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probssomethingorother · 5 months

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Next of Kin: A TLOU fanfic

This is really long and hopefully kinda sad. Don't look too close cause I got tired of editing and didn't get a beta.

Pre-Tlou, Sarah's birth story, big sad, canon compliant-ish

Sarah, Joel, Claire (OC)

Rating: Teen

“This is on you, boy. So you march back in there, you take the reins, and you do right by that child. You hear?” He only manages to nod his head, but Mr. Johnson finds it’s enough, and he is released with a final shove. In the silence that follows, a lifetime passes. He stops being a kid, walks back in, and tends to his child. ------- The day Joel becomes a dad and how he deals. Slight canon divergence where his wife dies instead of leaving.

ONE SHOT - Words: 15,929

Live laugh love, comment subscribe reblog - that's how it goes right??

Read on AO3 here or down below ⤵️

He becomes a dad on one of the worst days of his life.

July 20, 1989.

*** ʚїɞ ***

It’s a slow morning until it isn’t.

Soft light pours into their tiny bedroom through sheer polyester pom-pom studded blue curtains, relentlessly shining onto his face until finally, Joel cracks open his eyes. He inhales deeply, sucking in air against his pillow as he withdraws his arms from underneath and stretches until he takes up the entirety of the bed. It’s just a full - it’s not hard to fill the space, but usually, there is someone else keeping both his arms from hitting the sides.

Claire.

Head popping up as he blinks away the fuzziness of sleep, he catches the time on their bedside clock, and then promptly flops back down.

8:47 AM, Thursday - class.

She is halfway through some advanced design course right now, stuck in an architecture studio with a bunch of kids who don’t know how to hold a hammer.

“You’re voluntarily going to summer school?” he had teased, a mock frown puckering his forehead.

“You’re not going to be able to build ‘em, if I can’t design ‘em, buddy,” she shot back with a grin.

They don’t have many concrete plans, but they do have a little dream to start up their own building company - her designs with his construction, in-house everything from start to finish.

Several months ago, it looked like that dream was gone. He came home to her sobbing on the floor of his bathroom, clutching three positive pregnancy tests, blubbering about how it wasn’t supposed to happen, how her parents would be so upset, how her life was over, and how she didn’t think she could be a mom.

After the shock abated—the overwhelming drumming in his ears subsiding to a disconcerting tapping and his heart slowing to a crawl—he descended to the bathroom floor to be beside her. With a deep breath, he slid down the putrid yellow wall, intertwined his hand in hers, and exhaled every ounce of air in his lungs. Then, with a sweet peck to the top of her hand, breathlessly he told her, “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout kids….but I do know… if one’s gettin’ you for a mom - they’re goin’ to be pretty amazin’.”

Much to his chagrin, his words only brought on a fresh wave of tears and sobs. He didn’t know what part of what he just said was wrong, but he couldn’t handle seeing her cry. As he frantically scurried on the tile floor to sit in front of her, he missed the subtle shift in the way her shoulders shook, angst turning to something lighter.

Tenderly, he nestled her head in his hands, and hastily sputtered:

“No no no, please don’t - I didn’t mean - we can do this is all. Ain’t the end of the world. You’ll be a good mom - and I think maybe... I’ll be a good dad - teach him all sorts of stuff about buildin’, and football, and my abuela’s tamales...And he’ll... and I know we don’t got much right now, but that’s just right now - we can have ‘em -“

And then Claire let out a snot-soaked chuckle, mouth twitching up at the sides as she wiped her wet face against his arm, leaving a shiny residue.

“Him? What makes you so sure were havin’ a boy?”

With a sigh of relief, he sat back as her tears came to a trickle; and with a curt nod and a smile, he dropped his hands away from her face.

“Well yeah,” he drawled, “Miller’s only have boys - me, Tommy, all the primos- not a girl in the bunch.”

Two days later Claire met with her counselor, rearranged her course schedule, and made a plan to enroll in the summer semester, freeing up her fall for the arrival of the baby. At the start of term, she crossed her fingers and prayed to God that the little nugget would stay inside long enough for her to make it through to finals.

It’s her last week. So far the plan has worked.

Normally, he’s navigating the morning rush to drop her off at UT Austin before he heads to the relentless buzz of the construction site, but this morning he’s on the late crew. He has nowhere to be til noon, and the extra hours of sleep are nice, but he also would rather be working.

He had asked for more shifts to make extra money before the baby comes, but Asshole Andy didn’t take too kindly to the request and did the exact opposite - slashed his hours by six each week, snarkily advising him he could “probably use more time at home prepping from the arrival of the rugrat.”

He had brooded over the whole ordeal for a couple of weeks, but now it irks him less, especially since Claire has given him a laundry list of things to complete before the little man comes home - assembling the crib, buying a bottle warmer, installing his car seat, cleaning the kitchen, and the bathroom, and the floors, and the couch, and pretty much every surface in their dinky 700 square foot apartment.

The list starts its relentless nag on his mind right as the last dredges of sleep scurry away, and the morning light, now too bright for any more excuses, floods their matchbox of a bedroom. It leaves Joel with no choice but to begrudgingly abandon the comforts of their bed, and rolling to its edge, with a small groan he begins his day.

Shuffling out of their room, his feet catch and peel away from the warped parquet floor with a faint, sticky noise that echoes in the quiet morning. It's one of the many quirks of their aging apartment that they've come to accept- its "charm," as Claire loves to say. Their living space is a hodgepodge of second-hand furniture, DIY fixes, and cheap decor. They have tried to make it look better, but even with all of Claire’s design knowledge only so much can be done to distract from the place's age and size.

He flicks on the TV - an old set, the screen slightly too blue- and flips to Sport’s Center to catch the Astros’ game highlights.

Taking a few moments to himself, he plops down at the tiny table wedged in the corner of their kitchenette with a hefty bowl of frosted flakes before the day's duties demand his attention.

His spoon pauses mid-air, startled, as the front door swings open and bounces against the wall. He’s halfway through breakfast, but wasn’t keeping track of the time.

Claire comes barreling through, her presence like a sudden storm, backpack haphazardly dropping with a thud as she crosses the threshold. She’s always been a bit of a tornado, bouncy brown curls trailing her like a dust cloud as she whips up small messes in her wake.

“Need to pee!” She announces as she hurries past Joel, her movement more of a rapid wattle, one hand cradling her swollen belly. She’s three weeks out from her due date and feeling and looking like “Veruca J, Veruca!” - as she likes to lament to him at least once a week.

Despite the urgency, she tosses him a small smile as she slips inside the bathroom and shuts the door. With a small smile of his own, he gives his head a little shake and returns to his cereal.

“You eat?” He calls with a full mouth, attention on the screen in the far opposite corner, a little too enthralled watching the Astros get smashed by the Mets. The question is thrown casually over his shoulder, a formality really because he knows the answer. She never eats before class, opting to take the extra few minutes of sleep over fixing up something, but still, he has to go through the routine: he asks, she grumbles, he says the baby needs food, and then there is a slight pause before she crosses her arms and says he’s right.

But when its usual pattern unfolds with no reply, he lobs another question towards the bathroom, “Wan’me to pour you a bowl of this?”

And that’s when everything speeds up.

She emerges from the bathroom with stark panic etched across her face, its complexion losing color by the second. Her deep brown eyes, wide and unblinking, lock onto Joel's like a silent scream.

Her shorts are off, her underwear is red, and blood spreads down the tops of her inner thighs.

He’s on his feet in a fraction of a second. As he darts up, the table jostles violently, sending his breakfast airborne in a chaotic slew of cereal and milk, and the bowl slips off, splintering against the tile of the kitchen floor. The high-pitched clatter of it all is nothing compared to the sudden ringing now filling his head.

Tears begin to pucker her waterline as he rushes to Claire, his footsteps quick, his hands hovering before they gently, firmly, grasp her shoulders.

A thousand words are interchanged between them, but none break from either of their lips.

With a shared nod, they split—Joel to the chaos of their bedroom for clothes, Claire to the phone.

“Mom?… Momma? Can you n’Pop meet us at the hospital?” Her voice is shallow and cracky, but Joel can hear it as clear as day as he rushes to throw on a t-shirt and wriggle into a pair of jeans.

“No St. David’s ..” she chokes out, as he stumbles over his own feet as they enter his pant legs, leaving him to careen into the closet door. As he pops back up, he catches her trembling voice ending the call: “Okay, love you, see you soon.”

The phone crashes to the laminate countertop with a sharp clatter, clearly not rehooked, as he snatches his wallet from the dresser and scrambles to find his keys.

If he wasn’t fighting to suppress the panic quickly growing inside him, frustration over the search for the pesky things would have been all-consuming. He rummaged through three pairs of pants, and checked under the bed, in the couch cushion, in the kitchen, the bathroom, and pretty much every other inch of their apartment, before finally lifting Claire’s backpack strewn in the entry to see the car keys discarded beneath.

Within seconds of his eyes landing on them, they are out the door, and the worst and best day of Joel’s life begins.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“Joel?”

“Right here, baby, right here.”

“I - I- please, don’t let - we need to - now-”

“I know, I gotcha.”

Her fragmented pleas, broken by sharp intakes of breath and muffled by cascades of tears, repeat incessantly in his head—louder and more urgent with each echo. Joel can’t get it to stop - much like his leg moving in an equally incessant rhythm, bouncing up and down as he sits in the rigid chair. The compulsive movement is matched by his hand - right anxiously twisting his watch band back and forth, rubbing it deeper and deeper into the rawing skin of his left.

“There’s so much blood.”

“Just focus on breathe’n now, we’ll be there soon, alright?”

Dried remnants of it cling stubbornly to the crevices of his knuckles and dirty the spaces in between his fingers, staining them a brownish crimson. He could clean it off, but it’s a piece of her - and if he can’t see her, at least he can still look at this bit, no matter how gruesome.

Almost an hour has passed since he’s last seen her.

By the time they reached the ER, she was too dizzy to walk. She’s not much smaller than him, but Joel had scooped her up with urgency anyway and charged through the sliding doors. The muted blue walls of the hospital corridor blurred in his periphery as he zeroed in on the signs leading them there. As he burst through the doors, they rebounded off the walls with a loud slap, and the collective gaze of the waiting room pivoted toward them.

His arms burned from her weight, but he dug his grip in more, fingertips pushing into her thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Something’s wrong with her," he blurted out to the quiet room, his blown-wide eyes locking onto the woman’s at the admittance desk.

It took no time for the nurses to descend on them, ushering Joel out of the waiting room and back toward a bed he could finally let her down on.

Claire was barely coherent, face ashy, breathing labored.

“What’s her name, son?” A sweet older woman with box-dyed red hair asked, gently moving him aside to better attend to Claire.

“Claire,” She took his name officially a few months back, but he’s known her longer as - “Claire Johnson,” - it just flows right.

“Okay Claire, we’re going to take good care of you. How many weeks are you, hun?”

When her head lolled to the side, lips moving but no words coming out, he felt like someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs while simultaneously filling his head with cement.

He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. His eyes bounced from her to the monitors, from the nurses to doctors, from the needle being pushed into her arm to the cross on the wall, from the strap being secured around her belly to her beautiful curls getting crunched beneath the oxygen mask, and then finally, to a calendar hanging crookedly above the corner sink -

His gaze had lingered there for a long moment.

Claire had put a magnet on the fridge to track the weeks, a little pink and blue calendar. He thought watching the time tick by was a little silly at first, but this week, when she flipped it to “3 weeks from baby!” he got a little flutter of something in his chest.

“37,” he muttered, brain distantly doing the mental math as a nurse dispensed a healthy glob of ultrasound jelly onto Claire, bottle squelching with the brute force of the squeeze.

Only 37 seconds later, a decision was made: she needed surgery immediately. Her bed rails snapped up, she was disconnected from the machines that beeped and blinked with a detached urgency, and wheeled away swiftly. Someone tried to explain something about the placenta and an “abruption” and that she was losing more blood than her body could handle, but all Joel could focus on was keeping pace with the gurney so her hand wouldn’t slip from his.

But eventually, it did - had to.

She was pushed behind a set of doors he was not allowed to go, held back by a physician’s firm hand. “Take a seat, someone will come talk to you,” they said.

That was 37 minutes ago, and nobody has come to talk to him.

The flickering of the fluorescent light overhead is now the only thing keeping him sane. It mixes with some sun strips crossing the blue tile floor, and when everything hits right, it looks like beams of light dancing at the bottom of a swimming pool. He finds himself fixating on it, forcing himself to take a breath every time a glowy strip appears. Everything else around him just fades into the background, the ring of the hustle and bustle of the hospital becoming muted as if caught beneath the waterline.

Claire once told him blue is used to evoke calm, but surrounded by the hospital’s blue walls and blue floors, it only makes him feel more and more like he’s drowning underwater.

Claire loves the water.

She’s lived in a landlocked city her entire life, but give the girl a chance and she will talk about the ocean. She’s only been a handful of times to the coast- just Padre Island, yet, you would think she’s dipped her toe in each of the seven seas. Sand and sunshine, blue skies and blue sea - she could never get enough.

They had almost escaped there for the Fourth.

“Come on, J, one last hurrah,” she had pleaded, her eyes alight with the prospect, her voice threaded with excitement as she bounced around their small living room. “It’s called a babymoon - everyone’s doing it now,” she had tried to explain, doing her best to convince him to sit in the sand and watch fireworks explode in dazzling arrays over the Gulf.

But he had to say no. There was no time, no money, and his old car, which creaked and groaned even on short drives, would probably not survive a four-hour trek in the boiling Texas heat.

It’s a little silly - especially now - but all he can think about is her and him, and how they really should have just taken the goddam trip.

*** ʚїɞ ***

There is little to say to her parents when they arrive and find him waiting, his hands slick with sweat as they approach. He gulps hard and clears his throat, scrambling for words that refuse to form. But before he can try to speak, Mrs. Johnson pulls him in for a hug.

Her hand gently brushes the back of his head, and the precipice of any words dissolves into a shaky exhale into the crook of her neck. She smells like a blend of lavender and vanilla—just like his mom used to. When she breathes, "Oh honey," her voice cracks with maternal warmth, and for a moment, Claire’s mom is his mom, and he doesn’t want to let go. Arms, heavy and trembling, slowly rise around her, his body deflates, and for a flash of a second, he doesn’t feel like he’s stuck underwater.

But he only gets in one breath before he slips back under.

Claire’s father, a big burly man - an old-fashioned Texas rancher- interrupts the moment, hand going firmly to his wife’s shoulder. He tugs her back, guiding her to a nearby chair with a look of the eye and a twitch of the head.

Mrs. Johnson’s eyes, already weary and tinted red, spare Joel one final sympathetic look before taking her seat and turning to the ground.

Mr. Johnson takes his wife’s spot, leaning in close. His breath is hot and has the stench of musky cigars as it puffs into his face. “Nurse at the front told us what’s goin’ on,” he gruffs with a dagger-like glare, a look that Joel has only seen once before when he caught them one late night junior year fooling around in the back of his Tio’s truck.

If it hadn’t been for Claire coming between them—literally—Joel’s pretty sure Mr. Johnson would have killed him on the spot.

Unfortunately, he’s lacking her protection now.

On shaky knees, he sinks back down in his seat as Mr. Johnson takes his own next to his wife, who has already brought out her Rosary and begun the Litany.

For a long while, he watches her fingers glide across the beads. Her umber tone makes the milky cream of the tiny glass orbs and the gold-plated cross shine in her grip. Head bowed, her voice is hushed, a whispered prayer—delicate, but intentional.

He’s never taken much to religion, but it was important to his mother, so he never missed a Sunday. It was just a hollow obligation then, but in this moment, he can see why people are drawn to it.

There is a comfort in knowing what to do, what to pray, who to ask for help.

He follows along in his own head, punctuating her efforts with his own hard “Amens”. He pushes his anxiety into each prayer, hoping the Mary up there will take pity on them, see herself in Claire, and protect their son.

They only make it three decades deep.

Perhaps if they had finished it, things would be different.

He barely registers the doctor’s approach. When he slowly looks up, he can’t miss the hollow defeat that hangs heavily in the woman’s eyes as she comes into focus behind the Johnsons.

Time stops.

He goes rigid, fidgety anxiousness leaving his body as dread pushes in.

Seeing the change in Joel's expression, the Johnsons twist to face the doctor, their bodies stiffening as they stand. He tries to rise, but his legs betray him, and he remains half-seated, peering through the narrow gap between their shoulders. The doctor, flanked by the nurse from before with the coppery hair - “Judy” he remembers off a name tag - looks exhausted, face drawn tight, almost like a different person then who she was in the ER.

"I'm sorry," the physician offers, each word measured but heavy, carrying a weight that squeezes out all the little remaining air from the waiting area. "We did everything we could, but..."

The words that follow blend into the sterile air. Something about complications, a clot to the brain, a loss too great, a life gone as a new one gasped its first breath.

His knees buckle and he’s back in the uncomfortable seat once more. His fingers find the sides and wrap around, knuckles going white as he holds onto the plastic like it’s a preserver in rough waters. Every hair on his body stands to attention as a wave of goosebumps runs from his head to his toes. Saliva pools in his mouth and his throat constricts tight and his lungs feel like they are vacuumed sealed shut.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. What they don’t tell you is that it happens just the same when they die.

Claire.

She’s eleven years old, escorted into their church camp room, and placed in a seat next to him. He was dared by Freddy Bower to yank her ponytail so he gave the new girl a gentle tug. In return, she picked her nose and wiped it on his arm. Everyone teased him the rest of summer that she had given him her cooties.

She’s in his homeroom when school starts in the fall and the rivalry is instantaneous, competition whittling down to their days of birth - and of course, she’s three days ahead.

And then she’s thirteen and leaning across the circle, the tip of the soda bottle pointing towards him. Even though she unabashedly wiped him off her lips, he didn’t mind the way her strawberry chapstick lingered on his. He wanted to remember his first kiss with a girl, even if it was with her. At the same party the following year, they are stuffed in a closet for seven minutes in heaven, but they stay several inches apart - “Miller if you think I’m goi-” - “Oh, like I would even want you to.”

And then they are freshmen, and she’s not in any of his classes or clubs and he kind of misses her, but convinces himself it's just the competition that he craves, and has nothing to do with how she’s bubbly, and witty, and pretty, and fun.

And then it’s the summer and they are stuck in the back of a hardware store together, wearing neon green vests, racing to stock shelves, tallying who knows the most paint codes, and the competition is back and now he doesn’t want to let it go. So he doesn’t.

He makes her start to hate him less, and they get paired together in home-ec, and when they both get dragged to church by their parents they go to the pew in the back and fold all the hymnal pages into geometric patterns. They get close enough for his mom to start packing her a tamale in his lunch, teasing “para su amiga,” with a wiggle of her brow, and for Claire’s older brother to start snagging him packs of Marlboro Reds from the corner store on Park before away games, because “since you she fights with our Pops less.”

And even though she laughs in his face when he asks her to Junior year homecoming, it’s official - they are together - and they stay together.

She cries with him when his mom dies and he holds her tight when her brother meets the same fate five months later. She gets accepted to NYU, but decides to stay in Austin for school - “I’m not doing this for you - me and Tommy are buds now, can’t leave him.”

And although she lives in the dorms freshman year and he takes the couch at his Tio’s, they still make it work. When he saves enough to rent a place of his own, one night a week becomes several, and then she’s with him full-time. And she decorates the place with seashells and butterflies and they laugh and dance in the living room, and burn things on the stove, and watch marathons of shitty movies, and flood the bathroom trying to fix the sink. And he pops the question one silly night under the sheets, and puts a peach ring on her finger, and he’s in love, and they are making plans, and having dreams, and having a -

"Hun?" The gentle intrusion startles him as it slices through his life with her. Judy’s auburn hair flashes infront of his eyes before her kind gaze takes its place. He nods mechanically.

“Why don’t you go see your baby girl?” She chirps soft and smooth, as one of her wrinkly hands comes to his elbow while the other wiggles her fingers under his and unlocks his grip from the edge of the seat.

With another shaky nod, he forces himself to his feet, each step hesitant as he follows the Johnsons out of the waiting area.

Only once he’s at their backs do her words hit his brain, but by then he’s not sure he’s hearing anything right - hoping he’s not hearing anything right.

*** ʚїɞ ***

Things go a little hazy for a while, like wandering through a dream that both makes absolute sense and none at all.

Despite being behind the doctor, her parents set the pace- a quick stride, nipping at the physician’s heels, pushing her to lead them down the winding corridor at a speed Joel finds wholly unmanageable. He can’t quite put his finger on the feeling, but his brain is telling him that it’s strange to be rushing - inappropriate- to be speeding this along.

With every five tiles, he falls a step behind, his pace slowing incrementally until the echoes of their footsteps fade and he’s alone with nothing but the empty stretch of corridor to navigate.

Distance.

Minutes ago, he had wanted the space between them to disappear; now, he wishes the hallway would stretch a little longer, the doorway be a bit further - hell, if he could move her room to the other end of the hospital, that would be best.

Space is time, and he needs time before this moment finally catches up with the next. The next that’s tainted by a cruel reality waiting on the other side of that door.

When he finally steps in and sees her, color already gone from her face, he feels small, like a little kid - he is a kid - and she was a kid - and now they have -

He doesn’t remember walking over to the clear plastic bassinet, but then he is there looking down at the thing that took his first love from him.

Her tiny fists wave in the air - clearly a fighter from her first breath- and then her teeny nose wrinkles up as she lets out a piercing cry.

The shriek, is timed perfectly with a deep wail from Claire’s mother.

The sounds are like the gun at the start of a race, his feet moving before he thinks.

He has no control over his body as he rushes back into the hallway, his heart pounding, breaths shallow and quick. His chest feels like it’s on fire as he slides his body down the wall, sinking into the floor, much like he did several months back when Claire broke the news - although this is light years more jarring.

“Why don’t you go see your baby girl?” Plays back in his head like a cruel joke.

It’s a girl.

He should be happy that at least one of them made it out, but all is brain can grab a hold of is the fact that the one that did, is not his girl - not Claire.

The commingled cries leak under the door and waft into the hallway, giving him no reprieve. His hands slide over his ears as he tucks his knees into his chest and digs his forehead into the denim of his jeans.

He thought he knew what grief felt like. When his mom died, years ago now, it was like someone rearranged his insides and forgot to put his heart back into the right place, stuck somewhere near his stomach, perpetually sunk. And back then, he knew it was coming - a monster in the closet that would eventually come so he left the door ajar. He slowly grieved the loss of her for months and months before the cancer finally took her, and it hurt, but not like this.

This was different.

He wasn’t prepared for a monster to come and take everything, and certainly not on today of all days.

He thought they would rush to the hospital and get settled in a room and figured the worst thing that could go wrong was Claire squeezing his hand maybe a bit too hard - maybe even enough to break it, he had heard that could happen - and then after a few grueling hours, they would leave with arms cradling a boy, a strong little fella with Claire's bright eyes and his big’ole nose.

They would go home as three.

He knows there’s two of them now, but he feels like he’s just one.

He can’t do this.

With a clack on the tile, feet halt in front of him. Raising his head slightly off his knees, dark brown cowboy boots come to fill his view as they grind into the ground. With a firm hand - an angry clench that squeezes his bicep- Claire’s father hoists him up roughly, feet slipping on the smooth tile as he’s forced to stand and face him.

His eyes are all fire when they meet Joel’s and his grip intensifies as they bear into him. He’s heard stories about Mr. Johnson’s anger - never would touch a woman, but Claire’s told him about how he wouldn’t hold back on her brother Mike. For a moment, he’s sure he’s about to experience what he can do, but instead, he’s slammed against the wall.

“Stand up. Act like a damn man,” he growls, his voice a strident whisper.

It’s harsh, but expected. Her dad never liked him, thought he was derailing his daughter's future, and that was before getting her pregnant. Five years of pent-up anger and disdain are channeled into the vice grip on his arm. He winces, but he also knows he's fortunate it's only his arm taking the brunt of it.

“This is on you, boy. So you march back in there, you take the reins, and you do right by that child. You hear?”

He only manages to nod his head, but Mr. Johnson finds it’s enough, and he is released with a final shove.

In the silence that follows, a lifetime passes.

He stops being a kid, walks back in, and tends to his child.

His child: Sarah.

That’s the name they had picked after thumbing through a far too large book rented from the college library. Claire had wanted something with meaning, “classic, but strong,” and landed on Alexander and Sarah - a warrior and a princess.

He didn’t think they would be needing the girl's name - “Miller’s make men” he had begun to chime every time Claire’s eyes veered toward something pink or purple for the baby. But perhaps it was mother’s intuition because here she is.

Sarah

She was supposed to be their princess. Now, she’s just his, and that fact weighs his body down like an anchor, planting his feet next to her bassinet, forcing him to stare into her big brown eyes that go as deep as the ocean.

Claire would have loved her baby’s eyes.

A warm hand settles between his shoulder blades, and he pushes his gaze away from her, blinks rapidly to clear away the tears pooling in his waterline, and turns toward the source. A nurse with a yellow scrub cap that matches a tweedy bird pin clipped on her pink scrubs offers him a quaint but sullen smile and drops her hand away.

“You picked a name out for her yet, sugar?” She asks bending over the bassinet clipped to retrieve the name placard at the top of the small crib.

The powder pink card boasts “It’s a Girl!” in a cursive font with flowers and a cheery teddy bear with a bow. Beneath it, are all the important things, like “Mother: Johnson”, “Weight: 6lb 1oz,” “Length: 17 ⅛. In.” and “Time: 10:27am.”

The spot for the name is glaringly empty.

Joel nods with a sniffle.

“And what’s the winner then?” The clipboard in her grip swings around to her front, and she balances it in a crevice of her stomach as she uncaps a black felt tip marker with her teeth.

Mouth dry, he swallows hard. The last time his throat pushed out words was when he whispered “you’ll be okay” into Claire’s ear as she was pushed away from him through those doors off the ER bay. He hates that his last words to her were a lie, but that’s neither here nor there now.

“Sarah,” he says slowly, listening how it floats through the air.

“Middle?”

He knows what Claire wanted - what they had planned - but his eyes flick across the room and find her blanched face obscured by a tube and surrounded by monitors, and he just can’t go with it.

“I think it should-,” he pauses, pondering it again for a fraction of a second, “-Claire.” He nods, “Sarah. Claire. Miller.”

He hopes she doesn’t mind.

*** ʚїɞ ***

The hours begin to bleed together.

The mechanical whispers of the hospital - the soft beeps, the muted shuffles of footsteps, the low voices of doctors, and nurses, and administrators weaving in and out the dimly lit room - it all becomes one giant mush after a while.

Someone had offered to wheel Sarah away, and put her in the nursery with all the other newborns - “are you sure? fathers ain’t normally the ones watchin’ them like this” - but despite being utterly terrified, he shook his head at the offer. He planted himself in the corner of the room on a small maroon plastic couch, rolled her bassinet firmly in front of him, and kept her small form at his eye level.

People come in to evaluate Claire, but when nobody veers toward their own little space to check on them, he wonders if it’s the wrong decision. She seems perfectly fine, but his leg bounces nervously with the possibility that she isn’t - silently slipping away because he doesn’t know anything about babies.

His gaze rarely leaves her even as conversations swell around them, constant low-murmured discussions about what comes next.

They frame their words carefully, tiptoeing around the inevitable, trying to present things as if there are options to be made, but there aren’t options - there is just one option :

When to let her go.

She’s already gone in all the ways that matter. Her body is there, but her brain is not. She’s never going to wake up. She’s not going to go home and dance in their apartment, or wiggle her toes in the sand, or blow bubbles in her drink, or call him “Joel Michael Miller” when he tickles her too much.

And she is not going to hold her baby, or hear her giggle, or see her take her first steps cause Claire is not going to be stepping out of this hospital.

He knows it, but the Johnsons haven’t quite gotten there yet. So he just watches from the corner of the room as her parents ask all the same questions over and over again, yet hope for different answers.

Earlier, someone had tried to explain what happened was rare. That when the placenta detached her body kicked into overdrive, blood clotting excessively. As little Sarah was being pulled into the land of the living, Claire slipped the opposite way, a clot traveling up to her brain and cutting off blood supply for too long.

A one in a million chance.

“Exceedingly rare,” they had said repeatedly, and, “no way to know this would happen,” as though those two things could somehow soften the blow.

Soft enough to knead it into something it isn’t.

For her parents, “rare” became synonymous with special, and “no way to know” mutated into defying the odds, and both together turned into a false hope of an impossible reality.

“She just need’s some time - we’ll wait- our Claire - she’s a strong one - patience is a virtue.” her mother told the room, aiming the words at nobody in particular.

And waiting is what they have been doing. They hover by her bedside, chairs drawn close, bodies hunched over and slipping out, practically on their knees as they tightly grasp Claire’s hands and pray.

Their words to God fill the space between beeps and breaths, and he doesn’t really believe in Him like how they do, but part of him also want’s to get down on his knees and ask Him why.

When the hours tick by, they start to beg for a miracle.

And Joel doesn’t believe in that sort of stuff either, but the longer he spends with Sarah the more he thinks that God has already delivered. He could have taken them both, but he left one behind.

Wrapped snuggly in a hospital blanket, she stirs slightly, her tiny hands balling into fists against the underside of the blue and pink striped fabric. He holds his breath until she settles.

He’s been doing that a lot.

The door groans softly on its hinges, inching open just wide enough for someone to slide through. The Johnsons pivot toward the sound, and they nod in recognition, gesture returned politely by the nurse slipping through. She then shifts focus, surprisingly shuffling back toward Joel tucked away in the corner.

It’s Judy again - that nurse from the ER who seems to be trailing them throughout the hospital. She pauses beside him, her gaze softening as she looks down at Sarah, and then back to him.

“May I?” Her voice is a hushed whisper as she gestures to the cramped couch that has become his home for the last several hours.

Anxiously his hands had been wedged beneath his thighs, but he slides them out, and scoots an inch to the right, making room for Judy to settle in beside him.

“I know I’m not one of the gals in pink, but I thought I would come and check on ya’ll.” She adjusts her sea foam green scrub top, smoothing out some wrinkles, and untangling her hanging ID badge that’s gotten caught in the chain of her glasses draped around her neck.

She’s so nonchalant about it all, it's a little strange, but also a little comforting hearing someone talk to him like normal.

"How are we holdin’ up?" she asks her voice a gentle coo. Joel pauses, caught off-guard, unsure if her words are meant for him or the baby nestled in front of them. He goes with the former, but manages only a shrug, expression a bit hollow.

“Well, that’s expected,” she murmurs back.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, his whisper barely audible as he brushes his palms back and forth against his thighs.

He’s been thinking it for hours, hasn’t dared to utter it outloud, but something about Judy has him spilling his secrets.

“Do?” She angles toward him, her brow bunched together in a soft frown.

“With her. I don’t know what I am supposed to be doin’.”

A reassuring touch lands on his knee. “Oh hun, nobody really does at first. But you’ll get there,” she encourages. With a hopeful tilt of her head she suggests, “Why don’t you start by holding her?”

Joel balks, his voice stuttering. “No I don’t - I don’t -,”

He’s thought about it, but she’s a tiny little thing - swears he’s seen potatoes at the county fair bigger - and he’s petrified of someone how smushing her. He’s fairly certain his hands will cause more harm than good the second he reaches for her.

He hasn’t, so he won’t.

“ - I can’t,” he begins, but Judy halts his efforts with a raised hand.

“Nonsense,” she dismisses as she stands, couch squawking with the change in pressure. Her hands are cool as they touch his arms, sending goosebumps up his skin the moment she bends and positions them. The reaction has nothing to do with the iciness of her touch though; his heart bounces into his throat before settling back into his chest and hammering against his ribs.

“Yep there ya’go,” she softly assures as they become a cradle. Silently, he shakes his head - every part of his body telling him he shouldn’t do it, but Judy pays no mind.

"It’ll feel more natural than you think.”

Staying petrifyingly still, his eyes acutely track her as she turns towards the bassinet and slips her hands under Sarah’s small form. “Hand under her head now, like where mine’s at,” she instructs, catching Joel’s nervous eyes and waiting for him to return a nod before proceeding.

He’s not ready, but he doesn’t think Judy would let him stop even if he asked; he suspects her bright red hair matches her personality in that regard.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek and gives her a curt confirmation.

He’s going to have to be ready.

Sarah's tiny head fits into the crook of his elbow, and for a moment, he's too afraid to breathe. Her weight settles against his chest, and although a rush of warmth floods through his heart, physically he can’t seem to meet the feeling halfway, body clenched up tight.

Filled with apprehension his eyes flick up to Judy. She’s giving him a hearty smile, the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes turning into deep valleys as they crinkle up.

When Sarah begins to squirm and fuss, it has his heart starting to beat nervously fast. He didn’t realize he could be any more tense, but his body constricts even more, shoulders darting to his ears, spine curling, feet pushing hard into the ground; it's all in a futile hope that if he stops moving, she will too.

He holds his breath.

“Relax, she’s a baby, not a brick,” Judy whispers, careful not to aggravate Sarah anymore as she bends in close. “She feels what you’re feelin’ honey just -” Her hand settles on his upper arm and brushes down it.

He forces himself to take a breath, urging his body to comply with Judy’s coaching. Slowly, his shoulders come away from his ears and his chest sinks back against Sarah, and he lets out a shaky, but unburdening breath.

Sarah settles too.

When he looks up to show Judy, he discovers she has retreated several feet, busying herself with something on the back countertop. His heart catapults into his throat again as he realizes he’s holding her alone. His eyes widen with concern as they snap down to Sarah. He gulps hard, adam’s apple pushing down to the bottom of his neck and then climbing back up. His muscles are threatening to constrict again, but he tries to keep all that at bay.

Relax, relax, relax

The anxious flutter only settles when he sees Judy returning.

“Chart says she’s fit as a fiddle, and due for another feed soon. Did the nurse show you how to give her a bottle?” she inquires, peering at him over her purple glasses.

Joel shakes his head.

“They show you anything?” she presses, her tone gentle as she moves her readers and sticks them into her bushy hair.

Again, he shakes his head, and then at the same time both their attention moves toward the Johnsons, still ensconced in their silent prayer at Claire’s bedside. A mutual understanding passes between them then, both knowing that other things have taken precedence in this room besides teaching a new dad how to be just that.

“Well, I ain’t no labor and delivery nurse, but I’ve had five of my own. Reckon I can get you sorted,” she declares, settling back onto the couch. With practiced ease, she adjusts Joel’s hold on Sarah, her hands confident and caring. Unprompted, she continues, “You remind me of my youngest - and I’m not going to ask you where your mama’s at - but if my little one was havin’ his own little one, and I wasn’t there for some reason, I’d hope that somebody would have some mercy on that clueless kid and step’n for me.”

It’s true, he is a clueless kid.

He doesn’t know how to hold her, or feed her, or change a diaper, and he’s not sure what cry is fine and what sound should have him racing to find a nurse.

Not to mention any of the parts about her being a girl and what to do with that. He might have been able to push through if life with this child was going to be mud and dinosaurs and football and little boy things, but he has no idea about pink and princesses and dance class and being a girl.

And part of him knows he still wouldn’t know any of this stuff if Claire was sitting next to him, but at least she’s made for this.

Was made for this.

He’s not.

Yet, as if reading his mind, Judy offers: “You’ll figure it out.”

Sarah’s small lips pucker and then croak out the faintest yawn, before flattening into a little smile.

“See, she like’s when you hold’er,” Judy chimes while playfully bumping her shoulder into his.

Goosebumps cascade down his body again, but this time they are warm—soft and bright, like Sarah's smile. The fear still lingers, rattling in his chest, but he can’t help but mirror her expression. His mouth twitches, the corners lifting into a smile of his own.

The longer he looks, the more he realizes he’s seen that grin before.

Lost in the moment, he looks up to show Claire.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“No reason to keep her here, you’re all set to leave,” the pediatrician tells him as he unhooks his stethoscope from his ears and gently places Sarah’s blanket back in place.

His tone is light and optimistic, but his volume is hushed, matching the somber ambiance of the room. Everyone’s been quite cognizant to keep quiet with the Johnsons holding vigil at the other end.

“Leave? To another room?” Joel whispers, swaying on the balls of his feet, hands crossed tightly over his chest.

With a small snort and shake of his head, the doctor tries again, “No no, your baby is being discharged, you can go home.” There is a beat of silence and then he adds, “get out of ..here.. for a bit, get a break from this, son.”

Joel’s eyes drift over to Claire’s parents, and a weight that’s been looming in the background suddenly settles on his shoulders. He rakes his hands down his face and they settle in front of his mouth, palms touching like prayer hands.

He knew this would come, but he hadn’t let himself consider how it would play out. A shiver slips down his spine and he drags in a long breath.

He’s not sure he can do this part, but then again, he didn’t think he could do any other parts of the day either.

“Talk with ‘em, but I think it’d be best if she goes home tonight,” the physician encourages as he departs, giving his shoulder a small squeeze before smiling back at Sarah and taking his exit.

The talk is a mess.

It’s a charged volley of raised voices and differing views.

They can’t believe he is considering leaving, but the doctor is right, there is no reason to stay lingering by and waiting in a place seeped in gloom and dread when Sarah’s life should start with something much brighter.

They tell him a mother and child aren’t supposed to be separated.

They aren’t wrong, but they aren’t right. He holds his tongue to what he could say, and the conversation pivots, anyway.

He asks them to revisit what the doctors said, that she will not be waking up. Gently, he tries to convince them that Claire wouldn’t want to live as a shell hooked to monitors and breathing by way of an air tank -that this isn’t what she would want - that this isn’t her.

But they don’t get it. They tell him God can work in mysterious ways, that He will choose if she goes.

He tells them that God made his choice, and now it’s their choice - his choice, he corrects. He has let them take charge this entire time, but their ceremony at the courthouse in March makes this his responsibility.

It was just a little thing with a borrowed suit and a white dress from the thrift store, and a Clerk named Alvin as their witness, but he wants to uphold the vows he swore to her that day.

With a scoff, they tell him that it wasn’t before God, that it wasn’t in a church, that it might have well have been two kids playing dress up.

They say she’s still their responsibility. And he knows “responsibility” for them is really “she’s our baby,” - and he now has a glimpse of what that means - but still, he can face what they can’t.

He tells them they are making her suffer.

They tell him he’s going to hell.

He doesn’t necessarily disagree with them.

*** ʚїɞ ***

When he shakily thumbs through some paperwork - meaningless words on a page that don’t stick in his brain - and then signs his name at the bottom, he somehow feels too young and too old at the same time.

His signature is a janky mess that anyone would be hard-pressed to decipher if it came from the trembling hand of an eighty-year-old or a fourth-grader learning cursive for the first time.

Her dad had told him to be a man.

It hurts, but that’s what he’s trying to do.

*** ʚїɞ ***

When the nighttime air hits his face, he takes a breath, dragging it in slowly through his nose and holding it until his lungs beg for mercy. He thought a few moments away would feel good, but it just seems to have highlighted a new type of anxiety that’s prodding at his insides.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s forgotten something, but he knows it isn’t true.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, it whispers.

He tries to picture exactly where she is, tucked safely in the hospital minded by nurses, but the nagging feeling stubbornly remains.

Anxiously, he twirls a pair of borrowed scissors in his fingers as he walks across the parking lot toward his car. Every step further elicits one more repetition of her name, louder and louder.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.

He pauses halfway across the parking lot, the urge to go back stopping his stride. As he drums the blade of the scissors against his palm, he considers it for a moment. He wants to have her where he can see her, but shaking his head, he dismisses the idea and continues on.

It’s strange how they’ve only been together for a few hours, and already he can’t seem to let her go—not even when he tries. He hopes that’s normal.

His keys twist into the back lock and the trunk pops open with a loud click, catapulting open and up as soon as it's unlatched. Having seen far better days, the ‘78 Wagoneer is chronically temperamental. He’s normally fluent in its weird behaviors, but he’s not on the ball today.

A second too slow at catching it, the edge nails him in the face as it comes up. It doesn’t hurt all that much, but it’s embarrassing, and he quickly turns his head around the parking lot to check if anyone’s noticed. But the only thing staring back at him is the washed-out face of a smiling baby plastering the side of the car seat box in his trunk.

It was bought over the weekend from Walmart, but hasn’t been touched since. Getting it sorted before the baby was born was supposed to be on the list of things for him to do.

Obviously that didn’t happen.

With a hefty sigh, he drags it closer and flicks open the scissors to slice at the packaging tape. Every inch of the orange handles and silver blades are heavily plastered in sharpie with “Nurse Stat. 7” to an absurd degree.

Asking for them wasn’t easy.

His request was simple at first: “Ma’am, do y’all have a pair of scissors or somethin’ I could borrow?” The woman at the large, curved desk glanced up, giving him her full attention. He probably didn’t need to say more, but her direct gaze made him nervous, and he found himself rambling.

