it makes you feel giddy. To one person in this room, Daniel was your little secret. And it felt nice. It felt good. But you shook your head, the blush taking over your face again as you took the beer that was handed to you, mumbling how he’s just a friend. But Stacy– or is it Sarah? She smiles and shrugs, taking her cocktail as she hops off her bar stool, red straw placed between her coco colored lips to take a sip before stepping back. 

“All I’m saying… friends don’t look at friends the way you two look at each other.” 

She leaves you at the bar with a sentence equivalent to fuel to a fire. It burns, oh it festers. Your mind reels over every moment, every second you’ve spent with Daniel, trying to figure out how he looked at you. 

Your eyes scan over the crowd, the mess of chatter tuned out as you look for a mop of curls which you spot towards the front of the bar. He’s laughing– he’s always laughing. You might’ve been meters away, but you could hear him, the joyful ha has over the multitude of conversation. And for a moment, like every cliche written and produced, the room stops. Suddenly the crowd disappears, the music is turned down, and it’s just you and Daniel. The lamp over the table beams, reflects over his golden skin as he deals the cards down on the table. His fingers are quick, counting quietly to himself as he goes around the table. And when he’s done, he sets the left over cards down in the middle of the table in a neat stack. Before he picks up his set, he reaches over to your seat, pulls the cards together neatly and pats it down before picking up his own. You watch as his slender fingers pick at the cards– that one goes at the end, oh and this one between these two. He picks and pulls, slots cards by cards til he’s satisfied with his line up. Then he squeezes the cards into one stack, setting down on his thigh below the table. 

His head turns, you see the soft swing of his curls as he looks around the bar. He looks and looks and oh, relief. Daniel’s shoulders drop when he catches sight of you, a smile so wide your cheeks ache for him. His hand goes up in the air, waving at you to return to your seat. Hurry! You aren’t sure if he actually said it, but you know his lips moved that way. He smiles, his eyes are warm and bright, this sultry kind of brown that you could distinguish from miles away. You miss it as he turns away to immerse himself in a conversation you didn’t care to know about. You smile, just enough so that your cheeks round a bit and your eyes squint in just the slightest. You smile in a way that a girl watches a boy she loves from across the way, watches as he melts into her life. And he melts so well, sits so comfortably without you as he awaits your return. He has his arm slung over your chair, nodding over at someone you could care less about. He laughs at jokes, makes some back, and– god you just couldn’t stop staring. You couldn’t stop watching him. Him, him, always him. 

You walk back over to the table, setting a hand on Daniel’s shoulder as you lean down to him. His hand comes up to rest over yours, head turning ever so slightly so that he can see you. Your heart is in overdrive, your body overheating. You try to ignore it. You try, try, try. 

“I’m gonna go get some air.”

“You okay?” His brows furrow with concern. You nod, and he doesn’t seem to relax. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Daniel. I’m fine. Just stuffy in here.” 

“Well, let me come with.” 

He goes to get up from his seat, but you push him back down. “No, no no I’ll be fine.” You smile– you think you do. “I’ll be back. Win this round so you can buy me a drink after.” 

He looks unconvinced, eyes scanning your face for a morsel of doubt, for a twitch of lip that would beg him to accompany you. But you keep your expression fair, squeeze his shoulder again, and he concedes. He nods, patting your hand again. “Okay okay, deal.” 

Your hand comes up to his cheek, and he leans into your touch as it slips away. He turns his head, watches you walk out the door while the game starts. You feel his eyes burning in a hole in the back of your skull and it only makes you walk quicker. 

The cool London air blows the door open, bites at your skin and fights against the warmth pooling with the booze. You wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing your palms against your arm, squeezing the flesh there. Your eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply as you try to center yourself, trying to get ahold of your heart, trying to get it to slow down. Tears were threatening you, choking you. 

You didn’t want to say bye. You don’t want all this to end, to have Daniel pluck himself out of your company and back to his normal routines. You don’t want to go back to the facetime calls, and debriefs over texts. No you want to smell the rain, you want the cheeky laughter and fighting over who gets the rest of the cereal. You want late night drives to Taco Bell, and early mornings to get coffee because you were too lazy to run your own. But most of all, you want Daniel. You want the good, the bad, all the highs and all the lows. You want every single moment between now and an indefinite future. 

And you felt crazy for wanting such a thing. 

You hear the door creak behind you, a bit of the conversation escaping with him before he shuts the door with a soft thud. 

“Hey, come back inside. You’re missing out on the game.” Daniel bumps his shoulder with yours, a smile so wide it drives fear into your chest. You look up at him, take all the strength left in you to smile– and you hope that you do it well. His smile, bright, excited, so reminiscent of the Daniel you bumped into some time ago. He’s tanned, hair curly, muscles bulky, he’s back to who he was before a string of bad luck wore him down. He was this new Daniel that you had fallen so head over heels for, and it hurt your heart not to say it.  

The words sit in your throat, run it dry and make it hard to breathe. You were getting all choked up with a secret you couldn’t bear to keep.

He bumps your shoulder again, “What? Are you scared to lose again?” 

God you were so afraid to lose. But maybe you had already lost more than you could ever admit to yourself. 

Daniel says your name. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

You had a dream about this moment. It happened in the rain, colorful poppies potted in a flowerbed by a house, and oh how the world smelled divine. You could still hear the laughter, still see the smile that graced his face. You dreamt about the way he would wrap himself around you, allow you to bury yourself in his warmth and the scent of fresh fallen rain. In every universe, you imagined the way the words would sound coming from his mouth. You imagined the simplicity, the good in the moment. 

But then you see his face run pale, lips parted without the words to back him up. You see how he scratches the back of his neck before it comes around to rub his stubble. And then his fingers are running through his hair. He takes a step back, and there’s this space between you that wasn’t there before. Your name rolls off his tongue, sounds so despondent it twists your heart. It sounds so…

“I-I-I-” You stammer like it would mend the situation, “I’m sorry but… I couldn’t keep it in. Couldn’t continue to pretend like my heart didn’t wanna beat out of my chest everytime I see you, so I just had to– I had to say it.”

You see his chest begin to rise with each breath he takes. It’s slow, but deep. His eyes are wide, they’re panicked, they look so fucking afraid. 

“Daniel I–” “What are you doing?” Your lips fall shut. What are you doing? You bite down on your bottom lip, palms pressed together as you rub them in front of you to distract from the tears that were already beginning to cloud your vision. Daniel lets out a breath, hands coming up to run through his hair– again. “Why… why would you say that?” His hands rub his beard, again. “Fuck, Poppy why would you say that?” 

The air is caught in your throat. The words on your tongue melt away, daydreams dissolve. You were left with your skin and a heart that continues to shatter because Daniel stares at you like you’ve done something wrong. And all you could, all you had the strength to do, is smile. You smile because that’s all you had left to give. A smile that made your lips quiver, cheeks tremble and wet with your sadness. You don’t know what else to do, so you smile. 

“I just needed you to know.” 

Daniel drops his face into his hands, shaking his head into his palms. You watch him, watch as he mumbles to himself. You watch in tears, your shattered heart at your feet as you wait for the change in tone, wait for a moment you’ll never live to see. He lifts his gaze back up to you, the panic gone and replaced this kind of pity that makes you wish you never said it in the first place. 

He says your name with a bit of remorse, and yet it still sounds beautiful. “I… I can’t. Poppy I’m sorry.” 

You let out a breath. It’s your turn to turn away, hands coming up to push your hair back as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to take over you. Another shaky breath, another drop of tears onto your cheeks. You couldn’t let him see you so broken, you can’t let him have that. No, you refused.

“Poppy–” “Daniel, please.” “Poppy you mean so much–” 

“Daniel,” You turn around, hand out to motion him to stop, “Please don’t. Please.” 

“You are the greatest friend–” He continues anyway, torturing you with the right thing to say– the most reasonable thing to say, “–I could ever ask for. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. How much I–” 

“I don’t want that Daniel I–” “–How much I appreciate you.” 

He reaches out for you. You should’ve pushed him away, you should’ve stepped back, but god you are so weak for him. So you bask in the warmth of his hand, the way he squeezes it like he was trying to stitch back that hole he left in your chest. You let yourself rest in the false sense of security for just a second. You stare at the point your skin touches, the way his skin contrasts yours, fingers holding onto yours so tightly. It’s warm. It’s good. 

It’s good for all of two seconds, and then you’re crying and pulling yourself from him again. You wipe your face with the back of your hand, shaking your head and smiling. Daniel says your name, desperate to get to you again. But you shake your head, take another step back. 

“You don’t know how much you mean to me.” His voice is a whisper, nearly overpowered by the gust of cold wind. “Poppy–”

“Daniel, it’s okay.” Your voice breaks because it’s not. But you pretend that it is to save face, to pretend that you can walk away from this moment with your head held high. 

He calls your name again, craning his neck so that he can meet your gaze, and you try to avoid it but he comes into view. His hand comes up, chin tucked in his index finger and thumb to lift your face. “But it's not. I can see it on your face.”

“But it has to be, right?”

You clamp your lips into a tight line, tugging your face out of his hold. It’s quiet, tense, and you’re so fucking miserable. For the first time, there’s a sense of dread. In the months you’ve grown to know Daniel, to fall in love with him, in the time that brought you to this moment– you now feel that dread. It sits heavy in your chest, squeezing your heart so tight you think it might pop. If someone had asked you all those months ago if you could picture walking away from Daniel, your answer would be a resounding no. You could never picture yourself doing it– and even if you could, you could always picture running straight back to him.

But now, now you’re forced to reckon with the reality that you have to walk away and never look back. That if you want to hold on to the very little dignity you have left, you should say your goodbyes and walk away. But where was the good in this goodbye? It was just a promise that this is the end, that the next time you see him would not be of your intention. You would have to accept that the only good in this farewell is that it’s permanent. 

So in February you walked away with your heart in your hands and a gaping hole in your chest shaped like Daniel. You walked yourself to the underground railway and sobbed because it was the only thing left for you to do. You clutched onto your chest because it hurt so fucking bad. 

Daniel collected his items from your apartment the next day while you cried in your bedroom. He knocked on your door, twisted the knob only to find that it’s locked. He said he’s sorry through the door, he said it over and over you had to pull the pillow over your head. 

I don’t deserve you Poppy, his voice is muffled but so fucking clear at the same time, I’m sorry Poppy. I… I’ll see you soon.

And then it was over. Daniel was gone– easily, tragically, and all at once. All the memories that mesh together melted into your sadness. It kept you in bed with the blinds drawn shut. Darkness and despair always paired well together. 

Your phone pings, the screen lights up and illuminates the bedroom. But you don’t have the heart to look, because you know who it is. You could see his contact photo, you can see the letters spell out his name. So instead you bury yourself deeper into the pillows and blankets, bury yourself deeper into your hopelessness. For just a moment, you wanted to forget that he existed, that he was every part of your life, that you ever poured your heart to him thinking for a second that he would feel the same way. 

Daniel 4:33 PM Please don’t forget about me

You’ll never forget him and everything he was to you. Never.

February blends into March. March into April. April to May, June, July. And suddenly it’s August again. 

You lay on the beach in Mykonos, nursing another strawberry margarita. You love  strawberry margaritas. But this time around, you stay away from the bustling movements of the bar, instead choosing to lounge by the pool in hopes to catch a tan. After all, what was summer for? 

You try to ignore the obvious, what the Mykonos was to you a year prior. The memories it gave the person it brought to you. The laughter. The ease. The smell of fresh fallen rain. All the good in Daniel clung onto you and you clung right back. A year ago you met someone who changed your worldview, caught a glimpse of your soul, before shattering your being. He was the best and worst thing that could’ve possibly happened to you. 

August… August and all the months that followed slipped away in a moment in time. It fell to the back of your mind, laid to rest so that you’d find a bit of peace. You hope Daniel is well, wherever he is in the world. You hope that he hasn’t forgotten about you, like how you haven’t forgotten him. 

Another sip of your strawberry margarita, drinking down the remnants of slush in the glass before setting it down and laying it back. And the sun disappeared, a shadow took its place. But you were warm, you were comforted, you felt at peace. You felt good. So you smile, hand coming up to block the bits of sunlight that peek behind him. You catch a glimpse of messy curls and a smile so wide you’re sure it hurts. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

d rambles. . . hey girl hey. i haven't put out a fic in fucking ages, sorry bout that. but yay, new blog, new fic!! this turned into a MONSTER, but i think im happy with how it all came together. was the ending a little rushed? maybe. but in my defense, this whole fic turned out soooo much longer than i initially planned. anyways. i hope you liked this one & as always, feedback is always always appreciated.

[himegureisu]

Hiii! If its no trouble, could I request a snape and professor! Reader where she's the new DADA teacher and he doesn't like her at first? They always argue over little things so they go out of their way to annoy each other (which is very entertaining for the students) until one day she kisses him to shut him up (it works wonderfully)?? And a confession too? Thanksss!!

the Cause of Your Happiness

A/N: I tweaked the end so instead of she kisses him, he kisses her. I hope you like it. This is the first request I ever had. :>

——————————— 🪄———————————

“Good morning, Professors,” The Headmaster greeted cheerily,

It was far too early in the morning to be that lively.

His staff rounded up at a table in the faculty room for the introduction of the new Defense of the Dark Arts Professor. A position that was rumored to be jinxed because previous Professors never seem to stay for long. A position that a certain Potions’ Professor desired since time immemorial.

“I’m happy to introduce our new Defense of the Dark Arts Professor,” he introduced you to them, as you entered the room, “A former Auror of MACUSA,”

“I’m pleased to meet everyone,” you said, a small hopeful smile on your lips, “Thank you headmaster, for this opportunity,”

“Severus,” he gestured to the dark and broody Potions’ Master, “If you would take her around the castle before the term starts?”

“Of course, Headmaster,”

——————————— 🪄———————————

You developed a rivalry of sorts after the castle tour.

Either he or you would go out of your way to annoy the other. He started a week after sorting, adjusting the materials you’d made for the students in class. In turn, you shrunk a significant amount of potion vials in the classroom. You would storm in his classroom to complain. He would disrupt grading and meetings, demanding for you to turn the items back to the way they were.

There were times that you started it and he finished it. Truly, it depended on the days you find each other annoying. Your bickering, the students' latest form of entertainment.

It was becoming quite the spectacle especially when your antics came to the dining hall. His utensils rendered useless, bent by your magic as a sly smile formed on your lips. On the other hand, he turned your hair red that day, which backfired horribly, because students complimented you and that it was an attractive color on you.

However, he did like you as you were and you are secretly smitten.

Your goal changed from annoying to trying to coax a smile on his face. For Severus, on the other hand, besides Minerva and Pomona, you were the one who tolerated and responded in kind to his antics.

It was a good change. A change he was enjoying far too much.

There were times he placed a minor annoyance in your classroom just so he could see you. To see your cheeks pink in frustration, to hear your voice even if you were berating him. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to discourage you from keeping the post. Not fall for you.

At the moment, he confronted you in the classroom as you prepared incentives for your students.

“What is that?” he asked, peered over your shoulder to see a bowl on your table, as you answered, “Chocolate?”

“Muggle chocolate. It's a reward for the students who successfully cast their spells,” you dumped a bag of Lindt on it, “It gives them something to look forward to,”

“Don't mollycoddle them,” he grumbled. They were appetizing, the wrappers in different colors for different flavors, “They'll get used to it,”

“Just because you don't, I can't?” you responded, and turned to him, “Why are you even here?”

“You were far too happy when I passed,” he simply said. He heard you humming from the hallway, “I thought to check in what was causing it,”

“Would you prefer to be the cause of my happiness?” you asked nonchalantly, hands on your hips as he froze, “Then I suggest you —”

Your sentence interrupted by his soft lips against yours.

At that moment, it seemed that the world disappeared around you. His arm slowly wrapped around your waist, his hand gently pulled you closer, the other lightly cupped your cheek. His touch unexpectedly but undeniably tender, a stark contrast to his gruff demeanor moments ago, as he pulled away.

“Yes, I would like that very much,” he whispered, a smile on his face. Oh, it was a glorious sight, “To be the cause of your smiles, pink cheeks, laughter, and much more,”

“Severus,” you laughed, a hand on his chest to create a bit of distance between you, but he takes it and kisses the palm of your hand. “You are unbelievable,”

“I know,” he embraced you, hid his head on the nape of your neck, “On the other hand, you are irresistible,”

“What does this mean?” you asked, as you ran a hand through his hair, “Severus?”

“What we want it to be,”

[sweetkpopmusings]

first kiss with seventeen <3

a/n: i wanted to try out a new format with this request!! i think the idea of this is so sweet and lovely, and i hope you enjoy reading this <3 also oops it's so long heh i just couldn't resist so i hope that makes up for the wait :,-) pics not mine~

content: fluff, very sentimental and romantic | wc: 6.7k | warnings: none really! just some kissing obviously :,-) also a spoiler for eternal sunshine of the spotless mind in wonwoo's and mentions of eating in jihoon's | pairing: seventeen x gn!reader | requests: open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

seungcheol♡‧₊˚

you laughed, your head thrown back far enough to have you leaning on your elbow to keep you from falling. seungcheol stared at you in shock and annoyance. you and seungcheol were on the living room floor, playing uno. this round had gone on for an eternity, the deck disappearing and reappearing time and time again. through the luck of the draw, you pulled enough draw-four wildcards that you brought seungcheol from the brink of winning to a hand that consisted of over a dozen cards. he couldn't believe it. he lost. miserably. and all after the glorious win was close enough he could taste it. 

yet, there he was, an obscene number of cards in his hands while you laughed in delight. his competitive nature had him fuming. he wanted to yell about how it wasn't fair, how you must've cheated, how a small rule wasn't followed, how a rematch was needed, and how there was no possible way this was how the game night would end. heat rose to his face, his body tingled, and he felt as though his chest was about to explode. you still laughed, wiping your tears in enough time to catch seungcheol tossing his cards on the floor, shifting his weight so he was right in front of you, and planting his lips on yours. your eyes went wide with surprise, but your body quickly relaxed at the warmth his presence wrapped you up in. the high energy of the moment before melted into a playful peace.

as soon as he leaned backward, a blush rushed to his cheeks, "sorry, i..i should've asked. i didn't mean to surprise you like that. i hope it was okay, i'm sorry, i just--"

you giggled and gently held his face with your right hand. he blushed even more, and he broke out into a shy smile.

"it's okay. i liked it."

you blushed, and he giggled. you leaned forward, sharing another sweet kiss. he wanted to keep kissing, so he repositioned himself to a more comfortable spot beside you. your hands found each other, fingers interlacing. before he leaned in for another kiss, you asked, "why'd you kiss me?"

he looked confused, so you added, "i mean, why now. i've definitely wanted to kiss you, so i'm just wondering what made this moment feel right."

seungcheol shrugged, cheeks and ears flushing again, "i liked seeing how happy you were when you won."

you both laughed, and then you kissed some more. of course, you had to take breaks when the giggling fits took over. hearing his precious laugh fill the room stirred up the butterflies in your stomach almost as intensely as his kisses. as he sat there, so close to you, he realized that, for once, seungcheol was happy he lost a game.

jeonghan♡‧₊˚

"jeonghannnnnnn," you whined.

“what?” jeonghan asked, completely unbothered in tone and facial expression, except for a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“you’re being so mean!” you pouted, not really upset but rendered nearly speechless by his unending teasing.

“what’re you talking about?” he tilted his head in faux confusion, “i’m just enjoying the story of you ordering at the coffee shop.”

you dropped your head into your hands, “ugh! you’re enjoying it a bit too much. it’s not my fault i was so sleepy that i forgot what name to give them for second, a second.”

he laughed, “it’s your name! how could you forget your own name?”

“clearly i needed the coffee i was ordering,” you glared at him, “are you trying to tell me that you’ve never embarrassed yourself like that?”

jeonghan expressed deep contemplation, though you knew he was not looking through his memories for awkward moments he survived, “nope. i’ve never done anything like that.”

“i hate you,” you frowned.

he cocked his head to the side, “hmm, do you really hate me?”

you nodded emphatically, “yes.”

jeonghan sighed, “well, i guess i have to get my revenge on you by telling the guys about your identity crisis at the cafe.”

“jeonghannnnnn!” you pouted.

“aigoo,” jeonghan cooed as he held you face in both his hands.

you avoided eye contact, not wanting to break your frustrated demeanor. it didn’t matter to jeonghan, though. he simply watched you fondly for a second before pressing a kiss to your pouted lips. you quickly looked up at him with wide eyes, causing him to smirk at your flustered face. he hummed contentedly, kissing you again briefly, and then returned to his previous lounging position.

“i’ll take your silence as a truce,” jeonghan remarked, enjoying the sight of your dropped jaw from the corner of his eye.

“no, no way! that’s not…” you shook your head to get your brain working again, even if you only managed to find a little bit of a brain cell, “that’s not fair. you cheated.”

giggling erupted from his lips, “i cheated? at what?”

you stared at him incredulously, “at your revenge! how am i supposed to plot my perfect revenge plan when you kiss me out of nowhere? it’s distracting.”

jeonghan turned his face to you, eyeing you with mischievous eyes once again, “in that case, i think you’ll just have to kiss me to get even. it’s only fair, if we’re playing by your rules.”

you rolled your eyes, but barely a second passed before you took jeonghan’s face in your hands and kissed him. from up close, you could see the blush on his skin and the upward twitch of his lips into a bashful smile. he wasn’t so invincible, after all. at least, not when it came to you.

joshua♡‧₊˚

it was a perfect walk home after a perfect dinner date. joshua took you somewhere you had been wanting to try for a while, and the atmosphere was quiet and cozy, which put both of you in a wonderful mood. when you stepped outside, there was a chill in the air, and, before you could even shiver, shua had slipped out of his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. his hand remained on your shoulder, gently leading you onto the road as he smiled beside you. once you were on your way, he interlocked his fingers with yours. you smiled at the warmth spreading from your palm throughout your body, smiling even wider as joshua lightly swung your hands back and forth while you walked down the street. if it weren't for the sound of vehicles passing by, you could've sworn shua was humming your favorite song.

"i had a really great time tonight," you turned your head toward him.

he raised an eyebrow, "'had'?"

you rolled your eyes, "fine. i'm having a really good time tonight."

he nodded his head approvingly, "that's better."

shua continued walking, but you stopped in your tracks. he wasn't the only one who could tease around here.

his body stumbled when your frozen position yanked him backward. his doe eyes went wide, shock and confusion blending with endeared amusement.

"are you going to tell me what kind of time you're having tonight?"

you cocked an eyebrow. joshua held back a laugh as he stepped towards you, not wanting to be an arm's length away. he stopped when he was standing right in front of you. he looked at you, eyes bright, and he took your other hand in his. you kept your faux inquisitive gaze on him, waiting for his response.

"i'm having..." he whispered, leaning in close.

his lips softly brushed against yours. you felt him squeeze your hands gently, encouraging you to melt into the kiss. you didn't need much convincing, letting your eyes flutter shut so you could relish in the sweetness of his lips on yours.

he breathed out softly as he rested his forehead on yours, "a really good time tonight."

you giggled, lips buzzing from the exciting contact you wanted to have with joshua over and over again. he smiled proudly, tilting his head in the direction of your home to signal you should keep walking. knowing him, he'd plant more kisses on your lips when he said "goodnight" at your door, so you didn't resist as he led you home. you actually leaned in close to him, hearing clearly the hums that absentmindedly escaped him.

a few minutes later, there's a slight crackling in the sky, quickly followed by raindrops.

"ah man," joshua huffed, "i should've been more patient. this would've been the perfect moment for our first kiss!"

you rolled your eyes, "it was perfect, shua. now let's get going before we're completely drenched."

he pouted, "okay, okay.  just promise me you'll let me kiss you goodnight outside your front door? we need to have our movie moment there since we missed the kissing in the rain one!"

junhui♡‧₊˚

“okay, let’s try this again,” you sighed, “you put your fingers like this and pull.”

you demonstrated slowly, holding up the formation of your cat’s cradle for jun to see. his brow was furrowed in intense concentration with a splash of confusion, but he nodded when you asked if he was ready to try again. when he did, he got his fingers stuck in the string halfway through the process for the twentieth time. jun groaned in frustration.

“i’m never going to get this!” he pouted while you untangled his fingers.

“you can do it, jun. it just takes some patience,” you reminded him.

he rolled his eyes, and you set the strings back up properly. you walked him through it, step by step, taking care to explain in detail the bit he was messing up. despite your and his best efforts, the string knotted up, rather than fitting evenly across his fingers. 

“it’s useless! you should just play this with soonyoung or something,” jun frowned, “i’m sure he’d get this stupid game.”

“hey!” you nudged his shoulder, “the game’s not stupid, and i don’t want to play it with soonyoung. i want to play it with you, even if you can’t figure it out right away.”

“how is dealing with me mess up the game more fun than actually playing it?” jun asked, genuinely curious.

though his question was harmless, you couldn’t help the annoyance that crossed your features. the answer was obvious, to everyone but jun apparently. you huffed in reply, opting to set up the cat’s cradle with your fingers rather than explain yourself. jun couldn’t handle the look on your face, especially since he knew it was his whining that made your face pucker up like that. he wanted, needed, to cheer you up, so, without thinking, he leaned forward from his spot on the couch and kissed you. the rush of adrenaline you felt lifted your hands to either side of his face, as you happily kissed him back, string completely forgotten in your lap. it was as though you had kissed a million times before, which made you certain you wanted to share at least a million more kisses with him, even if it meant he would never figure out how to play a silly childhood game. 

jun pulled away and booped the tip of your nose with his, “at least i understand how to do that.”

you bit your lip to hide the excited smile growing on your face, but jun made no such effort. he beamed at you, giggling at this turn of events. he wanted to kiss you again, but he got nervous, so he picked the string up from your lap.

“should we try it again?” jun paused when you raised your eyebrows, smirking as he said, “if i figure it out, i get to kiss you as much as i want. deal?”

“what do i get if you can’t figure it out?” you raised your eyebrow playfully.

“you get to kiss me as much as you want. or i could buy you a meal sometime.” 

you giggled, “i’ll take the first option, thank you. now give me your hands.”

soonyoung♡‧₊˚

soonyoung cheered as you walked into the practice room, running over to you and engulfing you in a sweet and sweaty bear hug.

“i didn’t even bring snacks and you’re this excited to see me?”

his body visibly buzzed as he nodded enthusiastically, “nothing makes me happier than seeing you!”

a little shocked and extremely endeared, you smiled widely. soonyoung, realizing his confession, blushed profusely. as a distraction, he wrapped his hand around yours and led you to the perfect spot against the mirror from where you could watch him practice. of course, he wasn’t going to get back into the dancing right away, as he couldn’t and wouldn’t resist your company. 

he played one of your favorite chill mixes, sat down on the floor right across from you, and asked you all about your day. his smile and eyes were bright as he listened, holding onto every last detail as though it were a precious gift. his interest in what you had for lunch was so genuine your heart could burst. he only spoke once he was satisfied that he had heard every detail about how you had spent your day before coming to visit him.