And that’s when things got hard.

“We just had - I just had -” he stuttered before stopping in his tracks, trying to find the words that felt right to explain what had happened that day.

They did just have a baby, but they weren’t a “we” anymore, yet saying “I” felt dishonest—he hadn’t done anything. She had done everything. Gave everything.

And he knew the other half of his “we” was gone. He knew it, but verbalizing that reality outside the confines of her hospital room felt like he was spreading a lie, leaving a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth. So he decided to omit it—“if you have nothin’ nice to say, don’t say nothin’ at all,” he reminded himself, as though he was a kid back on the schoolyard, stopping a pesky rumor from spreading.

He wished it was just that.

With his hands buried in his pockets to hide their shaking, he instead managed, “My baby came a bit early and were gettin’ ready to go, but they say she needs a car seat, and her’s is still packed up in the back of my trunk.” The words came out awkward and uneven, voice cracking as if he was just a kid.

She was light on the sympathy when she handed the scissors over, slapping them into his palm with clear directions not to run off with them as if she’d heard his story several times before.

Maybe she has.

He dumps the pieces out haphazardly and arranges the array of lightweight muted grey awkwardly shaped plastic parts across the flatbed. The only bits he can definitively identify are a curved handle, a lightly padded fabric liner in blue, and two thin woven nylon straps for her seatbelt. Frustration comes on quickly as he fails to snap together two parts that look like they should fit, finds nothing that seems to anchor another, and every time he looks at the pieces scattered about, it feels like the pile has doubled in size. The minutes start to tick by quickly, and he’s no further in the process than when he started.

The little voice in his head is getting louder and louder screaming Sarah, Sarah Sarah!

He’s not really an impatient person but he can’t take it.

With an exasperated breath, an unlucky piece flies from his hand, arcs through the air, and crashes against the interior of the trunk, ultimately landing back among the sea of discarded parts.

Leaning heavily against the back bumper, his clenched fists dig into the rusty metal, knuckles going white. His chin hits his chest, defeated. Of all the things to make him unravel today, he can’t believe the goddamn car seat is somehow a fighting contender.

He thought he would be good at this - capable of building something - it’s what he does day in and day out, but this is a puzzle, not a construction project. He can build a house, but he has no idea what fits where in a seat that doesn’t even look like it would hold a toy doll, much less a living breathing child.

His gaze lifts reluctantly to the box, and with a deep sigh, he straightens. Dragging one hand through his hair the other plunges back into the box and retrieves a small white instruction booklet that mocks his competence. He slams the trunk shut with a dissatisfied breath.

Coming around front, the window slips down a healthy inch as he forces his car door open with the usual two hearty tugs. The leather of the seats are cracked and chipped, and whenever he slides into the driver’s side, his jeans always snag as he gets settled. Today is no different.

The car smells like her - sweet and floral with a hint of salt from that spray she likes to put in her hair. Claire always said it was to help with her curls but knowing her, Joel thinks it was just to smell a little like her favorite place.

He leaves the door open, allowing the nighttime air to cycle through the cabin and chisel away at one of the last remnants of her.

Lingering in any memory of her for longer than a heartbeat hurts far too much.

He cranes and contorts his body to catch a sliver of light, but it helps little. Even the big bold letters on the front - “Joy Ride Infant Seat Manual” - fade into the darkness and when he flips to the first page, squinting does nothing to help decipher the instructions.

With a sigh, he tosses the booklet into the passenger seat and moves his keys from the cup holder to the ignition. The clunker sputters to life, and Joel slams his door shut, the window pane sneaking down another half inch as the metal frame rocks with force. He drives it up two spaces, putting it under the white light of the parking lot pole lamp, and then gets out, and tries again.

The instructions do wonders for making progress.

The seat begins to take shape, but its frame is lighter and more fragile than he wants it to be. Each piece snaps and clicks into place with an unsettling ease that doesn't inspire confidence in the slightest. His hands grow clammy as he flips back and forth through the instruction booklet, doubting each step.

"Right?” he asks with skepticism to the air, picturing how it should look, glancing at the flimsy thing, and then back to the box and booklet. Truthfully, he had been worried about the quality even before putting it together:

“It’ll be fine, we didn’t even have them when we were kids, and look - we made it through,” she had tried to assuage his fears as they waited in line with it by the register on Saturday. Doubt about their choice started settling in when he picked up the suspiciously light box and it rattled with the sounds of several small pieces.

Several pieces that are now somehow a car seat.

“Right,” he mutters reluctantly, shaking his head at the final product. It hardly looks like it will keep her safe, but he’s pretty sure that is the result of choosing the cheaper option - of being two kids on a shoestring budget - and not his poor assembly skills.

He was always the worrier, Claire was always the one to talk him down.

“Go with the motion of the ocean, dude” she would always kid, dropping her voice low and slow, pretending to be some surfer boy Kyle from San Diego.

He wonders if she would stay as cool about 'the motion of the ocean' if she saw the seat's concerning sway, despite being securely fastened into the backseat during the short drive through the hospital parking lot. His ears can’t help but to zero in on the sound of its rocking as he maneuvers the Wagoneer from the dimly lit lot to the harsh fluorescent light under the hospital’s awning.

Coming to a stop, the engine idles with a rhythmic purr that mixes with the steady blink of his hazards, and for a moment, it feels nice - just him alone.

But it doesn’t last long. Alone makes him feel guilty.

Sarah! The voice in his head screams again.

As he reaches to turn off the car, his fingers brush against his keychain, causing the baubles to jingle. He pauses, the sound drawing his attention to the beaded orange and black monarch and a tiny bleached conch that knocks softly against the other keys.

Claire had "spruced them up" one afternoon, hoping to get a funny rise out of his coworkers at the construction site. After the teasing, he took off most of the other girly keychains and pink ribbon, but he kept around the butterfly and small sea shell.

He wishes he kept all of it now.

With a deep breath, he retrieves the scissors from the dash and goes to collect his daughter.

She is fussy and more squirmy than he thought a baby should be when he eases her down into it. Her tiny limbs flail against the stiff plastic sides and each time he tries to snug her in, she wriggles, face scrunching in displeasure. The straps are working against him too, twisting up as he fumbles with the buckles.

His hands tremble as he attempts to adjust the plastic chest piece, sliding it up, then down, never quite finding the right spot. He knows he’s doing something wrong, but he’s not exactly sure what - other than maybe being too gentle, but he’s not sure how to change that either because he’s determined to keep his touch feather light with her; keep it all soft and gentle so he doesn’t scare her more than she already looks to be.

He glances back at the assembly booklet, but the part about actually putting your child inside is light on details - just one page out of a hundred.

Sarah’s cries escalate, echoing in the backseat and slipping out to fill the air in the hospital entry.

His heart races as he imagines the eyes of every passerby on them, judging his clumsy attempts. A car honks loudly, startling him, and he pops his head up just in time to catch the driver shaking their head in disapproval as he swerves past.

“Work with me Sarah, come’on baby girl.”

He holds his breath as he hears the sound of the sliding doors behind him, and his hands still as he bears down and waits for someone to yell at him to get a move on.

He steals a quick glance over his shoulder, catches the eye of the woman coming through, gives her a pleasant but curt nod and then turns back toward Sarah in the car. He hopes the gesture will stave off the inevitable complaint heading his way.

“Excuse me.”

He sucks in a breath but doesn’t reply, unsure of what to say. He knows he’s been at this too long, he doesn’t need a stranger reminding him of it too.

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

"Need some help with that?" she asks.

His face must convey his answer, cause she doesn’t wait for his reply, pushing in next to him. Part of him wants to resist the help, too proud to need it, but the better part of him lets his hands back away and hers take his place.

“First time’s always hard with these things,” she tells him as her hands untangle and unclip the twisted straps. Her nails are painted purple like Claire’s before - like Sarah’s mom’s that morning - and that’s all his brain can seem to focus on as she moves things around. He almost misses her undoing the straps completely and resetting them- apparently he anchored those upside down when he put the thing together.

With a final click of a buckle, she’s gone as quickly as she came, giving him a pat on the back before climbing into the car that honked at him just moments ago.

He didn’t get the chance to say thank you.

*** ʚїɞ ***

It’s a short drive home, but it's a spotty blur of lights in the dark - some greens and reds, but mostly whites - bright headlights that burn into his retinas from the rearview as he takes far too many long and hard glances toward Sarah in the back seat.

With every mile, his grip on the wheel tightens and his arms stiffen, and by the time he’s pulling into the apartment complex he might as well be a statue in the front seat. And even though it prolongs the stiffness even more, he takes the curve into the apartment complex at a crawl and keeps the speedometer unreadable as he glides gently into his parking space.

His foot moves slowly as it eases off the break, car bobbing back ever so slightly. His hands release the steering wheel, knuckles aching as they straighten and flood back to color. His right-hand drifts stiffly down, fingers curling around the ignition key. With a deep breath, he pauses, gaze going to the top of Sarah’s car seat just visible in the corner rearview, and then with a decisive twist, the rickety engine that had been her lullaby shudders to a halt.

Mercifully, she doesn’t wake.

He exhales a long breath as the car settles into the stillness - quiet, yet far from peaceful.

Drawing another breath in feels like inhaling sludge, oxygen to thick to gulp. Suddenly his body is feeling again, bringing out every worry and fear that he pushed down in their drive home. They are trying to crawl out of his stomach, digging into the sides of his throat as they climb their way up and out.

He can’t breathe.

The car is totally stopped, but he feels like any move he makes now will somehow send them into a tailspin, he won’t be able to steer them out of it, and they will crash, and Sarah will end up in the same place as Claire.

She’s home safe and sound - “home safe”, he repeats over and over in his head - but he can’t get his brain and body to sync up.

He knows it's all irrational, but he feels lightyears away from safe.

His fingers grip the top of his thighs, pressing down hard and deep as his breaths come in choppy and labored through his nose, jaw clenched up tight.

He knows what’s happening, but it makes little difference in stopping it. His mother used to call it "emociones fuertes" when he was a child, but he hasn’t had a true one in years - really not since living with Claire.

“Stop it Miller, Stop it.” He grates, trying to find something to focus on to push away the feelings of overwhelm. His eyes land on the only thing in view, the parking sign at the head of his spot, and he traces the number 12 over and over again with his eyes.

Down, around, across, over. Down, around, across, over.

Failing to find relief, he takes a long breath in and collapses forward, forehead pushing into the top of the wheel as he closes his eyes hoping the sparkly specks and blurry colors behind them will be a better distraction. Instead, his mom’s voice comes drifting through his head, a brief vision of her flashing behind his eyelids: "Mira, mira, mijo, mira a mí. Inspira - uno, dos. Suelta - uno, dos."

He does what she says.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He repeats over and over again.

When he peels himself up and away after an undeterminable amount of minutes, his eyes first go to his rearview mirror and catch Sarah’s car seat, and then go to his dashboard and land on the green numbers of the clock. It reads 10:27, just like the placard on her bassinet at the hospital - a strange coincidence that has his anxiety twitching, threatening to come back in full for no apparent reason.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He cracks open his car door, but almost slams it shut - a roaring sound of buzzing cicadas wafting into the car. He holds his breath and pauses, hand not even off the door handle. He waits and waits for her to start fussing and crying -bugs should make babies cry right?- but Sarah stays quiet, blissfully asleep.

And she remains that way by some small miracle as he detaches her car seat and locks the car with a loud resonant chirp.

The flight of stairs up to the apartment is taken at a sloth's pace, anchoring both of his feet into each concrete step and pausing before moving on to the next, all while holding the car seat fiercely level with two hands as if the slightest dip will have her slipping out.

When he reaches his front door, he does everything in his power to minimize the sway of her seat as he shifts to hold her with one hand and muffle the jingle of the keys as he unlocks it, petrified of waking her.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

With a creak, it falls open and an unexpected, staticky voice from a distance halts him on the threshold. His eyes track the sound to a very faint blue glow in the far corner and the realization hits harder than it should - TV’s still on, left unattended in the rush this morning.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

Shaking his head, Joel sighs heavily and steps inside. His gaze flits to the light switch but then back to his hands glued firmly to the car seat, and decides not to engage with it, forgoing the juggle it would take to get them turned on. The door closes with a push of his heel, and the apartment entry plunges into darkness.

A jolt of panic rips up through him as he stumbles, feet tripping up on something on the floor. He catches himself in a rush of awkward steps, and looks back to see the culprit. Squinting against the dark the outline of Claire’s backpack comes into view.

Swallowing hard, he tears his gaze away, focusing on getting Sarah settled.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

Embarrassingly, his arms are already aching, and that makes his heart pound with worry, fearing somehow they will just give out without his permission. It’s maybe only ten steps, but it feels like he is crossing the entire length of the small apartment as he rushes to put her down.

But then she’s on the coffee table and he finally lets out a real breath.

Fumbling in the dark, he attempts to flip down the car seat handle, hands blindly feeling out the button, but he can’t get it to budge. “Okay, baby girl, okay,” he coos in a whisper as Sarah begins to let out the tiniest mewls as her resting place is disturbed. Promptly, he removes his hands holding them up until she settles.

He steps back, pauses, then scrambles to find the remote control and flips off the TV, pushing the space into stark silence.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

With a deep sigh, he sinks into the couch in front of her. A sliver from a street light outside slips through a small opening in a window curtain, hitting her car seat at just the right angle. The orange hue brightens up the darkness just enough for Joel to see her small little face as she settles back into sleep.

It should make him feel better, being able to see her, but the more he stares, the more anxiety fills his body.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He isn’t supposed to be doing this alone.

Twisting his watch band back and forth, his mind races with all the things he doesn’t know, all the things he’s going to have to learn, and everything he has to do. He grates his molars together as the list grows and grows.

He’s going to fail at this.

He is going to fail her.

His chest is feeling tight again, and his breaths are coming in choppy no matter how many times he tries to coach himself into breathing. Desperate for relief, his hand leaves his watch and goes to rub it against his sternum. It’s an unseasonably cool day by Austin standards for July, but the apartment is starting to feel unbearably hot and all too small. His shirt is growing wet, sweat making it uncomfortably cling to his body, and he wants to just rip off the constricting material and get out of this too-small space, and run away.

But that idea hurts his heart more than helps. An image of her alone in the dark stabs at his insides and aggravates all the dread swirling inside him.

He stands abruptly and crosses to the window, bats at the curtain to push it aside, and cracks it open to let in some of the night's cooler air.

The sounds of the city at night drift in - a car alarm in the distance, the low hum of traffic, and of course, the buzz of the summertime cicadas. He leans against the wall next to the window, allowing the slight breeze to cool his face as he listens.

He didn’t realize how suffocating the silence was until his heart rate slowed and his lungs grew lighter as he basked in the distant rumble of Austin. Back in the hospital, there had always been a constant backdrop of sounds—machines beeping, footsteps, conversations - all a distraction for his brain to digest instead. When it’s too quiet there is nothing to keep his anxious thoughts at bay.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He could stay standing in the spot all night long- fall asleep upright - but his heart is tugging him in a different direction after just a couple of minutes. Feeling more steady, he pushes off the wall and goes back over to Sarah, already worried he’s done something wrong by taking his eyes off her for just a few moments.

When he settles in next to her this time, it's on the floor beside the coffee table, wanting to be as close as possible. He leans his head on the wood table top as he gently reaches inside her car seat and lays his hand atop her stomach.

Feeling every one of her tiny inhales and exhales calms some of his nerves, but doesn’t wash away all his fears. He pushes himself to match her breathing.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

*** ʚїɞ ***

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. And he certainly doesn’t remember moving off the scratchy rug on the floor to the old green tweed couch, but he has.

His eyes snap open as the sound of her wails jolt him awake, body jerking and almost tumbling off the side, back to the floor where he thought he had been.

Still dark, his eyes take a long moment to adjust, only seeing the outline of her car seat and her squirmy body, while his brain also races to catch up with his sudden awakening.

But then her small little body emerges from the dark, pushing against the confines of her seat, and he’s dropping to his knees infront of the coffee table in an instant. His hands make quick work of unclipping her buckles, but come to a slow as they reach inside for her - making sure his big clumsy hands are delicate and careful with her as they slip under her tiny arms and around her back, pointer fingers nestling at the base of her head as Judy had aptly shown him.

The moment she is free, her body curls into a tight ball, knees drawn to her chest. Her face mirrors, scrunched tightly as she cries, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open, her tiny chin trembling with each wail.

"Shh, baby girl, I got ya," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and laden with worry. Carefully, he draws her close against his chest, rocking gently as he kneels on the floor. His hand sweeps down her back in a soft caress, followed by a tender pat, repeating the process in a rhythmic lull. But it does nothing to soothe her.

Her cries continue to pierce through the silence of the apartment, and each sob compounding the worry and anxiousness filling up his gut.

One of them is shaking - he’s really not sure which one - but as her cries persist and stab into his ears, he thinks it might be him more than her.

“C’mon, Sarah, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads softly as he slowly rises to stand with her.

Pacing the room, he rocks her gently, his lips pressed to her forehead in a silent plea for calm. "Shhh, it's alright, nothing to cry about," he murmurs, the words meant as much for himself as for her.

It’s a little startling how easily her tears have triggered his own. They slip down his face in one hot wet line, and he feels horrible for allowing them to drip onto the crown of her head, but he can’t move his hands away from holding her to brush them out of his eyes and off his face.

“Please stop cryin’.”

The cries only swell.

The ring and echo in his ears, muddling his thoughts into a desperate slurry of “please stop.” He hates himself for it, but he places her back in the car seat, digs the heels of his hands against his eyes the moment they are unburdened, and groans hard in frustration.

“Wet, hungry, tired. That’s all you got to figure out, capiche?” Judy had told him.

He repeats it now, despite his doubts about the simplicity: “Wet, hungry, tired.”

Gritting his teeth, he wipes the back of his hand to his eyes, clearing away the tears, and carries her to the kitchen - not exactly sure why, it just feels right.

The tiles are cool under his bare feet and the overhead sconce flickers before coming alive and bathing the space in a soft yellow light.

He pauses with her in the carrier, looking at the mess of spilled breakfast still on the table, and the minuscule space of countertop that barely can fit a pan on a good day. He taps his hand against his thigh as he thinks about his options, but her cries are like a timer pushing him to make a decision.

They hadn’t gotten around to setting up her crib yet or a changing station of some sort, and the space seems the only feasible option for them right now.

So the floor it is.

He drops to the ground with her, tugging down two dish towels looped over the oven handle as he descends. A faint odor of rancid milk and soggy cereal wafts up from the tiles, leading his gaze to the shards of a broken bowl scattered beneath the table, remnants of this morning's chaos. He contemplates moving, but her cries are growing louder. Wincing, he pushes the stench to the back of his mind, and then with an exacerbated exhale that puffs out his cheeks, he wipes his forearm across the floor, checking for bits of bowl. When he feels none, he lays out the two towels atop each other like a little mat, hoping to provide her some comfort.

“Please stop cryin’, please Sarah I'm tryin’,” he whispers as he finds the snaps on her onesie - a powder pink and thin cotton thing given from the hospital, plain as can be. “Please baby girl I'm tryin’,” he begs softly against her hard cries that echo and bounce off the tiny kitchen, growing in strength each time they ricochet into his ears.

But his quick work is all for nothing, cause he straightens up on his knees and realizes he has forgotten the most crucial bit - a diaper.

His heart sinks and he lets out a dejected rumble at the realization of where it’s at. The hospital had handed him a 'goody bag for dad,' as one nurse had cheerfully put it, filled with enough supplies to last until he could make a proper store run. Grateful, he had nonetheless tossed it onto the floor of the passenger seat, his mind too preoccupied with other things to pay it any attention, until now.

Sitting back on his haunches, he contemplates a quick dash to retrieve it, but the thought of leaving her alone, even for a minute, claws at him.

With a resigned sigh, he bundles her back into the car seat - forgoing her onesie - it’s warm, it will just be a minute. Cursing under his breath, he heads to the car with her in tow.

The journey downstairs and back is torturous, each step deliberate, trying not to jostle her too much and worsen her cries. The thud of his heart pounds in his ears, synchronizing with each of her sobs.

He’s not sure if it's just the contrast of sounds, but it seems quieter out than before, and he wonders how late into the night or how early into the morning it actually is. He bites his lip with a grimace as they pass the neighbor’s door, Sarah of course letting out a particularly loud wail right in front, certainly disturbing their sleep. If he wasn’t already feeling guilty, that surely sealed it. He makes a mental note to send them an apology, as he come back inside to the apartment and drop the bag onto the kitchen floor.

With a deep breath, he resets, and begins the process again.

It’s his second time ever changing a diaper and it’s no better than the first horrid attempt at the hospital. Somehow the sticky side wings bunch up together and pulling them apart ruins the whole thing, tearing at the materials and making it wholly unusable. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the mistake, chucking the collateral damage of his inexperience far across the kitchen as she continues to cry and cry.

Things bode better with the second diaper, satisfaction flicking across Joel’s face as he fastens up the last snap of her onesie and her cries recede.

But the quiet is short-lived, gone before he can even sigh in relief. She starts to whimper and then they escalate into another bout of full-on cries, face scrunching up in discomfort.

She really does have a set of lungs on her.

"Alright, not wet, then. Hungry, huh?" He asks scooping her up into his arms as he debates what to do. He eyes the carrier and then settles Sarah back into it, standing with her in the middle of the kitchen for a long moment. It seems like the only safe place to have her when he’s up and moving.

“Hungry, we can fix that, just we gotta -,” he narrates as he takes a long stride forward to the counter. He attempts to place her on it, but the top of her carrier hits the underside and cabinet, preventing him from doing so.

Shit.

He fumbles momentarily, trying to figure out where to put her, to finally deciding on the sink. The stainless steel double bowled sink was something they used to make fun of, size out of place in the rest of the tiny apartment, but he’s never been more thankful for it now. Her carrier balances perfectly on one of the sides, resting atop like a colander would.

He lets his hands go from it hesitantly, murmuring, “Okay, just stay there,” as he slowly backs away to retrieve the brown bag of supplies from the floor.

“We’ll get you a bottle then,” he tells her, throwing the words over his shoulder as if she can understand. Her reply is only more piercing sobs.

His hands are shaky as he pulls out the formula and a bottle and he can’t help but stare at them with wide eyes as they linger in the palms of his hands. The transfixion breaks at the sound of a particularly rattled shriek that claws up from her throat.

He carries the supplies back to the counter and instinctively reaches into his pocket. Relief washes over him as he finds the small piece of paper he stashed there hours ago still safe. Carefully, he pulls it out and smooths the crinkled paper against the countertop edge.

“Can I write this down?”

“Sure thing, let’s um - here,” Judy offered, ripping out a blank form from a chart, flipping it over to a blank white back, and passing it to him with a click of a pen.

It’s his writing, but it’s barely recognizable chicken scratch.

Reading the instructions aloud to himself, his voice is hesitant and shaky, but he tries to ground himself in the steps, eyes casting over to Sarah every other second.

Her face is red and glistens, soaked in tears.

He can’t help but tell her, “workin’ as fast as I can baby,” as he lowers his head down to the bottle and makes sure he is pouring the exact amount of water into the measuring line. The formula tin opens with a scratchy metallic sound as he tears away the top. His fingers dig inside for the scoop - he made a note that Judy said it likes to hide - and when they find reach it he quickly uses the plastic shovel to ladle the powder into the tiny bottle.

It’s not a particularly clean process - rushing, excess powder spills onto the counter every time he taps the scoop to the lid of the bottle to get the formula in. He probably should be more careful with it, but Sarah’s screaming for him to hurry.

He slides infront of her as he shakes the bottle, using his free hand to wipe away the tears drenching her cheeks.

“Almost there, almost there,” he coos half to Sarah, half to himself, as he clings to small talk as if the words could bridge the gap between panic and calm while gently rocking her seat.

Raising the bottle toward the ceiling, he uses the light to check the formula is all dispersed and seeing it is, he turns quickly to offer it to her, and the nipple grazes her mouth her pulls it back quickly.

He forgot to warm it.

Quickly, he flips the faucet handle up and over, hot as it can go, and holds the bottle under the stream. The heat begins to sting his hand, but he holds it steady and waits for the warmth to seep into the milk.

Sarah’s cries lull to a sputter, and her tense expression eases into a prolonged frown.

There is only one thing that’s changed:

“You like the water huh?” he asks glancing back and forth between the tap and her face.

As he holds it under, the redness in her face fades begins to fade, and a tentative smile begins to form on Joel's lips. "You know, your momma loved the water," he distantly murmurs, watching her visibly relax.

With the rush of the faucet filling her ears, Sarah stops crying abates, and he slips the bottle out from under it.

“You get that from her.”

It’s a melancholy whisper that he knows she can’t understand, but he hopes it somehow it roots in her heart like his. Catching a glimpse of Claire in her - getting a reminder that she still is her daughter too, and not just his, has a certain type of flutter kicking in his heart.

He tests the temperature on his wrist like Judy showed and, then hesitantly takes a sip himself just to double check—it’s lukewarm at best, but it will have to do. He keeps the soothing rush of the tap on for her as he gently slips the bottle into her mouth. When she takes it without protest, his shoulders droop, relief washing over him. He watches her drink, the soft rhythmic sounds of her sucking mixing in with the white noise of the water beside her.

"There you go, baby girl. That’s it," he murmurs, a smile blooming full into his cheeks.

He’s not sure what does, but suddenly he’s feeling like nothing can go wrong.

As she takes the bottle at a chug, her plump cheeks rise and fall, appearing even fuller and irresistibly adorable. Her long eyelashes, mirroring the rich brown mop of hair atop her head, flutter gently as she settles more comfortably. And even after crying her little head off, remnants of her screams and tears still clearly on her face, he can’t help but think that she is one of the most beautiful babies out there.

Which isn’t a surprise cause she looks like Claire and she was one of the most beautiful people out there.

"We can do this," he whispers.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“3 weeks from baby!”

The small little calendar magnet stares him down. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot from a night gone without sleep, but he holds its gaze harshly. Gently swaying, Sarah rest against his chest, her tiny form curled securely in his grasp.

He’s not sure what to do with it.

Never once has he changed it - it was Claire’s thing - and it still feels like her thing- but the morning light peaking through the crusty blinds in the kitchen is hitting it perfectly, spotlighting it in a warm glow, and it just feels like the world is telling him to fix it.

He stops his sway, coming to a slow as he heaves a sigh. With one hand, he carefully removes the magnet, flips it to the last page, jostles it in the air as the thin pages catch on the cheap spiral binding, and slaps it back onto the fridge.

“Baby is here!”

It’s up for all of three seconds before it flies across the kitchen.

It clangs against the metal sink, sliding down with a scrape, and settling ominously at the bottom drain.

Fixed somehow feels infinitely worse than wrong.

Sarah stirs, a soft whimper breaking through as she senses his tension. He exhales slowly, relaxing his clenched jaw, and resumes his gentle sway, hoping to soothe both her and himself.

Now, the black fridge door hosts only a lone neon butterfly magnet, its wings pinning a small card beneath them - a phone number, an address, and an army insignia.

His heart moves from somewhere beneath Sarah to the floor.

Tommy.

He had been gone most of the summer at basic training, and at the start of his ten weeks, Claire had put up the address to make sure she knew where to send his letters. They were two kindred spirits, the same type of recklessness and bubble - her little brother just as much as his.

He never asked what was in the letters she sent, but he’s certain Claire was keeping Tommy up to date with her pregnancy, especially because in his own letters from Tommy, he would be nagged about not buying Claire enough chocolate-covered pretzels and salt n’ vinegar chips- her two favorite snack cravings.

He deserves to know.

Plucking the card from the fridge, Joel shuffles over to the wall-mounted phone, the cord stretching and coiling like a reluctant snake. He sinks into a kitchen chair, cradling Sarah more snugly as he dials the number, each press of the button sharper than necessary. Calling during training isn’t really a thing - “only write me” Tommy had explained once, but this isn’t something that could wait. After an agonizing series of redirects and brief conversations with faceless operators, his brother’s familiar voice finally crackles through the speaker.

“Joel? Everythin’ alright?” He asks immediately.

His eyes are on Sarah, balanced in his arm supported up by a bent leg in a figure four. His foot is wiggling anxiously, but she seems to like the motion as it vibrates up his leg. “She’s here” is what is at the tip of his tongue, fighting to come out, but that’s barely half the truth.

The feeling like he is about to spread a lie is back, guilt settling heavily in his chest. He can’t find the words to say Claire is gone.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

“Joel? You there brother?” Tommy presses again.

His eyes drift up to the butterfly on the fridge and suddenly the truth is tumbling out in a hurried stream, details of the past day pouring out so quickly he barely catches his breath. He’s not even sure he says it all in the right order, and he knows the sprinkles of things the doctor said, and mentions of Claire’s parents, as well as his laments about not having anything ready, probably don’t help with clarity either. By the time he finishes, the phone is pressed hard against his ear, digging into the cartilage to an uncomfortable extent and the acidic taste from yesterday is peaking into his mouth from the top of his throat.

For a long moment there is only the echo of Joel’s winded breath.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

“Hermano,” Tommy sighs, breathy air pushing into the phone and transmitting as a loud crackle in Joel’s ear. The static subsides back into silence, and both are unsure of what to say.

“Brother I’m s -,” he begins, only to stop to shush some ruckus in the background of his line, “I’m goin’ to request some leave - come home, be there by day after next.”

“That ain’t -“ Joel begins to protest, but Tommy cuts him off.

“-don’t start with that, I’m comin’, this is family.”

His eyes wander down to the bundle in his arms, and immediately they well up with tears. He sniffs them away - no time for that, he chastises himself - and nods his head before letting it fall back, gaze turning up toward the blotchy ceiling, letting gravity take care of the rest of the water pooling in his eyes.

“Joel?” Tommy asks against the prolonged quiet, voice tugging him back from the brink of tears. He comes back to attention, clearing away the tightness growing in his throat with a closed-mouth cough.

“Yeah sorry.. I’ll see ya’ day after tomorrow then.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Tommy parrots, almost absently, trailing off with another despondent sigh. “Howaw is he?”

“He?” Joel pauses, confusion wrinkling his brow.

“Your son.”

“Oh,” Joel says with a small snort, a hint of a smile forming. He wedges the phone into the space between his ear and shoulder, and holds it firm in place as he readjusts Sarah. She’s starting to wake, lips twitching up and little eyes fluttering. He gently brushes his pinky down her soft cheek.

“Well you ain’t goin’ to believe this, but he’s a she.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, a girl…Sarah.”

Sarah who looks like Claire with beautiful brown eyes and thick hair, and loves the water like her mama. Sarah who has a sweet little gurgle but cries like a coyote cause she’s strong and knows what she wants. Sarah who has been with him topside less then a day, but has already made his heart grow two sizes bigger.

“Well I’ll be dammed..baby girl Miller...ain’t that somethin’.”

She is. She really is.

#tlou #the last of us #tlou fic #tipsy bison #ao3 fanfic #joel miller #joel and sarah #sarah miller #oc #Claire Miller #tommy miller #Joel becomes a dad #Dad Joel #my fic #my writing #Next of Kin #sad stories #sad shit #single parent Joel

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years

Text

Lust

Modern!Oberyn Martell x Female Reader

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Word Count: 15k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Mentions of hair, mentions of mental health, flirty Oberyn (always), age gap, praise kink, body worship, oral sex (f receiving), protected vaginal sex, slight cum play

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A/N: Holy motherfucking shit, this idea was absolutely amazing and all thanks to @fishingforpike. I’ve rarely seen Oberyn like this and I’ve never written him in a modern setting before but wow, WOW.

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Just seconds after the paper flops onto your desk, you open your eyes, immediately releasing a disappointed breath. After not doing so well on it the first time, your professor was ‘gracious’ enough to let you retake it. You’d studied for more than ten hours for this exam, how could you fail it again?

“Really?” You whisper incredulously. “Twenty-one percent?!”

Professor McIntosh doesn’t even look at you, he just walks away. You had to beg him to allow you another chance, and now, you’re feeling dumb all over again.

“Professor?” You call timidly, looking up just as he’s sitting down on his desk. “Um, I… I’m not sure how I did so bad… again.”

“Well my dear,” He sighs, glasses tilted down towards the other papers. “Neither am I.”

Heavily, you sigh. Professor McIntosh seems nice, his reviews were good, and his degrees were impressive. But outside of all those details, he was just that, a professor. He only cared as much as he was paid. And he wasn’t paid much.

“I have office hours later today.” He then informs you, deciding to extend to you some extra help. “It’s in the Browning Building. My office is 403, and my hours are between three and five.”

Glancing back down at your paper, an entirely too big F stamped across it. You nod. “Okay.”

Being that you’re on a different campus this year, locating new buildings isn’t exactly an easy thing. It’s about a month into the fall semester, and by now you’re comfortable finding all the buildings that your classes are in. But finding more? That’s not something you expected you’d have to do. Not for another semester, at least.

On your way over to this building, you’d pulled up a map on your phone so you know where to go. It’s about a fifteen minute walk from where you were, all the way on the other side of campus. Great. You hate long walks, you’ve never been a walk-type person. It’s chilly outside, too, and you’re only wearing a pair of yogas and a fleece quarter-zip. But you don’t necessarily mind. The windchill isn’t too high today, and you’re wearing boots so you can successfully avoid any freezing puddles, too.

“Browning, Browning…” Muttering, you continue to scan the buildings, looking at each one of their signs. You’re starting to shiver at this point, so you really need to get inside. “Brown!”

Finally finding the building, you scurry inside, exhaling a swift breath once you're through the front doors. Rubbing your hands together, you think back to what your professor said. 403…three and five. It’s three forty-five right now, so this is prime time for a visit. And once you find the stairs, you make your way up.

Hopefully he’ll be able to tell you which categories to study for his next exam, give you a few pointers on different studying techniques. You were never a bad student, so to get this low of a grade is pretty shocking to you. Inside your bag, you’d brought all of your chemistry supplies, too, your textbook, notebook and pencils. Surely you can get something positive out of this.

“Professor McIntosh?” You ask aloud, your knuckles rapping against the open wooden door. But when you round the corner, that’s not who you see.

Instead of seeing a gray-haired man in his seventies, one who usually wears a black business suit that’s way too tight for him, you see someone… well, completely the opposite. This man has black hair, along with dark facial hair accenting the edges of his jawline and chin, as well as above his lip. He’s wearing a light brown, cashmere polo with a thin, gold chain just barely peeking out between the flaps of his collar. He looks to be in his early forties, and is wearing a pair of what you assume to be reading glasses.

“Can I help you?” The man behind the desk raises a curious eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I um… is…” You poke your head in, looking around. This makes him chuckle. “Is Professor McIntosh here?”

“No,” The man returns, removing his reading glasses. “I’m Professor Martell.”

He does so to get a better look at you. And when he does, he grins, but you don’t even notice it. He can tell you’ve been walking for some time, the cold making your cheeks slightly rosy and the tip of your nose shine. There are strands of hair framing your face, and they don’t exactly look like you styled them to be there. They’re strewn around your once neatly done braid, the majority of it resting on your upper back. You look a bit flustered, which he honestly finds cute. You must be new.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You sigh, aggravated yet again. “I must have gotten the buildings wrong again.”

“What one were you looking for?”

“Browning - isn’t this it?”

“No,” He responds again, his smile displaying a small dimple. “This is Brown.”

“Wha - I… ugh,” Now, you groan, whining out, “Why would they have two buildings with nearly the exact same name?”

Professor Martell chuckles at your mewling complaint, turning to look over at his computer. He makes a few clicks while you stand there, staring at your phone while trying to figure out where you went wrong.

“Here,” He speaks up, not looking away from his desktop. “I can print you out a map of the campus. It might be better to look at the whole thing instead of your phone.”

At this, you feel a little embarrassed, sliding your phone into your side pocket. You’re also surprised he took it upon himself to print a map out for you.

“Oh… thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He responds kindly, standing to hand the piece of paper to you. “May I know your name?”

“Oh,” You feel a little dumb… once again. You should’ve introduced yourself to him, and now that he’s asked, you do.

His eyes glance over your frame quickly when you give him your name, a pleasant smile once again crossing his face. Sticking his hand out, you take it, shaking it gently. And wow, he’s warm.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Seeing him up close feels… surreal? Now that he’s standing, you can see his entire outfit. Below his cashmere sweater he’s wearing a pair of black slacks with a belt to match, and Oxford shoes, the same shade as his pants. He’s tall and surprisingly toned. And now that he has your hand, you can see that he’s also wearing a gold watch on his left wrist.

He notices that your eyes are traveling, and when they return to his, you’re met with a smirk. Why do you feel nervous?

“It’s, it’s nice to meet you too, Professor Martell.”

After a moment of eye contact, his brown eyes a mesmerizing hue, he releases your hand.

“I’ve circled the Browning Building on the map for you. So you don’t get lost, next time.”

You look down when he hands it to you. That building looks like another ten minutes away from this one. This time, your irritated sigh is internal.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, I’m happy to help.” Turning around, he makes his way back over to his desk.

From this angle, you practically ogle his back. You can see his muscles move beneath his shirt, his gold chain glimmering in the light of the now-setting sun. Inside, your heart picks up its previously steady beat.

“And please,” He continues, turning around while remaining on his feet. “Feel free to come by if you need help with anything else.”

The way he says it makes you grin, and he mirrors it. Nodding, you glance back down at the paper. Turning around, you give him one glance over your shoulder.

“Thank you.”

You’ll consider it.

Instead of walking another ten minutes across campus without the guarantee of finding the right building, you decide to call it a day and go home. Luckily, your apartment is only a two-minute walk from the Browning Building. And besides, maybe you can just try to study off of your own notes tonight.

As soon as you walk in the door, you’re thankful to meet a small wave of heat. You live alone, so you get to keep the thermostat at whatever temperature you want. One of the many benefits of riding solo, in your opinion.

Before you can even set your bookbag down, you get a text from your best friend.

And you do, taking in the warm water and hoping it will soothe your gradually building headache. Chemistry was a bitch and so was getting used to a new campus. You also have to make a mental note to bring a jacket from now on. You love fall, but fuck the cold.

“Hey,” After drying off and putting on some sweats, you set up shop at your coffee table before calling your best friend.

“Hey! So, what happened today?” She asks, taking a bite of the pasta she apparently made.

Looking down, you organize your pencils and highlighters, flipping through your notebook.

“I got twenty-one percent on that fucking quiz, man.”

“Holy shit! How?!”

“Don’t even ask me, I have literally no idea.”

“Are you studying now?”

“Yeah.” You respond blandly, yawning for a moment.

“You want me to go?”

“No way,” Comes your immediate response. “You’re the only thing making my day worthwhile.”

“Awe, I love you.”

Her response makes you giggle. “I love you, too.”

But after flipping through a few pages, another thought comes to mind. “Well, I guess you’re not the only bright side today. I did meet someone.”

“Ooh, who?!”

“Don’t get too excited, it was a new professor.” You laugh, shaking your head at her.

“Oh, which one?”

“Professor Martell. I didn’t even mean to see him today, honestly. Just went to the wrong building by mistake.”

“Aaaaand you consider him a bright side to your day?”

Your eyes widen slightly, a creep of heat crawling up your neck and to your ears. Did you say that?

“I guess,” Shrugging, you try to be nonchalant. “Do you… do you know anything about him?” Cori has been at this school longer than you. She could’ve had him as a professor before.

“Yeah, actually.” She responds after a moment. “I had him for chemistry last year.”

“Oh really? What’s he like?”

“Why do you want to know?” She teases with a smirk.

You shrug, trying to hide your own. “I dunno, my teacher isn’t really that helpful. Maybe he could be.”

“Mhm,” Cori responds, sounding unconvinced. But she tells you anyway. “Honestly, all my friends in that class thought he was hot as hell. I did too, he looks so good for his age.”

“How old is he?”

“Not sure, maybe mid-forties?”

Damn, you think. He does look good for his age.

“Everyone can tell he thinks he’s hot shit.”

No wonder, comes your next thought, he looks like he is.

“He was a pretty good teacher, though. But some of his students couldn’t get around the fact that he was a hottie with a body.”

“You’re so annoying.” You roll your eyes, laughing. She laughs, too.

“I heard one of them even tried getting with him!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“How’d that go?” You joke, although you’re interested to hear her response.

“They got turned down. He’s never flirted with any of the students on campus.”

Now this makes you think. It could just be wishful thinking, but it seemed like he could have been flirting with you. Maybe he was just being overly friendly? His smile didn’t seem too platonic.

This conversation makes you think back to the map he’d given you, now moving to pick it up from where you placed it on the table. You look it over, nothing out of place or different. But upon turning it over, you find his office phone number and school email written on it. Your eyebrows rise ever so slightly, pondering this new information. Does that mean something?