“can i tell you something?”

soonyoung looked bashful, so you made sure caught his gaze when you answered, “yes, of course!”

a small chuckle fell out from his mouth, “well, actually, i would like to ask you something, if that’s okay?”

you giggled, leaning forward so he knew you were serious, “ask away, soonyoung.”

he beamed at the sound of you saying his name. fingers fidgeting with his pants, he leaned forward to reduce the distance between you two. his proximity made your cheeks flush, and you were certain they were on fire when soonyoung asked you the question that had been on his mind all day.

“can i kiss you?”

a small smile rested on his lips and his eyes watched you attentively while he waited for your answer. after your brain buffered a little bit, you nodded happily and muttered out some form of “yes.” soonyoung blushed in front of you, gently grabbing your hands in his. once he held onto you enough to know he wasn’t dreaming, he closed his eyes and leaned forward until his lips met yours. it was heavenly, sweet like candy, and it would’ve lasted for an eternity if soonyoung’s giggle hadn’t bubbled from his lips into the kiss. you couldn’t help but giggle too, feeling like a child on the playground sneaking a kiss during recess. soonyoung really made everything feel lighthearted.

you two sat there giggling, until soonyoung’s excitement spread throughout his body and brought him back on his feet. you cheered him on as he danced, laughing each time he took a random break to kiss you, again and again and again.

wonwoo♡‧₊˚

there was something so dreamy about watching movies with wonwoo. the blankets were always perfectly soft, the snacks were always exactly what you were craving, and your bodies always cuddled together in the most natural way. you had movie nights together before you started going out, which meant that you already shared a comfortable tradition by the time you confessed your feelings to each other. that’s how you ended up snuggled up on the couch, watching eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. another perfect, sweet night spent with your perfect, sweet partner. 

you watched as the female lead, clementine, sat down by the male lead, joel, on the beach. when she commented on how he seemed normal because he also didn’t know how to talk to people at parties, you chuckled and nudged wonwoo’s shoulder with yours. he chuckled too, knowing what you meant without you having to say it. both of you were quiet and wistfully watching as the world around the lovers disintegrated. neither of you could help the tears that threatened to slip when the characters kiss goodbye before the important memory fades completely. wonwoo sighed deeply, clearly sad for the couple on the screen.

“i could never forget you,” you whispered.

wonwoo tilted his head so he faced you, pausing before he spoke, either finding the right words or the courage to say them, “i could never live with myself if i gave you a reason to forget me.”

the movie buzzed in the room, but a special silence hung between you two. his irises spun, mixing adoration, fondness, earnestness together as he stared at you. the look in his eyes didn’t change as he leaned forward. even when he closed his eyes, you knew those feelings reflected in his gaze hadn’t faded. you felt them as he lips interlocked with yours. you felt those feelings rush through your veins as the warmth of his kiss rushed over your skin. your bodies pressed even closer together, holding each other with genuine care, the kind that lived in the bodies of people who were falling deeply in love. when your mouths separated to catch your breath, your eyes never left the other.

the ending credits of the film played. you both turned your heads, and wonwoo laughed a little as he said, “looks like we missed the ending.”

you chuckled, snuggling up against him, “i think it was worth it.”

“even if you missed them getting their happy ending?”

“mhm,” you hummed and took wonwoo’s hand in yours, “i’d rather focus on our happy ending.”

he chuckled, at a loss for words, which happened more often than he’d like to admit when it came to you. even in the dim light on the room, you could see the pink of wonwoo’s ears. unable to resist, you kissed his cheek, leaning in for more when he turned to face you with a lovestruck smile.

jihoon♡‧₊˚

you tapped your knuckles softly against the door, not wanting to disturb jihoon. of course, he would know your knock before the second rap of your fist against the frame sounded, so he opened the door with a warm, albeit tired, smile.

"i brought gifts, as promised," you cheerily held up a bag of takeout and a collection of snacks and drinks from the convenience store next to the studio.

jihoon chuckled at your actions, gesturing toward the table against the wall for you to place the "gifts." you hummed as you unpacked all the items you purchased, and, unbeknownst to you, jihoon watched you with the fondest look in his eyes. he tried to play it cool when you turned to him, but nothing melted him like the way you glowed when you smiled.

“how’s the song coming along?” you asked, opening the bottle of his favorite drink and passing it to him.

he sighed, “it’s fine. i’m stuck on the bridge. i know i want to rearrange a part of it, but i can’t really figure out exactly how i want to. it’s like the perfect version is on the tip of my tongue.”

you hummed, knowing exactly what he meant, given this was one of many nights you visited him as he stayed late in the studio, “would it help if i listened to it? maybe if you show me a couple different versions, you can figure out the right reaction you want the listener to have.”

“that could help,” his shoulders relaxed a little bit, and he took a sip of his drink, “after we eat, though. how was your day?”

“it wasn’t too bad,” you popped some of your favorite snack into your mouth, “i wanted to be more productive today, but i got really tired after doing only two things on my to-do list.”

“you need to rest. you work plenty hard every day, so it’s important to let yourself do nothing sometimes.”

you snickered at his nagging, “you should take your own advice.”

he rolled his eyes, “i do nothing sometimes.”

“mhm, sure you do,” you pointed at the unopened bag in his hand, “eat. i’m sure you skipped having a proper dinner because you’ve been so focused on the song.”

the corner of his mouth revealed that he was fighting a smile, “yeah, yeah.”

you stared at him, clearly not moving on until he took a bite of food. he stared back, acting like he wouldn’t back down either. he probably would’ve held out, if it weren’t for the gratitude he felt toward you. once again, you came to his side when he was stressed and overworking, not to scold him but to keep him company and make sure he was taking care of himself. these thoughts were on the forefront of his mind, so he didn’t notice when his feet led him toward you. if it weren’t for the quickening of his heartbeat, he wouldn’t have noticed that he was millimeters away from your lips. before he could psyche himself out of it, he closed his eyes and kissed you. you nearly dropped the food in your hands, but jihoon wrapped his around yours, to hold you and to prevent you from making a mess. a blush covered his face when he broke the kiss, but he managed to give you another quick peck before he stepped away from you. 

“thank you for coming over,” he smiled sheepishly. 

“yeah, uh…no…no problem. i’m…i’m happy to be here.”

he chuckled at your stuttering, “mmm. want to listen to that song now?”

you nodded, trying to regulate your heartbeat as you settled into your usual seat behind jihoon’s and he gingerly placed headphones over your ears.

seokmin♡‧₊˚

you laughed as seokmin gestured wildly and dramatically belted out the key note in the OST track you two were currently obsessed with. of course, even with his antics, he sung angelically. laughing while being in awe of his talent was one of the many benefits of dating seokmin. another benefit was that he would always sing to you, which was about the best experience in the world. even just humming while he looked at you made you feel as though you were the center of the universe. for the same reason, he loved when you sang to him, and he loved even more when you sang with him. it didn’t matter whether your voice was perfect; seokmin adored the closeness you shared when you sang together. in the car, in the living room, in the park, wherever you were when the moment struck, seokmin was head over heels for how it felt to hear your voices intertwined.

this moment was no different. as soon as seokmin heard “SoulMate” start, he rushed to you, grabbing your hand in his and smiling oh so sweetly. that sunshine smile could convince you to do anything, and you happily sang your usual parts while seokmin looked at you with very visible heart eyes. he swung your intertwined hands back and forth as he serenaded you, even using this point of contact to lead you around the room as you two danced to the beat together. in his joy, he made a silly combination of dance moves, which you followed, much to his delight.

it wasn’t serious, but it was sincere, which made it all the more fun. 

your giggles were bouncing off the walls during the instrumental bits, bleeding into your voices as you sang the final lines of the song. seokmin twirled you around as the finale to your impromptu choreography, grinning at you when you stood right in front of him. neither of you noticed the next song start. all you could do was stare at each other, so endeared and enchanted by the moment. 

seokmin kept smiling as he brought himself closer to you, his nose softly brushing against yours when your lips touched. when your lips connected, everything else faded away. it was just you, seokmin, and whatever background music swelled through the room during this moment. it was sweet; it was magical; it was perfect for the two of you.

seokmin smiled even brighter as he watched you up close, “i think we should duet more often.”

you nodded, leaning in for another kiss, “i agree.”

seokmin happily exchanged kisses with you, ignoring the music until one of his favorite songs came on. he kissed you on the cheek, grinning as he stepped away to break into a very dramatic and enthusiastic dance. while you missed the feeling of his lips on yours, you laughed at his showmanship, clapping your hands to cheer him on.

mingyu♡‧₊˚

mingyu’s fingers tapped frantically against his leg. his brow furrowed, and his gaze was nowhere near the pot that simmered in front of him. his ears clearly weren’t tuned into reality either because, even as the sound of erratic bubbles boiling filled the room, mingyu didn’t move a muscle. thankfully, you were there.

“mingyu!” you exclaimed, grabbing the pot from the stove just in time to prevent a flood onto the burner.

he blinked a few times, registering what had happened. after the fourth blink, his eyes went wide, “ah! are you okay? did you get burned? are you hurt?”

the corner of your mouth turned upward, a grateful smile the most natural reaction to mingyu’s caretaking nature. you turned down the heat and placed the pot back in its original place, so the meal wasn’t derailed any longer. mingyu’s eyes searched around your body for visible wounds, continuing his search by grabbing your arm and inspecting your forearm with gentle fingertips in search of anything amiss. 

“i’m fine, gyu.”

he let out a relieved breath. his puppy smile returned to his face, clearly happy to be back down to the earth that had you on it.

“are you okay? you were a million miles away,” your face was covered in concern, causing mingyu’s gaze to drop and his shoulders to slump. 

“i’m fine,” he nearly whispered, “things are just…a little…stressful right now. that’s all.”

you sighed. you took a step closer to him, brushing hair out of his face as you guided him to look back up at you. instinctively, his head leaned into your palm, his body relaxing at your familiar touch. 

“you can tell me if something’s wrong, you know? i want you to tell me when you’re stressed out, hurt, upset, or anything like that. i want to be there for you, and i always am, but i’d feel better knowing what’s going on in that head of yours. if i know what’s going on, i can help you better.”

mingyu’s eyes sparkled with adoration and tears. his hand held your face lightly, thumb stroking your cheek. your eyelids fluttered shut, savoring his warm touch in a quiet kitchen on an afternoon spent between just the two of you. nothing felt better than this.

or so you thought. you thought that right up until you felt mingyu’s breath fan against your lips, up until his mouth connected with yours, a gesture so tender and delicate you would’ve thought it were a dream if not for the way mingyu’s other hand came up to cup your face. the warmth of his palms and the heat of his lips enveloped you, and you sighed into the kiss, letting your whole self fall into the fleeting moment of divinity.

you opened your eyes when mingyu rested his forehead against yours. his eyes, still sparkling, examined your features for signs of discomfort or trepidation. they crinkled with a smile when he found nothing but a blissful daze coating your features.

“thank you,” he whispered.

“i should be thanking you,” you smiled, “you’re the one who kissed me.”

he let out a chuckle, “you’re welcome. but that’s not why i was thanking you.”

“oh?”

he kissed the tip of your nose, smiling brightly, “thank you for caring about me.”

minghao♡‧₊˚

“do you promise i didn’t wake you?”

you laughed into the phone, “yes, minghao, i promise you didn’t wake me.”

“good, good.”

the pause lasted longer than you expected, so you shifted in bed to sit up, “what’s going on, hao?”

he sighs, “i just…well, i know after traveling all day i should be fast asleep, but i would really like to see you. would you mind if i came over?”

your heart burst at his sweet voice and request, “of course you can come over. would you like me to make you some tea?”

he could hear the blankets rustle as you stood up from your bed, and he smiled, “that would be lovely. thank you.”

“mhm,” you stretched lightly, making your way to the kitchen, “i’ll see you soon.”

you weren’t lying when you told minghao that he hadn’t woken you up when he called. sure, you had been on the verge of falling asleep, but you missed minghao so much while he was away that you were constantly keeping an eye out for a message or call from him. that’s why you answered after the first ring, sleep falling away to make room for desire to see minghao.

you were peacefully staring off into space, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling the water. just as you were pouring hot water into minghao’s mug, you heard a knock at the door. a sleepy minghao greeted you as you opened the door, shuffling into your place before he wrapped you in his arms. he lingered in the hug, breathing in your scent and sighing contentedly. you held onto his hand as you led him to the kitchen where two mugs of tea awaited you. 

he watched you lovingly as you took your first sip, hiding his smile by taking a sip from his mug. you two stood in a comfortable silence, happily taking in the sight of the other after a time apart, only being able to see each other through screens.

“how was your flight?”

he hummed in contemplation, “uneventful.”

you giggled at the excited tone behind his description, “that must’ve been nice.”

he giggled at your giggle, “it’s much nicer to be here.”

“ah, i forgot how cheesy you are when you’re tired.”

“i can’t help it,” he smiled, “it’s hard to resist when i missed you so much and when you blush at everything i say.”

“i do not blush at everything you say!” you protested.

more of his cute giggle rang in the room. he set his mug down, took a couple of steps so he was right in front of you, and wrapped his arms around your waist. he smiled sweetly as he watched you. you fought the blush threatening to break through your skin, but you let the gleeful smile reserved only for him grace your face.

minghao whispered, so as not to disrupt the delicate late-night calm that surrounded you two, “you look so pretty right now. can i please kiss you?”

your mouth dropped open in surprise, though it quickly turned to a grin in response to his straightforwardness. out of fear of sounding too eager, you nodded, gripping onto your warm mug of tea to remind yourself that this was real life. minghao giggled again as he brought his face right in front of yours. he paused, beautiful brown eyes savoring the sight of you up close.

“are you sure?” 

behind his teasing tone, you sensed his nervousness. instead of saying “yes,” you pressed your lips against his. his fingertips squeezed slightly where he held your waist, perhaps also needing a reminder himself that this was real life. when you pulled away, he couldn’t stop his giggles. he was simply so delighted to have finally kissed you. when he watched you giggle happily, he knew he didn’t care whether he woke you up, if it meant he could spend the rest of the night kissing you again and again until you both drifted off to sleep.

seungkwan♡‧₊˚

“no, no, no,” seungkwan shook his head, “you have to turn like this.”

he slowly, and exaggeratedly, mimicked the exact part of the choreography you were struggling with. he motioned for you to try it, and he huffed in frustration when you still were finishing the turn a beat early. after a few more attempts at mirroring seungkwan, he shook his hand in the air to signal that you were done for the time being.

“ah, i swear,” he put his hands on his hips, “if you weren’t serious about learning Twice’s choreography, you shouldn’t have asked me to teach you.”

he was being serious himself, his competitive side coming out despite it being just the two of you, so you held back your laugh, “i am serious about learning Twice’s choreography from you.”

seungkwan looked at you incredulously, “so you’re not in it for the dancing?”

you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, “i’m mostly in it to hang out with you, dumby. learning the choreo is a bonus.”

to hide the smile forming on his face, he rolled his eyes and dramatically turned away from you, “well, if you want to keep hanging out with me, you need to get this right. let’s try it again from the pre-chorus. if you don’t get the combination right, i’m never hanging out with you again!”

seungkwan shot you a glare to let you know he meant what he said, so you hid your giggle behind your hand. once the music was playing through the speaker, he counted you in. you did your absolute best, following seungkwan’s moves and finding your groove in the song. the cursed combination was only a few counts away, so you focused with all your might on executing it correctly. perhaps through a miracle, or, more likely, the intensity of seungkwan’s gaze on you from the mirror, you finally turned the way you had been begging your body to for an hour. you moved to finish the chorus, but you were interrupted by seungkwan screaming.

“you did it! you’re amazing! i knew you had it in you! i’m so proud! that’s main dancer energy!”

seungkwan grinned as he ran toward you and celebrated your success. he didn’t skip a beat between singing his praises and excitedly kissing you. your mouth dropped open out of surprise, and his eyes went as wide as saucers. 

“we should get back to the routine,” seungkwan moved backwards, stumbling over his feet and blushing furiously, “just because you got the combination once doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. repetition is–”

“seungkwan!”

he tripped over his feet before you could reach forward to catch him. he burst into embarrassed laughter and covered his face with his hands. you laughed too, kneeling beside him to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured.

“don’t look at me,” he mumbled into his hands.

you giggled, “hmm, how am i supposed to learn more of the dance if i can’t look at you?”

seungkwan peeked at you through his fingers, “so you are serious about learning Twice’s choreography?”

you nodded, giggling as you helped him up. before you took your place behind him in the practice room, you snuck a kiss to his cheek, which made him malfunction even more. trying to keep his cool, he moved right into reviewing the next set of moves, but you could see very clearly the bright pink tips of his ears.

hansol♡‧₊˚

your eyes were closed, as you rested comfortably on a pillow and blanket on the living room floor. hansol lied down next to you, sharing half of the pair of headphones you wore. he had asked you to come over, so you could listen to some music he thought you would like. you happily obliged, eager for some quality time with him and his impeccable music taste.

the floor whispered beside you and, softly and sweetly, hansol's hand brushed against yours. an unspoken agreement, your hand opened, only to close when your palms were nestled against each other. you heard a light rustling, so you turned your head toward hansol. his fluffy hair laid in a subtle mess against his face and the pillow beneath him. his dark brown eyes sparkled so intensely, that, if you did not know so deeply the brightness inside him, you would've thought you were hallucinating. your mouth opened, but your mind couldn't come up with anything to say. the music was too moving, the man beside you much too breathtaking to leave room for conversation. hansol, observant as ever, let out a light chuckle, lips upturned as innocently as the amused crinkle in his eyes.

the song trailed off, slowly fading into a new one, and he nudged his way closer to you, "hey."

you smiled, cheeked pressed against your own pillow and your heart pounding at the proximity, "hey."

he watched you, gently and up close, and the softness of it all threatened to set you on fire. his tenderness would burn you alive with delight. you were sure of it.

hansol was sure of something else, too, "i really like being here with you. listening to music, like this."

heat rushed to your cheeks, and you smiled even brighter. hansol squeezed your hand lightly as he brought himself next to you, shoulder to shoulder, noses touching. those darling eyes looked at you again, flickering down to your lips and back up to meet your gaze, inquisitive and kind. you nodded, a movement so slight he would not have noticed it if he were any farther from you. thankfully, he was right where he needed to be, and he brought his mouth to yours.

you let out a dreamy sigh, absorbing the caress of hansol's lips against yours and the wafting melody of the song he had picked out just for you. too soon, the kiss ended, and, when you opened your eyes, you saw his were still closed. unable to resist, you kissed the tip of his nose, giggling as his brown eyes shot open, bewilderment and fondness filling his gaze.

"i really like being here with you," you whispered, earning a blush and gummy smile from hansol.

chan♡‧₊˚

a chorus of cheers and whoops broke out behind you as you and chan walked out of the club. it turned out that with the right combination of alcohol, dancing, and camaraderie, an intense and life-threatening craving for ice cream and snacks will take over your group of friends on a night out. it also turned out that, because your friends and his friends knew there was a little something more between you and chan, you two were nominated as the official snack saviors.

the noise of the club and your friends melted away, punctuating the sound of your laughter mixing with chan's on the somewhat quiet street. not wanting to miss the moment, your gaze lingered on chan's side profile, his smile bursting with joy at the ridiculousness of the people he holds close.

"we were chosen for this...why, again?"

chan cocked his head sideways, his signature playful glint in his eyes setting off the butterflies in your stomach. trying to conceal your panic, you rolled your eyes, chuckling a bit yourself.

"because we're the lucky ones."

"hmmmm," chan nodded, furrowed brow proving he was genuinely considering your statement.

"well," he grinned, reaching into his pocket, "seungkwan-hyung is the lucky one who gets to buy snacks for everyone."

you burst out laughing as he showed off seungkwan's wallet like a product in a late-night infomercial. your laughter showered him with serotonin, his grin soon giving way to a fit of laughter. you two managed to continue down the sidewalk toward the convenience store without falling over, despite the tears in your eyes and the silly looks shared between you. once the fluorescent light poured onto the ground at your feet, you paused to catch your breath. right when you took a deep breath to calm your heartbeat, a gasp fell out of your mouth as chan's hand playfully grabbed your wrist. the movement and your curiosity made you face chan, whose mischievous eyes had returned full force.

"chan? what're you...?"

he stepped forward, pulling your arm enough to close the remaining gap of space between you. chan's smile never faltered, even growing when he saw your eyes widen as he leaned in. even when his lips pressed against yours, you could tell his smile hadn't completely disappeared. if you were being honest, you could practically taste his glee, mixed right in with the alcohol from the club. you smiled into the kiss, unable to resist the heavenly happiness chan brought to you. his other hand found its way to your face when he broke the kiss. his thumb traced your cheekbone, relishing in the proximity you shared.

"we really are the lucky ones, huh?"

you rolled your eyes, covering his hand with your own and meeting his lips for another sweet kiss. your friends could wait. you two had a more important mission to complete first.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

Should the dev team have committed to Zelda's draconification being permanent and have her stay a dragon at the end, and would that have made for a more honest and poignant ending than the one we got? Some fans think that the ending we got renders her sacrifice completely meaningless and devoid of impact.

The dev team absolutely should NOT have committed to Zelda’s draconification. It would have ruined the entire story and narrative for Zelda’s character and Hyrule itself.

Some people think it made the sacrifice meaningless and devoid of impact. . . But it didn’t. Her choice was her own and it was a statement of dedication to Link and Hyrule as a whole. It was also utterly tragic that she had to do this in order to heal the Master Sword. I am still in utter distress whenever I play the game and watch the memories, despite knowing the ending. Because it’s the tragedy she endured willingly that makes the sacrifice meaningful, not the permanence of it. The sacrifice would hold no value had it been a choice Zelda made knowing she would be reverted.

She didn’t. She thought it was permanent.

And I’m honestly tired of some of these fans just not wanting a happy ending for her character. She deserves peace and a happy life. That’s what she got, which is absolutely justified. And those who think of a story so plainly and only at the big picture miss the details and narratives that point directly towards the ending we actually got.

Let’s talk about if she didn’t turn back.

Firstly, we can start with simple things that personally can be reworked in the future but would create a hurdle for the devs in the future— Zelda would never die as a dragon, she is an immortal being. The Zelda series is quite literally founded upon a reincarnation cycle between Zelda, Link, and Ganon. And only one of them is linked through blood: Zelda. That would cause a bump in the whole reincarnation foundation.

Beyond that, Zelda’s character development would suffer with this choice becoming permanent.

Any fan upset by the ending doesn’t understand the implications of Zelda being granted a second chance. She dedicated her entire life before the calamity to training and praying, only to have her magic awaken AFTER the champions, her father, and nearly Link are killed. Her efforts for the next century keep her body suspended in time and keeps Ganon at bay through her light power. When she wakes up, she is granted a ‘second chance’. In reality, it is simply the life she fought for and rightfully deserved.

So after she made Hyrule her home again, unifying the scarcely populated land and invigorating its culture, she is once again forced to sacrifice everything. This time, she does so as a leader and as one who holds such strong power. Her journey as a Queen leads her to become the very leader she WANTS to be, not the one she was constantly reprimanded to be by her father and the old kingdom. And she learns this throughout her time in the past, with Rauru as her guide.

And that leads us to this point: the belief that to rule is to give up everything.

But where others are punished for this choice (despite Zelda’s warnings, Rauru’s ignorance of Ganondorf’s power leads to Sonia and his own death), Zelda is REWARDED for her choices.

Because she did not just claim that another will defeat Ganondorf and seal him away until present day like Rauru.

Zelda did much more. She raised the sky islands, made a promise with Mineru, solidified the aid of the sages, collected the Master Sword and chose to give LINK the best chance he could have against Ganondorf. Zelda did every single thing she could to ensure Ganondorf would be defeated. She even aids in the final battle, as her will is to end that evil and grant Hyrule the peace she herself will (presumably, to her own knowledge) never experience.

So when she is rewarded for her efforts, by being bathed in sacred light and her body reversed to its previous state. . . It is entirely in line with the narrative thus far. Additionally, Rauru and Sonia present themselves as a ‘second chance parents’ for Zelda. A supportive, patient father in Rauru. A guiding teacher and mother in Sonia.

Tears of the Kingdom mirrors Breath of the Wild in terms of Zelda’s development and story. To give an ending where Zelda remains a dragon. . . It would have been tragic and dishonest to the story that we got.

If you want to read something more in depth and not written by someone with one eye open, this post grants a well rounded answer to this question.

[prismuffin]

How would the bat boys, Conner and Wally (separately) react to being caught stealing their masc crush's hoodie?

So maybe Reader is gone on a trip or missing, or just went out for the day and forgot his jacket on his way out.

They see the left behide hoodie, and try it on really loving how it your hoodie looks on them. Maybe they end up falling asleep snuggled into it, when watching a moive in the common-room? Or were just going about their day wearing it.

Either way, at some point they get caught red handed, the Reader being flirty with them about the hoodie. Saying how they look good in his hoodie and they should keep it.

The guy crush asks are kinda my faves idk KSBDHSBDJS LMFAO these got king asf sorry?- anyways lol I think that-

Jason would rather die than be caught doing something like this. That’s why he’s being so quiet, putting on the hoodie he found laying over the back of some chair, your hoodie to be exact. Your scent filled his nose as he slid the jacket over his head, inhaling deeply. The original plan was to just try it on, he wouldn’t wear it for long in fear of being caught. But as he sat down on the couch, imagining your arms wrapped around him as he snuggled deeper into the fabric, he wasn’t so sure about taking it off just yet. Eventually he awoke to you shaking him, his brain not even rendering what he was wearing until the words left your mouth, “you look real cute in my hoodie Jason, but it’s cold as balls outside so I’m gonna need that back.” You smirked as his eyes widened. Shooting up here was quick to stutter out an attempt at an explanation though your laughter cut him off. You said he could keep the hoodie on since he likes wearing it so much and you’ll just go find another. It didn’t even render to him that you’d previously called him cute until you left.

Dick would probably not even be trying to find your hoodie, you left in quite a rush, saying a quick goodbye as you passed him. He just wandered to the common room where he saw your hoodie laid out. It was practically calling him, and he knew you wouldn’t be back for a while so he just threw it on. His hearts racing as the scent of you engulfs his senses anddddd now he can’t take it off. Loves just going about his day in your hoodie and just smelling it every now and then it’s very relaxing. Eventually though you come back and see him strutting through the halls in your hoodie and some sweatpants. You clear your throat and he spins around so fucking fast. He’s speechless as your raise your eyebrow, eyeing you hoodie before looking at him again. Welp, he’s been caught red handed not much to say. He’d shrug it off with a sheepish apology, getting ready for his fun to end, but the second you start flirting with him by telling him he looks good in it and that he can keep it he’s beaming. He’s never been so happy. Proudly wears your hoodie for the rest of the day.