“What’s that?”

“A map of campus. He gave it to me, since I got lost.”

“Oh, that was nice of him.”

“Yeah…”

Cori narrows her eyes. “What?”

“He… put his phone number on it. Well, not like his phone number, but the one to his office, I think. And his school email.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

“Well I mean, you’re not one of his students. So, I dunno.”

After a moment of silence, she grins. “Maybe he wants to see you again.”

“Or maybe he just wants to help out a new student on campus.”

“I’d let him help me out.”

“Shut up.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that if you turn him down, let him know I’m available.”

“Cori,”

“With open arms, and open legs.”

“CORI!”

You absolutely bust out laughing at her comment. You’ve known Cori for more than a year now, and you swear she’s your soul sister. Every time you talk, it puts a smile on your face. You’re beyond thankful to have her in your life. And more often than not, she makes a few good points. Maybe he does want to see you again.

“Oh my god, I don’t get this.”

Shoving your face into your hands, you release an exasperated huff. This is the hardest class you’ve taken so far, and absolutely nothing makes sense. And to make matters worse, your teacher has stopped giving you second chances. This is the only class you’re failing, and it couldn't be more frustrating to you.

“You could go back to him, you know…” Cori reminds you, watching you struggle with your homework over FaceTime.

“I don’t even know if he’d be able to help me.”

“Attractiveness aside, he was a really good teacher.”

“I don’t want to bother him.” You mumble, tears of frustration daring to roll down your cheeks. Plus, the last thing you need is to feel dumb in front of him again.

“Babe,” She says, sighing while she gives you a sympathetic expression. “He told you to come back if you needed help with anything, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod, sniffling while sliding your sleeves across your eyes.

“Then go to him. Your stupid teacher obviously won’t help.”

Maybe she has a point. His office is less than five minutes away, too. If you clean yourself up and pack your things into your bookbag, you can make it there by five. Hopefully he’ll still be there.

“Okay, I’ll call you back later.”

“I can’t hun, I have work.”

“Oh,” You frown, your sadness only growing. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” She offers you a pout. “But I’ll text you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” With that, you hang up, looking forward to your friend’s text. Without many other companions and with your family living out of state, you relied on her heavily for comfort and company. One of the few downfalls of living alone was your lack of company. You’re an introvert, but you still liked to socialize occasionally. In truth, you often get lonely. But hopefully, you’ll be able to spend time with that professor tonight. Maybe you can make a friend out of him.

You put way too much thought into your outfit, but you eventually settle for a comfortable sweater and some jeans. Tying your hair up, you slide on a pair of ankle-high boots, and pack your things. Before leaving you sling your backpack onto your shoulders, taking in a breath before heading out into the elements. Honestly, this might as well be hiking for you. But within a handful of minutes, you’re surrounded by the heat once again.

“Professor Martell?” Comes your timid call, appearing in front of his door.

The entryway is clear, the door propped open with a small stopper. And when you say his name, he looks up, those reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. With a smile on his lips he says your name, setting down the paper in his hand and rising. It’s been more than a week since he’s last seen you.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

Upon further evaluation, he acknowledges your somber state. Your shoulders are slouching and you look tired, eyes slightly red and puffy as if you’d just been crying. The center of his brows fold up just barely at this. What’s happened to you tonight?

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Nodding, you step in, walking over to him. “I was um, wondering if you could help me? With studying?”

“Of course,” He nods, furrowing his brows slightly. Gesturing to the seat beside you, he sits down in his own. “Please.”

You do as he says, taking a seat in the chair and setting your bag down on the ground. He rearranges his desk, making room in the center. He then clasps his hands together, placing them on the edge.

“Have your grades not been doing well?” He inquires, taking off his glasses and folding them, hooking them on the center of his shirt.

He’s just as handsome as when you first saw him, and just as nicely dressed, too. Slightly, he tilts his head at you, that same concerned furrow creased on his brow.

“Not really,” You mutter, looking down at your hands.

“Okay,” Nodding, he thinks about what he can do. “Did you bring your textbooks?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Okay, take it out, and bring your chair over here.”

You’re surprised by his invitation, but you move without a second thought. Dragging the chair to the tiny space beside him, you reach for your bag, unzipping it to take out your book.

“Okay, let’s see.” Professor Martell then says, bringing his glasses back up to his nose. “What chapter are you studying? And what professor do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Um, chapter five, I think. And I have professor McIntosh.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just nods. Reaching over, he folds open your book. You expected him to take it into his own hands, but no, he flips through the pages while it rests on your lap.

“Do you have a highlighter with you?” He inquires, looking up at you from his glasses.

“Yeah, I have a few.” Reaching back down you grab a blue one, bringing it up with you.

“Good,” Professor Martell nods. “I can show you the sections that you should pay the most amount of attention to.”

“That’d be great! Thank you!”

“Of course, darling.” He says to you, his voice quiet and smooth.

The space you’re in is small, but you find yourself liking the closeness. It’s comfortable to you, and it’s comfortable to him, too. You’re nearly shoulder to shoulder and at this proximity, you can smell the cologne he uses. The aroma of fresh sandalwood surrounds you, the tones earthy, smokey and rich. It’s calming to you, and you inhale the scent of him happily, deeply.

“You’ll want to highlight this section,” Pulling you back to reality, you look down.

He’s pointing to the book, his finger applying the slightest amount of pressure. It’s just enough for the spine to dig into your lap, just barely brushing the space between your legs.

“O-Okay,” Stumbling a bit, you swallow, doing as he says.

“This one as well, love.”

He’s pointing out the sections you should study, but for some reason, you can’t focus for shit. Every time he reaches out he brushes your arm slightly, that watch glimmering in the light of his warmly toned desk lamp. His office is decorated quite nicely, his desk, the side tables and shelves all made of dark wood. Each surface is either lined with books or decorated with some type of stone statue. There’s a plant off in the far corner near the door. There’s an antique clock on the wall and a picture of the city of Madrid on another. Professor Martell’s office exudes quite a sophisticated atmosphere, one you find both impressive and welcoming.

The sound of your name drags you back to where you are and what you’re doing. “Is something distracting you?”

“N-No, I’m sorry.”

“As a professor, I’m here to help with your studies. But I’m also here to lend an ear, too. It’s important that our students are doing well outside of their classes, too.”

His words make you feel comforted and safe, cared for, even though he barely knows you. But you did want to make a friend of him. Maybe he wants to be your friend, too.

“I, it’s just,” He lets you process, waiting for you to continue. “I’m new to this school and I’m struggling. I just got used to finding the buildings and I’m already worried about having to find new ones next semester. This class is kicking my ass and while my other ones aren’t too bad, it’s just a lot of work, and it’s overwhelming. And I feel like… I feel like I have no one around me.”

“Why is that?” He asks, placing his elbow on the armrest of his chair and propping his chin on top of his fist.

“My family doesn’t live around here, and I haven’t really made any friends. I have one, Cori, but she’s usually busy. I know she loves me and we’re very close, but I miss her. Especially on nights when I get lonely.”

He offers you a soft yet concerned look, his heart breaking for you. He knows how you feel, though.

“I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you.”

“Don’t be,” He returns gently. “I’m the one who asked you.”

You smile shyly, looking down at your hands again.

“I’m sorry you’re lonely, lovely.” He coos to you, and the nickname makes you flush. “Please know, you’re welcome anytime.

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” He lifts his head from his chin, that same hand falling to your forearm. “Being by yourself in a new place can be frightening.”

It’s true, and it feels nice to have him sympathize with you. Slowly, his thumb rubs the skin of your forearm, watching as you release a tired breath.

“Can I get you anything? Water or juice?”

“Oh no, that’s okay.” You shake your head, now looking over at him. “But that’s so kind of you.”

Professor Martell tilts his head, a troubled look still coloring his face. He has such a caring nature about him.

“Would you like to study any more tonight? You’re more than welcome to talk with me more, if you’d like to.”

“No,” You shake your head, looking down at your phone. You’ve been here for about an hour, and you should probably be getting home. “I shouldn’t stay too much longer. It’ll be dark soon.”

By now, the sun has begun to set, and it worries you. But there’s a soft, orange glow that’s reaching every corner of the room, and it does well to calm you.

“You’re right,” He sighs, glancing at the watch on his wrist. He still hasn’t taken his hand off of yours. “Would you let me walk you home?” He then asks, looking up at you.

His comment stirs emotion in your chest. “Wha - really?”

“Of course.” He nods, standing from his seat and prompting you to do so, too. Leaning down, he grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. “You’re quite the lovely thing,”

You’d moved around to the front of his desk, picking up your bookbag. When you hear this you stand up, a twinge of surprise vibrating through you.

“Too small to be walking alone at night.”

Everything he says makes your insides light up, the adrenaline in your body now rising. When you look over at him he’s shrugging on his coat, one with a mustard-y tone. And when he lifts his head to see you looking at him, he grins. “Is it okay that I walk you home, love?”

You feel breathless, nodding when you finally say, “Yes.”

While holding the building’s front door open for you, he asks, “Did you see the phone number and email I left for you?”

Shivering from the gust of wind, you emit a quick breath. “Oh yeah, I did see that.”

“Good,” He smiles, walking alongside you. “If you ever need help with anything, you can email me. That number is to my office, you can also call me, if you’d like to.”

“That’s really nice of you.” Looking to the side, you smile, folding your arms up and shoving your hands into your armpits.

“Are you cold?”

“Eh,” You shake your head. “Only a little. Just need to remember to bring a coat.”

He thinks about offering you his coat, but ultimately decides not to. He doesn’t want to come off too forward with you. Professor Martell then inhales a deep breath beside you, sliding his hands into the pockets of his longer coat.

“Do you have any hobbies?” He inquires, following your lead on where to go. It has gotten quite dark out. “They might do you well. Distract your mind and help you learn something new. It could help you to feel happier, too.”

“I actually don’t. I guess I like caring for the plants I have at home, but that’s about it.” Thinking over his comment, you then ask, “Do you have any?”

“I do.” He nods, continuing to walk alongside you. Eyeing his surroundings, he admires the changing colors of the leaves. It’s one of his favorite things about this season.

“Pottery.” His voice is deep, enchanting to listen to. “It’s quite calming, once you get the hang of it.”

“Oh wow, I feel like that would be so hard to do.”

He gives you an acknowledging nod. “Perhaps. I train in martial arts, too.”

Now this really catches your attention. “Really?”

Seeing your shocked reaction, he laughs. “Yes, it’s quite a rewarding pastime.”

“How so?”

“It feels good on the body.”

Oh god, why did he have to say it like that? This would explain why he’s so fit, too, and why he looks so good for his age. Body aside, he was also exceptionally handsome. His brown eyes show genuine emotion every time they look at you, his lips appearing plush and flirtatious when they curl, his dimple quite charming when he smiles enough to show it.

“This is where you live?” Come his next few words, noticing your pace slowing.

“Yeah,” You sigh, looking up at your apartments. “It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

“It’s safe,” He emphasizes, turning to face you. “This is a good neighborhood, that’s what’s important.” Again, he already cares so much for you.

With a smile you look up at him, and you suddenly realize how tall he is.

“I really appreciate you walking me home.” Taking a leap, you decide to be honest with him. “Sometimes it really scares me.”

“And I don’t blame you.” His response is easy, reassuring. “It was nice to see you again, dear.”

“It was really nice to see you, too. Thank you… for listening to me.”

“Anytime.” He grins, eyes briefly looking you up and down. You’re shivering. “There’s a cafe on the ground floor of the Browning Building, if you’re ever cold and need a coffee.”

“Oh really? Sweet, thanks for letting me know!”

“Of course,” Glancing down at his watch, he clicks his tongue. “I hope you have a good night, love.”

“Thank you, you too.”

With one last smile, you turn, walking up the stairs of your building. They’re on the outside, leading directly to the apartments’ front doors. And he watches as you go up, waving when you get to your door and turn around to see him. Lifting a hand, you wave back before unlocking your door, and going in.

You think about going over the highlighted sections he showed you tonight, but ultimately decide to give yourself a break for the night. You studied, you cried, and then you studied again; you’re exhausted.

The next two hours are consumed with a ramen noodle dinner and a true crime documentary. You’d turned your heat up again, slipping into some cozy pajamas and laying out on your couch. Try as you might, your not so pleasant emotions start to return again. And after the documentary ends, you’re reaching for your phone to text Cori again. You’d texted her once you got home, letting her know that you were safely back inside your apartment for the night. She hasn’t responded and you didn’t expect her to. She’s working the night shift and busy as hell, and while you’re more than understanding of this, it doesn’t stop you from missing her.

Sighing, you put your phone down. You should stop bothering her. Cuddling back into the blankets on the couch, you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes. Why do you feel so lonely tonight? Lonely… I’m sorry you’re lonely, lovely. Maybe he could comfort you. No, that would be too inappropriate to do. He’s probably not even at the office, anyways. But maybe you could get his voicemail; his voice is so nice to listen to.

“This is so stupid, this is so dumb.” You mutter to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose while the dial rings on the phone.

A minute or so before calling, you decided that if he does pick up, you should have something prepared to say. You don’t want to sound like a mumbling fool on the other end of the line, so you thought up some random chemistry question to ask him. Like anything school related would be pertinent enough for you to call him at this time of night.

“Hello?”

You’re stunned he actually answered the phone. A jolt zaps its way through you, your eyes widening in your dimly lit living room.

“Um, h-hi… Professor Martell. It’s um, it’s me.” He says your name questioningly. “Yeah,” You smile, liking how it sounds when he says it.

“Hi,” He then says on the end of the other line, and you swear you can hear his smile. “How are you?” You’re surprised he doesn’t ask why you’re calling.

“I’m uh, I don’t know.”

“Why are you up so late, dear?” He sounds kind and concerned. It makes the dam holding back your emotions break.

“I guess I just feel lonely again.”

“Oh, love.” He tuts on the other end, frowning to himself. “I’m here for you, sweetheart.” At this, your insides practically light up. He’s never called you that before. “Is there anything that caused it?”

“My best friend is working and I didn’t want to bother her. I tried to distract myself, like you said. But I don’t know, it didn’t work for that long.”

“Well, I’m glad you called me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sweetling.”

What a cute nickname, and one you’ve never heard of before. It makes you feel small, cute.

“I like talking to you.” This comes as a surprise to you.

“I like talking to you, too. You’re so nice.” You’re smiling to yourself, your cheeks tingling from the bashful emotion shivering through your limbs.

“I try to be.” He sounds tired.

“Why’re you at your office so late?”

“Oh,” He sighs, eyes falling to his desk. “I’m grading papers tonight. I don’t like to bring my work home.”

“Oh, I’m sorry it takes so long. That must be exhausting.”

“Well,” He says, giving your comment a nod and a sigh. “At least I’m getting a pleasurable break.” Obviously, he’s talking about you. “You’re a sweet girl.”

Oh lord, why does he say these things? You can’t help the release of your dreamy sigh, and it makes him smirk on the other end of the line. He feels like he’s getting to you.

“I want you to get some rest tonight. Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning. Maybe plan something interesting for your day tomorrow, something for you to look forward to.”

“Something interesting…” You repeat, thinking. “Could I… could I have lunch with you?”

Professor Martell smiles, his heart beating profoundly inside his ribs. “Of course you can.”

As if your smile could get any wider. This was definitely something to look forward to.

“Great! I can bring some food from the cafe you told me about.”

“That sounds lovely.” He agrees, resting back in his chair while he talks to you. “Do you think you’ll sleep?”

Nibbling on the corner of your lip, you nod. “I think so.”

“Good.” He returns, “I’ll try to have these papers graded before having lunch with you.”

“Okay,” Giddy with joy, you add on, “Thank you, professor Martell.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” It was clear how much you liked that. “Now, get some rest.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, oh and…” He says your name questioningly, making you perk up a bit. “Yes?”

“My name is Oberyn,” This is new information to you, and you’re not sure why you haven’t looked into this before. “I’d like you to call me that, if it makes you comfortable.”

“Okay,” When did your pulse become so quick? “Goodnight, Oberyn.”

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

You have to hand it to him, this was a good idea. Having something to look forward to in your day really made the hours go by quick. You had three classes today and by the time noon rolled around, two of them were already done.

Cori had messaged you this morning, feeling bad for not having returned your messages before then. You reassured her of your understanding, but she still felt the need to apologize. You’re lucky to have her as a friend; you’re surprised she even made time to message you before going to bed this morning.

“Hm…”

Scanning the sections available in the small cafe, you ponder what to get him. You have absolutely no idea what he likes when it comes to food, so you’ll just have to guess.

Since speaking with you last night, Oberyn has felt the tiniest ounce of shame. And even though it’s small, it weighs heavy in his belly. It’s inappropriate to call you those things, he knows this. He knows he shouldn’t have. But something came over him when he met you, the need to care for and protect you. It’s not that you look weak, you look sweet. You’re kind and beautiful, he knew that the second you walk into his space. Oberyn loves the way your eyes light up when he talks to you, the way your lips move when you speak, the way you look when you’re being emotionally vulnerable with him. He likes seeing the true side of you. But then another thought crosses his mind; how old are you?

“Hey,” You smile, walking into his office once more. You don’t even knock this time, rounding the dear with eagerness and ease.

Instantly, he perks up, standing when you walk through the threshold. You’re holding two plastic containers, two bags of chips, and two bottles of water; it makes him chuckle.

“Let me help.” He quickly steps forward, rounding the corner of his desk.

Reaching out, he takes the items from you, setting each one on his desk. For some reason, as soon as he’s done doing this, he turns around to hug you. It feels like meeting up with a friend, someone that comforts him. Though you’re slightly surprised, you happily accept, wrapping your arms around his neck. He leans down, sliding his own around your back. Oberyn turns his head, his nose lightly brushing you hair.

This hug brings you your first real feel of Oberyn’s body, and he’s truly as fit as he looks. You can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach, even in his arms, too. When your hands slide up to his neck, arms wrapping around him, you can also touch the muscles adorning his shoulders and upper back. He holds you in a warm embrace, snug but not tight. And the two of you shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do.

“How are you, dear?”

“I’m doing good.” When you part, you’re smiling, and it warms his heart. “You were right, having something to look forward to really brightens your day.”

“I’m glad I can help you with that.” He winks, watching your lips part from the small movement. Turning toward his desk, Oberyn then says, “And thank you for picking up lunch.”

“Oh, no problem. I’m sorry though, I didn’t know what you liked. So, I just guessed.”

Sitting down in the seat behind his desk, he smiles. “I like what you like.”

Without him even offering, you slide your chair behind his desk, sitting right next to him. And he’s elated to see this, to know how comfortable you are with him.

“I looked into your professor’s curriculum.” He tells you, watching as you hand him his things. “Thank you, love.”

“Sure,” You grin, opening your own items.

“And I found a documentary that could be quite helpful to you.”

“Oh, really? Where could I watch it?”

“The full-length film is available on YouTube.” Cracking open his water, he takes a sip, and you can’t help but watch. You try to do so nonchalantly, eyeing his Adam’s apple as it bobs.

“How um,” Blink, goddammit. “How long is it?”

“About an hour and a half.” Oberyn responds, “I can send you the link if you’d like. Or if you’d rather,” He continues on, mixing his toppings into his salad. “I have the film opened on a tab on my desktop.”

“Oh, really?”

“We can watch it, if you’d like. I can even help you take notes.” His smile is warm as he looks to the side, poking his fork into a piece of lettuce before he takes a bite.

Your last class of the day is in forty-five minutes, there’s no way you’d be able to finish the film if you watched it with him right now. Maybe you could watch some now and finish it later? Or… you could just skip your last class. You’re doing well in it, anyway. One day won’t hurt.

“That’d be great!”

The wide grin you give him makes his heart soar, his adoration for you growing evermore. And while he returns your expression, happy to know he’ll get to spend more than an hour with you, he can’t help but take in your form. The outfit you’re wearing outlines your chest quite nicely, a tighter turtleneck adorning your upper half. You’re wearing loose jeans that are held up by a brown belt, along with a pair of brown suede boots. When you look away, he takes a glance at the curves he can now see on you. Internally, he scolds himself for doing such a thing. He shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s almost as if he can’t help himself. His arousal burns bright for you.

Gaining his bearings, he takes another drink of water to lube his suddenly dry throat. Once he sets the bottle down, he reaches forward, clicking his mouse and pulling up the film.While he does so, you get comfy, snuggling back in your seat and bringing your salad into your lap. You even fold your legs, sitting criss-cross and watching as he moves his computer screen to the center of his desk.

“This covers the entirety of the acids and bases you’ve been studying.” Oberyn informs you, leaning back in his seat once pressing play. “Would you mind getting the lights and closing the door? Just so we can see the screen a bit better.”

“Sure,” Leaning forward to set your food down, you then stand, rounding his desk and walking over to the far wall.

Oberyn watches you move as you complete this task, smirking to himself at the gentle sway in your hips. You have such a pretty physique, he’d love to feel it, to wrap his hands around your waist and squeeze gently.

“Oberyn?”

“Hm?” He startles, eyes shooting up to look at you.

“Are you alright?” You’re laughing as you return to his side, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m just fine.”

Something about this man is dreamy beyond belief. Even after the room has become dark and the film has begun, you continue to steal glances at him. His skin is tawny and smooth, his nose arched in an intriguingly attractive way. His facial hair is trimmed and style to perfection, and you’re now noticing the slightest of grays in his nearly-black hair.

Oberyn claimed that this film was supposed to help with your studies, but you don’t grab a single notebook or pencil, and he doesn’t tell you to. All the two of you do is eat in the quiet calm that surrounds you, the day early but the atmosphere in your small bubble replicating that of a time later in the day. It’s warm and cozy, and before long, you find yourself yawning.

“Pay attention, sweetling.” He tells you with a small smile on his face.

“Okay,” You say through a yawn, having finished your food by now.

After a small stretch, you cozy up in your chair, leaning to the side and allinw your head to rest on his shoulder. It’s a bold move, something you honestly shouldn’t be doing. But he lets you. He finds it quite endearing, actually.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“What, why?” Lifting your head, you allow him to lean forward to pause it.

“You’re tired,” He points out, looking at you. And when your expression grows guilty he shakes his head. “I don’t blame you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His smile is enchanting. “I’m glad that you’re comfortable here with me.”

Those beautiful brown eyes stare into your soul, a loving warmth radiating through your being. Suddenly, you find yourself growing curious, wondering about his age and personality and, well… how has he not found someone yet? Double-checking, your eyes glance down, looking for a ring.

Oberyn notices, glancing down to the same area you’re looking. “Are you trying to see if I’m married?” While raising his eyebrows at you, he grins.

“Oh, no, I… well…”

“I’m not,” He says, filling in the gaps once you’ve grown quiet. “In case you were wondering.”

“Why… why not?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you not married?”

Oberyn offers a thoughtful pout, shrugging. “I maintain a busy life.” Comes his first explanation. “I don’t often find interest in those around me.”

“You interest me.” You blurt out, not realizing the double meaning behind your words.

He smiles down at his hands, then looks over at you. “I know I do.”

Bashfully, you look away. Why the hell did you say that?

“Have you found any interests on campus, love?” Comes his next question, and he’s genuinely curious. But he asks you this in his mos nonchalant tone, doing his best to keep the air of the conversation light.

Shaking your head, you respond with a quiet, “No, I haven’t dated anyone for about two years now.” Feeling more than welcome to be open with him, you continue on. “Nobody seems that interesting and whenever anyone is, they turn out like the rest.”

“Like the rest?”

“Immature.” You state blandly. “It’s exhausting. At this point, I’m basically touch-starved.” Again, you don’t realize the double-meaning. You meant it in reference to the fondness of another person, of not receiving touch from them such as hugging or holding their hand. But clearly, it also translates sexually. And you suppose you’re touch-starved in the category, too. Before you can correct yourself, though, Oberyn is already speaking.

“Surely you can find someone around here willing to fix that for you.” You’re absolutely shocked he’s expanding on the topic. But he knew he wanted to keep the conversation here. As soon as you said you lacked touch, he found himself wanting to change that.

“Yeah?” You return with a dry laugh, pretending to be unphased. “You have anybody in mind?”

He hums out, amused. “I have someone in mind.”

Turning your head, you meet his eyes, gulping at the lustful gaze he holds. Oberyn’s gaze drops to your lips, just barely parting from each other. He licks his lower lip, grinning while he listens to you suck in a breath.

“Perhaps we should finish the film another day.” He offers, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you need a breather from this. This whole thing unprofessional and honestly, maybe it’s gone too far. You should… you should go.

“Oh,” You nod, releasing a nervous breath. “Okay.”

“I can walk you home again, if you’d like.” It’s not late, it’s not even 2pm yet. But he wants to.

“Okay.” Your nod this time is a bit happier, and it makes him satisfied inside. He feels like he’d do anything to see you smile.

“Where is your coat, sweetheart?” Oberyn asks while following you into the hall, turning to close his office door.

“Oh shoot,” Rolling your eyes, you groan. “I forgot to bring it again.”

Oberyn smiles, walking down the stairs with you.

“If you’d like,” He offers once you’re on the ground floor, already taking his coat off. “You can have mine.”

“What? Oh, no, I couldn’t -”

“Just for the walk,” He interrupts, moving behind you. “I hate to see you cold.”

At that, you can’t think of anything to respond with. Your insides are warmed by Oberyn’s kind words, feeling him slip his coat over your shoulders and hold it there while you slide your arms into the sleeves.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” It comes out before he can stop it, and while he’s not sure if he should have said it, he knows he meant it.

Your walk, as always, is short. And while you never liked walks, you find yourself wishing this one was longer. The surrounding scenery is breathtaking, the changing leaves a wonderful mix of warm tones and crunchy sounds when you step on the occasional fallen one. The lake on campus has frozen over completely by now, and you pass by it every time Oberyn walks you home. But you know these reasons aren’t due to the happiness you feel on your stroll.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, your arms just barely brushing as you continue on. Oberyn’s coat surrounds you with his smell, those rich and earthy tones. They’re a bit sweet, too, and you honestly hope his scent lingers when you give it back to him.

“What will you do today?” Oberyn asks, turning his head to the side so he can look at you. He watches as your eyes scan the ground, feet crunching over the leaves.

“I have to work later. I might just study until then.”

“Pick up a hobby, sweet thing.” He reminds you, stopping once you’ve reached the stairs to your apartment. This time, he’s much closer to your door. “It will do you good.”

“I will,” Turning, you look up at him. “Maybe pottery.” It’s a flirty comment, and he can see this quite plainly. But you’re not nervous about his response, you know he shares a liking for you.

“I’ll make sure you are never lonely.” He jokes with a kind laugh, but he means every word.

“Well,” His previous sentence continues to repeat in your head, making you smile brightly. “Thank you for walking me home again, Oberyn.” It’s the first time you’ve used his first name, and it sends a gentle shock through his system.

“Of course.” He watches as you begin to shrug off his coat, and he has half a mind to tell you to keep it.

“And thank you for letting me borrow your coat. You weren’t cold?”

“Not at all.” It’s a white lie, one that doesn’t matter. It’s only purpose is to reassure you.

Taking it from your hands, he flops it over his forearm, now moving closer to you. Naturally, you reach out for him, embracing his tender hug and for the first time truly wishing it was more. He holds you like this for a moment, one hand gently rubbing your back. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, brushing your nose over his warm skin.

“It’s always so nice to see you.” Oberyn murmurs to you, one hand rising to the back of your head. When you lean back to return his affectionate words, you feel his hand move, now sliding around to cup your cheek. Before you move too far away, Oberyn tilts his head, bringing his lips down to brush them against your skin.

Your jaw drops, and you swear your heart stops entirely. But to keep the moment smooth, you recover quickly. His soft lips press against you for just a moment, his hand not moving when he leans further back. Looking down into your eyes, Oberyn heartbeat skips at the expression on your heavenly face. Your lashes flutter gently, feeling his thumb swipe once over the apple of your cheek.

The moment feels intimate, and it’s as if something comes over you. He looks incredible in this light, and the feelings he’s brought to you seem to resurface all at once.

You’re shocked when you see him lean in, but your body responds before your mind. Softly, gently, hesitantly, your lips meet, a subtle hum coming from both of you. And when you press yourself into him, he knows to continue. The hand he had on your cheek moves to cup your jaw, his other hand sliding just an inch or so down to the small of your back. You had your hands around his neck but now bring them down, each one holding either side of his face.

Inside, you’re bursting, fizzling with adrenaline and the euphoria of finally kissing him. You can’t believe he did this, and he can’t believe you’re reciprocating. One kiss turns into two, and then three, Oberyn’s movements becoming more and more sure.

He can’t help himself, can’t bring himself to stop. Timidly, his hand slides further down, hooking around your hip bone and falling to your outer thigh. Slowly, he keeps moving - he’ll explore as much as you’ll let him. And let him you do, moaning quietly when that broad palm finally falls to your backside.

It’s beyond pleasurable, the feeling of his lips moving against you, his head dipping and turning as he molds himself to you. An enticed purr emanates from his throat when he feels the pad of your fingertips brush against his scruff, the trim facial hair lining his jaw. He presses your body against his, that large hand keeping you close while he gently palms your backside. It sends shiver after shiver through each one of your limbs, feeling him touch you like this.

“Oberyn,” You whisper quietly, darkness now consuming the two of you.

“Yes?” He returns, his voice hovering in that same tone.

Smiling, you lean up again, giving him another kiss.

“I, I…” You’re not sure what to say, the emotions rolling through your body almost too much for your brain. And Oberyn sees this, he sees your pleasurable struggle and he smiles, deciding to end this short yet passionate event.

He tilts his head upwards just a bit, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Get some rest, sweetheart.” His voice is soft as he speaks. “Promise me?”

Swallowing, your eyes close as you feel his loving kiss, sighing out a heavenly breath beneath him.

“Okay,” Comes your whispered response. “I promise.”

“How have you been?”

“I’ve actually been pretty good lately!”

“That’s so nice to hear, babe. I’ve been so worried about you.” Cori’s words are genuine, and so is the expression on her face. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk much these past couple weeks. The hospital has been pretty busy.”

“It’s okay, I totally understand. I promise.”

She grins, happy to hear your response and to know that you’re doing okay. “What’s been keeping you so happy lately?”

You shrug, looking down at the bowl of cereal you made. A late night snack, if you will. “I don’t know, my grades are doing okay.” You begin to explain, smiling when a certain someone pops into your head.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Oberyn’s been helping me.”

“Oberyn?”

“Oh, Professor Martell.” She raises an eyebrow at you, and you shrug. “He told me to call him Oberyn. He’s been super nice to me.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah, he’s been really helpful. We’ve been studying.”

“Studying? How much?”

“I go to his office a few times a week. It’s nice being around him, he’s easy to talk to.”

“Well… that’s nice.” She decides on, still curious about the interactions between the two of you.

“Yeah, sometimes we have lunch together.” Cori glances up at you, raising a brow. “He’s even walked me home when it gets dark out, too.” Looking up, you now see the slightly concerned expression on her face. “What?”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“With what? Him walking me home?” She nods. “Yeah, I think it’s sweet.” When she doesn’t respond, you continue on, stuck in your own wonderful world. “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Cori laughs, “Looks like you’ve fallen under a spell.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your eyes playfully, although her tone makes your tummy turn. “It’s nice to have a friend. Even if he is twenty years older than me.”

“Well, I’m glad he can keep you company.”

“Is it… is it weird?” You suddenly find yourself feeling insecure about the situation.

“I mean, maybe? You’re not his student, but hey, if he’s helping you with your schoolwork and he’s a nice person to talk to, why not?”

“Okay,” You respond hesitantly, nodding slowly.

Your conversation with Cori makes you think, even after you hang up. You didn’t mention him letting you borrow his coat, or the fact that he’d kissed you on the cheek… and done a little more. Cori would definitely have found that weird. She also wouldn’t have liked the fact that after you kissed, you gave him your phone number, too. It feels wrong, hiding something from her, but you’re not exactly hiding it… right? Oh, like hell you are. You’re not telling your best friend about the first man you’ve found interesting in nearly two years. That counts as hiding something.

Glancing over at the coffee table, you eye your phone. All this uncertainty has you wanting to call him. But you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t. And less than five minutes away, Oberyn is thinking the exact same thing. You gave him your phone number after you kissed, after he touched you, and he’s wracking his brain thinking of any excuse to message you. Lately, he can’t even focus on grading, he just thinks about you. About how kind you are and how funny you can be, how pretty your smile is and how you smell so wonderfully. Your outfits are incredibly cute and you always look cozy, and you’re thoughtful, you’re so thoughtful. She’s so sweet to me.

There’s no hardcore evidence of your relationship crossing any professional boundaries. There’s no evidence of your relationship at all, actually, aside from that single call to his office. But if a colleague of his found out about what he was doing, he’s sure they’d raise an eyebrow at him. The names he calls you? The time he’s spent with you? The hours of night at which he’s talked to you? Walking you home and now kissing you on the cheek? Let’s be honest, he did more than a simple kiss on the cheek. Okay, maybe your relationship has crossed over the line of what’s considered to be ‘professional boundaries’.

Sadly, as time passes by, those lonely feelings that have temporarily gone away are becoming harder and harder to ignore. Cori told you she wouldn’t be able to talk for a few days due to her picking up some extra shifts for her sick friends, and after your call the other night, you don’t think you should go to Oberyn. Slowly but surely shame has set up camp in your belly and is sitting there steadfastly. Should you have let things go this far with him? Clearly he has feelings for you… that’s clear, right?

It breaks Oberyn’s heart, not hearing from you. It’s been almost a week since he kissed you; did he cross a line with you? So far, all of your interactions have been because of you; you stopping by, you calling his office. He has your cell phone number, maybe he should text you. But he’s not sure, he doesn’t want to push you if he’s made you uncomfortable. It didn’t seem like he did, but this radio silence has him second guessing himself. But he has no other way to contact you. He knows where you live but what is he supposed to do? Just show up at your door? This leaves him nowhere but to sit in his office chair and wait for you, that is, if he decides not to text you. And when he’s teaching his lectures, his mind isn’t anywhere better.

What if she stops in while I’m gone?

What if she calls my office? Will she leave a voicemail? Oberyn sighs dreamily. I’d love to hear her voice.

Will she email me? He thinks back to the night you gave him your number. Again, he sighs.

She felt so good in my arms. I’d love to hold her again, feel her lips on mine…

I hope she’s doing alright.

Oberyn’s caring nature wasn’t just some kind of front, it’s who he really is. He didn’t often find others interesting, but those he did, he liked to befriend. And with these friendships came his more empathetic side, wondering about their lives and how they were doing. And if he has a partner, how their mental health is and whether or not they’re flourishing. He doesn’t have one, but he does have you. Could you become that to him?

A week is enough. He needs to talk to you.

You’re in the middle of class when you receive his text, deciding to open it up on your macbook. At first, you assume the random number is from an online store, maybe a reminder for a doctor’s appointment or something. But it’s not.

Immediately, you felt incredible remorse for ignoring him. He didn’t make you uncomfortable, not in the least. Since meeting him, Oberyn has done nothing but make you feel amazing. You had no choice but to respond to him.

She misses me.

Your response has made his entire day, his entire week. The fact that you not only messaged him back and said these things, but you also called him Oberyn, it’s made his heart leap. So he didn’t cross a line with you, after all. He decides that the next time you stop by, he’ll buy you lunch or dinner, depending on the time of day. Only because you bought him lunch the other week, that’s the only reason why.

Try as you might, you can’t hide the incredible smile growing on your face. Even though you’ve been giving the situation space, you’re thrilled he decided to reach out to you. He really does care about you.

As soon as you’re done with class, you head home to change into your work clothes. You find yourself pretty lucky to be able to work at a job that allows you to dress comfy, especially when going into work so late. The bookstore lets you wear yogas and quarter-zips if you liked, and that’s what you wore almost every time you were there. Thinking about where you’ll be when your shift is done, you tie back your hair, twisting it into a braid. Oberyn seemed to like it when he saw it on you before.

To no surprise of your own, your shift drags on agonizingly slow. Knowing that you’ll see Oberyn afterwards is making you impatient as all hell. You wonder, will he kiss you again? Touch you again? Christ, it felt so good the first time he did it. Would he do more? Would you let him?

While organizing the stack of books you’d been given, you come across a few pieces of poetry. Some from Grecian and Roman times, some from the Shakespearen era, too. And one from Shakespear himself catches your eye. Taking the book and flipping through its pages, you stop at a section titled, “Sonnet 45”.

The other two, slight air and purging fire

Are both with thee, wherever I abide;

The first my thought, the other my desire

The present-absent with swift motion slide…

These two elements, air and fire. They portray rational thought and desire. How could this sonnet have called out to you? How could it have felt your passion for this man? Your longing to be near him, with him, on him. You need him.

You don’t often lie to your job, especially when it comes to missing work, but you’re making an exception. After reading that poem, something snapped inside of you. You need to go see him, you know he’s waiting for you. And after making up some excuse about a cough accumulating within you, you’re gone, striding out the front doors and making your way across campus and to his door.

It’s a twenty minute walk but you don’t care, you smile the entire way. All you’re thinking about is how happy you’ll be to see him, how good it will feel to have him hug you, to feel his body pressed against yours again. You want to kiss him, to feel his hand on your face and his fingers exploring you.

He can hear you coming, your footsteps echoing down the empty hall. When he looks up to see you, an expression of awe paints his handsome face. Why does he feel like it’s been so long since he’s last seen you? It was only a week.

“Hi,” Stepping inside, you smile, falling for him all over again.

Today he’s wearing a velvety corduroy button-up, the burnt-orange color matching his personality. You aren’t sure how to explain it. It just makes him… pop. He looks stunning. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, allowing you to see the muscles in his forearms. And admittedly, you find it wildly attractive. He’s wearing his watch on his wrist and his thin gold chain around his neck, pieces you’ve never seen him without. Due to the top two buttons being undone, you can see more of his chest than you ever have before, even more so when he takes off his reading glasses to fold them over the front slit.

He breathes your name, the word floating joyously from his mouth. Standing, he steps to the side of his desk, walking up to you with open arms. As always, you gladly accept his hug, wrapping your arms around his neck when he pulls you in. And when you’re fully in his arms, you feel him sigh. You can hear the emotion in his heavy breath, and it makes you sad.

Keeping your voice low, you whisper, “I missed you.”

Like before, his hand rises to the back of your head, applying light pressure and brushing over your hair in quite a passionate manner. He loves this, feeling you against him, having your gorgeous frame in his embrace again.

Emotion overcomes him as he rubs your back, nodding gently before returning your affections. “I missed you too, sweet thing.”

He notices when you squeeze him tighter, and he grins, pulling back to kiss the side of your head. “I like you being here with me.” He mumbles against you, closing his eyes when he says, “Your responses made my entire day.”

“I’m so sorry I haven’t talked to you.” Leaning back, you look up at him. “I just, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t -”

Oberyn ends your rambling with a searing kiss, unwilling to let you stutter out your anxieties any more. He wants you to feel at peace when you’re with him.

He holds your face in both of his hands, your own hands moving to grab his forearms. You absolutely melt into him, letting his mouth move against you. For the first time, his lips part, his tongue sliding out. He drags it across your lower lip, hearing your soft moan when you ultimately open your mouth more for him. Oberyn’s free hand travels to your waist, holding and squeezing you gently while he kisses you, the warm muscle of his tongue now meeting your own.

“You sweet, little thing.” He murmurs, his lips continuously returning to you.

Your heart is racing, your body feeling light as he holds you, touches you. Just like before his free hand slides further down, grabbing your backside and fondling it with his digits. He takes the breath from your lungs with the way he’s moving against you, and it’s in this moment that you make your decision. You want him, you need to have him.

“Oberyn,” You briefly pull away, holding his pretty face. “I’m tired.”

It’s nearly 10pm, and what you’re saying is true. It might also be your way of taking him home with you.

“Oh,” He breathes out, swallowing before he nods, ultimately backing away from you, “Okay.”

But you smile timidly, reaching out for his hands. “Will you walk me home?”

Nodding, he agrees. “Of course, sweet thing.”

You want to reassure him of your interest, so you step forward, closing the small gap he’d created between the two of you.

“Can I borrow your coat again?” You ask him sweetly, smiling up at him. He watches as you tilt your head to the side, letting go of his hands to run your palms up his chest. “I like wearing it; smells like you.”

“You do?” He returns, that gorgeous grin appearing once again.

“Mhm,” Comes your soft nod, eyeing that little dimple his smile is making. “You’re so cute.” It comes out before you realize it, but if you had the chance to go back and change it, you wouldn’t.

Oberyn sighs, reaching up to hold your chin with his forefinger and thumb. “You interest me greatly, little one.”

Before leaving, Oberyn turns to lock his office for the night. He intends to go home after spending some time with you, deciding to grade the rest of his papers in the morning.