Tim would noticed your hoodie, grabbing it with a confused expression. He knows it’s rather cold out and that you were in a rush so he tries to catch you before you get too far only to find out from Dick that you already left. He’s not sure how, perhaps he leaned too deep into the temptation of it but he was somehow wearing your hoodie sitting over his desk as he sketched out some blueprints. It was comforting to wear, it fit him well and it smelled like you, one of his hands would perpetually be holding the fabric near his nose because of this. You come back wayyy sooner than he expected you to. Busting in his room, you ask if he’s seen your hoodie anywhere. “Dick said you were the last person to-“ the silence that fills the air is suffocating. He doesn’t know if you’re gonna yell or laugh and he just stares, his face getting increasingly more red. Eventually you just blink and tell him he looks good and he’s quick to say sorry and to start taking the jacket off. You stop him, telling him you’ll just find another, winking before you leave. He face plants into the desk afterwards.

Conner would most likely put it on by accident. It was in his laundry so it had to be his, though he quickly realized this wasn’t the case. Even then he couldn’t help but wear the comforting jacket after learning it was yours. You weren’t at base today anyways so it shouldn’t be a problem. Like Dick, he’d go on about his day just wearing your hoodie while doing menial tasks. He feels much closer to you while wearing it and finds himself often hugging the fabric closer to him. When you come back and see him he’s pretty embarrassed, he hadn’t expected to come face to face with you when walking into the kitchen, let alone while wearing your hoodie. “I’ve been looking for that,” you gestures towards the hoodie, smirking while crossing your arms. He apologized immediately and quickly explained how it ended up in his laundry. He asked if you wanted it back and you said no, that he should keep it because it looks cute on him. You looking him up and down like that is gonna make him pass out.

Wally would have been resting in your room as you got ready to leave, saying goodbye as you finished and left. His eyes would drift over to a chair where your hoodie rested on the back and he’d gasp. “Oh no! Y/n left his hoodie!” …. “Y/n left his hoodie~” He’d practically skip over to the chair, almost tripping in the process as he throws the garment over his head. “and it smells like him too,” he’d dreamily sigh before deciding to go watch a movie! He’d totally forget he was even wearing it to be honest, well not completely. He’d still know he was but he’d forget that it was something he technically shouldn’t be doing. “Having fun in my jacket?” His eyes shot in your direction, his hand full of popcorn pausing near his mouth as he stared at you. He gulped down nothing but his embarrassment as he tried to sheepishly greet you, his blush creeping down to his neck. He’d try and use an excuse but you’d just cut him off, saying that he should keep the hoodie on since he looks so cute. This man almost exploded at those words, his heart was definitely beating faster than any normal humans should. You’d wink before he left and he’d practically crumple in on himself. He’s like water in your hands at that point.

———

Directory

[gaymaramada]

hey so how do you think the rottmnt brothers would deal with having a crush where the boys ask crush what they want for xmas? And crush just holds up a cardboard sign that suddenly appears out of nowhere that says “All I want for xmas is you” and a ? At the end. They smoothly asking the turtles out via xmas and Mariah carey song breaching containment and it playing everywhere. Crush saw their chance and took it

OMG THIS IS SO FUNNNN YES!!!!!

Managed to bang this one out on the big day! Happy holidays everyone! ❤️

Confessing to the Rise! Boys on Christmas

Christmas-centered, GN reader + pronouns

Leonardo

He doesn’t know what’s better: the fact that you’re asking him out, the fact that you’re doing it through Mariah Carey, or the fact that you must be a magician because whERE DID THAT SIGN EVEN COME FROM???

You can practically see the fireworks going off in his head as he bites his lip to keep a giddy grin at bay.

But he’s still Leo, so he’s gotta be cool about this.

“Y’know, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t sing the song…”

You raise your phone to reveal the song already pulled up and smugly press play on the song in question.

And he buckles over in laughter.

You two spend the evening watching Love Actually in honor of the cardboard sign bit.

Donatello

Ah! A silly reference! How quaint!

Doesn’t answer his question though.

His love language is gift-giving after all, and the concept of himself being a gift (while flattering) is far too vague for him to go off of.

You’re just gonna have to tell him word for word that this is a confession, okay?

The moment it hits him, he is — for the first time in his life — rendered speechless.

He’ll just stare at you blankly for a solid minute before stepping out of the room and doing that thing Ken did in the Barbie movie where he just goes

“SUBLIME!”

He comes back out as gracefully as ever and takes your hand,

“While it would have saved the both of us some time had you deterred from the theatrics, I cannot deny the amusing charm of your request. If all you desire is my company… I’d be happy to provide.”

(He does still want to get/make you something physical for the holidays, though)

Raphael

Oh you better believe he is elated.

My guy is so bashful and smiley it’s almost too cute.

“You— wha— me?? Aw, c-come on, Y/N, you’re making Raph blush…”

He does try to laugh it off as a simple reference to the song, but when you continue to insist that you’re being completely serious, his face begins to match his mask.

He looks up to you so much (except physically, of course :p) so the idea that you value him just as much gets him emotional.

He’s embarrassed by his Lovesick Stink, but you don’t mind it!

Once the initial surprise wears off, Raph gets much more confident and even a bit cocky when it comes to the two of you.

“Oh, yeah? Well guess what, little brother, I don’t even need to try to impress anyone because Y/N just loves Raph for Raph! And Raph feels the same about them!”

Michelangelo

“🎶 I DON’T WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS, THERE IS JUST ONE THING I NEED—🎶”

You should have known he’d start to sing, let’s be real.

Of course, then he complains afterwards that the song is stuck in his head.

After a short karaoke session, you tell him your answer again, gentler this time, and it clicks.

Mikey’s eyes sparkle as he breaks into a huge grin before pulling you into a hug.

“OHMIGOSH Y/N!!! Aww, I want to be with you for Christmas, too!!”

And of course you two spend the holiday making different kinds of crafts and sweets.

Gingerbread houses, ornaments, paper wreaths, peppermint bark, you name it.

The whole fam is excited about your creations, and you and Mikey lace your fingers together, proud to have made the holiday special for both each other and everyone else.

[merbear25]

Can I request Priest! Doffy fucking his little innocent reader? :3 Doffy calling his victim "little lamb" 🤭

AHHH Kari 💜💜💜💜💜💜 Thank you so much for requesting something, my lovely! I'm always happy to write something for you, especially when it's something dark and kinky 🤭 I really hope you like what I've written for you 😘

After so many lingering eyes tempting you, wanting to pull you into sin, you sought out advice from your congregation leader in hopes of him guiding you back on the path to righteousness. However, you come to realize that even those who are meant to be holy deliverers are no different from the common man.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, blasphemy, corruption, abuse of power, age gap implied, rough sex, vaginal penetration, bukkake 

Leading his devoted follower into sin (Priest!Doffy)

You spent many times praying on your Rosemary, sitting on the pew in front of the towering cross. The number of prayers you were advised to bestow onto the religious symbol always seemed to be climbing to rid you of your newfound sinful thoughts.

You hadn’t asked for this: the wandering eyes from others both in and outside of the congregation. Then why did you enjoy how it made you feel? Despite how wrong you knew it to be, you were left imagining what could happen if you returned their advances, most of which crept into your mind during the late hours of the night. These thoughts clouded your better judgment, rendering you helpless under such temptation.

Perhaps the Lord would understand, just this once, if you crossed the line into self fulfilling pleasure. With your unskilled touch, you were only left frustrated and unsatisfied, thinking that you’d brought disappointment upon yourself with no rewards of gratification.

Visiting Father Doffy directly seemed like the most logical next step; he had been a part of the Church for much longer than the other priests, meaning he had the most experience. Standing outside his office door, you hesitantly knocked, secretly hoping he wasn’t in so that you wouldn’t have to explain your shameful behavior to him.

“Come in.”

Peeking out from behind the door, you saw him working earnestly on documents. Sighing, he looked up at you and welcomed you into his office. “Oh, please come sit, my child. What brings you in here?”

Feeling a bit of warmth to his invitation to sit, you did as he requested. Nervously, you twiddled with your thumbs, unsure how to approach the topic of last night’s endeavors.

Picking up on your hesitation, he motioned to the other side of his desk and leaned against it to give this visit a more personal touch. “What’s on your mind?”

“Father, I’m afraid that I’ve been pulled, coaxed if you will, into sin. I just don’t understand how this could have happened. I attend mass regularly, as well as confession and I’m still filled with these overwhelming desires.” 

You looked up at him with desperation on your face, pleading for him to guide you back into the light, “Please, Father, help rid me of these thoughts.”

Such a delicious display of devotion and trust you held whetted his appetite and intrigued him—just how far would you be willing to go to earn your place in the Lord’s good grace again? 

His relaxed tone hid his dark intentions perfectly, leaving you blind to what was to come. “Have you given into these shameful urges?”

With the recollection of last night, you hung your head, “Yes, and I am most ashamed of it.”

Letting out a soft exhale of what he disguised as disappointment, he began pulling your puppet strings, “It is true that our Lord is forgiving, although willingly throwing yourself to sin is rather serious.”

As your body trembled at the thought of eternal damnation, he couldn’t help but lick his lips in the anticipation of tasting your sweet nectar. “Show me what you did,” the tone was void of its supportiveness, now being replaced with demand.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief and as you began to question him, he stopped you in your tracks, leaving you to linger in a limbo of confusion. The discomfort of exposing your body to him was being outweighed by your fear of disobeying one of God’s most devoted.

Taking off your pants, you positioned yourself on the chair, spreading your legs to reveal your slick coated folds. His gaze burned into you, leaving the feeling of hell fire singeing your immortal soul. You let your unskilled fingers show him just how useless you were at pleasing this pent-up lust. 

When he chuckled to himself, the heat on your face deepened. Leaning towards you and repositioning himself directly in front of you, he guided you through it, “This is the most sensitive part.” His finger hovered over your clit. Even without physical contact, the rush of him being so close made you tremble. “Be sure to give it attention by swirling your little fingers around it.”

As you followed his instructions, the difference was night and day. You started panting and squirming from the shockwaves of euphoria. 

“Such a beautiful display of obedience, my little lamb,” he let out a low chuckle the more your legs shook. 

Seeing you in such a helpless state was too good of an opportunity to resist taking advantage of. Standing over you, he unzipped his pants to expose his own sinful arousal. The confliction in your eyes, your quaking form: his cock ached to feel your pure touch on it.

Stroking slowly and steadily, his voice was stern, “Give me your hand.” Placing your hand on his length, he made you grip it to his liking and guided it up and down, demonstrating how best to please him. “Don’t stop playing with yourself.”

With each thrust he bucked into your hand, you could feel this burning urge for more. The succumbing to ecstasy was all over your delicate features. He leaned down, his breath hot on your sensitive skin as if taunting you, “Do you wish to give yourself to me, little lamb?”

“Please, show me the light, Father…”

The devil showed himself to you through the sadistic grin that stretched across his face. Without any warning, he angled his hips and plunged into you as deeply as he could. Even with your shrieks from the sudden waves of pain, he paid them no mind. You were his to do with as he pleased, to drag down to the pits of hell with him.

Playing with your clit, he reveled in your shocked expression; having never before been subjected to one of the greatest pleasures the Lord bestowed upon his people, you were perfect for Doffy to have his way with.

With each shudder, each spasm of your walls clamping around him, he continued being relentless until he was satisfied. Reveling in the fervor forcibly pushing you over the edge, you unraveling on him made him quickly follow suit.

Pulling out, he grabbed you by the throat, pushing you against the back of the chair as he hastily chased his own orgasm. With low, guttural grunts, his hot seed drenched your defiled innocence.

Trying to catch his breath, he grinned at the state of you: that sweet face being coated in his cum was a delectable sight to soak in.

Throwing a washcloth at you, he told you to clean yourself up. Doing so with shaky hands, he smirked at you, “Don’t worry. Our Lord is a forgiving and understanding one, remember?”

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) | chapter two: wednesday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, lots of angst in this one, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, smoking (plz remember smoking is injurious to your health, ppl), avoidance tactics, mentions of al-anon, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.3k

summary: while you get to know the kitchen staff of the bear a little better, you and carmy finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.

a/n: the song 'about you' by the 1975 makes me think of these two and is where the title comes from. also, i totally made up the pete has an airbnb thing but i just feel like he'd be in real estate or something with his little patagonia vests lol. anyways, happy valentine's day babes & enjoy!

read: part one | masterlist

Wednesday 

“Okay, this is some next level shit,” Marcus concludes, in between chews as he tries the brioche donuts you let rise overnight. “It’s got everything I like about the yeast donut but the flavor is so much more pronounced.”

“Carmy said you knew how to throw down but.”

Sydney nods, taking another bite of hers, and you watch as Fak holds the donut up to his ear, letting out a wild, “Wow.”

“Oh fuck,” Sydney practically groans, the salty-sweet flavors of the caramel hitting her taste buds.