As always, Oberyn lets you use his coat, but this time he doesn’t just walk beside you down the path. This time, he reaches out to hold your hand. It’s the first time he’s ever held it, and you let him, glancing down as his fingers wrap around you. Your heart squeezes with joy, moving to walk a little bit closer to him.

It’s quiet and calm, your late night stroll, and you can see the moon hanging in the sky above you. Your head tilts back as you stare, looking at the stars and any constellations that are visible to you. But Oberyn doesn’t look up, he just looks at you. Inside, he’s a bit sad. He wants to kiss you, wants to do so much more with you. But he has to accept that you may not be ready for that, you may not ever be ready for that. And if that’s the case, then that’s okay. He’s glad he was able to have those moments with you.

When you reach your stairs, you don’t let go of his hand, instead bringing him up to your door with you. He’s surprised by this, but follows you willingly. And for some reason, when you reach your door, you hesitate.

“Will you…” Starting to mutter, you turn around to face him. You don’t take his coat off, either. “Would you want to come inside?”

Oberyn considers this. Is he really going to let your relationship go there? It’s not a promise of anything more, not really. But even if it was, he’d say yes. He wants more of you; he craves it, feels desperate for it.

“You want me to?”

Alongside your nod, you grin. “Yes please.” He chuckles at your eager gesture and wording, agreeing to follow you into your home.

Continuing to hold his hand, you unlock your door and pull him inside. That baritone voice laughs from behind you at your excited motions, watching as you turn to shut and lock the door behind you.

“Oberyn,” You say as soon as he turns to face you. “I want you.”

And that’s all he needs. Raising his brows in brief shock, he immediately moves forward, watching you walk backward until your back is pressed against your front door. He’s on you in seconds, breathing out a forceful sigh through his nose as he returns his beautiful lips to your own. They’re so soft and smooth, talented, too. Instead of holding his cheeks, your hands slide around, rising to the back of his neck with your fingers digging into his hair.

“You want me?” He mumbles against you, kissing your cheek. “Tell me again.”

“I do,” Nodding, you gasp quietly when he nudges your head to the side with his nose, placing a flurry of fiery kisses along your throat. “I want you…”

Rolling his eyes back before closing them, Oberyn groans. Both of those broad palms fall to your hips, curling around once again to paw at your ass. One of them rises though, sliding along your side and stopping just below your bust. Ever so gently, Oberyn’s pelvis pushes forward, just barely applying pressure over yours.

“You’re a beautiful thing, sweetheart.” He murmurs to you, his kisses growing sloppy along your neck. And when your fingers curl, tugging on his dark hair, he groans. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” It’s a passionate moan, your eyes closing and mouth falling open when his hand lifts to cup your breast.

He does it as soon as he hears your response, squeezing you softly in his hand. “Everything about you…” He murmurs, teeth grazing over your throbbing pulse. “Is just so sweet and soft.”

“I feel like I can’t get enough of you.”

“You want more of me?”

“Yes, Oberyn. Please.”

Suddenly, Oberyn’s hands fall to your thighs, wrapping them beneath you and hauling you up to his waist. He urges you to wrap your legs around him, continuing to press your back against the door. To say the least, you’re incredibly surprised by his strength. Lifting his head, he smiles against your lips, kissing them and then your chin, your cheek and then your temple, too.

“Where can I take you?” Comes his breathless inquiry, gently brushing the tip of his nose over your own.

“My bedroom, baby.” Jesus, he thinks, moaning tenderly at the small, affectionate nickname. “Turn around, it’s down the hall.”

Hauling you off of the front door, you inhale a sharp breath, once again surprised by the strength he possesses. Easily, he turns his body, holding you against him while your arms wrap around his neck. You kiss him there while he strides down the hall, his smile deepening at the sweet press of your lips.

Your door is already open, so he enters freely. Due to the light of a small lamp on your desk, he’s able to see the entirety of your room. The color of the walls is a deep hue, a red tone that matches the sheets on your bed. The furniture in your room is made of dark wood and it reminds him of the desk and tables in his office, and the lamp on your nightstand has a similar hue to the one in his office, too. And the way you’ve decorated your space is a true reflection of you. There are vases of flowers and greenery on your dressers and desk, a few pictures hung up of you with your family and friends. You have a tapestry hung on one wall made with the colors of beige and gray, something that strikes him as unique; similar to how he sees you. And above all, he notices that your space is neat, making him that much more comfortable to be here with you.

Leaning over your bed, he’s gentle as he sets you down, but he doesn’t leave you. Hovering above your frame, he returns his lips to you, kissing the softness of your mouth before his tongue returns, too. He feels your body, grunting softly when you lift your legs on either side of him, planting the soles of your feet on the bed.

“How has someone not taken you?” He wonders aloud, this thought genuine and one that’s come into his mind many times.

“Oberyn, will you,” Pausing, you try to steady your breath. “Will you let me see more of you?”

You’d do anything to see this man naked. If he’s anything like you’ve imagined, you know he’ll make you wet just from the sight of him. His smile grows over your cheek as he kisses you here, too.

“Only if I can see more of you.” Leaning back to gauge your reaction, he sees you nod, sitting up a bit higher before to shrug his coat off of your shoulders. Sliding it from your arms, your fingers then find the end of your shirt.

Quickly, you lift it off of you, watching Oberyn’s eyes fall to your chest. You’re wearing a light purple bra, a color he finds completely endearing on you. And while he stares, his fingers move to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, your own eyes falling to his chest, too. When he’s completely opened his button-up, he allows it to fall off his shoulders, placing it on the end of your bed. And to say your breath has been taken away would be an understatement. Reaching out, you place a hand on his toned stomach, feeling the firm muscles there. His chest is toned, too, along with his biceps and forearms. It’s wildly impressive to see him like this, to see how truly fit he is.

“Lay back for me,” He nods once, his deep voice requesting your attention. Your eyes flicker up to his, watching as he lowers himself back down to you. “You let me know if it’s too much. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” His breaths fans out over your chest as he says this, your fingers returning to the thick locks of his hair.

“Okay,” You whisper timidly in return, mewling quietly when you feel the first press of his full lips.

He kisses the center of your chest, his mouth moving over your plump flesh. Every moan you exude prompts him to continue, his fingers sliding up and curling over the edge of the cups on your bra. Softly, he tugs them down, revealing your breasts to him.

“Oh…” He moans, instantly lowering his mouth to your naked nipples.

Those full lips wrap around one of your pebbled peaks, and when he sucks it inside, you cry out for him. Arching your back, you feel his tongue swirl around it, licking you passionately. You don’t notice it at first, but your hips have begun moving, grinding up against his own. When you do realize this, you can feel him above you, the hardened length of him straining against his pants.

“Oberyn…”

“Can I undress you?” He asks, those deep brown eyes looking up at you. Glancing down, you see him, his handsome face resting above you. Keeping your gaze, Oberyn’s tongue lays out, licking across the soft curve of your left breast. Your mouth drops open completely at this, brows folding up in the center while he performs this seductive act before you.

“Answer me, sweet thing.”

“Yes…”

“What did I say?” He teases with a grin.

“I don’t, I don’t remember.” Cori was right, you really are under a spell.

Oberyn chuckles, his fingers sliding around to your back so he can undo your bra. “Is this okay?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your jawline. Giving him a tiny moan and a nod, he continues, undoing the clasp and sliding your bra off of you.

“Oh,” Comes his mesmerized sigh, leaning up so both of his hands can hold you. “Such a perfect thing…”

Obsessively, he kisses you, worships your chest in the best ways that he knows how to. He allows his emotions to take over, his body running wild with arousal and adrenaline. Every time you keen for him he throbs in his boxers, feeling himself leak against the fabric. Rolling his hips into the space between your legs, he moans, nipping gently at your delicate skin. Oberyn then begins to lower himself, kissing your ribcage and stomach, your hip bones once he gets to them. And the only protest you have when he does this, is that he’s gotten too far away for you to keep your grasp on his hair.

Slowly, he removes the rest of your clothes, his eyes closed as he hooks his fingers around the edge of your yoga pants. He slides both your leggings and underwear off in one go, kissing every inch of skin he reveals as he pulls the pieces of fabric down your legs. And when they’re gone, you suddenly feel extremely vulnerable, emotionally and physically naked.

Kneeling on the ground just before the edge of your bed, Oberyn places himself right between your legs. His hands fall to the undersides of your thighs, lifting them to his shoulders while he kisses your sensitive skin.

“Baby,” You whine, feeling him soothe one of his bites with a gentle kiss.

“Can I lick you, sweetling?” He then asks, making your heart lurch into your throat.

Lifting yourself onto your forearms, you look down at him. “You want to?”

Deciding to repeat your earlier words, he smirks before saying, “Yes please.”

Again, he holds your gaze, leaning forward at an incredibly slow pace. Just barely, he purses his lips, kissing your sensitive skin once he makes contact with it. Sucking in a sharp breath, your jaw drops open, feeling him kiss you directly on the center of your sex.

“Oberyn,”

“Does it feel good?” He asks, kissing your pink lips again.

“Oh, yes…”

“Do you want more of it?” His voice has become deeper, his eyes darker.

Gulping, you tilt your chin down, giving him a reassuring nod and a quiet, “Yes.”

Closing his eyes, his tongue returns once again, sliding up the seam of your sex. And even though he can no longer see you, you can’t help but stare at him. He moans as he does it, enjoying how the space between your pretty, pretty legs tastes.

“Oh…” Your head falls back between your shoulder blades, Oberyn’s hands sliding up and down your outer thighs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

With tender swipes, he licks into you, sighing deeply when he feels you squirm. He loves experiencing the ways you react to him. Every groan he gives vibrates through your being, and it's not long before you allow your arms to rest and fall onto your back, fingers reaching for the sheets.

When he moves up to your tingling bud, you give him your first true cry of the night, feeling his lips wrap around it and suck. It seems as though this is his turning point, the time where he turns from gentle and timid to passionate and sure. He leans in, pressing himself into you while grabbing the soft flesh of your thighs. He squeezes you in his hands, swirling his tongue around your clit while he continues suckling on it.

“Oberyn, please…” Reaching down, you find his hair once again, fingers digging into his dark strands. He groans sharply at this, almost growling against you.

Feeling him between your legs is an entirely different experience, and something you never expected to happen. But you’re thrilled, absolutely thrilled that your relationship has gone in this direction.

The fervent laps of his tongue on your sensitive clit make your thighs shake, tightening their embrace on either side of his head. You’re sucking in deep gulps of air, your hips slightly rolling upward and shoving yourself further against his mouth. And he lets you do this, lets you circle yourself over his face while he continues to drink from you.

“Oh my g-god…” When he hears you say this, he grins, hoping that you’ll cum for him. He’s not even fully undressed yet but he knows he wants to fuck you. He’s praying you’ll let him do that to you.

A quiet hiss slips past your lips, your eyebrows furrowing together as you begin to experience your high. It comes on slowly, gently, the blissful sensation of it coming directly from his lips. Oberyn moans into you, his hungry mouth continuing to move over you.

“O-Oberyn…” Suddenly, your hips buck up against him, and that’s when he holds you down.

The muscles in his arms flex as he does it, his fervent mouth relentless against your throbbing core. He can feel you fluttering on his tongue, can feel the slickness of your cum rush out of your sex and into his mouth.

“Ye-es! Please, please don't s-stop!”

He doesn’t, he wouldn't. He keeps the perfect amount of pressure, his pace unwavering until your body truly starts to shake. The overstimulation of his tongue licking you after you’ve cum is almost too much, the hands once pulling him in now pushing him away. When he finally removes himself from you, it’s only from your sensitive center. Turning his head, his lips return, peppering your inner thighs with fervent kisses.

“Please,” You suddenly whine, reaching out for him. “Please come up here.”

As soon as he lifts himself, he meets you with a blinding kiss, one hand falling to your cheek while holding himself up on his forearm. He’s panting above you, his jawline and lips covered in the essence of you.

“Did you like it, sweetling?” His voice is thick as he speaks to you, full of complete lust for you. “Did you like feeling my tongue on you?”

The hand on your cheek drops to your chest, fondling your breasts. Whenever he isn’t speaking to you, he’s putting his mouth on you, his teeth currently digging into your shoulder while he huffs out against you.

“Oberyn, I can’t, I can’t believe you wanted that, wanted to do that.”

Rising just a bit, he growls into your ear, “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”

This strikes you right in the heart, right in the center of your being. He’s truly felt this way about you since then? Since you stumbled into his office by accident?

“Oberyn,”

“I want you, pretty thing. I want to have you.” He’s desperate for it; he doesn’t want to wait any longer to take you.

Turning your head and using your hands, you bring him back to you. He kisses you with fervor, working himself up as he begins to roll his hips against you.

“Do you want that, too?” He mumbles against your lips, and you can taste yourself on them.

“I do.” Trying to catch your breath, you nod to the side. “Go into my nightstand. I have condoms in there.”

Shooting upright, he does as you say, sliding open the top drawer of the small piece of furniture to find just what he’s looking for. And when he grabs it, he moves back, standing and taking off the rest of his clothing. Now this you want to see.

Just like he did with you, he slides his pants and boxers off in one go, dropping them onto your floor. As soon as he’s freed of his clothing, you see him hanging heavy between his legs. A small, wanton moan floats freely from your lips as you stare at him, the size of his length honestly impressing you. But Oberyn doesn’t have time to look up at you, he knows you’re gawking at him. Of course you are, it’s the first time he’s been naked in front of you.

He grunts slightly when he rolls the condom onto himself, sighing out deeply as he slides it down. Licking your lower lip, you internally hope you get to see him like this again. There’s no way you won’t go down on him if you get this chance again.

“Lay back for me,” He repeats, returning to you quickly. And he watches as you move, shimmying further up on the bed so he can climb on with you.

With one hand, he grabs his base, releasing a deep breath above you. Leaning on his forearm, he swallows, now looking up at you. Briefly, he worries; should you both be doing this?

“It’s okay, baby,” Nodding, you reach out, holding either side of his face once again. He really likes when you do that. “Go on… please.”

Upon your request, he moves forward, connecting your lips when he notches his head at your entrance. The slightest amount of pressure from him makes you gasp, moaning into his mouth when he continues forward.

“Oberyn,” Your hands slide around, holding the back of his head as you pant out quick breaths.

“Take me,” He says in return, pressing his forehead to your own. “Take all of me, sweet thing.”

“Oh…” His words make you moan, pressing your head back into the pillows.

“Ugh,” It’s his first true, guttural groan, punching out of his lungs when he’s entirely seated inside.

Oberyn’s muscular body presses against you as he allows himself to fall just the slightest bit. You can feel the weight of him, but not unbearably so, just enough for you to know he’s there. And it’s comforting to you. Again, you lift your legs, only this time you wrap them around him.

“How does it feel, sweetling?” Oberyn asks, swallowing thickly. He’s struggling, he’s throbbing.

“Baby,” Clinging to him desperately, you whine. “You know how good it feels.”

Shoving his head into the crook of your neck, he groans, grinding his hips into you. And before you even have time to fully moan, he’s pulling himself back halfway before re-sheathing himself inside you.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had sex, you know how a man feels. But there’s something about the way he rocks himself into you that’s just… different. It’s fiery, overwhelming… it’s consuming you.

He’s making more noise than you expected him to, grunts and groans as he picks up his pace, relentlessly sliding himself into you. Turning your head, you purr devilishly beneath him. “Do you enjoy being inside me, Oberyn?” Brushing aside the hair on his forehead, you hum, pressing your smile against his cheek.

“You enticing little thing…” He groans in response, opening his smiling mouth to breathe.

“Tell me.” You request again. He then gives you a forceful thrust, making you gasp.

“I love this,” Oberyn finally admits, deciding to now reciprocate your sweet wording. “I love being inside you, baby.”

“Oh, I love it when you call me that, I love it…” You’re finding it difficult to keep this up, your small conversation. He’s continuing to pick up the pace of his hips, his muscles tensing and flexing against your bare skin.

“You beautiful thing, letting me have you.” He mutters into your shoulder, grunting with each powerful thrust of his hips. Oberyn’s hand lowers, finding your thigh and grabbing for the beautiful curves of your backside. And then he moves his face, dropping it down to your chest to lick along the curves of your breasts. He’s touching every part of you that he can.

“Oberyn,” Shoving your head back, you arch against him, feeling his teeth graze your pebbled skin. Sloppily, he laps at your left nipple, breathing heavily against your perfectly pliant body. “It feels so, so good when you touch me like that.”

“Really?” He inquires, groaning forcefully when he feels your hips begin to roll up to meet his thrusts. “I’ll do it more often, then.”

“You will?”

“Yes,” His deep voice promises, “If you’ll let me.”

“I’ll let you.” Breathing out a laugh, you shake your head. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

Lifting his head, he presses his nose to your cheek. “Is that a promise?”

Without verbally responding, you turn your head, bringing his lips back to yours. It’s sloppy, the repeated reunion of your lips, Oberyn’s tongue diving inside your mouth and allowing you to taste your own sex.

“Oberyn!” His thrusts have become so forceful that they’ve hit something deep inside you, something that makes you squirm and cry out for him.

“Give into it,” He suddenly demands, “Give into the sensation of it, sweet thing.”

Digging your nails into his upper back, your eyes roll, closing entirely as he finally begins to shake above you. His moans echo into the back of your mouth, his heated breaths washing your lips with a humid wetness.

“Fuck,” You wine quietly, clinging to him.

Oberyn can feel how deeply you’re being affected by his actions, can feel your insides pulsating around him. And he wants to bring you another high. So, he changes his angle again, shifting his legs so he can pound himself down into your fluttering center.

“Oberyn, please,” Comes your high cry. “P-Please don’t stop.”

His hips slap down against your own, groaning into your shoulder as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck once more. Your stuttered whines sound similar to the noises you made when he was between your thighs, a sense of satisfaction blooming inside him when he feels your hips start to jerk beneath him.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” He chokes out, “Do you want me inside?”

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes!”

Your body rocks with every one of his thrusts, finally feeling his muscles seize up. While his tip keeps pressure over your sensitive inner space, his hips stall, now grinding deeply into you. A sensation of absolute bliss floods his body, euphoria filling him from head to toe. Pinching his eyes shut, he groans, huffing out deep breaths into your neck. And your limbs continue to hold him, keeping him inside while you release around his length.

“Perfect girl,” He groans out harshly. “Doing just what I ask of you.”

As your body shivers beneath him, your hands begin to soothe the pain you brought to his skin. Gently, your fingertips run over the marks your nails made along his skin, feeling the tightness in his muscles begin to relax. He admires this about you, your genuine care for him.

Once he catches his breath, Oberyn begins to kiss you all over again. He starts at your shoulder, making his way up your neck, across your jawline, over your chin. And when he gets to your lips, you’re smiling, and all because of him.

Slowly and gently, he pulls out of you, sighing out a breath once he does. But he doesn’t move away from you, he keeps himself pressed to your skin. Snuggling his arms between your back and the bed, he holds you, allowing you to steady your breaths in unison.

“Will you stay?” You quietly ask, petting his hair. He wonders if he should.

Lifting his head from your neck, he looks down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Those deep eyes search your own, staring into your soul. Internally, you each wonder… could this be more?

#Oberyn #Baby #Jesus Christ #I need you #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell smut #Oberyn Martell imagine #Oberyn Martell fanfiction #Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #Sintober #Sintober 2022

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vorrentis · 3 years

Text

Sana x Tzuyu - Confidence

My first smut of two members so hopefully I done well.

TAGS: DOM TZUYU / SUB SANA, Face ridding, fingering, scissoring

WORDS: 11,723

ENJOY!!!

============================================

BEEP

CLICK

Tzuyu's hand pounded her alarm clark to make it stop.

It was Monday morning, which meant another day at school...

She could always hope that she would leave her alone but she learned better than to hope for that.

She sighed as she crawled out of bed and sat on the edge of it.

She stretched her arms and yawned to release the last bit of tiredness.

Tzuyu went through her regular morning routine: Head to the bathroom, do her necessities, get dressed, say good morning to her mom and dog, Gucci; eat breakfast, and leave to school.

As she walked towards the school, she had her head down and in deep thought.

Tzuyu sighed and wondered what kind of pain she'll have to go through today.

Ever since she became a target for the bully that had a grudge on her a month ago...why?

When she found out about Tzuyu's crush on the popular student of the school, she found her unworthy and demanded by ‘her’ : make sure she knew that her beloved "idol" could never love someone like Tzuyu...and Tzuyu has the bruises to show it.

The worst part? ‘she’ was part of the student council as well.

Even if Tzuyu told, who would believe that someone from the council was bullying her?

That began a month ago and Tzuyu assumed that she'd be over it or something by now.

However, she hasn't stopped, and she still finds ways to bully her in secrecy.

She kept an eye on Tzuyu and her beloved from getting together.

The only good part was that she seemed to only get Tzuyu if she stepped out of line if it involved her 'idol'.

Friday, three days ago, once classes were over, Tzuyu was caught staring at her 'idol' at gym and she found a way to get the two alone just to mock and punch Tzuyu to get it into her head that they were never meant to be.

Tzuyu whimpered a little at that memory, remembering how strong some of her punches were.

She didn't tell them her parents her issue because of the reasoning of why she was getting bullied.

Tzuyu was into girls.

Right now she was having a major crush with one and she was afraid of how they'll react to her playing for the other team, so she kept it from them.

Her parents were busy most of the day and never really found out about Tzuyu's problems...or even bothered to talk to her about anything...

Sadly that was the definition of Tzuyu's life...

Besides the bully...no one notices her.

At home or school.

She's this invisible nerd that scurries away from anyone coming near her...not that anyone even comes close to her. She had no friends, talked to no one, and she sits alone during lunch in a corner.

Maybe that was the reason why she was getting bullied.

She was unworthy of the one she loved.

Now why did she bully Tzuyu...

A nobody...

Because of her loving 'the' somebody.

Sana Minatozaki.

It's not like she couldn't help it though.

Who wouldn't fall for someone as amazing as Sana?

From her cute expressions to her kindness and gentle personality, her elegant way she carries herself.

Not to mention the looks of a goddess herself.

Tzuyu was hooked ever since she first met her in the library a while back.

----------------

FLASHBACK

Tzuyu was just finding the next series of books from her favorite series, since she finished the 2nd book, to read.

She was standing in the aisle of the row of the library...when she heard someone grunt further away.

Tzuyu turned to see a very beautiful girl in the same lane trying to pick a book from the top shelf.

She almost had it as she was on her tippy toes trying to grasp it.

She was stunned.

She was watching that figure of the girl as she stretched out her body to get the book.

She was even showing some mid riff from her shirt rising.

Not just her figure, her looks, her hair, her legs...god was she a pervert, but she couldn't help it as she looked at the person.

She was snapped out of it when the girl was calling her to come help her out.

"Excuse me...Can you help?"

Tzuyu embarrassedly quickly went to the damsel in distress and got her book without trouble since she was inches taller than her.

After thanking Tzuyu, both learned of each other's names.

FLASHBACK END

----------------------

That was two months ago.

That's when she learned of Sana Minatozaki.

Sana just said 'I'll see you around' and left the girl who was staring at her leaving.

Tzuyu just hoped so.

After that day, despite being in the same grade as Sana, Tzuyu didn't say anything to her, but just look from afar and admire her beauty.

However she always had the same opinion of her.

She even learned more about her: popular, many friends, part of the school council.

Hell she was a model for some small time agency, she appeared on some magazines that showed her carrying purses and make up.

Tzuyu even had some magazines from Sana at home to admire her looks.

Man was Sana something else.

And who was Tzuyu to love her.

To be friends with her.

To talk to her.

She was a nobody.

Maybe the bully had a point in bullying her...

Regardless, ever since then, Tzuyu's feelings have grown each day even for her, she's still not really sure what caused her feelings to change, since they never even spoken, but she's just fallen for her.

She didn't even know if Sana was even into girls as well.

But...

As Sana passes her locker, Tzuyu would always see her throwing smiles and a waving hi at everyone else.

She never did those things to Tzuyu...but it makes Tzuyu happy seeing her.

-----------------------------------

Tzuyu just sighed as she walked slowly through school, through the halls of the students walking or talking.

Tzuyu just remained quiet as she kept getting pushed or almost shoved as she would try to walk to her locker, trying her best to avoid everyone, but the busy halls were making it difficult as she kept her eyes out for them.

She got to her locker and as she was gathering her books...

"Hey Sana."

"Good morning Sana."

"Cute as always Sana."

Tzuyu's turned slowly as she looked passed the locker door that was hiding her face.

Sana was gracing everyone's presence with her smile and happiness, just like every morning, each student saying hi to her as she waved back to everyone.

Next to her was one of Sana's best friend, Myoui Mina, aka, the council president.

Sana was smiling away and Tzuyu could only just take a mental image of her face as she was walking down the hallway towards her.

But she looked around and noticed that ‘she’ wasn't around.

'Okay Tzuyu...32nd times the charm right?' Tzuyu thought as she took a deep breath to say something...

But when Sana was getting closer, Tzuyu's fear got the best of her and she hid in her locker and stayed there to be hidden.

She released her breath and just sadly looked into the dark of her locker.

As she was gathering some notes for the first class...

"Tzuyu. Good morning." A voice was heard.

Tzuyu tensed up and turned around, her breath was taken away.

AN: I saw this photo...and it took my breath as well...

Standing in front of her was Sana and Mina.

Both of whom, were both very pretty, but Sana looked like a goddess.

Even when their attention was on you, students said hi passing by her, but Sana was ignoring them.

"...h-hi." Tzuyu managed and to say her first word to Sana since the library...she was stuttered thought.

Tzuyu's heart was beating fast for two reasons: Sana in front of her...and ‘her’ that could be watching anywhere.

Tzuyu knew that being seen together with Sana will only get herself an even worse beating if she saw her.

Sana was just staring at Tzuyu as she smiled, not that she mind, but she wondered if she was going to say something.

Mina than noticed and elbowed Sana's arm to which Sana flinched and yelp...and it was cute.

"Uh, um g-good morning..." Sana said with, but Tzuyu noticed that she took a bit to say that to her.

Mina rolled her eyes and started to talk.

"So Tzuyu, we've been meaning to ask you for a while now, would you like to sit with us at lunch together?" Mina asked with a soft smile on her face, "Sana here was just talking about you yesterday."

"Mina!" Sana shrieked as she looked at Mina.

Confusion filled Tzuyu's face and mind as she look between them.

First, they were actually talking to her...her...a nobody

Second, Sana was talking about her?

Was, was that a joke? It had to be right?

Third, they wanted her to sit with them at lunch...Sana and Mina.

While it was everything Tzuyu wanted, she would have accepted if it wasn't for 'her’.

She really, really didn't want to be seen with them since she really doesn't want an extra beating today if she saw you together, so Tzuyu racked her brain to find some excuse.

"Uh, I...um, I-I have something to take care of something during lunch, s-so I'll be going ahead, I'm sorry."

Tzuyu quickly bowed and bolted towards her classroom, mentally apologizing and cursing about her situation, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as she told herself to not look back.

Sana and Mina just stood there as Sana groaned.

"Mina...why did you have to say that...you scared her." Sana complained.

"What did I do? Sana you asked us to help you with this and that's exactly what I'm doing." Mina said. "I still can't believe that two months passed and you haven't talked with her, so this week, Momo and I are getting you to talk with her no matter what." Mina retorted back.

"Well it doesn't matter...she's too busy anyway to hang with us." Sana said sadly.

"Oh come on Sana, she's busy today, but not tomorrow. For now, we need to call a meeting with the council." Mina said as they both left your locker.

As both walked, Sana had one person on her mind.

Sana had a crush on Tzuyu, ever since she helped her in the library.

When Tzuyu came to help, Tzuyu had her hooked with her looks alone but she wanted to get to know her better.

Sana wanted to start a conversation, but she just asked for her name and left.

She felt stupid at their first meeting...sadly their only meeting.

Ever since, Sana would stare at Tzuyu from afar as she would read alone in the lunchroom or class.

Even at lockers too as she passed her daily.

Sana thought Tzuyu was...different from the other classmates.

She found her to be interesting.

Every day she would try to say hi to her like every other person, but she couldn't...she didn't know why.

Every day she would see her read, relax and just seem like she didn't have a care in the world.

Soon enough Sana got to thinking and thought and asked her best friends: Mina and Momo to help her out with this.

When she told them, they were a bit surprised about who she liked, but they quickly got over it and decided to help her out.

===========================================

The Next Day

Tzuyu walked towards the lunch room ready to eat her home lunch...yesterday was lucky for her.

She didn't meet up with her as the council had an event to plan that took all school day.

Tzuyu had spend the night awake watching the ceiling.

Sana spoke to her.

The Sana spoke to her, okay so she just said good morning, but Tzuyu would take it.

But what Mina said was killing her.

Sana was talking about her...what could it possibly be about?

Maybe just her grades or attendance she didn't know...but it meant that Sana knows that she even exists.

A smile formed on her face.

Tzuyu arrived at the doors of the lunch room, students were already sitting, eating, laughing, and talking.

She saw the backside of Sana's head and her friends.

She had a very tiny idea of wanting to go up to her and say if the offer was still available, but she saw ‘her’ on the table next to Sana.

She just shook her head of the stupid idea.

Tzuyu just went to the far upper left corner of the room and sat there as she took out her sandwich and nibbled on it as she brought her book out of her pack.

Did she care that she was alone...no, she didn't mind...much.

She just needed her book to fill up her time. Yeah sometimes she wished she had someone to talk to, but she was so timid in saying something to anyone except the teachers when they called on her name.

Besides her, no one seems to know of a Chou Tzuyu in their school...except as of yesterday with Mina and Sana.

Today they didn't speak with her, not even a hello.

Tzuyu knew it was just a fluke or something and at least she got a 'good morning' from her yesterday as she opened her book to her bookmark and began reading.

However, she didn't know that a set of eyes were on her as the person with those eyes sat in a table filled with her friends and council members.

She just sighed as she saw Tzuyu just sitting there with her back against the cold wall.

"You okay Sana?" Sana was cut off by Momo, "You seem off."

Everyone on the table looked at their queen.

"Oh...yeah sorry, just the photo sessions took longer than usual yesterday." Sana made a quick excuse as she dove into her salad.

"What was it for this time?" One of the sitting asked as everyone was hearing her answer.

Mina and Momo knew exactly what was wrong with Sana as she didn't make any effort of talking to Tzuyu today.

"A new set of lipsticks and eyeliners coming next week. They gave me a free set yesterday." Sana said as her friends asked to see the new set.

Sana said that she'll show it after school and everyone went back to their food as Momo leaned towards Sana.

"Hey Sana, I have math with her and tomorrow there's going to a partner assignment. I could see if I be her partner could get any information from her."

Sana smiled.

"Great, thanks Momo." Momo nodded.

Sana's eyes averted to Tzuyu sitting in the lone corner.

'I wonder how they would look on her?'

=========================================================

THE NEXT DAY

"Alright class, today we're working in pairs so go and find your partners."

And just like that the entire class got up and Tzuyu stayed in her seat and noticed the girl next to her left and sighed.

She didn't bother asking anyone as nobody answered to her.

The teacher had to make someone be her partner and even then they didn't talk to her.

She would end up doing the assignment herself as they only wrote their name down and text on their phone.

Just then the seat was occupied by another person.

"You taken?"

Tzuyu looked to the left again and her eyes widened.

Momo was sitting in the seat next to her, waving at her.

'Momo? She’s Sana’s friend.'

"Hello?" She said as Tzuyu stopped looking at her surprised.

"H-hi..."

"So do you have a partner yet?" Tzuyu shook her head as she sat by her quickly, “great, I'm your partner then." Momo said happily.

"O-okay."

"We haven't met yet. I'm Hirai Momo." Momo gave a pleasant vive as Tzuyu nodded.

"Chou Tzuyu."

"Pleasure, so Tzuyu, you like reading?" Momo said as she saw a pile of books on her desk.

"...yeah."

"What kind?"

Tzuyu wasn't sure on why she was even asking her these things.

"...Why do you want to know?"

"Well because I want to know you better." Momo admitted with a smile.

Tzuyu wasn't exactly sure what to do.

"Alright class, looks like everyone is ready, I'll hand out the papers." The teacher said.

"So what about movies?" Momo pushed as Tzuyu was about to question as the teacher handed the paper out to the two and Tzuyu went straight to work.

Momo sat there watching Tzuyu solve and writing equations till she got to the fourth question and Momo..

"You know it's a partner assignment?" Tzuyu ignored her. "Seriously I could help."

Tzuyu stopped.

"It's fine, just put your name and I'll do the whole thing." She said as Momo shook her head.

"I’m not letting you do that, give me the paper."

Tzuyu just sighed and gave it to her...only for Momo to stare at the next math problem.

'Oh crap.'

"I got this..." Momo tapped the paper with her pencil.

“...”

Tzuyu rolled her eyes.

"Just give it to me." Tzuyu grabbed the paper and started doing the problems herself.

Momo felt bad, but she couldn't figure it out.

"I'm sorry."

Tzuyu said nothing and solving all the problems herself, they both sat there in silent waiting for the other pairs to catch up or the class to end.

It was almost time for class to finish and Momo had to say something...but what?

"...Sana wants to speak to you." She said suddenly and that caused Tzuyu's eyes to widen and look at Momo.

"W-what?"

"Sana...would like to speak to you?” Even Momo was unsure as Tzuyu gulped.

"Why?"

"I-I don't know, but she wants to talk to you at your locker after school."

Tzuyu’s anxiousness rose.

"R-Really?"

Momo nodded.

DING

"Alright class turn your papers in." The teacher commanded as Tzuyu immediately stood up and left Momo as the math-less girl stared and rubbed her forehead.

"Oh god, Sana’s gonna kill me...”

-------------------------------------------

TIMESKIP

"So?" Sana asked Momo, "How'd it go?"

Currently; Sana, Momo and Mina were all walking out of their last class together with the end of the school day.

"Well I was her partner." Momo started to explain.

"Nice, now what does she like? What's her hobbies? Sports? Food?" Sana interrogated her as Mina shook her head.

"Well she likes to read..." Momo pointed out.

"Okay, I knew that...and?" Sana furthered as Momo gave a flat smile.

"...And...I sort of told her that you wanted to speak to her at her locker right now..." Momo said sheepishly causing Sana to blink fast and grab Momo’s shoulders.

"Why would you say that?!" Sana said both upset and scared.

"Sana relax,” she placed a hand on Sana’s arm, “because you're so worked up about this, she probably figured you should talk to her now and get it over with, right Momo?" Mina countered as Sana lowered her arms.

"S-sure."

"Aish, now if I don't go, I'll look like a jerk." Sana reasoned as she folded her arms.

"Well, just ask her if she likes to eat with us on Monday." Mina gave to Sana as Sana sighed.

"What if I make a fool out of myself in front of her and what do I say or-"

"Better figure it out quick." Mina said and then grabbed Sana's arm.

"W-wait Mina, where are you ta-" But she stopped as she realized where she was taking her.

"Nonono Mina please, I need some time." Sana begged as she fought the grip of Mina.

"You had months, now you are going to talk to her."

As Mina dragged Sana thought the watching students, Momo was behind them, amused at their behavior.

-------------------------------------------

Tzuyu was at her locker, her heart was racing, Sana wanted to speak to her.

She was calming herself down...when suddenly.

"OOH." Sana mumbled.

"AHH." Tzuyu squeaked.

Tzuyu stumbled forward into her locker and took a few seconds to gather herself to look back at who could have...

"S-Sana..."

"H-hi." Sana said back.

Meanwhile, Mina joined Momo from afar and watch the two.

"You think it's going to work?" Mina asked.

"No." Momo said as Mina slapped her head, "Oww."

--------------------

Both Sana and Tzuyu were averting their eyes from each other, neither has said a word as Tzuyu held onto her books as Sana was playing with her fingers.

It was like this for half a minute before Sana courage up.

"So..." Sana started but stopped herself...she didn't know what to say...she was flustered.

"Y-yeah?" Tzuyu responded, still looking at the ground.

"I...uhh..."

'Come on Sana say something! Would you like to go eat together...ANYTHING!'

Sana was thinking of what to say...then her eyes landed on Tzuyu's books and remembered about Momo.

"You...like reading?" Sana pointed out.

Tzuyu just nodded while looking at the ground.

"Cool...me too." Sana said, hoping to start a conversation.

Tzuyu looked right at her and Sana thought she was the most gorgeous girl she's ever seen.

Her eyes were dark and mysterious, just looking at them made Sana just melt.

Her brunette curled hair fitted her perfectly.

She noticed that she doesn't even have a blemish in sight.

Honestly, she could have been a model like Sana...and more professional.

And then Sana stared at her lips.

A hint of lipstick on, but that was all she needed.

"W-what kind?" Tzuyu asked softly.

Sana was knocked out of her daze.

She was talking to her.

"I-"

"SANA!" They both turned and saw one of the council members walking towards them.

Mina and Momo saw as well, but were too late to intervene.

Sana sighed at the unlucky timing...

Tzuyu was shaking in fear...

Councilmember Jennie Kim was approaching the two.

A friend to Sana.

An enemy to Tzuyu.

Jennie wrapped her arm around Sana as she was close to her. Grasping their shoulder of hers and feeling the soft touch of her skin.

Tzuyu felt saddened by the close contact...she can only wish to be that close.

"Hey~" Jennie said as looked at Sana.

"What do you want Jennie?" Sana asked in a stale tone.

"We have a meeting after school, did you forget~" Jennie said in a playful tone as she leaned into her shoulder.

Sana didn't mind the touch...just not right now.

Jennie then stared at Tzuyu.

Tzuyu couldn't take it as she turned around, closed her locker without getting any of her things, and left.

And just like Monday...tears were forming in her eyes.

She was hurt by their close contact.

And she was feared by Jennie's contact soon.

"W-wait Tzuyu..." Sana called out, but Tzuyu just sped walked down the hall.

Sana sighed.

'Great...just great...'

Sana then looked at Jennie who was smiling at her.

"Jennie, I was talking to her." Sana said as Jennie's smile left.

"...Sorry." Jennie said.

"Whatever, let's just get to the meeting." Sana was frustrated...she thought about apologizing to Tzuyu tomorrow morning.

When Sana walked past her, Jennie looked back at where Tzuyu left.

She glared in the direction.

================================================

TWO DAYS LATER

Friday

Tzuyu was walking down the empty hall, she was late today since she didn't set her alarm and she woke up late than usual...she couldn't sleep due to Wednesday's moment with Sana and Jennie.

She never came to school on Thursday either.

Tzuyu wanted to avoid Jennie and Sana as well.

Jennie Kim

It was obvious to anyone that Jennie has a crush on Sana.

More like a scary crush on Sana...she acted like Sana's pet: almost always be around Sana and obey everything that Sana would say, compliment her as well each day saying how beautiful and pretty she was.

However, Sana has made no effort or paid any special attention to Jennie as far as Tzuyu saw.

Now how is Tzuyu involved in this...well Jennie that’s why.

Jennie assumes that Sana has feelings for Tzuyu as she would somewhat see the two talk and she put two and two together with Sana acting different than her usual self and became furious with Tzuyu.

She didn't think Tzuyu was worthy of being near Sana.

Her seeing Tzuyu with Sana in the hall would be enough of a reason for her to come after Tzuyu harder than usual, so here she was, avoiding in fear.

Tzuyu walked through the deserted hall, hearing the lessons being taught behind doors.

She sighed as she didn't know what to do now with all of this, maybe she should just straight up confess.

Tzuyu was tired as she sluggishly went through the hall.

Then she passed by a bathroom, she figured she would wash her face up with water to wake her or up or be in trouble for sleeping in class.

Tzuyu backtracked and entered the bathroom.

She went towards the sink and splashed water on her face.

She looked at the reflection of herself and sighed.

"Well~...well~...well~”

Tzuyu's body froze, her eyes widened and she started shaking.

She looked slightly to the right and saw...

...Jennie in the reflection, she then looked further and saw her standing there with arms folded.

"Would you look at that...the bitch who thinks she can speak to the queen."

Tzuyu could have run or yelled for help...but her legs and throat were frozen.

"You know I didn't see you at all yesterday or this morning...guess you thought you could avoid me."

"We have something to discuss." Jennie says as she approached Tzuyu.

Tzuyu backed up, but her back touched the bathroom wall.

Tzuyu gasped at the touch and she tried to dash around Jennie...

But Jennie grabbed her collar around her neck and slammed Tzuyu to the wall, making the girl yelp in hurt of the force of Jennie.

It was weird to Tzuyu, she was inches taller than her, yet Jennie was throwing her around like nothing...and Tzuyu made no effort to fight back.

Tzuyu stayed in place as Jennie held her grip with a malice glare, making Tzuyu shiver in fear

Her breathing stopped as she realized there was no way for her to escape now.