Last night, pre-dinner shift, you were introduced to the colorful cast of characters that filled up this kitchen. There was Richie, Carmy’s not-biological-cousin cousin, and Tina, who’d been working in this kitchen since before any of you were born. And Neil the handyman, who somehow actively chose to go back his last name, Fak, which puzzled you. Then there was Ebrahim, who seemed to serve as the meat prep cook and the onsite first-aid guy. And Sydney, the brilliant sous who’d worked in fine dining kitchens till she came here, eager to learn from Carmy. 

It was a far cry from the kitchens you and Carmy used to work in but this kitchen there were similarities… things every kitchen has. Everyone has their own little quirks, preferences, styles…. 

They’re just a little more, well, allowed to be themselves and while overwhelming, you find it refreshing as well.

Fak smells the donut next, followed by another ‘wow,’ and your eyes widen as Fak begins licking just the icing. 

“Wow,” Fak repeats, carrying on his more-than-peculiar behavior. 

“Is he-?” you start, sharing a look with Sydney next. 

…alright? Is this normal? Is he okay?

“Yeah, sometimes we just let him–,” Sydney tries to explain, but she’s not quite sure how to explain Neil Fak to anyone outside of their ecosystem. 

“Okay.”

“Anyways, so this is just a personal preference and perhaps a symptom of too much time spent in fine dining, but I like to fuck around with weird flavors,” you continue to explain, in reference to the salty miso caramel creme pat you’ve filled the donut with. 

“I’m not much for too sweet-of-sweets,” you announce, earning a laugh from Marcus and Sydney. “... which yes, is a very odd thing to say for a pastry chef. So I like to find combinations that cut the sweetness of anything and give the taste buds another experience at the same time.”

“Which isn’t the direction you have to take your pastries, chef.”

Marcus shakes his head, “No, this is… super cool. And I like it a lot.”

“I apologize in advance if I sound like a total loser,” Sydney starts, placing her donut down on the paper towel. “But when I was at the CIA, I actually had your lemongrass creme brulee.

“With the black sesame ice cream?”

“And the sesame crumble.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. What a blast from the past. “Yeah, I had to fight hard to get some of those ingredients on the menu. You know. Before everyone thought it was cool to do shit like that.”

Sydney smiles in agreement, going back for more of her donut. 

“So what’re we workin’ on next, chef?” Marcus asks. He has his notebook out and has a few renderings drawn up with ideas he had last night. 

“Well now that we’ve built a great brioche together, I’d love to keep practicing your piping technique and-,” you begin, stopping mid sentence as Carmy joins the three of you. 

“Mornin’, chef! Hey, try this,” Marcus greets, ecstatic about the results of just a day of working with you, as he hands Carmy a donut. 

He takes it, immediately taking a bite. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes and dissects every single flavor note he experiences. You’re all quiet as you wait for his response. 

And honestly, you’re still pretty pissed off about him leaving you hanging the day before. After you and Marcus finished up your prep, you had made your way back to your airbnb – the one he set you up in when he asked you to come here. 

You had tried your best not to feel like a total loser as you hoped he'd reach out with an explanation. No call, no text, no nothing, wondering why he asked you to come in the first place. 

Carmy takes his time savoring his first bite. 

“I almost forgot how good you are at this,” he compliments, his tone neutral as if it’s just a fact. 

“Thank you, chef,” is all you say back to him. You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, and continuing to go over today’s bake with Marcus. 

You don’t mean to ignore Carmy, but you’re not sure how to act around him either. One minute he’s ignoring you, and the next he’s making you breakfast. And then he’s standing you up, leaving in the hands of his brash cousin? Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to keep things professional between the two of you. 

*

You work with Marcus till an hour or so into the lunch shift. You both agreed to start your days early, since you’re only here for a week, so that you could cram as much knowledge in as possible.

Marcus asks if he can take point on flavor pairings for tomorrow’s donuts, and you agree, before parting ways till later this evening. You’ve got to come back later today from one more late night prep. 

You haven’t spoken much to Carmy at all since he came in. As much as you’ve tried to focus all of your attention on working with Marcus, Carmy has a commanding presence as he expedites. He’s got something most chefs don’t – true leadership – and it seems like his skills have only improved since he left New York. You gather up your things, preparing to take the subway home for a midday nap, heading out the back door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were… out here,” you gasp. You're surprised to find Carmy sitting behind the shop, sitting a few stacked crates and smoking a cigarette.

Well, that part isn’t surprising – the smoking part. You contemplate taking a seat next to him and asking him for one, but you’re really trying to cut back these days.

“It’s-, you’re good,” he says, taking another drag. He exhales smoke and the eery feeling of deja vu overtakes you.

Instead of leaving, and continuing this game of avoidance, you stand your ground.

“Are you avoiding me?” you finally muster up the courage to ask. You try your best not to sound as angry with him as you are, to no avail, as more words begin tumbling out of your mouth. “Because, if I recall correctly, Carmy, you asked me to come out here.”

Carmy waits a beat, avoiding your gaze, and it only infuriates you further. You watch as he takes another hit off of the cigarette as you continue, your rage boiling up within you.

“I don’t get it!” you exclaim, shaking your head in pure disbelief. You’re trying your best not to shout. “You ask me to come out here, and make it as easy as possible for me to be here by putting me up in this airbnb, you make me breakfast, and then… what? It’s like-, it’s like I don’t exist?” 

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s always been like this with you. One step forward and five steps back.” 

You wait before saying the next thing. 

You’re not trying to be mean, but you’re hurt, and this whole experience has all been so confusing. 

“I guess I was fucking idiot to believe that you-, that you wanted me out here or something.”

“That’s not true,” Carmy denies, finally breaking his silence. Finally looking at you, even if just for a moment. His eyes return to the concrete pavement below him as he says, “I just-.”

You don’t want to scare him away now that he’s finally talking to you, but you also want answers. And there’s an elephant in the room that maybe, if you both just acknowledged it, could go away. He puts his cigarette out on the cement beneath his feat, tossing it away onto the concrete.

You lower your voice before speaking again. 

“Are you… do you still feel weird about what happened between us?” you ask cautiously, eager to fix whatever the hell it is between the two of you. “Because I didn’t think we’d have to talk about it since, well-, I just thought we said we’d just forget it. I mean, I’m not-, I don’t-, I just don’t want things to be this weird between us, Carm." 

In some ways, you don’t blame him. You had seen him at his absolute lowest: the day Mikey died. You wonder if he felt too ashamed of how vulnerable he had been. You wondered if he still felt weird about what had happened next….

You had argued with him that day – practically demanded that he not go in for dinner service that night. You knew he had wanted a distraction, but after the phone call, after learning what Mikey had done, you knew he was wrecked – even if he wouldn’t admit it. That level of denial couldn’t be healthy, but he'd snapped at you and you didn't think there was much you could do about it. It didn’t take long for him to blow up at a line cook mid-shift, and you had quickly ushered him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you had chastised him. “Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

Carmy had grabbed at his chest, and you knew he was having one of his breathing episodes. 

“Carmy, are you o-?"

He’d held out his hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you’d left him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in filled your ears, reinforcing your exact reasons why you hadn't thought it was a good idea for him to come in that night.

That night, you had made sure he got home okay, and he’d practically begged you to stay with him. It hadn’t been the first time you’d slept in the same bed, and you knew he was at his lowest point, in need of company. It hadn’t been until he started crying – sobbing really – that he finally broke.

“Carm,” you had whispered, unsure if he wanted you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

He had turned to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body. You had never seen him like that as he’d buried his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you had whispered, over and over again. You stroked his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do. You’d let him cry, continuing to run your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort your could.

When he finally looked up, all he could think to do was to kiss you. You had been taken aback -- caught off guard as you'd pulled away from him.

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you had said, pushing him away. 

At that moment, his eyes were swollen, his face red, and he looked like you had just kicked his puppy. He had leaned his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, and you’d felt that he’d put you in an impossible position. 

You’d have been lying if you said you hadn’t wanted it – hadn’t thought about it before – but Carmy had never given you any inkling that he was even interested in dating anyone. You had been perfectly fine being ‘just friends’ with him despite the whispers between the kitchen staff when no one thought you were listening. And now? You knew he wouldn’t be in the right headspace. It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you’d apologized softly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence had only made you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” was all he'd said, breaking his silence and looking up at you with those sad, swollen blue eyes. He leans in to kiss you once more. 

“Please.”

In between kisses you’d managed to ask, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he whispered, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he had left on your skin. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good.”

It was then that you’d realized what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. 

The truth was that you were fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you’d repeated, finally giving into him.

Even though it should’ve been a beginning, it felt like an end, but for one night, you’d indulged the both of you. 

“I know,” he says, his voice pulling you back into the present. His eyes are fixated on the pieces of gravel that sat between his feet. Even though you both agreed to it, he hadn’t forgotten about what happened between the two of you and he’s not sure if he should tell you that too. 

But that’s not what’s wrong. It’s not why he’s avoiding you. Or maybe it’s part of it. He hadn’t expected seeing you to be this hard. That it would bring it all back – wanting you – so much so that those incredibly big feelings had sent him running to a meeting. 

He just needed a place to be unapologetically fucked up. 

He’s not sure what he thought would happen – like you’d just fall into the same old rhythm of your friendship without a care in the world. 

He’d called Sydney yesterday and he could barely breathe. Sydney had told him to take the night off – that it wouldn’t help to come back to the kitchen that night – and that he had a whole week of you to prepare for. To figure this shit out. 

“I um,” he starts. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to get these words out; why it feels so difficult to tell you. “I’ve kinda been going to these al-anon meetings…ever since, well you know… since I got home.”

“Oh.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say. You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say. That he hates you? That he couldn’t stand being in the same kitchen with you and yesterday brought it all back? That it was a mistake reaching out to you?

You sit down on the curb, next to Carmy, leaving plenty of space between the two of you. 

“My sister nagged me to go. Thought it was bullshit but… I don’t know why I kept going back. I still go three times a week.” 

You stare at the ground, not sure what to say next. All that comes out is:

“Well I feel like an asshole.”

He scoffs, moreso to himself, “No, you’re not. I-, I’m sorry. I should’ve-.”

You can tell he’s frustrated as he huffs, “I don’t know why this is so hard for me to tell you.”

You sigh, scooting a hair closer to your old friend. 

“I don’t know either, Carm. I-, we used to tell each other everything.”

“I know.” 

You catch his gaze, your eyes meeting with his, and it feels like you can’t breathe for a moment. 

“I should’ve called. Should’ve kept in touch. Guess I just feel like-, I don’t know,” Carmy admits, regretfully. “I know I’ve been….”

“Uh huh. You’ve been….” you trail off. 

“But I do. Want you here.”

And that’s the problem, he thinks to himself.

“I know I’ve been a dick. I shouldn't have-.”

You take a breath, processing all of it. 

“Can we… not have this conversation again?” you ask, taking a lighter tone this time. “I mean, we sorta had a very similar conversation to this yesterday… and now today… like… are you gonna stop being such a fuckin’ weirdo or what?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yeah. Yeah I-, I’m gonna stop, well, you know.”

You chuckle in response, continuing to tease him, “Good because… you know usually when your friend comes to town you hang out a little, catch up, say hey hello how are you? I mean, maybe I’m totally out of pocket for this, but sometimes, you know… they even hug. Yeah, Carm, like, normal people.”

“Oh fuck you,” he mutters, jokingly. 

It’s quiet between the two of you, but for the first time in the last 48 hours, it's not weird. It’s a familiar quiet intimacy – something that reminds you of the before times. 

Before Mikey died.

Before you hooked up. 

“Hey, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be here too,” you reassure in response to what he said earlier, bumping your shoulder up against his, playfully, earning the slightest smile from him. 

“How’s the place?”

“Surprisingly, very nice,” you answer, a mischievous tone in your voice like you know it’s going to start something. 

“What? You think I’d put you up in a shit place?” Carmy asks, feigning offense. 

“I’ve been in your New York apartment, Berzatto. Which is mostly why we spent most of our days off at mine,” you continue. 

He laughs dryly in response. 

“My brother-in-law manages a few airbnbs so… it’s the least I could do for… you know… you comin’ out here,” he explains. 

“Well thanks. It’s-, it’s great.” 

*

“I gotta get out of here early, and pick up the kid. Have a goodnight, sweetheart,” Richie says to you, about to head out of the restaurant. 

“Richie, what the fuck did I fuckin’ tell you about saying shit like that!” Carmen shouts back at his cousin, with an eye roll. 

“So sorry,” Richie says sarcastically, emphasizing your name after. “Gotta woke-ify everything in front of Carmen. Just a little baby.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells across the kitchen, moving quickly through the closing shift chores. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie brushes off Carmy’s comment with an eye roll. 

“See you fucks tomorrow.”

“This look good, chef?” Marcus asks you, motioning for you to come over and take a look at the mixer. 

You reach down into the mixer, checking the dough for texture. 

“Yeah, looks good. Go ahead and grab a few sheet pans so we can shape these and we’ll cover ‘em so they can proof overnight,” you order, Marcus nodding in response. 

“Thank you, chef.” 

As Marcus disappears, in search of a few sheet pans, Carmy’s wiping down one of the prep stations. 

“Hey, you,” you say, a smile on your face as soon as you see him. 

After your talk this afternoon, things feel lighter. He feels lighter. 

“Hey,” he says, finishing up with his cleaning duty before making his way over to you. Carmy checks to see that Marcus hasn’t come back yet, and you notice.

“Great dinner service, huh?” you congratulate. 

“We’re gettin’ there,” he replies. “Smoothest it’s been so far. Since the reopen.”

Ah yes. The reopen. You’re still waiting to hear that story. 