"Now...why were you two talking?" Jennie questioned her.

"..."

Jennie brought one hand down and punched Tzuyu in the gut.

Tzuyu exhaled air and some saliva came out as she held her stomach in pain.

"Talk bitch...now tell me. Why would my Sana waste her time with trash? Especially trash that's unworthy as you."

She says 'her' with such malice and resentment that Tzuyu can't help but feel her tears build up behind her eyelids as she shut her eyes tight, praying for them to go away.

"I have been by her side since forever and she barely says a word to me...but you...you only knew her for a moment and already she's already trying to have a conversation with you." Jennie spatted in Tzuyu's face, “now I can't have that. What makes you so special?" Jennie glared as she observed Tzuyu's face.

Tzuyu started shivering in fear; the envy and fury in Jennie's eyes were scaring her.

This was far worse than any other encounter.

"P-please, go away..."

========================================================

MINUTES BEFORE TZUYU ARRIVED

Two figures were coming through the school back entrance door on the other side of the building.

"I still can't believe I had to wait for you," Sana said to Mina.

"You could have just walked," Mina told her.

"You were my ride here and I'm not walking alone," Sana said back.

"Whatever, we're here now, think the teacher will understand why we're late," Mina asked Sana.

"That you were busy watching a penguin marathon all night last night and overslept." Sana said.

"Hey it was documentaries and they are very vital."

"To who?"

"To me."

"I swear you have an obsession with them." Sana said as she and Mina walked further.

"Like you to Tzuyu."

Sana froze and looked at Mina as her friend arched her eyebrow.

"I-...let's just go." Sana turned, but Mina…

"You’re only hurting yourself by not talking to her you know." Sana knew Mina was right. "What's the worst that can happen? So she says no, you can still be friends." Mina suggested, but Sana shook her head.

"And make it more awkward than it is? Mina I don't just want to be friends with her, but is it weird that we haven't spoken, yet I want to be with her?"

Mina just went up to her friend.

"That's how feelings work. Listen I'm sorry for trying to force you into her so quickly. Momo and I will ease it down and go slowly okay, but you have to be involved too, Sana."

Sana looked at her.

"...Thanks Mina. I'm lucky to have a friend like you."

Mina smiled and they both went further but…

"Hey, I need to use the bathroom real quick," Sana said to Mina. "Wait for me please."

"I'll be here." Mina said as she pulled her phone out.

-----------------------------

Sana walked towards the bathroom further from where they were.

As she walked closer, she began to hear some strange sounds from inside.

"-orever and she barely says a word to me...but you...you only knew her for a moment and already she's already trying to have a conversation with you."

Sana quietly opens the bathroom and walks in.

"I can't have that...now what makes you so special?"

She recognized the voice, but couldn't figure out who it-

"Maybe I should go for the face. Like my Sana would want to talk to you after I'm done with it."

Hearing her name, Sana's eyes widened.

"Please, I didn't---I'm--AHH!"

"Shut up."

Tzuyu was cut off by a punch to the stomach again as Sana angrily intervenes.

She quickly rushed in as her mind was going crazy.

Tzuyu was on the floor hugging her chest as Jennie was standing over her.

"JENNIE! What the HELL are you doing?!"

The faces of the two girls turn to Sana, pure shock on their faces.

Sana's eyes, however, focus on the figure now hunched over in pain.

Her eyes widen and her anger increased tenfold as she saw Tzuyu in pain.

Tzuyu clutched her stomach, but she was too hurt to say anything.

"S-Sana, this, th-this isn'-"

"Silence!" Sana shouted to Jennie.

Tzuyu was in awe, and honestly...somewhat scared by the anger she saw on Sana's normally calm and collected features.

"Sana wha-...what's going on?!" Mina came in as she heard Sana shout, but she saw Tzuyu hunched with Jennie in front of her and Sana with the angriest look she's ever seen.

"Jennie...what are-"

"We are going to the principal's office this instant. You will then proceed to tell him what I saw you've done to Tzuyu. You are also kicked from the council and I will personally make sure that you are expelled from the school." Sana said with the fiercest tone she's ever done.

Jennie stared, mortified.

Tzuyu, both grateful and utterly embarrassed, looked downwards.

"Mina, take Tzuyu to the nurse’s office. I will make sure she gets the punishment she deserves. I'll be there asap." Sana said without looking at Mina and staring at Jennie.

Mina nods her head as she looked at Tzuyu, looking downward.

Mina walked forward to aid her.

Embarrassed and in pain, Tzuyu only stare at the floor as she and Mina exited the bathroom.

She heard other footsteps as she thought of Jennie and Sana walking in the other direction, as she and Mina walked to the nurse's office, your arm around the president as she helps you limp along.

The two of you walk in silence all the way to the nurse, where you both find that the nurse is missing.

"Great...go sit on the bed, Tzuyu. I'll get some ice for you."

Tzuyu glanced at Mina for a moment before she nodded and got onto to the bed.

You watch for a few minutes as Mina shuffles her way around the office, looking for ice.

"Mina?"

Mina pauses and turns to look at Tzuyu, "I'm sorry for troubling you and Sana. It's not your prob-"

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I'm sure Sana would agree with me when I say that we're glad we were able to stop her before she did something too serious."

Finding the freezer, Mina moves from her position and walks closer to Tzuyu, as she hands Tzuyu an ice pack as Tzuyu took it and raised her white shirt high enough to see the bruises from the punches.

Mina growled at Jennie's work.

"How long?" Mina asked.

"..."

"How long has this been going on Tzuyu?"

"...A month," Tzuyu answered.

"What?" Mina asked in shock, "and you didn't say anything?!"

Tzuyu looked away in fright.

Mina took a deep breath and placed a hand on Tzuyu's shoulder.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to scare you. Just tell me why?"

"I...I didn't think anyone would believe me...Jennie was part of the council so I thought-"

"That no one would believe that someone so high would do something like this...Is that why you weren't here yesterday?"

Tzuyu nodded.

"But...your parents surely they would have believed you?"

"...I...don't tell them."

"But why?"

She shook her head.

"I can't-"

"Tzuyu...Jennie won't do anything to you ever again...I promise."

Tzuyu just stared at her and then looked down a bit as she sigh.

"...Okay...but it regards Sana and me."

Mina looked at her and nodded.

Tzuyu placed the ice pack on her stomach, and winced at the coldness...but it was helping the pain go away.

"...I never thought Sana could be so angry." Tzuyu said.

Mina smiled. "Well, she really cares about you."

Tzuyu's brows furrow in confusion.

"What do you-"

"Mina is sh- Tzuyu!" Sana came into the room as she saw Tzuyu and quickly went to her side, "Are you okay?"

With Mina's words still lingering on Tzuyu's mind, she can only nod.

"Sana, I'll go back to class and let the teacher know of what happened. You should stay with Tzuyu for now. Make sure she's okay. The nurse isn't around by the way."

Sana nodded and Mina left the room. Leaving Sana and Tzuyu alone in the room.

At that moment Sana wasn't shy being around her anymore, right now her well-being was the one thing to care for.

"Tzuyu..." Sana then grabbed Tzuyu's hand to which Tzuyu was starting to blush while staring at it, "I'm so sorry, I hang around with Jennie and I never realized that she was doing this...forgive me."

Tzuyu saw Sana with tears producing in her eyes.

Tzuyu just nodded.

"I don't blame you-"

Sana then hugged Tzuyu to which Tzuyu was shocked for a brief moment but smiled.

Sana then released the hug and stared at her.

Then she looked at the ice pack and moved the pack with no resistance..

She winced at the black spots...there were multiple. It was evident that it wasn't a one-time thing.

"Tzuyu...how long was she doing this?"

"..."

"Please Tzuyu."

"...A month."

"...and you didn't tell anyone?!"

Tzuyu winced a bit and shook her head.

"Like anyone would have believed me." Tzuyu said looking down.

Sana just sighed at the girl.

"Tzuyu...I won't go into your reasoning, but that's very stupid of you...at least we caught her, but I need to know why she was doing this. Please Tzuyu, I want to help you."

Tzuyu looked up at her and saw her face of concern.

It was a face that she couldn't lie to.

She saw no way around this and figured rather than making it more complex...

"Jennie was...mad at me."

"For what?"

Tzuyu looked down and blushed.

"For...liking you...a lot." Tzuyu admitted.

Sana's eyes widened.

Did Tzuyu say she liked her...Tzuyu liked her!

"R-really?" Sana said not believing it.

She nodded as Sana was super delighted, but she couldn’t celebrate yet.

"I-I don't understand? Jennie attacked you just for a...c-crush on me…”

Sana had her hand clenched in a fist.

"She was jealous because...I'm a nobody." Tzuyu looked down as tears were prickling in her eyes.

"..." Sana was speechless...was Jennie really making this feel this way to Tzuyu...yet, Sana couldn't help, but feel responsible as well.

Jennie was around her most of the time and she just ignored her, she knew she had a liking to her...but she didn't know it was this bad.

"She tells me that I never had a chance with you, someone far higher and popular like her is the ideal type for you."

"Is...is that why you left on Wednesday and were absent yesterday?"

Tzuyu nodded.

"I was so scared of her..."

Sana couldn't decide to be furious or heartbroken.

"Tzuyu, you don't believe her words right?" Sana asked.

Tzuyu sighed and nodded.

"She's right though...you're this idol that everyone cares for...I'm just trash that everyone steps over…"

Sana felt pain...if she haven't been so damn shy about talking to her, none of this would probably have happened.

She had to fix this.

She grabbed hold of Tzuyu's hands as Tzuyu looked at her.

"Tzuyu...you're not trash...you're a beautiful girl who’s intelligent and kind. I know we haven't spoken, but with all those books you've been reading as well as your scores on tests and assignments...you're really brilliant...and when you first helped me out, you didn't even know me and you helped me."

Tzuyu looked down as Sana brought her hand up to Tzuyu's chin and raised it to meet with her eyes.

"I...I really like you too Tzuyu, a lot as well."

Tzuyu's eyes widened as Sana braved on

"Ever since we met I wanted to get to know you after you helped me with the book...but I was too scared and shy to do so and I just left and ever since I tried, but I was so captivated by your looks that I panic. I'm sorry, if I was brave enough none of this would happen."

Tzuyu just stared at her.

"Tzuyu...you're different. You don't gawk at me, throw compliments, or follow me around...you're just...you."

"And you are perfect for me."

Sana stared into Tzuyu's eyes as Sana smiled at her and tears in the making.

Tzuyu could only gape like a fish at her, her mouth slightly open.

Sana was confessing to her.

"Tzuyu, I promise I'll protect you from any more bullies like Jennie, I want you by my side and I by yours...would you like to go out with me?"

Tears pricked the corners of Tzuyu's eyes and a smile broke her face.

"I would love to."

Sana then smiled as she gave a hug to her and Tzuyu returned it.

Once they pulled away, Sana stared at Tzuyu's lips and Tzuyu realized it.

Sana then leaned in as Tzuyu stayed there and her lips were now on Tzuyu's as Tzuyu returned the kiss quickly.

Sana couldn't believe it.

Tzuyu couldn't believe it.

It was a dream come true for both of them…and they plan on making it more as the event got a bit heated.

What started as a heartwarming kiss, turned into a heated make-out.

Their tongues were brought into the fray as Sana gripped Tzuyu's hips and Tzuyu held Sana's head for more, dropping the ice pack on her lap.

Both girls wanted this for months now...and right now, it was evident as both girls were going at each other’s mouths for missing all this.

Tzuyu then got a bit assertive and reached down and grasped Sana's butt behind her skirt and squeezed.

Sana gasped and stopped the kiss.

Tzuyu looked worried and embarrassed.

"...I-I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"No don't be...I liked it."

Tzuyu looked at her in shock.

"...I guess you've been wanting this as bad as me right?"

"...You have no idea." Tzuyu admitted.

"Well, if you want, we can continue this...at your place."

Tzuyu all, but smiled as she nodded quickly.

"Not so shy now are you."

"Now that I have you."

========================================================

TIME SKIP - HOURS LATER

Tzuyu's parents had a call from the school and discussed things with Tzuyu.

It was a long talk, a serious talk that was much needed.

In the end, Tzuyu promised to tell them of any issues from now on and they would be involved more in her life too.

Sana came over at a much later time and met her parents before they fled to work.

They were extremely nice to her and were happy that Tzuyu finally had a friend over.

They wished them the best and said that dinner was in the fridge and that Sana could help herself to anything.

----------------------------------

As they left the street and turned the corner, Tzuyu dragged Sana's hand towards her room and was brought in as the door closed.

But she didn't get a good look around as Tzuyu turned her and attacked Sana's lips hard as Sana returned the kiss.

Tzuyu pressed Sana towards the nearest wall and made Sana's back make contact with it as both moaned at the moment in each other's mouths; Tzuyu’s hands roamed all over Sana's still clothed body as she reached down again and clenched Sana's ass again.

Sana moaned instead of pulling back as she enjoyed the touch Tzuyu was giving her as Tzuu from the kiss.

"Sorry, is this too fast?"

"...No...before I came here, I was thinking about tonight...I know we just confessed today...but I want you to forget everything Tzuyu, starting now. I want you to feel loved, to prove that you’re a no one."

Tzuyu was stunned.

"Y-you mean…"

Sana nodded.

"Months I waited Tzuyu and I need you..." She wouldn't be lying if she didn't agree with Sana, she wanted her too, "and as an apology for getting you into your situation with Jennie. I want you to do whatever you want with me tonight." Tzuyu's eyes widened. "I know Jennie did those horrible things to you...but I can't help but feel that I caused it in the first place."

"Sana you're not responsible for-"

"No, Tzuyu, I want-need to return the month of pain that she caused you...I want to prove to you that you're not what she said, that you're not trash and that you were meant for me...and I want this as much as you do. I want your touch, your hands, your tongue I don't care...I want to go all the way with you."

Tzuyu smiled softly and kissed Sana once more before…

"Sana...I've been waiting for this moment to be with you too. Are you sure you want to go that far?"

Sana nodded.

“Whatever I want?"

Sana then got right up to Tzuyu's face as their lips were inches apart and she legend forward, but instead of her lips, Sana went to her left ear.

"Whatever you want~"

That was all Tzuyu needed.

======================SMUT START=========================

Tzuyu then dove into Sana's lips once more as she hungrily attacked Sana.

The previous kiss at the school was nothing like this one.

Thoughts and emotions were pushed to the back of Sana's mind as she focused solely on the warm hand on her face cheek, the moist lips against her own, and the delicious tongue pressed into her mouth.

Tzuyu suddenly pulled away as Sana groaned wanting more.

"Let's get started," Tzuyu remarked, "take off all of your clothes."

Sana could feel a wild and strange excitement racing through her at the thought of getting naked in front of Tzuyu but it was the tone in Tzuyu's voice that she found even more alluring and provocative. It was an opposite of her usual tone in school...and she loved it.

She bit her bottom lip and began removing her clothes until she stood naked and quivering slightly in the view of Tzuyu.

Tzuyu slowly eyed Sana, checking out every spot of her skin.

Her breasts, her pussy, her legs, her stomach...she couldn't wait to attack it all.

Sana could feel Tzuyu's eyes roaming every inch of her as she blushed slightly.

Tzuyu grabbed Sana's right breast with her right hand and slid the other hand down her hips.

Sana had never been touched like this before and her instinctual response was to pull Tzuyu in close for another kiss, but she resisted since she wanted Tzuyu to have the fun tonight.

And knowing how horny Tzuyu is, she'll have fun as well.

Tzuyu then went closer to Sana and leaned to Sana's mouth and stared kissing her.

"Put your tongue out." Tzuyu commanded as Sana stuck it out.

Tzuyu then put Sana's tongue in her mouth and started to suck and bob her head on Sana's tongue.

Sana moaned as her tongue was pulled by Tzuyu's lips as it was sucking her tongue dry of saliva.

Still fondling Sana's tit, Tzuyu slipped her other hand down Sana's slit.

Sana gasped into Tzuyu's mouth as she felt a hand press against her crotch.

Sana felt herself getting wetter and wetter as Tzuyu teased her stiff nipples and pussy.

Tzuyu pulled out of the kiss and her stare was all hunger and lust as Sana gulped.

"The things I'm going to do to you." Tzuyu whispered to make Sana’s body shiver.

"W-what kind?"

"Get on the bed."

Sana felt herself get wetter by excitement for the things to come and immediately went to the bed and plumped her ass on it as she laid on it.

She turned around and saw Tzuyu undressed herself in a matter of seconds and was in awe as she took in every inch of her lover as she stared at the beauty of Tzuyu.

She saw how wet she was too, how wanting she was, it was the same state as herself.

Tzuyu was perfect, everything about her was flawless. How could she think she was trash?

"Tzuyu...you look so beautiful." Sana stared at Tzuyu like a work of art as Tzuyu smiled at the compliment, it was her first one from anyone as she crawled towards Sana, her body hovering over hers as Tzuyu took a closer look at Sana's assets.

Her hands roamed up to Sana's plump breasts and squeezed them gently making a soft moan fall from Sana's juicy lips as Tzuyu wrapped one of Sana's light pink nipples into her mouth, sucking it delicately, hoping that it would be extremely sensitive for Sana.

She was right.

Sana's hands clenched as she bit her lip, trying to hold back any moans that tried to break out as one of Tzuyu's hands slowly lowered to Sana's pussy again and felt how wet she was.

"You're very wet Sana~ How naughty of you~" Tzuyu teased, before continuing to suckle on San's nipples alternatively as she slipped a finger in ever so slightly into Sana's wet pussy as she was caressing it.

"Ooh~" Sana yelped loudly, asking for more in her own way.

Her toes curled with the pleasure as Tzuyu lightly stroked her. She never had anything besides her fingers in her and Tzuyu's touch felt amazing to her as Tzuyu looked down to Sana's face to see her eyes clenched shut.

"Does it make you feel good~" Tzuyu softly said, teasing the squirming girl with her finger.

"Y-yes..." Sana stuttered, craving for more of Tzuyu.

Tzuyu leisurely pushed the finger into her slit causing an audible gasp from Sana and casually vibrated her finger all around and Sana's body was squirming around.

"Would you like another~"

"V-Very m-much..."

Then Tzuyu brought in another another finger to enter Sana and she felt Sana's walls as she moved around in her; soft and wet was all Tzuyu could describe.

"Ohh y-yes!!" She moaned.

Tzuyu massaged Sana's insides with just small movements, but it was enough for Sana to get a reaction and was looking up and her breathing was sharp and in bursts.

Her body was feeling so good that she might cum just from the small massage of Tzuyu.

"Enjoying it?" Tzuyu smiled as she saw the face of Sana.

Tzuyu lightly bit Sana's left nipple as she gently pinched her clit.

"OH FUCK!" Sana yelled out.

Her eyes blurred while her back arched as she needed to hold the bedsheets in despair.

The loud moans were silenced by Tzuyu's lips meeting hers while replacing her fingers on Sana's nipple and pinching and twisting the hardened and slobbered nub.

It didn't take long for Sana's entire body to shake and eyes begin to water from the pleasure of both Tzuyu's mouth and fingers.

The pleasure was washing over Sana's mind and body as saliva fell from between their lips as Tzuyu kept leaning back and attacking Sana's lips.

It was so messy that both had each others saliva surrounding their mouths, most trailing down Sana's head and down to her neck and hair.

Tzuyu then leaned back to observe Sana as her mouth was opened.

"Open wide." Tzuyu said as she gathered saliva on the tip of her tongue.

Sana opened wide like a baby bird and Tzuyu dropped her's and Sana's collected saliva into Sana's welcoming mouth.

Sana thought this was the most erotic thing she's ever done or seen, not that she's done anything erotic at all but she hasn't been a nice girl alone at home either, as she swallowed the spit mix.

She questioned as to how Tzuyu knew these things.

"Tzuyu...how are you so-"

"I'm no saint Sana, I have my needs...and I imagined you in every situation."

Sana's eyes widened, not of grossness nor worry, but of how hot Tzuyu's tone was.

Tzuyu just leered at Sana as she lowered her body and quickly made out with Sana and got more contact of her body as Tzuyu pushed her nude body on top of Sana's

Their breasts were smashed between each other as their nipples were grazing each other's as Tzuyu arched hers a bit.

She was still fingering Sana down below as her other hand brought it up to Sana's cheek to deepen the kiss.

Tzuyu then decided to step up her action and pushed three fingers inside Sana.

Sana's eyes widened, still locked into the kiss, as the tight girl's pussy was being pushed to its limits and she barely had to move her fingers for Sana to cry out in ecstasy, in her mouth.

Tzuyu then curled the fingers and started to drill into Sana as the sub wriggled her legs and hips to gain more access to her fingers as Tzuyu raked her insides with speed and intensity.

What went on for about 20 seconds was an eternity for Sana and she couldn't hold it in anymore.

A long squirt of her cum shot up Tzuyu's hand and wrist and onto the bed. and Tzuyu stopped the kiss as she felt the liquid of Sana coming out, breathing hard as her orgasm was depleting.

"...More...please Tzuyu."

How can Tzuyu deny such a cute begging.

Tzuyu then went down on Sana body, licking and kissing her way down Sana's neck, breast, nipple and down her left thigh.

She pushed her legs apart to see her work as a puddle was formed under Sana's crotch.

She took a long look at Sana's slit; it looked shaved recently as Sana had tiny hairs prickling around, her pussy was drenched and it was begging to be licked clean.

Tzuyu licked her lips as she was the one woman for the job and moved her body, as she held onto Sana's thighs and her head in between Sana's legs.

She gently licked up to the girl's sensitive clit to which a single touch sent Sana thrive with pleasure and Tzuyu grinned decided not to mess around and go straight for the pleasing.

She lightly licked Sana's clit a few times causing Sana to moan loudly around the room and it didn't take long for Tzuyu to get right into her work, penetrating Sana with her tongue.

Tzuyu was intoxicated by Sana's juices and was trying to get as much of her as possible as Sana bashed around in pleasure, finding out that Tzuyu knew how to use her tongue well, better than her own fingers. Soon Tzuyu discovered Sana's G spot and Sana could feel her end sooner than she had wanted.

"OHHH TZUYU!" Sana yelled out her lovers name.

Tzuyu's teeth nudged against Sana's clit constantly, causing incredible pleasure for the model.

"I want your cum Sana...give it all to me." Tzuyu mumbled into Sana's pussy.

Sana couldn't hold back the moans anymore. Her legs faltered as her bodies locked into place and her moans echoed through the room.

"T-T-Tzuyu! I can't ta-ke it an-n-ymore!" Sana yelled, as her toes curled up, hands ran through her own hair, pulling at it a little and her shoulders rolled back.

Her hips vibrated, feeling her climax trying to burst out once more.

She was breathing in many short breaths with her jaw shaking in anticipation.

Tzuyu sucked on her clit as hard as she could, finally bringing Sana over the edge.

She released more of her cum, squirting into Tzuyu's mouth, dripping down her chin, onto her body and breasts, savoring the sweet taste of Sana, licking her lips and staring at her cloudy eyes.

Sana's body was going through spasms as Tzuyu was getting her last taste of Sana's pussy as her face was flushed and seemed knocked out.

With her vision coming back to her and her body stopped moving on its own, she wiped her eyes.

"Sana~" She moved her head up to see Tzuyu's face and body drenched in her juices.

The sight was making Sana go crazy, white liquid on Tzuyu's chin was dripping. The liquid on her breasts that trailed towards her nipples that were collected and dripped of her hardened nips.

Sana gulped at how she wanted to feast on her.

"Lick my body clean, your mess, your responsibility~"

Sana, slowly sat and crawled towards Tzuyu as she stuck her tongue out and licked all around Tzuyu's face.

Around her lips, nose, cheeks, and down to her chin.

She gathered each drop of cum into her and swallowed each one.

She stopped at spots and licked it like a lollipop to ensure is was excellent for her.

Sana moved lower to her neck as she lapsed up every speck of her cum, which in her opinion tasted great.

Her breasts were next to be cleaned.

She started at the top of the right tit as she licked slowly downwards and around the firm great until she reached to the nipple where a small size of cum was there.

She then brought her mouth and sucked and waggled her tongue on the nipple making sure it was squeaky clean for Tzuyu's satisfaction.

Tzuyu closed her eyes as she felt the wet tongue of Sana on her body, she was getting every inch of where any drop of liquid was.

After finishing with both breasts, she continued licking down to Tzuyu's stomach, collecting every last drop that was on her body.

She wanted to go lower on her, but it was Tzuyu's decision so she backed off.

"Satisfied?" Sana said licking her lips as she sat up.

"Good girl, but you missed a spot~"

"Where?"

Tzuyu brought up her hand, the one that was inside Sana moment ago.

Her fingers was still wet as Tzuyu spreaded them to see the liquid in between.

Sana then held Tzuyu's hand and took her thumb inside her mouth.

"Look at me~" Tzuyu allured as Sana stared at Tzuyu as she continued to suck on each finger as Sana bobbed her head with each one.

Tzuyu moaned at the feeling of Sana sucking her fingers off as Sana gave a pop sound as she stared at Tzuyu's eyes and her back with a grin.

As Sana was done with all five, Tzuyu brought her hand up and investigated.

"Hmm...nicely done." Tzuyu said, "You deserve something~"

Tzuyu then pushed Sana to be laid back again and got on top of her face on her knees and Sana was looking straight up her thighs at her glistening pussy.

She was entranced by how drenched it was as a drop of liquid splashed onto her face.

"How does it look?" Tzuyu asked as she shook her hips making her pussy move ever so slightly as Sana was hypnotized by her movements.

"Very tasty." Sana said truthfully.

Sana wanted nothing more than to eat her out.

"You want it~" Sana nodded desperately. "How badly?"

"Very~"

"Then...eat away~" She states very sternly and dropped her crotch onto Sana's mouth, waiting less than one second until a tongue slipped along her pussy.

Tzuyu leaned her head back as Sana was now busy eating her out.

Her face buried in this Tzuyu's pussy, as her instinct took over and she ate as if she was born to do it.

She teased and nibbled at Tzuyu's clit, she ran her tongue through the folds of her, she used her tongue to pierce her insides and spreaded her part and penetrated her new lover's hole.

When Sana entered her fingers, Tzuyu moved her hands and grabbed Sana's wrists and firmly placed them above Sana's head.

"Just your tongue."

For hours it seemed, Sana kept on going, savoring the taste, the smell, the beauty of Tzuyu's pussy.

She then licked up to her clit slowly, flicking her tongue when she reached it. Sana went around and back down again.

"MMMM...So good..."

Continuing this a few times, Tzuyu began to moan and brought Sana's wrists and hands up and onto her breasts, craving for more. She then brought her hands down and onto Sana's head.

"Play with them!"

Sana then took her now filled hands and squeezed Tzuyu's breasts.

She began pinching Tzuyu's nipple and pulling and tugging at it while enjoying the touch of them.

Tzuyu dug her fingers into her hair, craving more and more of her wonderful tongue and pleasure.

"Eat me...ohh...faster Sana!"

Sana kept flicking her clit after and kneading her tits her harder.

"AHH..AHH..AHH! OH FUCK!"

Soon Tzuyu starts to scream, getting closer and closer.

"SANA SANA SANA SAAAANNA!"

She rode Sana's face for the last seconds as she began to cum onto Sana's face.

She remained on Sana's face for a bit, not caring about if she was drowning or choking her, until her orgasm weared off.

She then lets go of Sana's head and gets off Sana and admires the look of Sana's wet face as the nearly chocked girl was huffing with her face wet as if she had done a shower.

She looked at Tzuyu.

"Just like how I imagined~ Now something else~"

Tzuyu moved her body as she went lower to Sana's legs and grabbed Sana's left leg and raised it up as Tzuyu rotated her body to the left.

Sana knew what she was doing it excited her as Tzuyu held Sana's left leg for stability for her, pulling herself downwards and spreaded her pussy to be sort of criss crossed with Sana's legs

Sana's smooth, slick pussy came into contact with Tzuyu's as they began to trib with each other.

Both moaned at their sensitive lips touched and grinding each other’s

With more force, Tzuyu squeezed and grounded her glistening pussy against Sana's and Tzuyu started to grind her pussy into Sana's and started to hump her pussy into hers.

From her position, Tzuyu easily controlled Sana's body and she rubbed the both together at an increasingly furious speed.

Sana's groans from beneath her spurred Tzuyu to quicker movements and soon the bed was starting to creak as Tzuyu rode Sana like no tomorrow.

She humped down onto her with the lubricated ease provided by her earlier efforts and Tzuyu witnessed Sana in pleasure as her eyes were shut and face clenched.

Her perky breasts going back and forth as they jiggled and her eyes stayed closed and her forehead began to come with sweat and with Tzuyu's cum.

Her body was stiffening and her legs were locked, telling Tzuyu that Sana's orgasm was soon and hers as well.

Both were groaning and screaming each other's names without a care in the world as the level of pleasure was making them into a euphoria state in their minds.

Tzuyu rode Sana with no decrease in speed at all and they both had tremors assaulted their bodies and realized they were about to cum.

"Sana...Sana...Sana...I'm SO close!"

"Me too! Oh fuck Tzuyu...I'm-I'm..."

Tzuyu rode furiously like her life depended on it.

"SANA!" "TZUYU AHH!!!"

Release hit them both within seconds of each other.

The combination of both girls squirting and Tzuyu still grinding on Sana, made their cum splash all around their bodies and bed.

Sana was spent as she laid there motionless as Tzuyu slowly still rubbed hers pussy with Sana.

Only the sound of their breathing was heard as Tzuyu then let go of Sana's leg and fell onto Sana's body, her head just above Sana's breasts.

Legs remained intertwined as they both were catchin their breath.

=============SMUT END=================

About five minutes and both hasn't said a word to one another.

Their breath was back as the cool air was stiffening and drying the wetness of their cum.

"Tzuyu...that was amazing."

Tzuyu then rolled over and held her head up with her arm and looked over at Sana.

Tzuyu smiled, but then frowned.

Sana was worried again as she rolled onto her side and supported her head as well.

"What's wrong?"

"...My parent's don't know that I'm...into girls."

"...Are you scared of telling them?"

She nodded.

"That's the one reason why I didn't tell them about Jennie...if they knew why...I don't know how they'll react."

"...You know I was scared too when I told my parents..."

"You were?"

"Yeah...it was during the last year of my middle school and I had a crush on a girl, one of my classmates. I asked her out to a dance and she said that she wasn't into me...or girls for that matter."

"It hurt...and my parents saw me depressed and we talked."

"When they found out...they were completely fine with it and said that they'll accept and love me no matter what. And seeing how friendly yours were, I know it'll be the same with them. The girl and I talked too and she apologized and I said it was all good."

Tzuyu nodded, but she saw in her eyes that she was still unsure.

Sana then grabbed onto Tzuyu's hands and grasped it.

"I'll be there with you Tzuyu. And from now on as well. I let the mistake of letting you get hurt and I won't let it happen again. I won't let the girl I love get hurt."

Tzuyu made a shocked face...but it quickly turned to a smile.

"I love you Tzuyu. I'm sorry it took a while for me to talk to you, but I'm so happy we're together now."

"I am as well...and I love you too Sana."

They both leaned towards each other and shared one last kiss before they covered themselves up for the night, not bothered about the mess of the bed or themselves.

Tzuyu was going to explain all this to her parents...but with Sana by her side, she had all the confidence she needed.

=========================================================

AND THAT’S THAT!

Thanks for pausing your life to reading this. Reblog/Comment and thanks again!

#twice x twice #satzu #minatozaki sana #chou tzuyu #sana x tzuyu #twice smut

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storiesabouthumanandthings · 3 years

Text

Pebble Problems

After Sokka was told his proposal necklace looked like Momo made it, he decided to up his game. The following month he spent just watching the Otter Penguins to see how they selected their stones. Most pf the stones were just smooth and round, which is what he had used, but he noticed a specific stone was preferred.

Sokka then spent the next month combing the shore to figure out what made some stones better than others. Colour seemed to be the big deciding factor. The problem was every time he saw a good stone, an otter penguin saw it first and took it away, or when Sokka was able to get the stone first, the otter penguin would steal it from him.

Occasionally, he had to make cover stories for why he had scratches and bite marks or when his coat was torn. After many months and many unsuccessful trips to the shore, he was finally able to get his hands on the perfect stone. It shined brightly in the light and the colors seemed to shift and move. Sokka took some leather he had stored. He then had Toph help, using some of the meteor metal, to make a small clasp to hold the stone.

Once all the pieces were together, the last action was to engrave the stone. He knew he only had one chance at this and used sketches before finalizing his design. He combined the Fire and Water symbols. The outer rim had the flames stretching out. In the center, where the normal circle swirl in the fire symbol was replaced with the water symbol. It looked like the Water was surrounded by fire.

Sokka wrapped the necklace tight in the softest furs he could find. Sokka held onto the necklace for what felt like ages, waiting for the perfect moment to propose. Waiting to be alone so it was just the two of them. He finally found his moment; on the night of the full moon, on the day of the summer solstice. It was perfect, when the moon was at the fullest and the day was at it’s longest.

“I got you a gift, to commemorate when our journey finally ended the 100 year war. And hopefully with this, start a new journey,” stated Sokka with a shaky voice. The gift was accepted but no further talk about it happened that night.

As Zuko was walking through town the next day, alone for the first time, he could hear the whispers and feel the stares of the villagers. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, hoping they weren’t afraid of him as he was a fire bender and his last visit was very pleasant. He eventually ran into Katara who ran up to him upon seeing him.

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the side, “Congratulations! I am so happy for you.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow, “uh, thank you?”

“So spill. Who is it?”

Zuko stops walking, “Who is what?”

Katara sees the confusion on Zuko’s face and quickly pieces together what is going on, “You haven’t heard people whispering about you?!” she scream whispered.

Zuko nodded slowly, “Well, yeah, but not what they’re saying. I thought they remembered the last time I was here without you guys around me. With the ship and fighting and searching for an old man that was actually a kid.”

Katara gasped, thinking to herself that Zuko has no clue, “Zuko, I need you to think hard. What does your necklace remind you of?”

Zuko thought for a moment, “Well, it kind of looks like yours?”

Katara nodded, “and what does that mean?”

Zuko thought hard and was silent for a moment before shrugging, “it’s a family treasure?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, when were trapped in the cave, I remember you mentioned you received yours from your mother.”

“uh-huh,” Katara nodded, trying to lead Zuko to the answer.

“So since I go this from Sokka, I assumed it was a family treasure. To show I am a part of the water tribe now?”

Katara gasped and turned red, shaking her head.

“If it’s not that, the what is it?” Zuko was very confused.

Katara just walked away, shaking her heard, “no, nope, no, uh uh, nope, not my job, no, no, ……” continuing to talk to herself as she walked away.

At that same moment, Sokka rounded the corner. Katara pointed a sharp, threatening finger at Sokka, shaking it in his face, “You Idiot! Why didn’t you? You didn’t tell? Why I!” only able to get partial thoughts out.

Sokka stood there with with his hands up, “I don’t know what is going on but I didn’t do it.”

Katara waved her arms, causing the snow to form around Sokka in a pillar, then pushed it towards Zuko, “Explain! Now!”

Sokka began to stutter, “Well, it’s, like, um, this. Katara, what happened was-”

Katara, cutting him off screaming, “Not me! Him!” and stomped away.

Sokka called back, “At least release me from the snow.”

Katara flipped him off, “He will unfreeze you if he feels like it.”

Sokka and Zuko stared at each other in silence for a while for Zuko spoke, “So I guess you need to explain something to me?”

Sokka blushed, “I guess but can you unfreeze me first. This is really cold.”

Zuko crossed his arms, “uh, no.”

“No?!”

“no”

“Why not!?”

“Well since I got up this morning, the whole town has been talking about me”

Sokka blushed brighter as Zuko continued, “I thought it was cause I am a fire bender but Katara made it clear that it’s about this gift you gave me.”

Sokka nodded and turned his gaze away from Zuko, “Yeah probably.”

“So what is so special about this necklace? I thought is was a family gift, like Katara’s, but she pointed out it’s nothing like that. So what’s the truth? Is this one of your pranks?”

“What? A prank? Nooo, no, no, no, no. It’s nothing like that!”

“Then what’s the truth.”

Sokka mumbled to himself, “I thought you knew, I thought I was clear.”

“Sokka! Tell me the truth, or you’re going to stay frozen.”

Sokka looked up to Zuko, “Well, it’s kind of like a family gift.”

��“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well it’s a gift you give when you ask someone to join your family…..”

Zuko nodded slowly, “To show that I am accepted in the Water Tribe? But Katara said it wasn’t that.”

“Well, it is and isn’t like that.” Sokka again began to mumble to himself, “why is this so hard?”

Sokka breathed deep before continuing, “The necklace is used to ask you into my family….”

Zuko nodded slowly but still confused.

“.…as in marriage. I was trying to propose to last night. But I didn’t do it right. I wasn’t clear enough. I thought I was and I thought you knew what the necklace was about because we found out Katara’s necklace was from Pakku proposing to Gran Gran and you were there but not for that part but I didn’t remember that. So I thought you knew but clearly you didn’t and I must have embarrassed you. You have been walking around with everyone staring and you didn’t know why. You probably would have said no-”

As Sokka was spiraling, fast speaking, and freaking out, Zuko was blushing bright, causing him to heat up and melt the snow. Neither of them noticed the Sokka was freed until Zuko leaned in and kissed Sokka, “Yes, Sokka, I will join your family.”

Sokka smiled as tears of joy welled up in his eyes. “I mean, they literally can not be worse than my family,” Zuko joked, trying to break the tension.

Sokka laughed and grabbed Zuko’s hands tight, “Now hold me so I can warm up.”

As they walked back into the street, Katara had gathered their friends and most of the town.

The whole town stood silent until Sokka raised their clasped hands. The town cheered and people began to scurry in different directions.

Zuko, now again confused, walked over to Katara, “Now what is happening?”

Katara rolling her eyes, “Well since he didn’t explain everything!” pointing sharply at Sokka, “now that it’s completely official and public, the town will make a feast for the new couple. A heads up would have been nice, Sokka.”

Sokka smiled, blushing, rubbing his head, “Well I didn’t know when I was gonna do it, it was spontaneous.”

Katara walked away, sighing, “You’re the biggest idiot.”

Sokka watched her walk away. Zuko grabbed Sokka’s hand, giving it a small squeeze, “That’s rough, buddy.” They laughed together and kissed.

#zukka #just a small idea I had #my fic #atla

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Favorite Season

Ok so I’m making a couple stories that didn’t show up in the tags all new posts again. I apologize if you already read this.

Word Count: 8,690

POV: Jon’s

Notes: So this is me in my sad bitch hours, so let me apologize in advance to everyone. This story just sort of popped into my head when I listened to Mariah Carey’s Miss You Most at Christmas Time and so I decided to put it down on paper so to speak. Sorry I haven’t been on much lately, but hopefully that will change with the new year. Guess I needed a little cleanse, but I’ll post more on that later. Happy Reading and Happy New Year! I hope you are spending it with friends or family or both. May 2021 bring you peace, joy, health and happiness!

Sidenote: This is not my gif

Second Sidenote: Wishing Jon the best and hoping that he is able to be back on the ice soon!

People always assumed when you talked about what season you loved the most, that you meant hockey, for obvious reasons of course; it was your profession, but once you’d met (Y/N), the word season took on a whole new meaning. You’d kindly respond and tell them no, that wasn’t the season you were talking about. They then assumed that you’d meant spring, for that’s when (Y/N) walked into your life. Well, ran into was more like it. She’d been rushing to the United Center for an interview for a summer internship program, while you were on your way out. Neither one of you had been paying attention, which is how you’d ended up holding her in your arms that first time. You knew from that first moment that you never wanted to let her go.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” (Y/N) said as she tried to regain her footing.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” She stepped out of your arms to pick up the strewn contents of her bag and being the gentlemen that you were, you knelt down to help her. “Here let me help you.” You picked up a small paperback book and glanced at the title. “Alors tu apprends le Francais?”

“Oh geez, this is so embarrassing,” she admitted, a blush staining her cheeks. “I just bought this book a week ago, in hopes to learn French but I’m afraid I don’t know a word of what you said…well, other than French.” She laughed softly to cover up her embarrassment, but the sound was like a melody that you wanted to play over and over again.

“I just asked if you were learning French.” You handed the book back to her with a smile, as you both stood up off the ground.

“Well, don’t I feel stupid.” She placed the book back in the bag, then placed it on her shoulder. “But yes, I’m trying to learn French. I’m hoping to go to Paris after graduation. Which gives me approximately one year to learn the language, you so eloquently speak.”

“Thank you, but I grew up speaking it, so it comes naturally.”

“Ah, well, you’re lucky.” She took a step away. “I’ve got to run. Again, so sorry for bumping into you.”

“It really wasn’t your fault.”

“We’ll call it a draw,” she said with a lift of her shoulder as she turned and walked away. It was then you noticed a small snowflake charm on the ground.

“Wait, you forgot this.” She turned back around, meeting you halfway.

“Oh, this must have fallen off my keychain again. Thank you, I would’ve been devasted had I lost this. I owe you one.”

You weren’t sure if they were just words spoken or if she truly meant them, but you decided to take a gamble. “How about dinner?”

Her beautiful eyes got even larger, at your poor attempt to ask her out, and you thought you’d just made an idiot of yourself. “Um…sure.” She dug into her bag pulled out a pen, then tore a page of her learn to speak French book out. She scribbled down her name and number, then handed it over to you. “Call me.” Then she turned and took off again. “Sorry, I’m really late.” She was halfway down the hall as you stood there glancing between her name and her. “Hey what’s your name?” she called out.

“It’s Jon.”

“Make sure you bring my page to dinner. I expect you to teach me how to say whatever’s on that.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she disappeared down the hall. You called her later that night, and then the following day and every day after that. By the end of spring her French had improved, but not to the point where the two of you could have full conversations without her questioning words here and there. Yes, that spring had been magical and if someone would’ve asked you as summer started, you probably would’ve said that it was your favorite season. But then summer did start, and well that meant you got to see (Y/N) lounging by the lake in a bikini. Your twenty-year-old self thought there was no better season than this. Again though, that wasn’t the season that would stand out in your mind. Nor would it be fall, when just after six months of dating her you told her you loved her.

It hadn’t been some grand gesture like you see in the movie. Rather it was really quite simple. You’d just lost the season opener to the Nashville Predators. It was your first season as captain of the team and you’d really felt the pressure; more from yourself than anyone else. You were the last to come out of the locker room, and you were feeling pretty defeated, but there stood (Y/N) leaning against the wall, holding a piece of paper which read, ‘Tu Les Auras La Prochaine fois.’ But it wasn’t the sign saying that you’ll get them next time that made your heart skip a beat, it was seeing her smiling face holding it that did it for you. “Je t'aime.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and you didn’t want to take them back. She looked a bit startled and unsure of what to say. “It means I love you, silly. Man, I really thought your French was getting better.”

“I…I know what you said. I just want to make sure, you meant it.”

“Je t'aime, Te Quiero, Ti Amo, they all mean the same, (Y/N). I love you. I probably should’ve said it the day I met you, but…” She still didn’t say anything and suddenly you were starting to wonder if maybe today was too soon. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“No…I mean…Yes…” She closed her eyes then, gathering her thoughts. “Damn, I said that all wrong. I love you too, Jon. Je t'aime.” Her lips were on yours then, the kiss was like so many you shared these last few months, only there was more heat, more passion as you poured all your love for her into it. “Let’s go home,” she softly whispered when you broke apart, a glint in her eye that told you she wanted to show you how much she really loved you.

Your lips quirked up into a smile. “Anything you want, mon amour.”

Yes, fall definitely was one of your favorite times, but it was Christmas that always held a special meaning.

That first Christmas would always hold a special place in your heart. You could remember it like it was yesterday.

You’d just come home from a quick road trip to Detriot. You dropped your bags off at your place and then headed over to (Y/N)’s apartment. When you got there, caricatures of her and her two roommates were drawn on the door, all three dressed for Christmas and around a cartoon tree. You had a hard time knowing where to knock for all the decorations on the door. (Y/N) came scurrying to the door. “You’re back,” she said jumping into your arms and kissing you soundly. Your lips never left hers as you stepped into the apartment.

“Mmm, I see someone missed me.”

“I always miss you, but I’m glad you’re back. You’re just in time to help me hang the rest of these decorations. I could use your height.”

“Oh, so now you only want me because I’m tall.” She released you then swatted you on the arm.

“No, but it doesn’t hurt. Here can you help me string these lights up?”

You took the strand and hung them up per her instructions. “Boy, you really go all out for Christmas.”

“But of course, don’t you?”

“Not really. I don’t even have a tree.”

“Wait, what? You don’t have a tree?” She repeated your exact words as if the thought was impossible.

“It’s not really a huge deal in my family, besides I’m usually never home because of hockey,” you told her as you finished hanging the lights. (Y/N) walked over to the closet, grabbed her shoes, and put on her coat, as soon as you were done. “Uh, babe, where are you going?”

“To go get you some Christmas decorations.” She opened the door, then looked back when you didn’t follow. “Are you coming?” You had no choice but to follow her.

The rest of the afternoon was spent picking out lights, ornaments, a tree, and more decorations than you could fit in your shopping cart, but you didn’t mind being dragged from store to store as (Y/N)’s face lit up in every one of them. “Ok, star or angel?” she asked you holding up two tree toppers, but before you could answer she kept going. “I mean part of me thinks that we should go with the star. It’s pretty traditional and well they always sing about hanging the star on top of the tree, but I like the symbolism of the angel.”

You looked both of them over when she finally decided to take a breath. “Angel, definitely.” She turned the figurine towards her looking it over, while you walked behind her, letting your hands slide around her waist so you could pull her close. When she turned back to look at you, questioning your choice, you simply said, “You’re my angel and she reminds me of you.” She kissed you then, right there in aisle C8, amidst the Christmas decorations.

“Angel it is then.” She set the tree topper in the cart and the two of you headed to the checkout. On the way there, you spotted a sprig of mistletoe and tossed it in the cart unbeknownst to (Y/N). It wasn’t until the tree was up that night, that she found it. “I don’t remember putting this in the cart.”

“You didn’t. I did.” You took the mistletoe out of her hand and went to hang it up in the archway. “If we’re going for full-on Christmas, we can’t forget the best part.” Grabbing her hand, you lead her over to where you’d just hung the little green sprig.

“You really think you need this, to get me to make out with you?” Your hands encircled her waist as she spoke the words, and you drew her in close to you.

“Well, no. This is just an excuse.” You pecked her lips quickly. “Besides, this is my first time decorating for this holiday, I might as well go all out.”

She returned the kiss, only it was more heated as you slid your tongue inside her. She moaned into your mouth before pulling back. “In that case, let’s make it a little more memorable.” She stepped out of your embrace, her fingers trailing down to the button on your pants. It slipped out of the buttonhole easily, before she slid the zipper down. You sucked in a breath, as her hands snuck inside the waistband of your boxers and she slid them and your pants all the way to the ground. (Y/N) fell to her knees, her hands skating up your thighs as you felt her warm breath fan across your cock. It twitched before you felt her lips place a kiss right on the head. Her lips trailed all the way up and down the length of your shaft, teasing you.

“Babe, you’re killing me.” A wicked glint in her eye was her answer back, as she placed her puckered lips on the head one last time before she finally took you inside her mouth. Your hands threaded through her hair as she sunk down to take most of you in. She took her free hand and wrapped it around the length that didn’t fit inside and gave it a gentle squeeze, then her mouth started to work its own little bit of Christmas magic as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked on your cock. “Damn, baby that feels so good,” you hissed out, your hips rocking a bit into her mouth. If this was (Y/N)’s idea of Christmas traditions you were all for it, and mistletoe was definitely going to be a staple to your decorating every year.

(Y/N)’s free hand slipped down to your balls where she cupped them and you felt yourself close to bursting. Your body tingled as she hummed around your cock. With her mouth and hands on you it felt like there was enough electricity coursing through your body that you could light up a million strand of Christmas lights at the moment. “(Y/N), I’m going to…” she didn’t stop though just took your cock deeper until you swore you hit the back of her throat. It was that move, that pushed you over as you spilled your seed in her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, though some dribbled out and you thought it was hot as hell.

That night would forever live in your mind, as you returned the favor by making her cum not once but twice under that same mistletoe. Even though, it was one of your favorite memories from that first Christmas. It wasn’t that, that made Christmas your favorite season. It was the way that (Y/N) embraced the joy of the season in everything she did. Even the simplest things were a little brighter with her around. She made everyone around sparkle and shine just like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Not that she wasn’t always that way, but there was just something special about (Y/N) and Christmas and thus it became your favorite time of year.

There had been no Christmas break that year in the NHL, meaning you had no time to head back home, so (Y/N) had invited you to her house to be with her family. They had welcomed you with open arms and you had found out, why she’d loved Christmas so much. Her family went all out, decorations were everywhere and presents were piled high. They’d included you in all their traditions, from frosting to cookies to playing Christmas charades. They even had you cut a piece of wheat for Baby Jesus’s manager, as was their annual custom to do before opening presents Christmas morning. That first Christmas had set the tone for all those to follow after it.

As Christmas drew to a close that year, you knew one thing for sure. That you never wanted to spend another one without her. It was an easy decision to ask her to move in with you, once she graduated college, and right before that Christmas that year, the two of you bought your first place together. To commemorate the event, (Y/N) had a special ornament made in the shape of a key.

Hockey took precedence the following year, as you won the Stanley Cup and it seemed like the summer and fall flew by. One thing was for sure though, and that was that (Y/N) was with you every step of the way. You knew you had to make that Christmas extra special. It was the first time your family flew in for the holiday. (Y/N)’s family all came to your place as well that year. The house was filled with love and laughter and was about to get a little more exciting.

All the presents had been unwrapped and everyone was lounging in the great room. “I think there’s one more present here,” you pointed to a box you had hidden off in the corner. “Looks like it has your name on it, babe.”

(Y/N) took the gift and looked at the tag. “It doesn’t say who it’s from.”

“Well, that happens from time to time. You know Santa’s elves are really busy this time of year,” her mom chimed in, giving you a little wink. “Go ahead and open it.”

She tore through the layer of paper to the box, then lifted the lid, which happened to reveal a smaller box. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, laughing as she took that wrapped package out and removed the paper again. Lifting the lid, she found yet another box. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you do this?” She was staring straight at you because she knew this was totally out of your character. All you could do was simply shrug. The unwrapping went on for another six layers until she finally revealed a small black velvet box. All your family gasped as she went to open it. Her eyes were fixated on the container, as she slowly pulled back the lid. The look of excitement on her face was almost too much for you, and then her face fell, exactly like you thought it would. “There’s nothing in it.” She whispered, her voice small as she lifted her eyes to you. You could feel her family and yours glaring at you for pulling a stunt like this. You decided now would be a good time to put everyone out of their misery.

Dropping down to one knee in front of her, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the extravagant ring that you’d had made for her. The gasp from everyone this time was probably heard down the street as they took in their first glimpse of the engagement ring. (Y/N) covered her mouth with her hands and you saw one lone tear slip down her cheek; a happy one, you hoped. “(Y/N), I was going to leave this in the last box, but then I couldn’t. For your real present isn’t this ring. It’s me. That is if you’ll have me.” She was already shaking her head yes before you even had a chance to ask her the question. “I guess what I’m asking is if you’ll spend every Christmas from now until the end of time with me?” Another tear slid down her cheek and this time you knew for sure it was a joyful one. “(Y/FN), will you be my wife?”

“Yes, Jon, yes!” She was down on the ground in your arms kissing you before you could blink. She almost tackled you to the carpet, but your hand reached out and steadied you both on the end table beside you. That’s when you realized the ring popped out of your hand and had fallen somewhere amongst the pile of wrapping paper.

You broke from the kiss immediately. “Shit, I dropped the ring.”

“I don’t care. You’re my present and apparently my future as well.” She locked her lips with yours again. The two of you were so caught up in each other, you forgot about the rest of your family in the room; who had now gone on a search for the engagement ring.

“Found it,” your mom said breathing a sigh of relief. You took it and slipped it on (Y/N)’s finger making it official. That Christmas was definitely one of the most memorable.

The following summer you married. Most people expected the two of you to have this big grand wedding, which would’ve taken another year or more to plan, but neither you nor (Y/N) wanted that. Instead, it was a quiet ceremony with just family and close friends, exactly what you wanted, as you couldn’t wait for her to be your wife. That Christmas was your first as husband and wife, and there was more than one Mr. and Mrs. Toews ornament hanging off the tree.

Payback came your second Christmas as a married couple. There you were opening box after box. “Really babe? I would’ve expected this last year.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Mr. Toews.”

You unwrapped yet another box. “So is the Rolex we looked at a couple weeks ago in here?” She mimicked your shrug from two years ago. It had to be the watch, for the shrug was always (Y/N)’s go to move when she didn’t want to tell you that you were right. Sure enough, as you peeled back the paper on the last package, there was the signature green box of the famous company. “Nice try babe, but I guess I outsmarted you this time.” The hinge creaked as you opened the box, but you were shocked when there wasn’t a watch inside, but a positive pregnancy test. “Are you…?”

Your eyes locked with hers and she was nodding her head. “Yes, yes we are.” Your lips were on hers in an instant, as this time you were the one with tears in your eyes.

“I don’t get the big deal over a watch.” You heard your brother say in French in the background.

“They’re having a baby you idiot,” your dad told him, cuffing him upside the head.

Levi Abram Toews was born on July twenty-fifth of the following year, giving you a little bit of Christmas midway through the following year. His first Christmas was probably one of your favorites. At six months old, he was sitting up and just starting to crawl. (Y/N) had to move all the floor decorations up, because he started to chew on all the snowmen that he could grab. Levi’s little eyes sparkled as he was mesmerized by all the twinkling lights and bulbs. You thought you couldn’t love Christmas anymore, but seeing it through your son’s eyes made the holiday even more joyous.

When 2013 Christmas rolled around it had you hanging another Stanley cup ornament on the tree as the Hawks had won yet another one. It seemed as though the moment (Y/N) stepped into your life all the pieces just fell into place. She truly was the angel on top of the tree.

You didn’t think anything remarkable happened the Christmas of 2014 but by Valentine’s day it became clear that your wife was pregnant again, and your new little one had to have been conceived on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. It too would always hold special meaning whenever you looked at your baby girl. Elizabeth or Lizzie as you liked to call her, joined your little family on September 25th, 2015. Making her the cherry on the cake to winning your third Stanley cup. Lizzie was daddy’s girl and everyone knew it, even your wife. Of course, there were a few ornaments on the Christmas tree that year. One with Lizzie’s picture in the cup, along with her first Christmas ornament, all got hung alongside the three Stanley Cup ornaments and Levi’s bulb. Your tree was getting quite full.

As were your wife’s hands apparently, as you could see (Y/N) getting more and more tired as Christmas 2016 rolled around. Oh, she was still her fun-loving and joyful self, but she also looked completely exhausted most days. She would dust off any concerns and tell you that was the price she paid for having two kids under the age of four. “Babe, why don’t you come and sit down,” you told her having just gotten back from your last road trip before Christmas, which was only three days away.

“I can’t. I still need to finish wrapping the gifts, then I’ve got cookies to bake, and get the food prepped for Christmas Eve dinner.”

“What can I do to help?” You asked rubbing her shoulders as she worked in the dining room wrapping the presents since the kids were finally in bad.

“You could…” She spun around to talk to you and that’s when your heart fell out of your chest as she collapsed right into your arms. Your blood ran cold as you saw color draining from her face. Gently as you could, you laid her down on the floor, calling out her name. “(Y/N)…baby…(Y/N) please wake up.” You ran and grabbed your bag knowing that you had smelling salts in there that the team used every now and then. Breaking it open, you wafted the scent over her nose, praying the whole time for her to wake back up. It took a bit, but eventually, she did rouse. “Oh thank god.”

“What happened?”

“I was going to ask you. You just fainted in my arms.” She made a move to get up but you could see that another bout of something had hit her again. “No just stay there. I’m calling the team doctor.”

“Jon, don’t. I’m sure I’m just tired. I’ll be fine.”

It was too late for her to try to change your mind as you already had the doctor dialed up. He asked a few questions, basically checking to see if she could be pregnant, but that wasn’t an option as she’d just finished her period two days ago. He recommended that you head to the hospital and get (Y/N) checked out. It was a fight to get her there, especially so close to Christmas, but eventually, she gave in and once her parents came to watch the kids, the two of you were on your way.

You rushed into the emergency room, where (Y/N) went through a series of tests. You hadn’t realized until that moment, when (Y/N) was laying in the hospital bed, that she’d lost some weight and seemed very fatigued. Your wife was always this strong and unmovable force, yet right then she looked so frail. Mentally, you kicked yourself for not noticing these things earlier. After hours of testing, the emergency room doctor came in to speak to you both. He told you that there was definitely something off in her blood work and that he wanted to admit her for further testing. (Y/N) put up a fight, not wanting to be in the hospital another minute. She insisted she had way too many things to do than just laying around waiting for them to tell her she would be fine.

“You’re staying and that’s final.” She argued with you, but in the end, you won out again.

Thankfully, she was out of the hospital by Christmas Eve and when she came home, her parents and yours had most everything done so that it was a perfect Christmas for your children. It was two days after Christmas that you received the worst news of your life. (Y/N) had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctor wasn’t sure what stage it was in but wanted her for more testing before they would try and figure out treatment. It couldn’t have come at a worse time, as you were just gearing up for a ten-day road trip.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Damnit Jon, you are going. You’re the captain of the team and they need you,” she shouted back to you. The two of you had been arguing since you put the kids in bed. Your parents were still there, they had decided to stay a little longer with (Y/N) being sick to help out with the kids and her parents were only minutes away, but none of that mattered.

“I’m also the captain of THIS team,” you said pointing back and forth between the two of you. “And right now, that’s more important.”

“It’s just some testing at this point. If there’s anything more serious, you can be on the next plane back here.” Her voice was quieter now, and you couldn’t tell if she was just weak from cancer or tired of fighting, but you could see the determination in her eyes not to lose this battle. You needed her to keep that same look for whatever was to come and it was for that reason alone that you found yourself agreeing to go on the trip.

She was right, you were only a phone call away, and she could facetime you in on all her appointments, which she did. It was not the way you wanted to find out that her biopsy showed her having stage two stomach cancer and that her chance of survival was thirty-five percent.

You could see her crumbling on the screen, her mom and dad beside her for support, but it wasn’t enough. You should’ve been there damnit. Why in the hell had you listened to her? You wanted to scream through the phone but couldn’t; you needed to stay calm and be there for her. “Baby, look at me,” you said in a gentle yet reassuring voice, and her tearstained eyes locked with yours. “We’re going to beat this.” She sniffled loudly, then straightened her back, that steely determination taking over.

“Of course, we will.” What you didn’t know, was that she cried the entire ride home in the backseat of her parents’ car, or how she made her dad ride around the block several times before going inside to see your children. All the while, you were on the phone with the team doctor finding out everything you could to help your wife. The two of you found the best specialist in North America and had her records sent there. A week later, you were by (Y/N)’s side at UPMC Medical Center in Pittsburgh determining the best course of treatment.

She would do several rounds of pinpointed radiation to shrink the tumor before they would go in and remove it. It would all be followed up with some intense chemotherapy. The doctor told her she would more than likely lose her hair, and that it would make her extremely weak. They could set everything up to happen in Chicago so that she wouldn’t have to leave your home.

The surgery, which took place in February and caused you to miss a few games, went very well. The two of you stayed in Pittsburgh five days before flying back on a private plane home to your children. Who didn’t seem to understand why mommy couldn’t pick them up and carry them around anymore. Your parents and (Y/N)’s were godsends, as (Y/N) insisted you go back to hockey. You hated being away from her, though with every day that past you could see her strength building up. That was until the chemotherapy started.

There were to be six to eight rounds of chemotherapy that (Y/N) was going to have to take. They would fall in four-week intervals. You were there the day she got her first one. It took over eight hours for her to receive the treatment through her port that the surgeon had put in. She seemed to take it really well or so you thought until you found her hunched over the toilet a couple days later throwing up. She tried to shake it off, act like it was nothing new, telling you it was just like being pregnant again, but you knew better. You could hear the tremble in her voice, see the tears she fought so hard to hold back, while you held back your own. You’d give anything to take this pain away from her, but you couldn’t.

It wasn’t until round three that her hair started falling out in clumps. She was sitting at the breakfast table, the kids at her parents when she brushed it back to pull it out of her face. Strands of hair covered her fingers, a look of horror covering her face. “It’s ok baby, we knew this would happen.”

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “I just thought that I made it this far with it, that maybe they were wrong.” You were at her side in a minute, holding her as she started to shake from head to toe.

“Let it out (Y/N). It’s ok to be sad or mad or anything. I’m right here.” It was the first time that she’d cried about it, at least in front of you.

“It’s not fair Jon,” she sobbed into your chest. “I want to be there to watch my kids grow up.”

“And you will, mon amour. We’re going to fight this every step of the way.” She cried for a solid hour, as you held back tears of your own, telling her in a calming voice that she was going to beat this. All the while being scared as hell that she might not.

Later that day, you helped her shave every strand of hair from her head. It was the hardest thing you’d had to do in your life. You’d rather take a ninety mile an hour puck to your face then to see your wife this broken and defeated. In the end, she took a deep breath as she looked herself in the mirror, eyes still glassy from tears. “You will not beat me,” she told her reflection, then looked at your reflection. “I will fight this with every breath I have.” Your lip trembled as you fought back the river of tears that threatened to spill over at her strength. Your wife was a fighter, and you knew she would conquer this disease and you’d be beside her every step of the way.

That summer you spent every available second with (Y/N) and the kids. Treatments became a normal part of your routine. The problem was with everyone, you saw your wife getting weaker and weaker. She was practically skin and bones, even though she would force herself to eat. When she took her final round of chemotherapy in October, you breathed a sigh of relief. The doctors said they wouldn’t know if the chemo had worked for a few weeks and so you waited. Praying every night that her cancer was gone once and for all, and your wife would no longer have to suffer.

A month later, you were back in Pittsburgh, sitting in front of the doctor who held your entire fate in his hands. “I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he started to say, and your face drained, while (Y/N) gripped your hand tightly. “The chemotherapy hasn’t responded as we’d like.” Everything he said after that was a garbled mess. Your mind clouded over and there was a loud ringing in your ears. You wanted to grab this man by the throat and tell him to make your wife better. That was his job, wasn’t it? He was supposed to heal people, and damn it he should’ve done that for (Y/N). “I’m not giving up hope yet.” It was those words that finally drug you out of the blinding rage that was coursing through your veins. He proceeded to say that there was an experimental drug and that they had no way of knowing if it would work, but it might be something the two of you would be interested in trying. He handed you a bunch of paperwork to go home and read before making any decisions.

“I think you should take it,” you told her the minute you got in the car.

“Maybe we should read what he gave us first.”

“It doesn’t matter what that says (Y/N) if it means that you get to stay here with me and the kids; I think we should do it.”

“It’s not a 'we’ Jon. It’s me who has to do this. What if it has some long-term effects or…” she started to list scenarios, that meant nothing to you.

“The only long-term thing here is that you’re dead. Do you want that? Because I don’t.” You were yelling at her, and you didn’t want to, but couldn’t she see that this drug was your only option. “I need you (Y/N). The kids need you.” This time you couldn’t hold back the tears as they started to fall hard and fast down your cheeks. “Damn it, I love you and I’m not willing to lose you. Do you understand me?”

You could barely see her swallow hard as tears flooded your vision, and while you knew you needed to be strong for her; you were finally breaking. “Ok,” she whispered softly, and you grabbed her holding her to your body as close as you could with the console in the middle of the car. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. You could feel the dampness of her shirt from your tears but all that mattered was that she agreed to take the treatment.

“Yes,” she answered pulling you back so she could look in your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, my love.” You kissed her then pouring every ounce of love you had for her into it.

The following day, after reading through all the paperwork, (Y/N) called the doctor and got set up to take the new drug. Once you were back in Chicago, she started treatments right away. The drug was aggressive, even more so than her first round of chemotherapy and within two weeks she wound up in the hospital, her immune system so compromised that you had to suit up in a gown and mask every time you went to see her. The kids weren’t allowed in, which killed her, but you had them facetime her every day.

As Christmas grew near your spirits were low. (Y/N) insisted that you put up all the decorations just as you had every year. She ordered the kids’ gifts online so that they wouldn’t miss out on a single thing. Her only term for taking the new treatment was that you continue to play hockey. Her parents stepped up and watched the kids while you were away. You were just returning home from a road trip, about a week before Christmas when you stopped in at the hospital to see (Y/N) before heading home. When you walked into her room, you barely recognized her. Her frail form looked almost lifeless as she lay in the hospital bed, so much so that you had to check the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing. Thankfully she was.

“Salut mon amour,” you said in a soft gentle voice, wanting her to know that you were there but at the same time not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. She turned her head to the side to see you, a weak smile gracing her chapped lips.

A scratchy “hi,” was all she was able to muster back. You took your gloved hand and held hers in it. God, what you wouldn’t give to just touch her skin and feel her once again. But since you couldn’t, you stroked your thumb back and forth over her palm, hoping that she could somehow draw from your strength.

“How are you feeling today?”

The smile dropped, and so did your heart. “I don’t think this is working Jon.” It was too soon to tell. Even the doctors had said that. She just needed to hang on, give the drug more time to work. “I think we need to start preparing for the worst.” Her hand squeezed yours, whether it was for support or to support you, you weren’t sure.

“No, baby, I’m not ready for you to give up yet.”

“I know Jon, and I’m fighting I really am. But it’s just so hard…Hard to breathe…Hard to move. I don’t feel like me anymore.” A tear slipped out and though you had a glove on your hand, you reached up and wiped it away.

“You’ve just gotta fight (Y/N). You’ve got to do it for Levi, and Lizzie, and god baby please do it for me.” You were begging now, both her and god. You couldn’t lose her, you weren’t ready to live your life without her yet.

“I will my love…..but Jon, there may come a day when I can’t fight anymore and I need you to support me on that.” You knew what she was talking about, that if the doctors wanted to put her on a ventilator, she didn’t want that. Though if it could save her…you weren’t sure you could follow her wishes.

You nodded your head not willing to put in words something you couldn’t promise just yet. You stayed there with her for a while; until she basically kicked you and told you to go home and get some sleep. The moment you walked in the door of your house, you screamed in anger. There were all the decorations that (Y/N) made you hang with the kids and you hated every one of them. They were torturous reminders that your wife wasn’t there this Christmas, that she couldn’t be with you and the kids. You grabbed the strand of garland that hung on the archway into the living room and ripped it down, throwing the ball of mistletoe across the room. It felt good, and so you tore down some more, just letting all your anger and frustrations out. It was a side of you that hardly ever came out even on the ice. Oh, you’d definitely dropped the gloves a time or two but only when someone really deserved it. Only now there was no one to fight. It was a disease and you couldn’t throw it up against the boards or punch it in the jaw. So instead, you took it out on the decorations. Every wreath that hung on the wall you ripped it apart with your bare hands. Every Santa figurine that sat on the table, you smashed against the floor. You were just about the tear the stockings off the fireplace when you stopped. It was seeing your wife’s name knitted into the fabric that got you and instead you carefully took it off the hook and brought it to your face as if it were her and you could simply hold her that close once again.

“Please (Y/N), please don’t leave me,” you called out to the void that was your house, as you dropped to your knees, tears freely flowing down your face. It was all too much. You’d finally reached that breaking point and just laid on the flooring sobbing and praying to God to save your wife. It was the only Christmas wish you had. Sure, you’d prayed when you were younger asking god to make you a better hockey player and then that you would be drafted in the NHL, but never in your life had you wanted anything like you wanted this, for your wife to be fine, for her to live a happy healthy life with you and your children. You’d trade everything you had if you could.

At some point, you picked yourself up and looked at the disaster that you’d made in what was once a storybook Christmas home. (Y/N) would be so disappointed in what you had done, not to the house, but to the mess that your kids would walk into when they would come home. You cleaned up the broken shards of glass, restrung the garland, and tried to salvage what you could of the other decorations you’d destroyed yet somehow the house still seemed to be missing something. There were tons of extra decorations in the closet, as your wife seemed to always buy more and more every year, well you couldn’t really blame (Y/N) as you tended to help as well. So, you dragged yourself upstairs to see what else might try and make the place a bit more festive.

It was in rummaging through the closet that you stumbled upon it. It was a simple container, not very big with the word “Love,” written in script on the top. You peered inside and were stunned to find dozens of envelopes, each marked with either yours or your children’s name on them. It was then that you realized they were goodbye letters from your wife, as some were addressed to Levi and Lizzie on their eighteenth birthdays or their graduations. There was even one for each of them on their wedding day. A gasp left your mouth at the realization that she didn’t plan on being around for any of these occasions. You weren’t sure what hurt more, the fact that she was giving up or that you’d be facing a life without her.

All that anger and hurt from moments ago came surfacing back and you had the urge to punch your fist through the wall this time, though you fought it for the sake of your kids. Flipping through the envelopes you saw different ones with your name on them. You picked up the one that was on top of the pile marked 'To Jon on Christmas Eve.’ It was heavier than what you thought and you realized that it wasn’t a letter but a video. Taking the box, you headed downstairs to see what your wife had to say.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be watching this, as you hit the play button on the remote control, yet you couldn’t stop yourself. Maybe there would be something on here that could help you convince her to fight harder. It took a second for (Y/N) to come on the screen. She looked weak, yet still as beautiful as ever as she sat in the chair up in your bedroom. Her wig was on, probably in hopes that you’d remember her like she once was and not the sickly cancer patient she feared everyone saw.

“Bonjour, mon amour.” God, you loved how she spoke French to you. She’d been so earnest in her studies those early days and now was rather good at it. “I’m not sure where to start with this. I want you to know that this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I hope that you’re watching this after the kids’ are in bed and you’ve put all the presents under the tree. God, how I’ll miss doing that with you, but I know that you will make this Christmas and every one after special for our two little angels. They are so lucky to have a dad like you, just like I was so lucky to have you as my husband.” Tears were streaming down (Y/N)’s face as she spoke to you on the screen, just as they were flooding your eyes.

“I love you so much,” she swallowed hard, the movement visible as her body was frail. “Even more than I love Christmas.” It was a small attempt at humor on her part, and you wish that you could smile at it, but at the moment all you had were tears of sadness. “Remember that first Christmas when we bought the tree topper together. You told me then that I was your angel. Well, now I truly am. I hope that when you place her on top of the tree, you’ll know that I’m smiling down at you and our babies.” Your eyes automatically went to the angel on the tree. Her soft smiling eyes shining right into yours. A sob broke from you then, as you realized how much the angel looked like your wife. She had the same eyes, the same hair, and the same soft easy smile that melted your heart.

“I’m going to miss this time of year with you; the laughter, the joy, the mistletoe. It was always my favorite season with you, though you made everyday special.” You knew how she felt, for you had a feeling you’d miss her most at Christmas time. “Jon, I’d give anything to be with you right now. Just know that if I had to do it all again, I would. I’d go through every treatment, every needle, every single bit of it, if it meant one more Christmas with you…hell, even if it was one more day with you.” She wiped away the tears then, visibly collecting herself to continue on with what she had to say.

“But I want you to be happy, Jon. I want you to love again. I want you to find joy in not only Christmas but every day, even if I’m not there. And I can see you sitting there, shaking your head and telling me it’s not going to happen, and maybe it won’t tomorrow or the next day, but I hope it does someday. I love you too much to not want you to love again. Be happy, you deserve it.” You weren’t sure how she could ask this of you, there was no way that it would ever happen if she wasn’t in your life.

“Bumping into you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the best thing to happen to me, Jonathan Toews and for that I thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend, husband, or father. You will always be the love of my life…and what a life we had.” There was still more of it to be had, you just knew there had to be. “I love you, Jon. Merry Christmas, my love.” It took another second and then the screen went blank.

“I love you, (Y/N),” you whispered up the angel smiling down at you. Tears clouded your vision until all the lights just seemed to melt into one giant one. This was not how things were meant to end. You laid your head back against the sofa and closed your eyes and just prayed. Even though you’d just done that hours ago, you asked God to do the impossible, to give you a Christmas miracle.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you woke up sometime later to a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Jon, sweetie, wake up, my love.” You could swear that was your wife’s voice. It took your eyes a minute to regain focus, but it was your wife standing over you, in Christmas pajamas, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her hair, you thought vaguely, not some wig because she’d lost all hers, and she looked healthy, strong in fact.

“You’re here? You’re ok,” you said jumping up and running your hands down her arms.

Her smile told you then that it hadn’t been a dream like you thought, and you looked over to the screen on the tv, to see the Christmas message she’d sent you back up on the screen. “You were watching it again, weren’t you?” she asked.

You had to shake yourself to get the cobwebs out of your brain. It was six years ago that you found the video, though you’ve replayed it every year since. That first time watching it you’d wanted to run to the hospital and shake some sense into your wife, but something stopped you. Maybe deep down you knew she had never truly given up, for she had called you Christmas Eve saying that she was feeling much better. The kids had gotten to see her on Christmas day, though there were still precautions taken. It was a week later that she was home and with you as her strength continually improved. She grew stronger every day after that as well. It was months later that her cancer was declared gone by the doctors, the new treatment having saved her life and yours in the process. She was a survivor and you thanked God every day for giving you that miracle you’d asked for so long ago. “I still don’t know how you found them,” she said to you. “Or why you continue to watch that video every year.”

“I watch it because it reminds me of how close I was to losing you.” Your arms encircled her waist now, drawing her closer to you. “And how magical the Christmas season is as it brought you back to me.” You gazed into her loving eyes, yours shining with that same love you saw in hers. “And to hold you a little tighter each day.” You did exactly as you said, squeezing her so that no space was between either of you, before dropping a kiss to her lips.

“I’m not sure it was the Christmas season that helped me find the strength to fight. I’m pretty sure it was you, Mr. Toews.” Her lips found yours in a soul-stealing kiss, as she poured all her love for you into it.

You maneuvered the two of you under the archway where the sprig of mistletoe always hung. “Well, Mrs. Toews, Christmas will always be my favorite time of year, though I treasure every day with you. Joyeux Noel, mon amour.”

“Merry Christmas, Jon.”

#Jonathan Toews #jonathan toews imagines #jonathan toews imagine #jonathan toews smut #chicago blackhawks imagine #chicago blackhawks iamgines #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction

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redhawtriot · 5 years

Text

Caught in the Act (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

So… this is technically like half of the request but I had way too many ideas for this (and its already long as hell. oops). I’m only doing one Bakugou cheating scenario on this page so go big or go home, right?

I also saw that this blog that I made like two weeks ago has like 100 of you guys following it wtf?! So to celebrate, I’m making my first actual series an interactive one! The following chapters will be very short (besides this one, she thicc), but each will have a question at the end that will determine the events of the next chapter! I made an account on OpinionStage where you guys can vote on through Tumblr, so hopefully at least one of you is excited.

Part two (the other half of this request) is where this fun will begin, so stay whelmed.

Fuck this site for making me repost this :)

Love you guys

HnM💕

Warning: Don’t read this to your fucking kids

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Essentially, your girls night for the week had been, in lack of better words, a shit show.

The brisk, fall air pierced your skin, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. You didn’t even want to touch your sticky filth.

You just wanted to run home to your Bakugou– he was all the warmth that you needed and more. More than anything, you wanted to forget about the foul man that had assaulted you at your now ex-favorite club.

A frown momentarily sneaked its way onto your face to corrupt the brave expression you had held in front of your girlfriends,

“Hey” you had raised your hands to halt your friend, “Don’t do something ridiculous! I promise I’m alright, Jirou!” You had begged her when she had prepared to fight the man as he grabbed your arms. You had already politely asked him to back away from you after he tried to grind himself against you. He called it dancing—you called it sexual harassment.

The nightclub security had already been watching this man and immediately closed in on him to escort him out of the club as soon as he moved in towards you. But it must not have been fast enough.

Everything happened so rapidly that you could barely blink in time before you were drenched in a sticky liquid. Still, you kept a calm expression on your face. Your friends’ careers as heroes depended on how calmly you acted,

“No, it’s okay! I needed to head home anyway!” you had argued with your girls after the man had thrown his drink at you. You tried to bring a smile onto your face as the slight sting of the alcohol penetrated your eyes, “Bakugou will pick me up,” you blinked heavily.

Of course he wouldn’t pick you up in front of the club.

No, that would just be a disaster waiting to happen.

He would more than likely blow the entire place up once he found out what had transpired.

However, after the fourth failed attempt at calling Bakugou, you had given up. It was honestly a stretch anyway. He barely made it past nine o’ clock most nights, and it was well on its way to midnight. You could see your breath as you gave off a heavy sigh, but you never faltered in your steps.

You just wanted to go home to your man, clean your pathetic ass in a hot shower, and forget other men existed in this world.

You groaned to yourself as you remembered how late your guys’ roommate, Kirishima, would stay up in the front living room playing video games—the same front living room you would have to sneak past to make your way to the sanctuary of your shower.

You opened the front door as quietly as you could and prodded your, matted, liquor-contaminated head into the threshold of your home. You probably looked like a wild animal as you scrunched your eyebrows and stared at the dark living room for a while before finally building up the courage to tiptoe towards your bathroom.

You didn’t even want to go to your room in fear of interrogation from a very sleepy, very pissed off Bakugou.

Better not poke the bear. Better just wash the stink and sins away and keep it moving like nothing had happened.

Kirishima not being awake on his Xbox for once was a blessing on a normal day, but today it was truly god sent. Hell, even Bakugou not being able to pick you up might have been a blessing in disguise—or so you thought.

As soon as you turned your shower off you heard it– a steady, creaking noise.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself as your face crinkled upwards in disgust. Kirishima hardly ever brought girls home, and when he did, he was as quiet as a mouse with them. In fact, you hardly even knew the women were there until the next morning when they awkwardly wobbled out of the apartment with their heads tucked down.

The pace of the creaking sped up and the smack of the headboard joined in a repetitive thudding, causing you to freeze in place. Breathless feminine moans joined the little musical number in increasing volume for short while before they became more ‘shrieky’ in nature.

A grimace fell upon your expression, “What the fuck?” you once again mouthed. You quickly snatched your towel and wrapped it around you with haste as you tried to run from the unholy concerto that was being orchestrated in your room.

Wait.

Your room?

Your room was the room that was connected to the bathroom walls—not Kiri’s.

It was in that moment of realization that you heard the moans return, this time a gruff male voice joined the duet,

“Shit!” The moan was drawn out until it faded into a heavy, guttural groan.

You paused again as your heart dropped deeply into your chest. You stretched your hearing and waited for his voice to appear again over her constant whines, “Just like that, baby,” his voice reemerged as he groaned deeply. Your heart harshly reminded you of its existence as it lurched suddenly.

That sounded like Bakugou.

But it had to be a mistake. You rehearsed this thought repeatedly as you sped to your room as quietly as you could—your mind racing even faster than your legs. Your Bakugou was sound asleep in his bed like he was this time of night every night. He was sound asleep and stretched out on his side of the bed with the lights off and with a sock thrown over the flashing light of his work desk computer—he hated that light at night.

You faltered as your hand stuttered uncontrollably toward your door handle. Bakugou’s never even looked at another woman before. It took him years to throw even you, his current fiancé, a second glance. He would never in a million years be on the other side of this door with another woman making those ungodly sounds.

Sounds you hadn’t heard in months.

It had to be Kirishima you tried to convince yourself as you gently twisted the door handle, ‘Please god, he just went into the wrong room,’ you prayed as you threw the door open.

Every single muscle in your body froze as you ingested the sight in front of you—your heart included.

You caught the tail end of their act, and you could only watch in complete disgust as the muscles of your beloved’s back violently contracted in sweat glistened pulses.

The woman made horrified eye contact with you as she was being pinned against your grandmother’s dresser, yet she couldn’t fight the last moan that ripped itself from her, her legs spasming as Bakugou’s flesh smacked into hers for a final time.

He desperately pressed himself into her like he was trying to become her, “Fuck,” he groaned into her neck. You noticed his nails dig deeply into her raised wrists as his hips rashly stuttered to a stop, “Don’t clench around me like that, babe. Relax.” His shaky breath demanded.

The woman looked far from relaxed, “H-Hey!” she anxiously tapped his shoulder, trying to warn him of their impending doom. Her wide eyes were still fixated on your ever-growing livid ones.

“BAKUGOU!” You screeched. The relaxed emotion that you had so desperately tried to keep plastered onto your face that night completely shattered as you angrily marched up to him and snatched the back of his hair, “You bastard!!”

As you yanked downward, he surprisingly fell to the ground, disconnecting with the other slut on trial as they both flew to the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled as his body heavily thudded into the ground.

“That’s my line, you fucking jackass!” you felt your voice crack. Everything hurt. There was pressure in the back of your eyes, the front of your chest, your legs, your throat, your toes, your everything. Everything in your body felt weak under your boiling blood as if you were about to explode.

“Y-Y/N…?” you saw his trademark pissed off expression drop to an unfamiliar one as his eyes finally adjust to you in the darkness of the room. It must have resided in an area between fear and sadness.