“I was thinkin’, maybe we could do that catch up thing? Over a drink?” Carmy proposes, changing the subject, and you think to yourself that it’s the most confident you’ve ever seen him. 

“I-,” you start, as Marcus makes his way back towards the pastry area. “We’ve got one more late night prep tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, spotting Marcus as well. “Tomorrow’s good.” 

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

“Goodnight.”

read: part three

[sugar-omi]

male ver coming a little later&lt;333 ALSO I FEEL LIKE THIS NEEDS A PART 2 CUZ WHY IS THIS KINDAAA 🙈🙈 n also this is too nasty. i cant. im actually embarrassed

DAY THIRTY ONE — GANGBANG (FEMALE READER VERSION)

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3 | *male reader version

tags : NSFW, bottom + fem/afab reader, priest/(EX)-demon hunter!reader AU (demon!cove, angel!derek, sorcerer/reaper!baxter), spit roasting, anal, double penetration, cove w tongue/dick piercings, oral (reader + character receiving), dirty talk/degrading, sub/bottom derek, raw sex, creampie

synopsis : cove and baxter are having a little too much fun having their way with you and derek.

“for a priest and demon hunter, you sure are easy to break!” cove cheers, forcing your head down until your nose is in his pubes. “well, i guess you are retired. still, you’re already chasing me with those enchanted weapons and beating me up!”

cove peers down at you, his eyes smug and happy to see you glare at him while his dick is down your throat. it’s funny to him. “and all it takes is a little dick to render you useless.. i wonder what your followers would think if they saw you like this?”

you want to make a quip, but you can’t with cove’s pierced dick in your mouth. but even if you could, a moan bubbles up from your throat and cove groans at the sensation.

your legs shake. fuck, derek is feasting on your cunt like it’s his last meal, the flat of his tongue running over your folds and drooling hole until he reaches your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive pearl and sucking, teasing it with his tongue.

cove pulls you off his dick, letting you catch your breath, enjoying you panting, trying to wipe away all the spit on your chin.

you glare at him, “can’t.. would it kill you to be gentle?” cove perks up, his thin tail swishing behind him. “it might.”

you roll your eyes, breaking when derek adds his fingers into the mix, it sends a shudder down your back and ruins your tough expression. not that it was very intimidating in the first place, you’re sweaty and flushed, hickeys all over your chest and legs, and you can’t forget the toy in your ass or derek pulling your hips down on his face.

cove leans forward, lifting your chin to steal a kiss. “it’s not my fault you look best when you’re drooling over my dick.”

baxter chuckles, running his hand from your lower back to your neck, tilting your head towards him. “you are a sight for sore eyes…” he purrs, leaning in to kiss you, his plush lips moving against yours and you melt, hypnotized even when he eases his tongue into your mouth.

you don’t even notice he’s holding the remote to the vibrator inside you and you jolt when he turns it up, the toy shaking and even derek groans, feeling the vibrations of the toy against his tongue that’s exploring your wet insides.

baxter smiles into the kiss, far too pleased to keep kissing you so cove steals your lips from him, stealing your breath and slipping his forked, pierced tongue along yours while baxter kisses and nips at your already bruised skin.

your legs start to shake and you break the kiss, dropping your head on cove’s shoulder as your nails drag down his thighs. “i’m- i’m gonna-!”

cove nibbles on your earlobe, his husky voice purring in your ear. “that’s it.. cum for us, cum on derek’s face.”

it doesn’t take much to push you over the edge, your slick flooding derek’s tongue and your thighs torn between shaking like a leaf and clamping around his head.

derek’s tongue keeps laving over your clit until you’re shaking from overstimulation and whining, trying to pull off his mouth. “t-that’s enough, i’m…” you pant, your trembling form being pulled off derek’s face until you’re in baxter’s lap where he wipes your sweaty forehead with his hand, kissing your hot cheeks lovingly.

“so good.. you did so good.” he praises, and you turn your head for a lazy kiss, this time his lips move with yours and he keeps kissing you even when you stop kissing back, tired and still weak from your orgasm.

it’s a little late, but you realize baxter turned off the plug. at least someone is merciful and kind.

“so!” cove claps his hands, his tail swishing with mischief.

baxter hums, and derek just flushes, deciding to stay out of it. baxter speaks up, “you two can go first, i can wait.”

cove nods, already pulling you off baxter’s lap before he can finish speaking, pushing you into derek’s arms and he wraps his arms around your front. he grins, showing off his sharp teeth. “i wanna see you fall apart on my and our angels dick, i think that’d be fun, don’t you?”

he doesn’t care for a reply, and he interrupts any reply you want to give by taking derek’s cock in his hand and lining up with your cunt, forcing your hips down until his dick is right against that spongy spot near your cervix, his length filling you up and curving into that spot so perfectly..

you both moan loudly, derek’s shaking hands flying up to grab your waist. 

cove takes advantage of you and derek slumped together, lining up with your ass and sinking in to the hilt, cove and derek groaning in unison, a loud curse and moan tipping from your throat.

derek growls, his face contorted in pleasure. "i-i can feel you through.. through…" derek pants, his fingers digging into your skin.

cove leans over your back, stealing a kiss from derek, making a show of slipping his tongue into his mouth and he starts to move, distracting you from the scene.

derek breaks the kiss, whining. he can feel cove's ladder piercing through your walls, with every thrust the piercing drags against your walls and the underside of derek's cock.

"fuck! your piercing.." derek grits his teeth, swallowing.

you drag your nails over derek's chest, cove's thrusts forcing you into derek. your eyes roll back, moans spilling from your lips without restraint.

you're so full, and when derek starts moving, his hips weakly thrusting up into you, the clapping of skin and lewd moans mixing together just make your head spin and it's all you can think about.

you don't even realize you're babbling curses and pleads and calls of cove and derek's name until cove laughs, pointing out your mindless dribbling.

"if all it took was getting passed around by a couple supernatural beings to turn you into a drooling mess, we should've done this sooner!"

cove pulls you up against his chest so he can grope your chest, his nimble fingers pinching your nipples while he attacks your neck.

derek moans at the sight, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth, enjoying you being ravished by cove more than he thought he would.

this is so sinful, so dirty. but fuck if he wasn't loving every second of it… your wet cunt around his cock, your nails leaving red lines down his chest and even baxter leans over to steal a kiss from him.

baxter slips his tongue into derek's mouth, swallowing his moans and whines, biting his bottom lip teasingly when he pulls away.

baxter pets derek's flushed cheeks, his lips brushing against his when he speaks. "so cute.. do you want something else to occupy you while cove sticks his tongue down our little humans throat?"

derek nods, not thinking it through but knowing he wants something, anything baxter has to give.

"what a good angel." baxter purrs, undoing his belt tantalizingly slow and makes a show of pulling down his pants until derek his squirming, his eyes stuck between pleading with him and watching every inch of newly exposed porcelain skin.

baxter takes his dick in his hands, pushing the blushing tip against derek's lips.

derek slowly takes baxter's cock in his mouth, circling his tongue over the tip as he works his way down, gagging a bit.

baxter pushes back derek’s hair from his sweaty forehead, "don't rush. unlike some people, i won't pull my cock down your throat."

"you should reconsider," cove pipes in, drawing baxter's attention to you two. cove finally let you slump against derek's chest, your hips grinding back on derek's cock and cove bullying his cock against your tender walls.

"i think an angel looks best when they're getting face fucked." cove purrs, looking at derek take baxter down his throat with flushed cheeks, his hand coming up to stroke what isn't in his mouth.

baxter hums, peering down at derek. he does looks very pretty with his swollen, wet lips wrapped around his dick, looking up at him with round, watery eyes.

"is that so?" baxter tangles his fingers in derek's hair, thrusting up into his mouth experimentality. "have you let cove or y/n use your mouth before?"

derek tries to speak, the vibrations sending shocks through baxter, drawing a shaky groan from him.

baxter thrusts up into derek's mouth, grinning at the sound of him gagging and the spit running down his chin.

"how dirty~ what a naughty angel and priest we have." baxter purrs.

cove pulls your hips back to meet his thrusts, leaning over you to bite on your neck, his sharp teeth leaving more wounds on the area.

"all the time you two spend preaching and stopping my antics, you could be our toys instead~" cove purrs, mounting you and slamming his hips into your ass, his and derek's cock grinding against that sensitive spot inside you.

"i'm.. i'm gonna cum!" you cry, tears pooling at your bottom lashes.

"that's it, cum around our dicks." cove encourages, bullying the same spot with his cock, forcing your hips down on derek's cock, his tip hitting your cervix. “fuck, i’m gonna cum too…” cove growls, his tip bullying that spongy spot inside your walls.

derek whines, thrusting up into you, chasing his own high.

"cove!" you cry, your hands grasping for purchase. derek offers his hand, partially for his own comfort too since baxter is abusing his throat, his balls slapping against derek’s spit-covered chin.

cove cumming first is what pushes you over the edge, his ladder piercing dragging against your walls as he works through his orgasm, filling your ass with his cum.

derek follows not shortly after, his orgasm encouraged by cove’s assaulting thrusts and the prominence of his piercing rubbing against his own cock through your walls. derek hips stutter upward into your cunt, his cock throbbing as he fills you up with his cum.

“mmph!” baxter’s cock muffles derek’s noises, his dick hitting the back of his throat as he finishes, cum spilling past derek’s lips.

baxter groans, pulling out of derek’s mouth, wiping up the mess on his chin and slipping his fingers in his mouth. derek wraps his lips around baxter’s thumb, licking the digit clean before he sinks into the pillows, both of you a weak, sweaty, and flushed pile.

cove pulls out, drawing out a weak mewl from you. you hiss, lifting yourself on your weak knees to get off derek’s cock. you steal derek’s lips to swallow his barrage of whimpers and whines, slipping your tongue along his…

he growls lowly, his stomach feeling hot with the sight of your ass and cunt leaking cum, the mess running down your thighs…

“hey baxter, lets switch places. i’ve been waiting to ravish an actual angel, and y/n is making such a mess.” cove swipes up the mess, slipping his fingers back into your cunt, grinning when you shake and cry. “i think they need to be filled again..”

[say-al0e]

Dark Cloud

rating: pg

Summary: If anyone understands the pain of losing someone you've already mourned, it's Jake. (AKA my dad passed a little over a month ago and it’s been difficult to understand my emotions so I’m doing what I do best and write about it) Warnings: Death of a parent, bad relationship with parents, abusive parent, self-deprecation, general anxiety, grief, feelings, etc. (Anything else and I’ll tag it.) Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x GN!Reader (Pretty sure GN but if you catch anything, let me know and I’ll change it to the correct pairing) Word Count: 3.8k Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

Jake Seresin was not known for his silence.

At any given moment, he could be counted on to produce a witty quip or sarcastic comment. He was known for having a big ego and an even bigger mouth. To those who knew him - those who loved him - it was a mild annoyance. To those who didn’t, it was infuriating.

Despite his reputation, however, there were moments of relative quiet in the life you shared with Jake.

There were moments of quiet reflection, often in the days before or after a deployment, where he ruminated on what he’d done with his life - the things he’d accomplished and grew prouder of with each passing day, the things he had yet to achieve but knew were within his reach, the future he’d built with you.

There were moments of bliss, comfortable stretches of time where no words were needed as you allowed yourselves to disappear into your own little world. Those moments were few and far between as you were rarely left alone long enough, but you savored every chance you had to enjoy the life you’d built together.

There were moments of discontent, seconds that felt like hours passing in an uncomfortable lull that only amplified the insecurities or worries or sorrows either of you felt. Those moments dragged on, heavy and bitter in an otherwise beautiful existence, but were luckily few and far between.

Some of the moments of quiet you shared stretched on endlessly and you were grateful. The moments of quiet bliss and peaceful contentment were moments you wouldn’t trade for anything. Others grew less intense with time but you were still grateful for them as they encouraged growth.

But as you sat in a deckchair almost as old as you in a backyard you’d spent a different lifetime in, one of those moments you hoped would disappear just as quickly as it began enveloped you.

This moment was not one driven by Jake. The silence was not his choice - not something prompted by a reflection on his own mortality or the future he often worried he was jeopardizing by following his dreams. There was no bliss, no pride, no happiness, no worry for himself. This moment was one he held entirely for you.

Three days had been spent in a heavy hush, a silence that pressed on your chest and left Jake quieter than you’d ever seen him. He’d been rendered speechless after a short midnight phone call from your mother and chose his words carefully in the days leading up to the moment you found yourself desperate to run from. The silence was tentative, as if he knew one wrong word would snip the fraying thread you found yourself clinging to, and you hated it.

Though you’d often asked him to be quiet - almost always teasingly - and though his presence brought you comfort, his silence only made the overwhelming noise of your thoughts that much harder to withstand.

Despite finding yourself surrounded by family, the vast majority knew little about you. Jake, however, knew you well. He knew that you’d spent those three days struggling to understand - to rationalize, to compartmentalize - feelings that were complicated at best. He knew when you needed guiding, when you needed him to ask questions to help catalogue what you felt. He knew when you needed him to distract you, offering you stories from his last deployment to pull you away from the heaviness at hand.

But, most important of all, he knew when you needed space.

The moment that enveloped you, the quiet he’d given you in the three days since receiving that phone call, was meant to be comforting. It was meant to be the space you needed - space to decompress, space to be uncertain, space to be overwhelmed, and you appreciated the thought behind it. You were grateful he wasn’t pushing, grateful he hadn’t joined your mother or other well-meaning friends and family members in asking how you were doing, but you’d grown tired of the quiet as the still of the backyard surrounded you.