You fought the unruly emotions that threatened to take control over your body as you clenched your fist.

Fuck him. He doesn’t get to be sad.

“What?? Were you expecting someone else!?” you spat as you roughly kicked one of his nearby feet, “You probably were expecting more company, you whore,”

No response.

You dug your nails deep into the palm of your hands as if it would somehow release the excruciating pressure that you were feeling.

The woman’s meek voice suddenly broke the extreme silence you all shared, “I-I’m gonna g—”

“GO!” you angrily whipped yourself around to her before grabbing the nearest item that you could, “You dumb bitch! You’re lucky I don’t fuck you up too!” You threw the item as you cursed, not even bothering to know what it was.

It barely missed the naked girl and loudly shattered against one of your walls as she scurried towards the door. You went to reach for another object from your grandmothers’ dresser, promising that you wouldn’t miss this time, but you froze as you found yourself in the mirror connected to the dresser.

You hadn’t realized in your rage that you were crying until you saw your tear-soaked face in the dark reflection. You tried so hard to keep yourself together. You prided yourself on being level-headed in stressful situations, but you were far from level-headed. You were conceited to ever even try to take on that persona.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you could only lament about how pathetic you looked—how pathetic you were.

“I…I’m such an idiot!” you painfully gripped at your hair as you fell into your knees in front of the man you loved. Heavy sobs tore themselves free of your burning throat. You heaved yourself forward into your lap in a failed attempted to catch them, but it was too late.

“I don’t… know what to say.” Bakugou finally spoke up, his face completely flipped upside down from its usual tenseness.

Of course.

Out of all of the times you wanted this loud-mouthed jerk to shut up, now is when he is at a loss for words.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that fell from your lips.

“I don’t see what’s so fucking funny?” he angrily retorted, as he stumbled to make his way up. You were suddenly met with his member being swung at your eye level as you stayed crouched onto the ground. That’s when you noticed–

He didn’t even have a condom on.

He made you get tested for STDs and pregnancy before he even had sex with you with a condom.

“I don’t know where that thing has been,” He had said then. It wouldn’t be until months later when you had started birth control when he had finally decided to risk sex without latex protection. The memory jolted an unexpected emotion from you as your chest bobbed from an oncoming laugh.

“G-get out.” You laughed again, tears still steadily falling from your face. You probably looked absolutely psychotic right now, but it was like all of the emotions that you had been stifling all these years had resurfaced with a vengeance. You struggled to drag yourself to stand so that you wouldn’t have to look at his still wet dick.

You continued to laugh and cry as Bakugou stared at you, his expression becoming disgruntled from the disturbing sight,

“What the fuck is wrong wi—”

“Get. OUT!!” you angrily interrupted him as you roared into his face. He blinked spastically in response as the shock of the altercation finally began to sink into his decelerated mind.

‘F-fuck,’

His heart sank, ‘What did I just do?’ He racked his brain as he tried to remember all of the events that had taken place to lead him to this moment, but the world seemed to be spinning ferociously, shaking up and mixing the timeline of the night.

He was plucked from his thoughts as he caught a glimpse of your face in the darkness of the room.

Why were you looking at him like you hated his existence—like if you could disintegrate his body with your eyes, you would. For the first time in years, Bakugou felt hot tears tingle against the back of his eyes, “Y/N, I…” his voice became stuck in his chest as his heart gave sudden jolt, “I’m so s–”

His chest became tight as you whipped away from him and silently threw a pointed finger towards the door.

He stumbled back a few feet as if you had just thrown a physical attack his way.

After a few moments of watching you hold the same position, he noticed you had started to cry again as your rocking shoulders lurched forward.

His face fell even further into the expression of despair before he froze. He could fix this if you would just let him, dammit!

He growled in annoyance at your ignoring him before he finally thawed his body, “FINE!” he yelled at you before smacking your pointed hand out to the way so that he could stagger out of the room. He loudly slammed the door shut, leaving you alone with your deafening thoughts.

You immediately dropped back to the ground before you curled yourself up into a ball and released painful sobs.

You had absolutely no fear that he would catch you in this state. His pride would never allow him to come back after storming out like that.

However on the other side of the door, Bakugou had already turned back around. Instant guilt had created a cacophony of loud feelings in his mind. How could he have hurt you like that?

The thought caused his heart to thrum and his hands to flinch away from the door handle; however, he strengthened his resolve and firmly grasped the handle once more until suddenly–

“BAKU-BROOOOO!” Kirishima’s booming voice could be heard moments before the front door was slammed open and bounced against your living room wall, “Ya made it back alive, man! We were all worried about you after you disappeared…” he slurred as he fumbled over to his best friend like a toddler taking his first steps.

Bakugou couldn’t find it in himself to reply to the redhead as the latter threw himself at him with a hearty laugh. The laugh, however, came to an abrupt end as Kirishima stared blankly at Bakugous face, “Hey… wha’s wrong, best buddy? Holy hell, w-why are you crying?!” he loudly whispered. A loud rumble could be heard before Kirishima violently gagged, releasing the contents of his stomach.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Photo

dirty little secret (m) | kth

summary- you had a dirty little secret and your boss, tae finds out.

rating- explicit / 18+

word count- 4781

pairing- taehyung x reader

genre- smut

Warnings- dirty talk, slight choking

Kim Taehyung could not possibly be human. He had to be some sort of government experiment to create the perfect man and see how women reacted. No man could possibly be so sexy. So smart. So successful. So kind. So… perfect. Maybe you were a bit biased, you had been drooling over V since the first day you’d walked off the elevator to the top floor of Kim Publishing Company.

You were awestruck, taken aback by the vast space with the sparkling sun wafting through the large stained glass window. Gazing out at the skyline with brilliant blue hues, you failed to see V. He was walking backwards, adamantly discussing a new book deal with a prospective client. He turned a split second too late. You looked up a split second too late.

Colliding with his rock hard frame, you felt your whole body shiver in a way you’d never experienced before. His arms instinctively circled around you to keep you from falling, causing your bodies to remain flush against each other. Chills ran straight through you, down to your bones before every inch of your skin that touched his went ablaze.

Time seemed to stand still as you gazed up into his sensual, deep brown eyes. His plump, wet pink lips rested just inches from yours, stealing all the air from your lungs. Moments passed and neither of you made an effort to release yourselves from each others’ grip. The client cleared their throat uncomfortably, snapping both of you out of your haze.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I wasn’t paying attention, the sky looked so pretty from up here and I-“ you rambled before V cut you off, lifting a hand to silence you.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” he inquired, those deep brown eyes laced with concern and a little amusement.

“I’m fine. I’m so sorry. It’s my first day and I’m so nervous about meeting Mr. Kim that I just…” you let your head fall while you took a breath, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. What is your name?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Y/N.” you supplied.

“Y/N…” he let it roll off his tongue like he was savoring it, your heart thumped wildly in your chest. “Nice to meet you. I’m V. This is Jungkook.” He introduced.

The client awkwardly gave a sort of half-wave.

“Jungkook, let’s finish this negotiation downstairs. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a wonderful first day.” V grinned like he was laughing at an inside joke.

You half-bowed, half scurried away, making a beeline for your new desk. Phyllis, the woman you were being trained to replace in her retirement, shook her head, silver curls bouncing.

“What?” you questioned defensively.

She sniggered to herself before leaning in so she was close enough to speak without anyone else overhearing her. The words that left her mouth caused your soul to leave your body and chills of an entirely different nature to spread.

“Dry humping the CEO on your first day. What a lovely first impression.”

***

You cringed at the memory. She had taken so much joy in your embarrassment, howling with laughter as your jaw hit the floor. She didn’t really mean anything by it. Phyllis wasn’t a cruel person, but you didn’t miss the tiny pinch of evil in her sugary smile. You’d avoided V after that as much as you could, until 3:00 when his assistant, who had introduced himself as Jimin, came to fetch you for your orientation meeting. You wished you could hide under your desk and pretend you weren’t there, but you desperately needed this job and V signed your check so you really had no choice. You feigned confidence as Jimin held the door open for you and you stood across from the man in the plush leather chair.

“Good afternoon, Y/N. How’s your first day going?” He asked, almost entirely professional if not for the sparkle in his eye.

“Well, Mr. Kim-“ you began.

“Call me V.” He interrupted.

“V,” you corrected, slightly uncomfortable with the familiar nickname, or maybe you were uncomfortable with the way he affected you, his smirk making your thighs clench in a hopefully unnoticeable way, “it has been memorable to say the least. I really do apologize for earlier, I had no idea you were… you.”

“No need to apologize. Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Publishing. I’m thrilled to have you aboard.” He flashed you a million dollar smile and stuck out his large hand to shake your smaller one.

As soon as your skin met his, your entire body felt like you’d been electro-charged. A small gasp left your lips, and V’s poker face slipped for only a fraction of a moment, but you saw it. He pulled away and ran his hand through his perfectly tousled black hair, clearing his throat.

He slipped back into his professional smile and continued to tell you about the company and your role. He liked to orient new hires himself, keeping himself involved and making sure that everyone felt valued at the company. He did expect a level of respect but was willing to return the favor.

He was funny without trying and put you at ease quickly. He answered all your questions politely and never made you feel less than. That was the beginning of the end for you. Less than one full day into your career at Kim Publishing and you were completely whipped for Kim Taehyung.

8 months later, you still had it bad for V. Obviously you wouldn’t do anything about it. Not only would you risk losing your job you’d worked so hard for, but someone as perfect as him would never look at you twice, not in that way. You sighed, flipping through the pages of the current manuscript on your desk, jotting down notes in one of your portable notebooks.

Misspelled “quota”

Replace said with exclaimed?

This book is awful

You erased the last one, feeling bad. If someone said that about what you had written, you’d be crushed. But how were you supposed to edit a story written by someone who couldn’t tell the difference between their, there, and they’re?! You hated not giving anyone a fair chance so you muddled through the story, trying your best to note ways to improve it so that it could possibly be published.

Finally reading the last line, you almost felt guilty placing the document in the “no” pile. Before you could move on to the next one, you heard his laughter floating down the hall, dancing around your ears and caressing your soul with longing. His laugh was musical. You loved it. You loved his voice, which you could also hear as he made conversation with the stout man to his left. He waved good morning to you as he walked by, gracing you with his perfect smile. You waved back and he disappeared from sight.

You reached in your drawer, pulling out your other notebook. This notebook stayed locked away in your desk drawer, you would lose your mind if anyone found it. This was where you kept your writing ideas. Most of them were your sexual fantasies about V, but one day they would work into an erotic novel that you could pitch to be published, under a fake name of course.

Ugh V looks amazing in those new work pants. What I wouldn’t give to be on my knees under his desk right now. I wonder if he’d be able to concentrate on that meeting with my lips wrapped around his cock. Fuck, V probably has such a nice dick. I want to taste it.

A knock at your office door had you scrambling to hide the notebook back in your drawer. You looked up to see Jimin standing in your doorway.

“Hey y/n. I have a family thing to get to and Mr. Kim really needed me to restock the coffee bar before his next client comes. I know it’s almost time to go but can you please help?” He pleaded, and you were no match for his puppy dog eyes.

“Sure, no problem.” You easily agreed, following him out of your office.

After refilling the coffee bar and straightening a few things in the break room, you made your way back to your office and made yourself comfortable in your chair. You began reading the next manuscript and reached for your notebook to make a suggestion about not mixing tenses. It wasn’t on your desk. You looked at the floor, wondering if you’d dropped it. Nope. You searched under things and between things but couldn’t see the little book anywhere. You huffed in frustration and opened your drawer to get a new one.

You pulled out the top one and opened the cover. Oh there it was! You hadn’t lost your notes! You smiled to yourself and began writing suggestions, wondering why you’d put the filled- in notebook in that drawer. Must have been when Jimin startled you. You smiled at yourself and kept writing. Until you realized that’s where your dirty notebook should’ve been. You froze.

Opening the drawer back up, you searched through the notebooks. All of them were new and blank. Your erotic thoughts about your boss were no where to be found. You took deep breaths, convincing yourself not to panic. You started searching through every item in that damned office, picking up speed the longer you went without finding the notebook.

More and more people went home as the day began to wind down. You were sure you were the only one left. Your office was all but destroyed and you couldn’t find the stupid fucking notebook. Had someone found it? Surely they wouldn’t know it was yours right? Your name wasn’t in it.

You went back to the break room in a last ditch effort, thinking maybe you’d stupidly carried it in there? You searched high and low, placing your head in your hands when it did not appear. You didn’t hear him approach, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard him clear his throat from the doorway.

“Ah! V! You scared me. I thought I was the only one here.” You said, hand gripping your shirt in an effort to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said, voice low and cautious. “What are you still doing here?”

“I um… misplaced something and I can’t find it.” You explained vaguely.

“Oh. What was it?” His brown eyes seemed almost black as he watched your every move.

“Ummm.. a notebook.” You admitted, voice higher than you’d intended.

“Oh. This one?” He asked, his gaze burning into yours as he held up your missing book.

Your jaw dropped and your heart sank. Oh shit you were so fired. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in my office.” He offered, turning and leading the way down the hall.

He gestured for you to sit opposite of him, the large desk between the two of you. You waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, you opened your mouth, apologies spewing out. He silently watched you, and when you finally fell silent, he picked up the book and opened it. You cringed as his eyes fell on the pages.

“I want V to bend me over his desk and take me. I want to feel his big, warm hands on my body. I want to feel his thick, throbbing cock inside me. Would he be rough or gentle? He seems like the dominant type in bed. His whole being just screams ‘power’. Maybe I should write about both. He could also have a tender side, he is so sweet.” He read aloud, your entire face was flushed with embarrassment and shame.

He turned the page and continued.

“If I have to sit through another meeting with V in those tight fitting slacks I will cum on the spot. He could make any woman melt with just a look. His voice is enough to get me off. That would be a hot scene.”

“Every time V says my name, I can’t help imagining what it would be like to hear him moan it instead. Working here is driving me insane.”

He looked up from the book, placing it flat on the desk between the two of you. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he finally looked up at you, you were so full of shame you couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Y/N. Look at me.” He commanded with an authority you’d never heard from him before. Despite your current shame, you felt moisture pooling between your legs at his dominating tone.

You glanced up and found Kim Taehyung staring into your soul with the most lust-filled eyes you’d ever seen. A whisper of a gasp left your lips as electricity shot through you, straight to your core. You did your best not to squirm in your seat but failed, the intensity of his steamy gaze making you quiver.

V rose from his desk chair and spun yours around so that you were facing him. He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he spoke lowly.

“I’ve been rock hard since I found your book. I couldn’t stop picturing that tight little ass bent over my desk, couldn’t stop thinking about filling that pretty little pussy. You paint quite the picture, Y/N.” He breathed.

You clenched your thighs together, almost whimpering at how bad you wanted him. Never in a million years did you think Kim Taehyung would be whispering dirty things in your ear.

“I didn’t know you were such a naughty girl.” He smirked, leaning back and licking his lips as his eyes traveled down your body to your legs, pressed together under your skirt.

V put a finger under your chin, lifting your face so that your gazes met. His lips found yours in a flash, claiming you. You were immediately putty in his hands as his plump mouth worked against your own. His tongue snuck out and found its way to yours, deliciously intertwining. You were so immersed in the kiss, you almost didn’t notice when his large palm came to rest on your knee. Almost.

His fingers danced along your skin teasingly, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. Tantalizingly slowly, his hand made its way up your thighs, so close to where you wanted him the most, but not nearly close enough. His lips parted from your own, and you were about to protest the loss of contact before they were reattached at your neck. Soft whines left your throat as he sucked and nipped at the skin below your ear, leaving reddish-purple bruises in his wake. He was marking you, and while that should’ve put you off, it only caused the dampness in your panties to increase. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to his greedy lips. His fingers ran teasingly over your clothed core.

“Shit. You’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” he mused, pride apparent in his tone.

“Didn’t you read the part where I get wet just from the sound of your voice? Are you really surprised?” you countered in a moment of bravery.

Desire flashed in his dark eyes as his gaze bore into you with such intensity, you almost couldn’t take it.

“Oh baby girl… I am going to ruin you.” he growled, yanking you up out of your chair and dragging you towards your office. He tossed your purse to you and hurriedly led you towards the exit.

Your hands linked together were the only place he touched you once you were out of his office. There were cameras everywhere, you both knew that, but the anticipation was driving you wild. He squeezed your hand every so often, purposefully bumping against the side of your leg. He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You look so sexy like this, all flushed and ready to be fucked. It’s taking every bit of self control not to push you up against the wall and eat that pretty pussy right here.” though his voice was a whisper, it came out as a growl, almost primal.

The whimper that left you involuntarily placed a smirk on his plump lips.

“Mmm… so needy for me, aren’t you baby?” he teased.

You glared at him but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. He tugged you out of the elevator and over to his shiny new car, opening the door for you and allowing you to slide inside before he gently closed it and came around to enter the driver’s side.

The car roared to life and V sped out of the parking garage towards his place. In a moment of bravery, your hand found his inner thigh, rubbing seemingly innocent circles there. His breath hitched, and his eyes narrowed on the road, trying to concentrate and not crash, though your fingers were extremely distracting. You noticed his cock twitch inside his slacks, and your mouth watered. You wondered how dangerous road head was, then thought against it. You wanted to live long enough to fuck him.

After what felt like forever, but was probably closer to five minutes, you pulled up in front of a swanky apartment complex, and V led you up the stairs to his apartment. When he opened the door and ushered you in, you were in awe with how gorgeous it was. Did he have an interior decorator or did he really just have impeccable taste? He watched you with amused eyes as you surveyed the surroundings. You felt his warmth behind you as he leaned in, breath tickling your ear.

“I can give you the grand tour if you’d like later, but right now I really just want you in my bed.” he said, his tongue darting out and licking along the shell of your ear and sending shivers throughout your entirety.

You pressed yourself up against him, attaching your lips to his in a heated kiss. Slowly, he walked you backwards down the hall, never breaking the delicious dance your tongues were engaged in as he led you to his room. You fell back on his large bed, and his body hovered over yours instantly. Feeling his whole body on top of yours was heavenly, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took heavy breaths, feel the rapid beating of his heart.

His hands snaked their way down to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off your body. You were pretty sure you heard it rip in his haste but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not with the way his eyes wandered over your skin in amazement. He picked up your hand and kissed your wrist, slowly making his way up your arm to your neck. He leaned down and placed soft, chaste kisses along your collarbone and the tops of your breast that your bra didn’t cover, before discarding that too.

His lips wrapped around your nipples, causing a groan to erupt from deep within you. His tongue circled the sensitive nub as his large hand kneaded and gently pinched the other. His teeth grazed your nipple slightly, making you gasp at the shockwave it sent through you. His blazing kisses made their way down your stomach, as though he was worshiping every inch of your exposed skin. You sighed contentedly before deciding he was wearing too many clothes.

You reached up and began unbuttoning his dress shirt, slowly revealing his decadently tanned skin. Your mouth watered with each new inch revealed. He threw it carelessly across the room once you’d gotten all the buttons undone, and you stared at his chest as your own fluttered. He was so fucking beautiful. You reached up and trailed your fingers along his abdomen, gently brushing along his nipples and earning a quiet groan as you traced the lines of his abs.

He patiently waited, letting you admire his body above yours, legs on either side of you, caging you in. You glanced up into his eyes and were surprised to find fondness there. You blushed and looked away. You felt his body shake as he chuckled. Using one swift motion, he pulled down your skirt and panties, tossing them aside. Your arousal was dripping down your legs and you would’ve felt ashamed if you hadn’t caught the way his eyes lit up at the sight of your dripping core.

He began placing kisses along your inner thigh, teasing you. Just like he had been in his office, he was so close to where you wanted him but not nearly close enough.

“So wet for me baby. So pretty.” he praised, causing your chest to constrict with pride. “You don’t know how many times I’ve daydreamed about tasting you. How many nights I got off to the thought of making you cum on my tongue.”

His dirty words had you clenching around nothing, and he smirked. He leaned down, licking a bold stripe between your folds.

“Oh fuck-” left your lips before you could stop yourself and V chuckled from his position nestled between your thighs, vibrations running right to your clit.

You bucked your hips at the sensation, and V slid one hand up to hold you down as his tongue began its assault on your sensitive nub. You couldn’t control your soft moans when his tongue swirled around your clit and he inserted one of his long fingers deep into your heat. They felt even better than you imagined they would. V slowly added a second finger and curled them expertly to hit that spot inside of you that had you wriggling on the bed.

He added a third finger, the stretch burning for only a moment before pleasure took over. Between his fingers pumping into you and his tongue dancing on your clit, you couldn’t hold back anymore, his name falling from your lips over and over while you rode out your high on his skilled tongue. V rose from between your thighs with a satisfied smile on his lips. The same lips that were dripping with your juices. He ran his tongue along them before pressing them to yours, letting you taste yourself.

“Holy shit.” you complimented.

“Enjoy yourself? I know I did.” V purred, bringing your lips together once more and tugging your bottom one between his teeth slowly.

Could this man be any sexier? Fuck.

“Mmm… yes. Now let me return the favor.” you grinned, popping open the button on his slacks.

“Baby girl, as much as I would love to have your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, I really need to be inside you.” he told you. You shuddered under his hungry gaze.

“Then why aren’t you fucking me?” you threw back at him.

Something flashed in V’s eyes that you couldn’t quite place before he was tearing his clothes off of his body and reaching into his bedside drawer for a foil square. Your mouth fell open when his thick cock was released from its confines. You’d always imagined he’d have a big one, but damn. He was long, thick, and dripping precum. His length was absolutely delicious looking, throbbing with want.

“Like what you see?” he grinned cockily, but he had every reason to be.

“Love what I see.” you licked your lips seductively.

V winked at you while he rolled the condom on and lined himself at your entrance. When he slid himself inside of you, you felt like you were being torn in two, brought back together, lifted from your body. The pain lasted only a few seconds before the indescribable pleasure took over. Breathless noises fell past his lips as he moved slowly, waiting to make sure you had adjusted.

“Fuck, V-please.” you pleaded, needing him to move.

No sooner than you’d taken another shaky breath, V was giving his all and pounding into you so wonderfully, you were sure you’d die of pleasure. He filled you up so perfectly, like he was made to be inside you. You were made for the sole purpose of fucking Kim Taehyung. The only word you could manage to form coherently was the call of his name as he fucked into you so good you couldn’t focus on anything but him and the way he made you feel.

Each thrust brought you closer to your high, and each grunt and moan from him proved he was losing his mind just as must as you were. Without warning, his hand came up to cup your neck, pressing in on either side. Sweat pooled on his temples and he watched you with hungry eyes as your own widened in surprise. You leaned your head back to give him better access while never breaking eye contact.

V grinned victoriously, adding slight pressure to his hold on your neck, careful not to press too hard. Your fists gripped the sheets as everything became too much, you were so close, and all you could do to warn him was whine his name desperately.

“Cum on my cock, let go for me baby.” he commanded, and who were you to argue?

Your orgasm swept over you, pulling you to new heights you’d never felt before. White spots clouded your vision and your back arched off the bed into Tae’s body. Your moans turned high pitched and your whole body shook with the euphoria washing through you. V rode you through your high, milking it for all it was worth, and when you finally came down, body falling limply on the bed, his movements became sloppy and desperate. His own climax finally claiming him and his O face, the noises he made, they were the hottest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

He fell next to you on the bed, both of you breathing so hard you couldn’t even talk. He discarded the used condom and turned to you, pulling your head into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You were overwhelmed with a feeling of safety and comfort, the feeling of home. For the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged. You felt like you belonged wrapped in the warm embrace of Kim Taehyung. You snuggled closer to him and he hummed appreciatively. Soon, you were both asleep in each others’ arms, too spent from the best sex of your life to do anything else.

Waking up next to Taehyung was both the most comforting thing you’d ever felt, and also the most terrifying. You’d just slept with your boss. The CEO of your company. You were fairly certain he’d wanted you to stay the night after wrapping you up in his arms, but did he want you here when he woke up? You’d felt like you’d finally found home wrapped up in his strong embrace, but did he? As if your thoughts had summoned him, he rolled over, stretching his arms above his head and smiling at you.

“Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?” he asked.

“Best sleep I’ve ever had.” you admitted, cheeks turning bright red as you hid your face in your hands.

He grinned and shot up, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head as he trapped your body under his on the bed.

“Don’t hide that gorgeous face from me.” he tutted, feigning offense.

“V!” you whined, your whole face flushing.

He chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before lifting himself off of you. He pulled on a pair of boxers and looked over at you sweetly.

“Coffee?” he inquired.

“Please. Two sugars?” you smiled appreciatively.

He nodded and disappeared into the rest of the apartment to fulfill your request. You changed into one of his work shirts to cover yourself, settling back into the bed. He brought back two steaming cups of coffee and handed yours to you, watching you carefully as you brought it to your lips and took a sip, sighing happily as the warm liquid coated your tongue.

“You look so beautiful like this.” Tae spoke suddenly, quietly.

“In your clothes?” you giggled.

“In my clothes, in my bed, happy.” he smiled, “I hope I get to see this side of you often.”

“I’m yours as long as you want me.” you blushed, taking a drink to hide the blush growing on your cheeks.

His answer was taking the coffee from you and setting it down before placing a soft kiss on yours.

#smut #bts #btssmut #bts smut #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #bts v #ceo!tae

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sleepypeaky · 4 years

Text

now i’ve found you

finn shelby x male reader

request: male!reader, who is Tommy's assistant, is pretty sure he's straight. but he ends up falling for one of the shelby brothers (your choice!). insert gay crisis, and potentially tommy/aunt polly/ada being supportive?

w/c: 1,363

a/n: i love this headcannon so much thank you. i know i do finn for everything but i thought this would work the best and also i love him so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ note that john is alive because im in deep denial. i know i went for a heavier take on this than i could have, but i think it works. also yes i ripped that scene right out of the DA movie. i hope i did the mlm a good. #wlwmlmsolidarity

this is 1928 ish so finn is 20 and so is the reader

this is very obviously way more fully formed than any of my other fics but its tuesday and i have nothing to do so

Ada Thorne had always looked out for you. So when she managed to get you a job working for her brother, you knew you would be safe. Now you hurried up the steps and knocked on a large heavy wooden door, which opened presently to a sitting room where you awaited your new boss.

Ada held the phone to her ear.

“Listen,” she said. “I have a lad who needs a safe place to work. He’s smart and capable and before you say anything, no, he’s not a spy.”

Tommy silently acknowledged the last part with approval. “Ok, but protection from what?”

Ada looked over her shoulder, making sure none of the others in the house were about. She sighed, “I know this means little to you, but he -lets put it this way- doesn’t fancy the ladies. And life is hard enough for people like him without having to worry about being kicked out of work for something that’s no one’s goddamn business.”

“As you said, this lad’s private life is moot to me, but if you can vouch for his work ethic and loyalty, i’ll give him a try.”

“You must be (y/f/n), nice to meet you.” Tommy shook your hand and led you into his office.

“My sister talks very highly of you, and she is quite possibly the only honest person i know.” He offered you a chair and lit himself a cigarette.

“So, the job is simple enough. I need an assistant, the most recent of which, is my wife, who can’t very well be working for me anymore.”

You smiled and nodded.

“Well I have two years of university to my name so I hope I can be useful.”

Tommy chuckled, “Well you are more qualified than any other man here lad, and it’s probably smart to get some new young blood on the company.”

You smiled, “Thank you sir.”

He motioned you to follow him out of the room and into a smaller one just off it.

“This is your office, across the hall-” He motioned behind him through the door, where directly adjacent was another room, “-Is my cousin Michael’s office, he is the account handler so to speak.”

“Now,” He turned back to you, “There is the matter of this.”

He placed a pistol and a handful of ammunition onto the desk between you.

“You know how to shoot son?’

You looked concernedly at the weapon casually lying on the table,

“No sir.”

“Well, hopefully you wont ever need to use this but it seems to be company policy, never can be too careful. I’ll have someone teach you.”

You thanked him and placed the items in a desk drawer.

“If you’ll follow me, i’ll give you the rundown of the company,” he said. “I’ve got some time and I need to wrangle up some people.”

You followed him out the door and through a series of buildings where different operations took place. At one point, you walked into a sort of yard-warehouse area.

Beginning from a distance and gradually growing louder, you could hear ‘duck!’ ‘hit!’ ‘shift!’ etc..

All was explained when you and Tommy turned the corner.

In a roped off section of the cement yard were two very handsome young men. Both boxing and both, seemingly to vex you on your first day, shirtless.

“That’s Bonnie and Finn, don’t mind them.” Tommy commented off-hand.

He turned left and walked into another building, leaving you just enough time to glance back at the two shirtless men, before ducking in after him.

After Tommy had introduced you the Charlie and Curly, he led you back to the office and then said he had to run, and you could start filing the stack of papers on his desk.

You went right to work, and before long, had forgotten the time completely.

~~~~

You were in a filing induced trance when a noise took you out of it.

The noise turned out to be the door opening.

“Oh hi.. i didn’t know anyone was in here..” The boy stammered.

You looked up to see on of the boys from the boxing ring, taken slightly by surprise, you fumbled out from behind the desk to introduce yourself.

“Sorry to surprise you, hi i’m (y/n), Mr. Shelby’s new assistant.” You held out your hand and he shook it.

“I’m Finn,” he stumbled “Tommy’s brother.” he released your hand.

“Can I help you with anything?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Well I thought I’d find my brother here but i guess i’ll see him later.”

In a hasty fashion he held up a hand as a brief farewell, and scurried out of the room.

You sighed and cursed silently to yourself.

Out of all the people he could have been, why my boss’s brother.

~~~~

Like no time at all, the weeks and months seemingly flew past. You had become acquainted with everyone and felt like you had finally found your place. There were, of course, still some aspects with which you couldn’t fit in just the same as any other.

“Oi, you’re a good looking lad! Why don’t you come along with us tonight. Get some drink and find a girl, Birmingham’s best!” Arthur wheezed.

“That’s not saying much, but do come along mate!” John followed up. Giving you a friendly slap on the back.

You smiled,

“Thanks,” You gave john a man-pat on the shoulder, “But i got some work to finish here.”

“Suit yerself.” And they were gone.

You sighed with relief. You knew you’d have to go someday, but right now you couldn’t handle the idea of,,,that.

A few minutes later ,you heard a knock on the door and Finn entered, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“i heard you skipped goin’ to the Garrison with the others so i thought i’d bring some to you.”

He placed the things down on your desk and sat on the chair opposite you.

“You’re a life-saver! thank you.” you exclaimed.

Finn chuckled, pouring you a glass and handing it over,

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either.”

You hummed, taking a sip and savoring it quickly in your mouth. You wondered, a stupid thing to do, if it wasn’t his scene for the same reasons as you. Though the more you got to know him. You suspected.

Suspicions are a dangerous thing. Especially ones that are led by the heart, and are ever so biased on your own happiness. Nevertheless, a week or so later from that night, you popped in to tell Finn, with perhaps too much certainty,

“You know, I think I know a place you might enjoy.”

~~~~

London always induced a joyous feeling inside you. Not that you had only fond memories from living there -far from it- but there was something about a city where the air wasn’t 80% coal soot.

You and Finn got off the train and made your way to Ada’s house. It was always a delight to be in her presence. Especially because you owed her so much, in fact, probably you owed her your life in so may ways.

After tea, and insisting that you had to make your way to a surprise spot, you and Finn made your way into the night.

Through a maze of mews and side-streets, down alleys and cracks you led him.

“I know i grew up in small heath,” He said at one point, when you were in a particularly funky alley. “but where the hell are you taking me?”

“Trust me.” you assured him.

You both came out of an alley and into a small courtyard-like space. You brushed off your clothes a little and knocked on a door in the dark brick wall.

A little notch opened up and you whispered the password. the door swung open.

“Hello Love!” The doorman said, “ ‘aven’t seen you ‘round here for a long time!”

You greeted the man back and made apologies. Presently, you went inside, leading Finn behind you.

Inside was an immaculate ballroom filled with people. Jazz music was pouring from the stage at the far end of the room. But as Finn looked around more, he started thinking that something was off.

When he realized he froze.

All the people dancing, all the paired up couples, were men. Some dressed lavishly and others in plain working clothes. some with curled mustaches and some with cheeks of rouge and powdered skin.

Finn couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw for the first time, a pair of men dancing hand in hand with wild smiles on their faces. Laughing, singing along.

Finn couldn’t move, nor could he take his eyes off the sights around him.

He felt your presence next to him,

“Was i right to bring you here?” You asked.

He turned his head to face you, he was quivering. He looked you in the eyes, eyes that were lined with tears.

“I had no idea,” He whispered,

“I had no idea there were others.”

Your heart ached for him in a way that only those like them know. You knew what he felt, the wonder, the pain, the confused elation.

You took his hand,

“There are.”

You slowly pulled him to the dance floor.

The music had gotten slower, and the dancing changed to a sort of swaying four-step.

You took his other hand first, letting him go at his own pace, but soon you were as close as the others on the floor. both of you had a hand on the others waist.

Finn looked around again, at all the other people, eyes all closed and heads close. He turned back to you and moved even closer. He brought his lips up to your ear,

“Thank you.” He whispered. He kept his cheek at yours, you felt his hands on your back.

He moved his head slowly so he could look at you again, it was such that your foreheads touched. Your heart beat slow, but hard. You whispered

“Can i kiss you?”

His eyes flicked up to yours before looking down again and moving his lips to yours.

It was ever so soft, barely even there. But it was there, and that was beyond anything Finn had ever felt or imagined before. He closed his eyes and kissed harder this time, and from beneath his eyelids came small lines of tears. The release of an unseen, unknown burden that he had carried for so long.

All you felt was warmth. And the ballroom surrounding you disappeared. You were on a different plane of being, the jazz music still crooned, muffled.

All there was was him, and for him all there was was you.

~~~~

Epilogue

Finn stood outside the opaque glass of the door. And in the irony of psychology, he had never felt more confident about what he was going to do.

He opened the door to Tommy’s office.

“Hello Finn.” He said from behind the desk, cigarette smoking from his lip.

Finn went right up and took a seat across from his brother.

“I’m a homosexual.” He declared, his gaze unwavering despite the magnanimity of his previous statement.

Tommy took the cigarette from between his lips and put it out.

“Well then.” He reached over and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses and sliding one over to Finn. He took a sip.

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’m in love with (y/n).” He replied casually, taking himself a swig.

Tommy raised his brow, but made no other physical impression of surprise.

“Well then.” He said again.

Finn sat there in the silence of Tommy’s company. Surprised, and at the same time not, at his reaction.

Tommy got up from his seat and made his was around the desk. Finn stayed where he was. In an act so small, and yet untellingly powerful, tommy placed a hand of finns shoulder, and kept it there.

“How will the others find out?”

They found out at a family meeting a month later, when, a new agenda item was introduced.

For a while after, there was silence.

John, being john, broke it with,

“Falling for a secretary huh?” he chuckled, “that seems more like something i’d do.”

That lightened the tension. Amid the other items on the list, Finn leaned over to Ada, who sat on his right.

“Tell me,” He asked quietly to her, “did you know?”

She breathed a moment, finding the words to use.

“I knew you had more on your mind than we could ever know.”