Orange light from the setting sun lit the world aflame and burned nearly as warm as the flurry of emotion churning in the pit of your stomach. It was difficult to catalogue what exactly you felt - mentally, physically; everything blurred into one overwhelming ache that you felt deep in your bones - and you weren’t quite sure how to articulate that.

Very little about the few days you’d experienced made sense, least of all your emotions, but you knew that if anyone could string together meaning from your rambling stream of consciousness, it would be Jake.

With a sigh, you slumped deeper into your chair and blinked back the sting of tears threatening to fall.

Every single person you’d interacted with for the better part of three days began every conversation with a barrage of questions; how are you? How are you feeling? What can I do? They all declared how tough it must be, some even claimed to understand exactly what you were feeling. It must be so hard, they cooed, before promising they were there if you needed them.

It was all superficial, at best, but you took the question as a base to begin a conversation you’d been dreading.

“I’m fine, Jake.” There was little chance he didn’t notice the quiver in your voice, even less of a chance he didn’t notice the clench of your jaw and the heavy exhale you released, but he nodded, just the same.

“I believe you.”

Jake knew that you weren’t fine - not really, not entirely - but he also knew that what you were feeling was more complicated than grief.

Losing a parent was always going to be a difficult experience but losing a parent you’d gone no contact with for reasons beyond your control only further complicated matters. There was no easy explanation for the multitude of emotions clouding your brain and Jake understood that.

Jake lost his own father in his twenties. Though he’d still been on speaking terms with his father upon his death, if only barely, their relationship had always been difficult. His father was cold, controlling and domineering, so Jake understood complicated relationships with fathers just as he understood how difficult it was to grieve someone long before they died.

Everything you felt, every complicated emotion and messy blur of feelings, you knew he would understand. It was likely he’d felt them himself. Regardless, it still felt nearly impossible to articulate as you blinked against the sun’s harsh glow.

Few others had seen the toll your mother’s misguided attempts at encouraging a reconciliation between you and your father had taken. It was well-intentioned, you were sure, but ended in an anxiety you hadn’t felt since your teenager years.

From the safety of your shared home, Jake had witnessed a handful of tense phone conversations. He’d listened as your father threw insults thinly disguised as questions or compliments and belittled you in ways that made his blood boil. He’d watched as you slumped on the couch and gave one word answers as you willed those awful conversations to be over. He’d held you after as angry tears tracked down your cheeks and you wondered just what you’d done to deserve this kind of treatment from someone who was supposed to love you.

It made sense, then, why he’d remained so quiet at your side. And instead of pressing for an answer, asking questions that would only make the entire process that much harder for you, he waited. He sat quietly, green eyes flickering between you and the trees in the distance as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“None of this is for me.”

The declaration felt bitter, dripping acid as it fell from your lips, but it was honest in a way you couldn’t be with anyone else. No one else understood, no one else saw you - really, truly, completely saw you - in the way that Jake did. Though you felt overwhelmed, anxious and upset, you felt hopeful that he’d get it as he hummed.

“How do you figure?”

“Funerals are… hard,” your settled on, blinking hard against the tears you were frustrated still managed to sting at your eyes. “They’re supposed to be for people you love, people that meant something to you. They’re supposed to give you closure. It’s a final send-off, something that just… marks the end, I guess. You mourn someone that meant something to you but all he was to me was a nightmare.” With a deep breath, heavy and barely enough to fill your aching lungs, you shook your head. “I didn’t lose my dad on Sunday. I lost him when I was old enough to realize what kind of person he was.”

Anger, burning hot and all encompassing, made it easier for you to finally feel the emotions you’d been attempting to rationalize away. And Jake, who had been waiting calmly for the storm, sighed.

There was little doubt that Jake was also feeling a multitude of emotions neither of you felt capable of exploring in the moment but that did little to stop him from reaching out to take your hand in his own. The weight of it, the heat of his palm pressed to yours, tethered you to the moment. A gentle squeeze helped you remain present as you swallowed the emotion clumping in your throat.

“Everyone here things I’m the problem,” you began, quiet but angry. “They think I just up and abandoned my dad. They think I’m a bad person because I haven’t had a relationship with him in over a decade but no one bothers to ask why. No one asks what happened to make me leave home and refuse to come back. No one asks why I went nearly fifteen years without speaking to him. No one puts any of the blame on him. They just ask why I didn’t try harder.”

The still of the night stretched endlessly around you but Jake’s attention fell solely on you. Those green eyes burned into your skin, patient, as you took a shuddering breath.

“Why was it my responsibility?” The question, a broken plea for an answer you knew Jake couldn’t give as he’d wondered the same thing, lingered unanswered for a brief moment before you huffed. “I’m the child here. He was the adult, he was my dad. He was supposed to care, to make me a priority, to love me. Instead, he made me believe I was worthless. He told me that no one would ever love me, that I was too difficult for anyone to ever waste their time on me. He was a miserable, abusive, narcissistic son of a bitch but no one ever acknowledges any of that.”

Breathing grew more difficult with every word you spoke. The weight of every emotion you’d ever felt in relation to your father pressed on your chest, leaving a dull ache between your ribs as you took a moment to clench your jaw and regain some semblance of your composure.

Jake knew all of that.

The beginning of your relationship had proven difficult because of your shared difficult pasts. Both of you had been wary of commitment - Jake because of his own insecurities, his own doubt that he’d never be worthy of anything more than a one night stand - but you’d managed to take everything in stride. Just as you’d encouraged him to know his worth, he’d been instrumental in helping you to find your own.

There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes as he realized just how difficult the experience was proving to be, just how easy it was for you to revert to an old way of thinking. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much progress you’d made, you felt yourself spiraling as you scrubbed at your cheeks.

“Everyone says he talked about how proud he was of me. He told them all that I lived in California and had a good life but he didn’t know anything about me. He had no idea what I do for work. He didn’t know your name, didn’t even know we were married. He didn’t know anything about me but he had everyone convinced that I was the problem. And I just…” With a weary sigh, feeling the weight of the world pressing on your shoulders, you laughed. “It’s not fair. Why did he get to have friends and so many people to defend him? Why did he get to spend so much time being happy, not caring, loving his friends when I spent years wondering if anyone would ever be able to love me?”

Jake squeezed your hand gently and you could feel the weight of that single gesture. It meant more than he likely realized, warmed you from within, and you desperately wanted to look at him but you knew that sparing him a glance would only end with you dissolving into tears. You were on a roll, speaking the thoughts you knew made little sense to anyone else but had been plaguing you since you received that phone call, and stopping didn’t seem like an option.

“Sometimes I wonder if all of this was my fault.” The admission was quiet, your voice dropping to a near whisper and thick with emotion as you laughed quietly - self-deprecatingly. “I remember being so happy when I was little. I remember him taking me places, going out to dinner and seeing movies and going to the roller rink. I remember him coming to my softball games and my spelling bees. I remember feeling loved.”

With a shake of your head, you tugged at a fraying thread at the hem of your top. “I remember all of that, but then I also remember being ten and wondering if everyone else had a dad who yelled at them. I wondered if everyone else had a dad who would disappear for days when he was angry. I wondered if everyone else had a dad who would throw things at them and make them cry. I don’t… I know if I just got older and he got meaner or if I just gained consciousness and realized he was always mean.”

Faint sounds of life began to bleed into the backyard - the noise of your mother and step-father and various family members who’d dropped by with food and well-wishes milling about - but you ignored them all as you inhaled a shaking breath.

With a single glance spared at the silhouette of your mother, you laughed quietly. “My mom doesn’t remember it but we had an argument when I was, like, fourteen. I don’t remember what it was about but I remember her being so angry at me and saying that I was more and more like my dad every day. I didn’t cry much but I remember breaking down. Nothing anyone has ever said to me has hurt that bad. I think about her saying that all the time and I try so hard to prove that it’s not true but it feels like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work to be a good person, I keep seeing more and more of my dad in myself.”

With another harsh breath, this one a desperate attempt to clear your throat of the emotion threatening to choke you, you wiped harshly at the tears that had started falling. Somewhere in the midst of your inner turmoil, there was an anger that you allowed yourself to cry. None of this was worth your anger, your upset, your energy, but it felt impossible to do anything more than continue spouting a stream of consciousness you only hoped Jake could still follow.

“While you were deployed, I went to the bar with some friends after a bad day. I wasn’t really in the mood but I ended up having fun,” you admitted, shrugging lightly as you dropped your gaze to where your intertwined hands rested on your thigh. “At the end of the night, though, it was just me and Blake on the patio and we were talking about all the stupid shit that was happening at work. I made a joke about trying to be more positive and he laughed. He said it was no use because I’ve always been a ‘dark fucking cloud’ and that was just who I was. It was a joke,” you conceded, lifting your hand to trace a nonsensical pattern across the back of Jake’s hand. “But it really wasn’t. He’s right. I’ve always been a dark cloud and I’ve always been miserable and bitter and angry.”

A quiet laugh, devoid of any humor and clearly as defeated as you felt, escaped as you shook your head. “All the words parts of me, all the things I wish I could change, all the things I know that make it difficult for people to like - let alone love me - are all parts of my dad. And I just wonder, what happens if I can’t fix those parts? What happens if I spend the rest of my life as this dark cloud? What happens if one day, all my friends realize how miserable I make them? What happens if, one day, you realize that you could do better? You can be a jackass but you’re a good man, Jake. You could easily find someone who loves you that’s bright and happy and warm. I worry that I’m going to die alone, miserable and forgotten, just because I’m me; a dark fucking cloud that pushed everyone away.”

Jake allowed the silence to linger for a moment, giving you a chance to catch your breath. When he realized you were finished speaking, he reached out to carefully brush away the tears tracking down your cheeks. From the corner of your eye, you caught the look on his face - a deep sadness you’d never seen from him before, complete with shiny eyes and a frown - and felt a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes.

Though you tried blinking them away, Jake shook his head.

“Sweetheart.” He slid his chair a touch closer, his knee knocking into yours as he lifted his free hand to your cheek. “I don’t say this often, but you’re wrong. I don’t know what to say that will make all of this better but I can tell you what I do know.” With gentle fingers, he tilted your head to meet his eyes and, despite the urge to glance away, you held his gaze.

“You are not a dark cloud.” His conviction was clear, certain and strong as he searched your face. “You know that everyone was surprised when you showed up to the Hard Deck. They couldn’t believe that someone as good as you, someone as bright as you, could love me. I can be an ass, but you? Even when you don’t want to, you try to see the best in people. It doesn’t matter how bad your day is, doesn’t matter how rough things are, you’re always trying to encourage the people in your life. I can’t count how many times you’ve told me your day was shit only for you to turn around and spend the night hyping up Bob, cheering up Phoenix, singing with Rooster, making Coyote laugh.

You’re the most supportive person I’ve ever met. Anyone who asks you to show up for them, you’re there and cheering the loudest. You push people to be the best versions of themselves. When I’m in my head, you’re the person to bring me back. Despite everything, you’re a good person. You try so hard and everyone can see it. I’m difficult to like, but you? There’s nothing difficult about liking you and there sure as hell isn’t anything difficult about loving you. You love me, you make me happy, and I’m lucky I get the chance to love you.”

With another gentle squeeze to your hand, Jake sighed. “None of this is your fault. You were a kid, sweetheart,” he reminded you, careful to avoid irritating your skin further as he brushed away the few tears that continued to fall. “I know all of this is hard. I know you loved him when you were a kid and I know there’s still some kind of love there. I know it still hurts, even though he hasn’t been in your life. And I know that none of this makes any sense. I can’t tell you not to worry about any of this but I can promise you that I’ll remind you every chance I get of just who you are. I’ll be here to remind you just how loved you are. You are a good person, sweetheart, and I love you. On the good days, on the bad days, on every other day in between; I love you and I’m not the only one. You mean so much to so many people and we’re lucky to have you in our lives.”

As the tears fell faster, Jake stood from his seat and tugged you up after him. He pulled you into an embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your body, and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. He allowed you to squeeze him tight, body pressed close to his, and waited patiently for you to calm.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice carrying through the night when your breathing began to even. “You know I’m not just saying this for the sake of saying it. I’m not that nice.”

When you laughed quietly, Jake smiled. “Thank you.” With another soft squeeze to his middle, you sighed. “I love you, too, Jake.”

“Alright, what d’you want to eat?” Jake shifted then, tipped his head to look you in the face, as he redirected the conversation. He knew there was an apology coming - one neither of you needed - so he stopped it before you could. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. And if you tell me you’re not hungry, I’m calling Rooster and letting him sing as many songs as he can,” he teased, waiting to see if his joke would earn him a smile.

“You decide,” you offered, smiling lightly as you nodded. “I don’t want to make any decisions. I’ll have whatever you get.”

“Okay,” he relented, appeased by the easy agreement as he wrapped an arm around your waist and began guiding you back to the house. “C’mon, we’ll get you some water and figure it out.”

The pair of you knew the pain of this loss better than anyone. There was no easy resolution, no easy answer for the messy feelings you still felt roiling in the pit of your stomach - no solution for the feelings this dredged up in Jake - but you felt a little more at peace.

The path now placed in front of you was in no way straightforward, not one you’d be able to navigate easily, but you felt hopeful that there would be a rainbow shining bright through the dark clouds, just as long as Jake was by your side.

_____________________________________________________

Author's Note: I dunno, man. It's been a rough two months.

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