Finn looked back ahead, letting her words sink into his mind. Her hand rested on his knee with quiet warmth and reassurance.

~~~~ You waited outside the meeting room until the rest of them filed out. Finn was the last, and when he appeared you gave him a quick peck on the lips, and held his hand, walking together out of the building.

#wow im so tired #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x male!reader #male reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x male!reader #finn shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #ada thorne #gay peaky blinders #mlm

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meteorstricken · 4 years

Text

Sephiroth Week, Day 1 Prompt: Specimen

“Grief”

Months had passed since Gast had gone missing, had died, and the empty tightness lingered still in Sephiroth's chest. It crept up into his throat; it wove tight wires around his fingers so that his nails carved out small, bloody crescents into his palms. Sometimes, the feeling took hold of and destroyed lab equipment. Once, it had uncoiled from his hands and snapped a technician's wrist. He didn't think before he did these things, and never admitted to them, but Sephiroth found relief in pouring the constrictive pain into anything or anyone else. So long as it left his body, but somehow, it always found a way back into him, filling up the emptiness with burning and reminding him of how alone he was.

Professor Hojo grew increasingly amused and irate when he finally figured it out. The angrier he was with Sephiroth, the more hilarious he found his telekinetic fits. He didn't try to stop him; he just watched. He watched him sitting motionless but for a darting eye or twitching finger, trashing machinery, mangling surgical tools out of shape, shattering every fragile glass beaker, test tube, and unrated containment chamber within his line of sight. And he laughed that half-suppressed laugh that meant he'd concocted painful exercises for later to figure out how he'd learned such an ability.

All Sephiroth knew was that the power had come to him with the sadness.

"Do you think your life would be so different if Gast were still with us, hm?" Hojo asked Sephiroth one day when he and his assistants had managed to subdue him, pacing around the examination table where they'd strapped him down. He stopped to motion at the holding cells, computer towers, and sharp, wicked surgical implements surrounding them. "Did you know that he's responsible for all of this? So much of it, all his idea, and yet he abandoned it all in favor of hopeless whimsy. You as well. A fascinating thing, isn't it?"

Sephiroth remained silent, in no small part because of the sedatives, but also because he had no words--nothing that Hojo wouldn't twist against him. It was true that Gast had kept him here and treated him differently too, but he hadn't mocked him. His mind ran over again on how Hojo had left for a week when a rumor started going around about where Gast had gone, but he'd returned alone in the end. Sephiroth knew Hojo had done something to him. He read more violence in him than before, a feeling of accomplishment over the other's death--an obstacle finally removed; not a fellow scientist or a friend lost.

Sephiroth kept his suspicions to himself, and simply continued listening to Hojo's endless gloating. He went on and on until his technicians entered the room. Eventually, Sephiroth faded.

When he woke, he was uncomfortably slumped up against the curved wall of one of the holding cells used for the stronger inhuman specimens. His side ached where a large bandage had been affixed to conceal a freshly stitched-up incision. He wondered what Hojo might have cut out or put in him this time. A rogue thought drifted through his mind about the last time this had happened, but to the other side. Gast had coaxed him to the operating room with gentle words, and he'd woken up in a bed to assurances that 'things had gone well'--whatever those 'things' were.

…He'd never bothered explaining. No one did.

Sephiroth then remembered a conversation he'd overheard between two lab techs. They'd been exchanging photos of their children, and talking about school, friends, and play dates. Not like him--not a never-ending cycle of uncaring or horrified tutors, observation days, and quarterly exploratory surgeries. The tightness that had lived in his chest descended into the pit of his stomach. His ability to read inside people was a newer development, and he'd never gotten the chance to ask Gast why it had to be like this--what made him too different and special to see much of the outside world yet--and he knew Hojo would only dodge the question or lie. Nearly everything he said was half a lie. But Sephiroth knew from the others that wandered near that the first years of his life were all wrong.

Worse, Hojo hadn't been lying about Gast having started everything, and having intended to keep him here too for a few more years at least.

Sephiroth pulled his knees up to his chest, curling into a ball. He didn't want to think about what that might mean, but the thoughts came anyway. His heart raced, and a tiny whine escaped his dried-out throat. Maybe it was true. No one cared. No one. He was just an interesting thing to them. Like a toy.

He wanted it all gone. His thoughts overflowed into energy he could almost touch, and he imagined they were long, silvery electric worms. He sent them slithering up into computers and shorted their circuits. Pops and snaps rose from some of the nearby terminals, and the sparks ignited a stack of binders on the desk. Plumbing and exhaust pipes lining the ceiling groaned and split open next, leaking water, steam, and a small amount of mako residue, filling the room with its putrid stench.

At last, a massive crack formed in the thick glass surrounding him from top to bottom, but the structure held. Exhausted, Sephiroth leaned back against the opposite side, trembling. He needed to become stronger than this. Much stronger, so that nothing could hold or control him. So he could get away from here.

The keycard panel near the door blinked green, and Hojo sauntered in and stood before him, ignoring the flaming stack of paperwork at the far end of the room. "I see you've been busy again, Sephiroth… You should know the data I've extracted from this event will determine our next steps with you," he said, holding up a small disc. "After I explained what has been driving up the SRD's equipment costs over budget of late, President Shinra took a renewed interest in you, but ultimately you're my s--ah, hm." Hojo stopped short to chuckle under his breath. "Perhaps my prized specimen will become this company's crowning achievement after all," he hummed, rocking back on his feet slightly.

Zeroing in on the word Hojo had cut off at first, seeing where it sat unspoken in his mind, Sephiroth froze. So…that's why he was trapped here. He quickly decided it didn't matter, he wouldn't let himself care--though now he wondered if it was Hojo's fault his mother was gone too. More things that, if true, Gast had also kept from him…

Hojo paced back out after one more sidelong glance, muttering only to himself. As the door hissed open, a woman and a small girl dressed in red and pink scurried by, escorted by three infantrymen. He followed after them, and Sephiroth knew that for at least a little while, the man's attention would be split. Those two were toys to him too. Hopefully, they'd keep him occupied long enough that Shinra would order his release before he was due for another operation.

Sephiroth had been able to read at least one thing for certain bouncing around in Hojo's head--that his days living under his thumb were numbered. That's all that mattered.

#sephirothweek2020 #sephirothweek #sephiroth #my fics #hojo #vague mentions of lab fuckery #tw: hojo #ffvii

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

Text

Username: xNotYourJoyx Pt. II

Pt.I

As expected, Joohyun is waiting outside of the office building bright and early the next morning. Her arms folded across her chest, creasing her black suit jacket and causing her spotless white shirt to bunch up around the collar. Her expression unreadable as she stares out into space, a cigarette resting between her left pointer and middle finger, the ash hanging off the end of it shows she hasn’t taken a drag from it in some time. Despite her pristine appearance, something must be going wrong, or she wouldn’t be smoking since she supposedly gave up six months ago.

Hopefully, whatever is bothering Joohyun means she’ll have forgotten all about the note with the web address written on it. However, those hopes shatter the second Seungwan comes into Joohyun’s peripheral vision as she rushes over with purpose, discarding the cigarette behind her, not as secretively as she thinks.

“Well, you certainly have a bit more of a glow about you Wannie. Does that mean you, you know…” She points downward, and Seungwan is sure her face has just turned bright purple from merely the insinuation that she had managed to finally after months of being unable to release all of her tension.

Flashes of Joy spark up inside of her head. Her body. The gentle moans. The alluring eyes that Seungwan is sure even the devil himself would fall for. It’s not hard to see why she did descend the rabbit hole that is Joy, but it’s an adventure she’d rather forget now and not rehash right outside of work with various colleagues walking past them both and filing into the building one after another.

“Hello? Are you okay?” Joohyun clicks her fingers around Seungwan’s face several times before she snaps out of her recollection of the night before. “Damn, you must have been fucking deprived.” She lets out a chuckle covering her mouth as she does so, likely to hide the cigarette breath.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

They both turn back toward the office building and step inside the heavy glass doors slowly walking to the upstairs office, Seungwan picks up her pace to evade any further questions, but once again, luck is not on her side as Joohyun’s strides quicken too.

“You’re certainly thinking about it, what’s the harm in telling me about it?” Joohyun asks once they finally reach the room full of different computer stations, a few other colleagues who entered before them already seated and busy. The lack of conversation between stations unusual, filling the atmosphere around them with dread and worry.

“We’re at work now it isn't appropriate.” Whilst this is true, Seungwan knows she’s just pulling any excuse out of her hat now since everyone within the office has at some point or another discussed how their lives outside of the office walls are just as dull as it is within them. Well, all except Joohyun who now that Seungwan thinks about it, hasn’t revealed much of substance about what it is she does once she’s off the clock.

“Fine, be like that,” Joohyun says flatly as she heads towards her desk, she stops midway there to holler something back. “Oh, just so you know, one of the investments fell through this morning. You’re about to be told to clean it up.” She points toward the door they had both just stepped through moments before where her boss is currently entering with a face like thunder.

Great. This is just what I need, she thinks.

It takes seven hours. Seven hours of back and forth negotiations, promises of more financial backing and a hefty advertisement campaign that is far more expensive than their original budget had planned for, but she finally clears up any misunderstandings and issues the client had. Not that those seven hours receive any form of praise or appreciation. Her boss merely gives her a quick nod of the head and that is the only acknowledgment her efforts are offered.

For those seven hours, not a single thought of long legs and brown eyes had managed to burst into her mind as a distraction, but the second the telephone meeting concludes and she’s left to simply wait for the next task to pop up in front of her on the computer monitor in front of her, Joy infiltrates her head once more.

It’s no wonder that people can become addicted to such a thing, only one peek into the site, one subscription, one girl and Seungwan swears she’s losing her mind. She determines that this is exactly why she can’t ever use it again, who knows how far she would end up falling? It certainly isn’t healthy to offer up such a personal experience such as sex to merely a figure on her screen that she doesn’t even know. A figure who doesn’t even know she exists to make matters worse.

“Did you fix it?” Joohyun asks, appearing from seemingly nowhere behind the station wall and startling Seungwan out of her thoughts. She composes herself before Joohyun can pick up on her mind wandering for the second time already today, or so she believes.

“What do you think?” Seungwan responds, quirking her eyebrows upward, grin replacing the thin line her lips had been resting in, mouth dry as she speaks.

“Confidence, Wannie. I like it, it suits you,” Joohyun steps from around the wall to sit on the edge of the cluttered desk, her body resting against some of the paperwork almost knocking some of it off. “Come on, let’s go grab a coffee from downstairs, you look like you could do with a break.” She extends her hand out and Seungwan reluctantly grasps it.

The coffee in the office cafeteria is always a surprise, but Joohyun loves it for some reason always trying to drag along anyone who will join her. The stronger the better she always says which makes no sense since it tastes like something you’d find at the bottom of a sewer but she still practically chugs it down with ease. It’s been a while since Seungwan hasn't drunk any after someone spilled salt into the water section without bothering to tell anyone. However, it’s not too bad today which is a relief.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Joohyun asks tentatively. She folds her arms across her chest, in the same manner, she had this morning, however, Seungwan takes notice to the part of her neckline which is now exposed. “Hey, eyes up here.”

“I wasn’t… I don’t… no…” Before she can embarrass herself any further stumbling over her words, Joohyun interjects.

“Give it up, Wannie. I’m not blind.” She chuckles, airy, and without conviction. “I’m flattered, truly. But we’re colleagues, it would be weird, right?”

Seungwan would be lying to say that she hadn’t given it some thought before. Hell, even just the day before Joohyun had managed to make her body naturally react to her from simply eating ice cream. However, there’s a resounding “no, it wouldn’t be weird” pulsating through her head currently, compared to any other time this idea had sprung to mind where the answer was a resounding and absolute no.

“No.”

“I’m fucking with you Wannie,”

They speak at the exact same time leaving Joohyun to stare at every part of Seungwan’s face seeking clarity and honesty in her answer. Seungwan drops her head down to look at her hands in her lap, never looking back up or returning eye contact with Joohyun for the remainder of their quiet coffee break. It takes her twenty minutes to realize that Joohyun had long since returned back to work and left her to sit there alone.

Returning to her station, she still does not bother to even glance in Joohyun’s direction, though she can see that she is seated and typing away contently from the corner of her eye.

“Why on earth did you answer you, idiot?” Seungwan mutters under her breath as she sits down to her desk.

For the remaining three hours of work, there’s very little done that could make her boss happy. Instead, Seungwan spends a great portion of it mentally scolding herself, wondering how the hell she’s going to make things up to Joohyun and watching the tiny clock in the corner of her screen change numbers. People have already begun to pack up their things to leave before she realizes the day is over and done with. However, once again, Joohyun appears from out of nowhere.

“Come on, let’s go.” is all she offers Seungwan before walking out of the office doors.

Quickly grabbing her back and the coat she had placed onto the back of her chair, she scurries to follow Joohyun down the long winding steps they had ascended together this morning. When she eventually catches up to her, Joohyun is already pulling out a cigarette from the box she had stashed inside of her bag, no longer bothering to hide that her habit had returned. She pushes the box toward Seungwan offering her a turn at engaging in the vice too, however, a simple shake of the head sees it stored away inside of the bag again.

“I’m going to quit again, I just needed them today.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Joohyun.”

Joohyun simply purses her lips around the unlit cigarette and hums softly. The fluorescent red flame attracts Seungwan’s attention away from her colleagues getting into various vehicles or walking away from the building. She watches as Joohyun takes one long drag, closing her eyes as she inhales and releases the smoke from her mouth.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Joohyun doesn’t move or open her eyes still as Seungwan continues to apologize. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe my head is all messed up from using that site.”

“So you did use it?” The pair simply stare at each other for a few seconds before looking away. “Did you, um… you know..”

“Yes, but I wish I didn’t.” Joohyun doesn’t offer Seungwan a response, instead, making eye contact once more and encouraging her to continue. “I don’t know who these people are, you know? It felt strange. It was like I was using her and I didn’t like that.”

“The people who use that site to sell those images and videos are doing on their own volition, nobody is forcing them to do it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” The two of them pause at the realization that actually, Seungwan makes a great point. “I don’t want to do it again, I felt so guilty afterward.”

The cigarette in Joohyun’s hand once more has long since burned down too far for her to continue using it, ash falling from the end to the ground. Neither of them speaks for a few moments until a red car pulls up into the parking lot cutting off the engine and horn signaling its presence. Joohyun twists to look in the direction of it and quickly drops the cigarette to the floor, yet again not so secretively.

“Shit. That’s my ride, do you need a lift back to your place?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Slowly walking toward the car, a fairly new model with not a scratch on it, Seungwan can just say make out someone in the front seat, hair visible but nothing else as they look out of the window facing away from them.

As Joohyun reaches across to open the front passenger seat, Seungwan wants her to slam it back shut and run as far away as possible as she’s greeted with the very same sight that she had watched on her screen the night before. The same face that also owns the long legs, soft moans, and alluring dark eyes she had become momentarily addicted to.

Joy. In the flesh, right before her, and she knows Joohyun somehow, well enough to be picking her up from work too. She’s real and she’s here. Why is she here? All of Seungwan’s thoughts mash against one another inside of her head threatening to spill out of her mouth if she doesn’t leave immediately.

“Are you getting in?” Joy asks her. Her voice is different from the soft and breathy one she had listened to tell her how to release all of her tension last night. It’s rough and without a single ounce of care at all.

Seungwan turns her body quickly away from the car, away from Joohyun and more importantly, away from Joy. Her feet bashing off the pavement as she sprints out of the parking lot and doesn’t stop running until she reaches home.

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chapter 21

youtube

"I've seen things that I never should have seen Said too many things I didn't mean Hurt myself too many times to count I need to let it out, and just release Been lying to myself too long Been trying by myself too long I can't relax, I'm too distracted I can't hack it, hmm I'm needy, greedy Love me, feed me Let's be a family It'll take a village To make a man of me So why couldn't you love me? It's all I need

I just want time in a tree I need a place just for me Somewhere that I can be free Keep the faith and just be What you'll be…"

Raleigh Ritchie—"Time in a Tree"

Work.

From sun up until sundown.

Erik bought suits, shoes, and accessories that shouted to the world that he was in the big leagues. Tailor-made threads. A personal barber that came to the office to service him. He leased a silver Porshe and had gourmet meals delivered to him because there was no time to cook in Devika's condo.

By the time he dragged himself home after a fifteen-hour day with Stark and two hours on a crowded freeway, all Erik could do was heat up his fancy pre-cooked meal, eat it, shower, and fall into bed next to Devika.

Despite the hectic schedule, he was able to knock out some gym time during his lunch breaks, and he went through another growth spurt, putting on an additional twenty pounds that filled out his face, chest, and ass. He felt like his voice had changed too, sounding more manly to his ears. Even his dick felt different as if it had grown a bit too, feeling thicker when he was erect. His physical need for sex grew also, but Devika was unavailable to him when he was gallivanting around with Tony. It was torture moving in and out of Tony's office and seeing her at her desk but pretending that they didn't wake up together or go to sleep together in the same bed.

Their domestic arrangement was cute for about three months, but the shine was wearing off a bit when real-life commenced. He had a job. Responsibilities. Schedules to create and maintain. Pepper was still on his ass at times, and Tony was his usual unpredictable self. He brought that stress home with him and it took him a long time to release the outside world with his home life. Devika was a good sport about the lack of time they had together, but some nights he was so tired that he would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Sometimes he could knock out a quickie in the morning, but only if he set an alarm to get up early. He was able to get home early one hectic Friday night because a client canceled a dinner meeting, but by the time he showered and put on fresh cologne for Devika, Tony called him up to tell him to pack for Hawaii. He sat in the living room waiting for Devika, and when she scurried in excited to have him home to herself before ten at night holding Thai take-out food, she saw his bags by the door and she totally deflated. He apologized as he kissed her, trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. Instead of languid love-making as he had promised, they ended up fucking hard and fast on the couch with Erik switching up positions as many times as he could.

When they were done and tangled up in each other's afterglow, Erik could tell that she wasn't happy.

"Go put on those heels, Ma," he told her, slapping her ass.

Her eyes were closed.

"C'mon, baby. I gotta leave soon. I wanna see you in them."

She dragged herself off the couch and walked her sexy ass to the bedroom. When she returned, she had on some black strappy seven-inch heels that he had never seen before.

"Damn, girl."

"I bought these for this weekend."

She twirled around and he stood up fast, fisting his brand new erection.

"Get down on the floor. You know what I want."

She took her time walking to him.

"Look how hard you got this dick."

She smiled then dropped down on the floor under beneath his spread legs, resting her back against the couch.

"Lick my balls."

Her tongue slathered saliva all around his sack. Her right hand reached up and stroked his dick and he kept his eyes on her legs that were bent at the knees. Leaning forward, he could see her heels.

"Baby, I like how you got my balls all in your mouth…fuck…Devika…suck on those nuts bitch…"

He watched her widen her thighs.

"I'ma fuck you in your ass before I leave."

She moaned and the vibration on her mouth coursed all around his nutsack.

"Goddamn Devika!"

Pre-cum laced the tip of his dick and fell down onto her stomach.

He broke away from her.

"Get on your hands and knees."

Devika crawled forward and Erik handed her a couch pillow for her knees. She placed herself in position with her perky ass in the air and Erik stroked himself.

"I know you're still upset I have to leave all last minute. But I'm about to get in that ass so you won't miss me too much."

He positioned himself behind her and used the copious amount of pre-cum dripping out of his slit to lubricate his erection.

"Get ready, Ma…oh shit…I like that…oh damn... Devika…oh shit….oh shit…."

He took his sweet time entering her, and she relaxed easily once he started pumping in and out of her asshole. In the three months he had been living with her, he learned that whenever she was upset with him for any little thing, fucking her in the ass calmed the bad attitude. When her body was fully accommodating, he gave her that length and girth.

"You still mad?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Not anymore. Keep fucking me in my ass!"

"You letting me get in there deep this time. Damn girl…deep…fucking this ass up!"

He jumped from doggy to froggy on her ass, letting his heavy balls smash against her ass and clit.

"You were ready to cuss my ass out when I told you I had to leave…ah shit…ass is fucking tight on my dick."

Devika adjusted her hands and arms to handle the weight he was putting on her. He sweated all over her back.

"Can I cum in your ass?"

"Yes…."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy. Cum in my ass."

"You forgive me for leaving?"

"Yes!"

"You gon' miss Daddy's dick?"

"Yes!"

Devika fell forward and leaned her weight onto her elbows.

Erik slang dick in her ass to put her to sleep.

"How you gon' greet me when I get back?"

"Erik!"

"Tell me!"

He slapped her ass cheek. He was close to ejaculating.

"I'll be at the door….on my knees…."

"What else?"

"Mouth open…"

"For what?"

"Daddy's dick."

"What will you wear?"

"A smile."

He laughed and slapped the side of her hip.

Shifting back to his knees again, he gripped her waist with both hands and rocked into her. So much sweat dripped off from her supple skin and he allowed the fingers of his left hand to slide up and down her spine to feel the warm wetness. Devika played with her clit as he handled her ass. She was so fucking beautiful and he felt so proud to have her for his own…to live with her…to wake up with her…

"I'm cumming….I'm cumming….fuck….I'm cumming hard….I'm cumming hard in this ass…Devika…I'm….shiiitttt!"

He pulled his dick back a few inches as he lost his voice. His eyes squeezed shut hard and he thought he could see hot flashes of white light behind his eyelids as a rush of fluid erupted from his loins. Staring down at himself he watched his dick jump and throb and pump a flood of hot semen into her ass. His balls seemed to jump too.

"Damn baby. That was fucking amazing!"

He slapped her ass again and pulled her body up against him to give her a big hug. Kissing all over her cheek he felt her pat his arm.

"You better go take a shower real quick. I'll call a Lyft for you."

He released her and sauntered to the bathroom letting her see his dick swinging as he walked. When he was done cleaning himself and changing into clothes, she was ready to say goodbye to him at the front door.

"Call me when you land," she said, clutching onto his arm. She was still naked.

"Hopefully we'll be back by Wednesday," he said.

"He has to be. He has several meetings scheduled later that afternoon that he can't get out of."

Her face looked a little strange when he reached for the handle of his bag.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just a lot is going on and you won't be here to help me decompress."

"You just make sure to be in position when I get back here Wednesday night."

He kissed her and regretted feeling her tongue in his mouth. He wanted to stay home and make love all weekend. His balls still felt heavy.

"Down on my knees. Mouth open," she whispered.

"Mmmhmmm. Make sure you suck my dick real good too."

"I will."

"I know you will. Have my pussy ready too. I'ma be digging in you deep." "Yeah?"

"You know it. Marinate in you all night. Take care of you right. Make up for all of this last-minute bullshit."

"That's part of the job Erik. Life with Tony is non-stop."

"But I have a life with you too."

Her eyes flickered away from his. He didn't like that.

"Call me," she said once more and kissed him again.

She had to shove him out the door to make him finally leave.

###

The private jet banked across the Pacific and Erik could see the lights of the Santa Monica pier before they ascended into the upper layers of a cloudy sky. Once they reached cruising altitude, he could see the moon and stars.

"I've rescheduled my Monaco trip," Tony said as he sat in a creamy gray leather seat with a touchpad in his right hand and a bourbon on the rocks in his left.

"When?" Erik asked.

"Early February."

Tony sipped and scrolled. Erik daydreamed looking out of the window.

Pepper sat across from Erik in the aisle, her fingers busy clickety-clacking on her laptop. Every now and then she would stop and sip on the can of Coke sitting on her seat tray next to her computer.

Happy and another security team member snoozed in the back. A private flight attendant offered Erik snacks and more soda, but he declined. His stomach was in knots. This was the sixth flight out of Los Angeles in four weeks and he barely had a chance to see Devika once he had returned from the last-minute Hawaii trip weeks ago. He was in and out of LAX so much that he didn't bother taking his suitcases home, and just left them packed and ready at the office.

He was learning a ton, and he was also getting access to how Tony's mind worked in regards to the industry he was in and his bottom line.

Money.

Tony Stark loved tech and innovation and being a showman, but he loved money more than anything. Even though he had enough to last several lifetimes, there was an unending need to have more. It was a theme Erik found among the crowd Tony ran with. Money was used to bend wills, control societies, and bludgeon politicians. It was a true addiction. A rabid one at that.

Erik also learned that people at those top one percent heights dehumanized everyone around them. The lower ninety-nine percent were the help. Simple cattle. Sheep to be herded sometimes. How many men from various countries in the last five months had Erik been around that made him want to choke the life out of them? A dozen? Two dozen? So many of them were sociopaths too, and not to mention those that made his guts crawl when they gave off pedo vibes or disgusting kinks that Erik had been privy too. A trip to Dubai found Erik sitting in a lavish home watching women flown in from America and Europe squatting over rich male faces and shitting feces into their mouths as Tony sat there trying to close an arms deal that would net him millions. Erik didn't know whether to laugh or vomit as dead-eyed twenty-somethings with augmented bodies performed kinks that shouldn't even exist. But Tony took it in stride. It was normal business to him.

The trips wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have the nagging suspicion that Devika was going to break up with him. He was already living in his own apartment away from her. He hoped that distance would make her heart grow fonder when she did see him at work, but the unpredictable hours put a dent in that. He saw her at least twice a week outside of work, and that time was only spent fucking before he was off to do Tony's bidding.

Before he left for the trip he was on now she had called him weeks before to say that her ex-fiancé had been reaching out to her and she wanted to talk to him. They left their relationship unfinished and she wanted closure.

Erik was upset. Angry.

They fought about it for weeks and stopped speaking to each other for days.

But he wanted her to handle her business. He thought it was the adult thing to do. She cried about it and the expression on her face pained him.

"I was with that man for five years, Erik. I loved him…I still love him. We were planning a life together. I can't just turn off all of that history like that."

He sat in her living room with a heated face and pressure in his chest. She still loved him?

"If you love him, then why fuck around with me? Am I your place holder or something?"

It was hard to hang onto his righteous anger when she was crying so hard. Seeing all that hurt in her face made him want to fix everything for her.

"Erik, you…I…I have feelings for you. Deep feelings. I really do. But—"

"I don't want to hear no 'buts' Devika…are you fucking him?"

"No—"

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not."

"So what do you want to do?"

He was so hot with rage that he could barely sit still. He wanted to punch in the wall. Break shit.

"I need to talk with him. Work this thing out. You don't know what it's like to share a life with someone—"

"What have I been doing with you? We lived together for almost four months—"

"Four months is not the same as five years."

"I fucking hate this shit, Devika!"

His voice thundered in the room and she covered her face with shaky hands. He was too angry to even try and comfort her.

He moved out soon after that. Gave her space and time to get herself together.

It crushed him.

He spent way too much time at the gym, doing his best not to go home to a lonely apartment. He threw himself into his work and was grateful for the long hours to keep his mind off of her.

There was an occasional check-in text, and he zoned out around her in Tony's office.

He couldn't believe how his relationship had turned to shit so fast. One minute he had a woman, and the next, he was waiting for her to make a decision because he knew that is what it came down to. Did she love Austin enough to get back with him? Get married?

Staring out of the jet window again, Erik tried to see it from Devika's point of view. She was twenty-six, had a career that provided her with a lucrative income, and Erik knew she wanted to have a family. Babies. A house in the suburbs. He was nineteen, and even though he had money in the bank thanks to card sharking for Tony and the life insurance left to him from his parents, he also had to consider his own life goal.

Revenge.

A deep sigh escaped his throat and Tony glanced up at him from his touchpad.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"If you want to sleep, go take the bed in the back. I'm going to be up until we land."

"Okay."

Erik left his seat and wandered to the private sleeping quarters. Kicking off his dress shoes, he stretched out on the bed, his body still tense.

Devika wanted a regular life. He would never be able to give her that. No one really. He was just greedy for her affections, greedy for wanting to be needed by someone like her. He felt lonely, but he needed to do what she had originally told him to do: focus on his work and his dreams.

But his dreams were the replaying of nightmares in his life. She helped him forget so much.

Devika tried to give him a graceful out, one in which they could still have a friendly relationship, but he pushed her, clung to her, used her to make himself feel good.

The short trip to Atlanta went by fast, and before he knew it, Erik was driving his Porsche to Devika's condo. Her car was parked in her spot and he rode the elevator to her unit. Jamming his keys to her place into the doorknob he was ready to make peace. It had been a week since he had seen her and all he wanted to do was hug her and let her know that—

Austin stood in the kitchen drinking orange juice straight from the plastic bottle. Naked. Erik blinked his eyes rapidly.

Ain't this a bitch.

Austin turned to look at him and the smug expression on his face set Erik off.

"Devika!" Erik shouted.

He stormed over to the open bedroom and Devika ran out wearing a gray sports bra and black pajama bottoms.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes held surprise and the calmness in her voice made him antsy.

"I missed you. I wanted to see you—"

"Get the fuck out!"

Austin's voice startled Devika. He was at Erik's heels, his wide chest puffed out, the orange juice still his hand.

Devika's eyes looked so sad.

Erik knew what her final decision was. He didn't have to ask. She was never really his.

"I'ma leave," he said backing away from her.

Walking out of the condo, his brain whirling in his head with so many disconnected thoughts, Erik found his car and promptly dropped down to the curb and cried. Like a baby.

He cradled his face and let the tears fall as his chest rattled with deep choking sobs.

"Erik…"

Devika dropped down next to him and held him. Rocking him in her arms.

"I didn't sleep with him, Erik, I didn't sleep with him…"

He rested his face on her neck and she stroked his shoulders.

"We went out to eat and talked some things out. He was too drunk to drive, so I made him sleep on the couch."

"Devika…" he choked out.

Her watery eyes stared at him and when her tears fell, he cried even harder and clutched onto her shoulder. He dropped his head to her lap and she rubbed his back until he couldn't cry anymore. When his breathing stopped having shuddery stops and starts, he sat up and looked at her. Her face was a wet mess.

"You were right. About us. I want you, but I know I can't give you what you need. What you dream about. I'm barely twenty and this is my first job. I still have grad school, and there are things I have to get done. I wanted you to be something in my life that made me feel normal. But you want something that only Austin can give you. I was just trying to steal a little bit of it for myself. You are so smart and beautiful, Devika. You treated me with respect and you were always honest with me. I took advantage of that. I know I did. You should work things out with him if that's what you want. I won't stand in your way. I want you to be happy. I care about you so much…but I'll never be what you need."

"Shut up!"

She hugged him tight and her body shook.

"God, just shut up, Erik."

"I just need you to be my friend."

"I can do that."

He tried wiping away her tears, but she held onto his fingers. She pressed her forehead into his.

"I'm not getting back with Austin. Just so you know. Thank you for giving me the space to figure that out on my own."

"Why that nigga gotta be naked to drink some juice?"

Devika laughed loud and long and Erik joined her.

They were going to be alright. He felt it in his bones.

Chapter 22 HERE.

###

Tag List:

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@tclaybon @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illlestt @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30 @childishgambinaa @mygirlrenee @thewaysheis—awkward

#Stark's New Intern #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fanfic #killmonger smut #tony stark #Black Panther Fanfiction

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years

Text

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (Chapter Summary- At a party, Keanu and Y/n meet for the first time and here, more than ever, first impressions count.) Warnings- Age-gap, sexual insinuations (Releases on Wednesdays)

Chapter 1

Y/n never understood it, how she could manage to feel so alone in a crowd so big. Even with friends, the center of attention, just as she had been for so much of her life; the girl who everyone liked, who everyone wanted to be. The offspring of a socialite and the president of a company that ran the world’s fastest growing hotel and resort chain, rubbing elbows with the best of almost every industry. She came from a long line of old money, the finest of everything at her fingertips, being raised to be as influential as her parents, attending the parties, the fashion shows, taking the vacations. Y/n should have been happy, it was the optimum of the American dream and she hadn’t done a thing to deserve it. It was merely the luck of birth. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t, not really. Empty, maybe; she always had a hard time finding the same joy her parents had.

Things had gotten a little better after Y/n had returned from college, re-integrating into the life, but to say that she was truly happy would still be a reach. Sure, her empty laughs weren’t as hollow and her persistent frown had turned into a line, usually painted in deep red, but that was about it, at the end of the night, when everyone left their house, Y/n still just as lonely as she was when they were there.

“The guest list this time is insane,” someone said beside her, her cousin, just about five years older; Jillian. They usually found each at events like that, sticking together, with Jillian typically being the one to pull Y/n into crazy escapades that otherwise weren’t allowed.

Summoning a wide grin that she hoped would reflect pride, Y/n turned to Jillian, who looked much like herself. If their families weren’t so famous, if everyone didn’t know them, people might mistake them for sisters. A beautiful pair, who had been as genetically blessed as they were in every other way, had grown up extremely close, their families’ kinship intertwined; their fathers were brothers and their mothers were sisters, because after all, money was usually only ever attracted to money. At least, that was what they had learned. “It is,” Y/n nodded, “My mom met some people in Paris a few months ago, when she was there for fashion week. Some of the models brought their boyfriends.”

“Ohhh,” Jillian sang, “They must be the hot guys holding the purses. You think their open to infidelity?”

“What about Robert?” Y/n laughed quietly, for real that time. Robert was Jillian’s fiancée, but if they lived in nineteenth century, he might have been called her betrothed, with their relationship coming from family politics rather than love. He was a handsome man, probably in his early thirties, though his snotty demeanor and constant scowl had added another five years to his age. Robert’s family, like their own had descended from riches, and he was set to inherit millions in addition to a chain of companies. His still new relationship with Jillian, which had been an arranged one, was what their parents liked to call a “good match” and if Y/n didn’t start looking soon, she might be half of the next one.

“What about him?” Jillian scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Rob usually has a stick so far up his ass that he’s blinded to everything else. Besides, he’s terrible in bed. We tried once and he kept licking my cheek.”

“That’s....really fucking weird,” Y/n cringed, walking arm in arm with Jillian around the edges of the room as they surveyed the crowd, or rather, its selection of men. Looking around, one might have thought that money could by looks; most of the people there, especially the ones around their age were gorgeous; from models to movie stars along with other, pretentious looking faces filled the Y/n’s home. Some lingered in the grand foyer while several others had gathered in the dining room and in the living room on the other side. “He’s hot,” Y/n pointed out a man near one of the bars, holding a wine glass, talking with an older couple.

Jillian hummed in agreement, “He is,” she giggled, “And look at his hands, that means he has a big dick, right?”

Y/n shrugged, “I guess, but I thought it was shoe size,” she frowned, in all actuality, stumped on the issue.

“I don’t know. But at this point, it doesn’t matter, I just need to get laid,” Jillian grabbed Y/n’s hand, their fingers lacing as they placed their wine glasses on the table, “Come on,” she pulled her along towards their prey.

Keanu stood near a set of stairs, caught in conversation with people he didn’t even know. He didn’t know why he had accepted the invitation, maybe it was because when his manager had gotten the call, his publicist had insisted it wasn’t an invitation he could reject. They were too much of a prominent family, not going might have seemed like a snub which would only mean months of bad press.

So, there he was, faking smiles and pretending to like everyone. Keanu had only been there for about an hour, and he had yet to meet the hosts but already he could tell he wouldn’t like them. Who threw black tie parties in the middle of he week without any foreseeable cause anyway? Worse yet, their house screamed ‘pretentious snobs’; reflecting the highest levels of French luxury. Walls lined with art from internationally famed artists framed shiny marble floors which in turn surrounded a grand staircase with a glittering chandelier hanging above. Two hallways stretched into a seemingly never-ending distance and the rooms on either side of the foyer were enormous, decked with imported furniture and cream and gold embellishments. It was the kind of place that made people scared to sit anywhere, that looked as if it belonged in a magazine or on display. There was no personality, no one thing that might reminded the guests that it was a family’s home.

Keanu couldn’t wait to get home, and hopefully, never get invited to another one of their parties ever again. With a heavy sigh, he wiggled his way out of yet another polite conversation, “Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, already stepping away, “I’m gonna head to the bar.” His leave was greeted with stiff nods, polite smiles and empty promises that they would all talk soon.

Keanu journeyed to the bar, carefully avoiding any other interaction; he didn’t think he could stand anymore eye-rolling conversation without some sort of intoxicating buffer.

As Y/n scurried to follow Jillian her hand had eventually slipped out of her cousin’s. Gigging too much to pay attention to her surroundings, she ran straight into someone, “Oh my god,” she gasped, barely evading their spilt drink; her mother might have had a heart attack if Y/n ruined her brand new dress, it had been a gift from the designer himself. For a minute, she watched as the whiskey made a pool near the edges of the navy blue silk and Y/n even had to lift her dress a little to spare it. Thankfully though, the glass hadn’t fallen too, else that might have been worse. With her eyes still cast to the floor, she was given the opportunity, Y/n was given the opportunity to look at the other party’s shoes; a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they were more suited to hiking as oppsed to attending elaborate parties in Beverly Hills, “I’m so sorry about that,” Y/n mumbled, her eyes travelling up, settling on his face. She almost had to stifle a gasp, never in a million years would she expect to see him at one of her parents’ parties, it didn’t seem like his style. Then again, she didn’t know him, not personally. Longish dark hair framed a handsome face, ending just above broad shoulders and his trimmed beard peppered with hints of grey handsomely complimented chocolate eyes. You’d have to be living under a rock to have never heard of him. Keanu Reeves.

He smiled at her warily, finding it a little cute that she stood several inches below him, “It’s fine,” he waved her off, “Maybe I’ve had too much anyway.”

Y/n chuckled quietly, shaking her head, “If you’re not leaving drunk, then I can assure you; you haven’t.”

“Is that so?” Keanu cocked a curious eyebrow, “What makes you say that?” Even as he spoke to her, Keanu found that the girl before him seemed oddly familiar, like he had seen her before. She was beautiful too, the kind of gorgeous that didn’t go unnoticed, still, he couldn’t quite place her face.

“Well,” she began, not in the slightest bit star-struck or phased that she was in the company of one of the world’s most famous movie stars- Y/n had had her her fair share of famous meets, “That’s what these parties are for. There’s propbaly more booze than there is water here tonight, and there are three pools in this place, so if you aren’t getting drunk, it’s all a waste.”

“You don’t seem drunk,” Keanu shot back, his handsome features taking on an interested smirk.

Y/n chortled, rolling her eyes, “Not yet.”

At that, Keanu scoffed; for a girl probably no more than twenty five, she sure seemed to have some fire in her. For a minute, they both just stood there, drinking each other in, and when he could barely hold her challenging stare for any longer, Keanu offered his hand, “I’m-”

“I know who you are Mr. Movie Star,” Y/n took his hand, her own easily dwarfed by his, giving it a slow, firm shake. It took a beat, but Y/n finally relented, ready to give up her own name when she was rudely interrupted by Jillian ‘rounding back towards them.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as she looked between them and Y/n reclaimed her hand, “You’re mom’s looking for you. She’s in the living room.”

Y/n sighed reluctantly, “Alright, to be continued?” She glanced to Keanu, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure,” he obliged, watching carefully as she and the other woman, who looked much like her, they must have been sisters, he thought as they disappeared into the sea of people.

”Mom?” Y/n called as Jillian deserted her in search of more male entertainment.

“Honey!” Her mother returned cheerily, her father holding out an arm, pulling Y/n into a sideways hug, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve heard,” Y/n responded coolly, “What for?”

“Why else?” Her father was in a jovial mood, a sign that the alcohol had already shaken of his usual seriousness, “Our guests need to meet the future president of Warren Enterprises!” He explained, as if it were already plainly obvious, “Come on” with one arm draped loosely over her shoulder and the other secured around her mother’s waist, Y/n’s, father led them to and up the first landing of the stair case.

Loudly, he cleared his throat and clinked his glass with a spoon someone from the wait staff had provide. Y/n’s mother stood close to his side, smiling warm and proud, her hands circling his middle. Y/n’s scanned the crowd, for some reason, stopping when they locked with those of a familiar celebrity. From where she stood, she could almost see his mouth ‘o’ with recognition and she had to bite back a sly smile. When he had almost everyone’s attention, her father began, “Goodnight ladies and gentlemen and thank you for taking the time to join us tonight. Most of you know probably know my family and I, but for those of you who don’t; I’m Michael Warren and beside me, is my beautiful wife, who’s way out of my league; Heather Warren,” Y/n’s mother blushed, lightly slapping her husband’s chest. Nearly thirty years of marriage and they were still every bit it love, depending on the day, Y/n would either find it extremely sweet or nauseatingly annoying. After he had quickly kissed her cheek, Michael continued, “And finally, we have the apple of my eye, our greatest achievement and the future president of the Warren chain of companies; Y/n Warren, my daughter,” at that, the crowd erupted in a round of polite applauses. When they died down he kept going, “In a few years, I know that Y/n will lead the Deliciae hotels, along with all our other endeavors towards greater excellence, as she has done with everything else.”

Michael raised his glass and Y/n nodded in thanks, trying to ignore the bubbling anxiety that usually came with the thought of having to take her father’s place one day. As an only child, it was obvious that she’d be the one to do it, it was a fact that she had been sure of since she was twelve, but it never made knowing easier. Sure, she had gotten a degree from an ivy league school, graduating at the top of her class, she was being trained for it everyday, shadowing her father since her return from Philadelphia a few months back, but still, Y/n didn’t think there was enough education or training in the world that could ready her for running a multi-billion dollar company. “To Y/n,” the words broke Y/n out of her thoughts and she forced herself to smile, whispering a quiet thanks as everyone rose their glasses

Not long after, everyone dispersed again, the quiet hum of chatter all around filled the house once again. Excusing herself from the company of her parents, with shaking, nervous breaths, Y/n decided that she needed some air and a drink. Collecting a glass of champagne from one of the trays being carried around by a waiter, she hustled towards the nearest patio door at the side of the dining room. Waiting until she had burst through the wide screen doors, cool air hitting her like a much needed slap in the face before her breathing grew heavy and ragged. As the panic from in the troubling thoughts grew in her chest, she fought burning tears, trying desperately not to sob right then and there.

“Are you okay?” A familiar male voice asked, coming from the side.

Y/n almost jumped at his question, turning wide eyed to find Keanu coming out from a dark patch near the bushes, tossing a cigarette to the cobble stoned ground, putting it out with the toe of his boot. Quickly, she turned away, downing the contents of her glass and swiping under her eyes, “Yeah,” she nodded stiffly, her voice breaking just a little, “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he commented casually, stuffing his hand into his pockets as he stepped closer, “That’s a lot of pressure for a.....”

“Twenty-three,” Y/n provided her age with a huff, sniffling, embarrassed that Keanu had caught her on the verge of tears.

“For a twenty-three year old. That’s what’s bothering you, right?” He smiled sympathetically and Y/n’s face fell a little further, admitting he was right. Keanu rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling a little ridiculous for checking her out when they had first met. She was just a kid, way too young to be worrying about keeping a business of that size successful and worse, too be befriending a man his age. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/n scoffed a laugh that didn’t really have any humor behind it, “No.” Casting her gaze towards the awning land that spanned about a mile before it was blocked off by a high wall, she discarded her empty glass on the near by outdoor table. “I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I guess, I always knew that I’d have to do it one day. I mean, they aren’t gonna be around forever, but just knowing, thinking about it.....it’s horrifying. I’ve never even planned a birthday party or a family dinner I can’t run a company.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Keanu shook his shoulders, going to stand next to her, sure to leave an arm’s length between them, “Maybe you’re gonna suck. You could fuck it up, run the whole thing into bankruptcy, lose all your family’s money. You could do so terribly that all people will associate with you is failure.”

Y/n’s jaw slacked and her eyes widened with horror, “Well that’s not helping,” she scoffed, her lips quivering ever so slightly.

“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s also what you’re telling yourself. That you can’t do it. And you’re right to think it, because it is a real possibility. But you know what else is a possibility?” Keanu folded his arms, turning to face her.

When he didn’t offer anything further, Y/n loosely mirrored his stance, tilting her head, “What?”

“That you kick ass and you become one of the best presidents that your family’s company has ever seen,” when Y/n finally smiled at the positive thought, Keanu did too, pleased with himself that he had seemingly managed to help her mood. Then he continued, that time a little lighter, “Or you know, you at the very least, manage to keep it afloat.”

Y/n huffed a quiet laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder, “A plus advice,” she complimented as she grinned a little wider, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but I don’t give advice,” he brushed off.

“Ohh?” Y/n raised her brows, curious, “So what was that?”

Keanu shrugged uneventfully, “Thoughts,” once again, he returned his gaze to the far off wall.

“Well whatever you call it, thank you,” Y/n said once again and they fell into comfortable silence.

For a while, they just stood there, but eventually, Keanu abruptly announced, “You know, I don't think we’ve been formerly introduced. Keanu Reeves,” he held out his hand.

Biting back a smile, Y/n once again took Keanu’s hand, marveling in how they could be soft and calloused at the same time, “Y/n Warren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Keanu beamed, “I knew that you looked familiar.”

“Yeah? Y/n giggled, her hold on his hand steady, “Do you know me from that time I got drunk in Bali on Spring break or that ridiculous family of the year article on my parents?”

“Both good references,” Keanu agreed, finally putting together all the places where he had gotten a glace at her name or a peek of her picture somewhere on the internet, “But it was actually on that Time’s piece on top 20 heirs of the decade. If I remember correctly; you liked double chocolate ice-cream and your first car was a red BMW for your eighteenth birthday”

“Good memory,” Y/n giggled, her eyes sparkling, “But it was actually a Mercedes for my sixteenth birthday.”

Keanu nodded wistfully, rubbing his fingers through his beard, “That’s.....just as fancy. Mine was a Volvo,” his tone was light and teasing, highly unlike the annoyance she’d get from people who never saw past the money.

Y/n joined his quiet laugher, sighing as it died down. “What are you doing here anyway? No offense, but you’re not the kind of guy that I expected to see at one of these things.”

“And what kind of guys do you usually expect to see?” Keanu probed, admittedly interested in what Y/n meant.

“Arrogant pricks,” she offered bluntly, “But you,” she squinted dramatically, “You don’t seem arrogant, or like a prick.”

“Thanks?” Keanu chuckled, “I stayed at one of dad’s hotels a couple months ago and we met. It was probably for just a couple minutes, but I got then invitation about two weeks ago and my publicist basically said that I had no choice in the whole thing. So,” he gestured widely with outstretched arms, “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Y/n mirrored, blushing for a reason that she couldn’t point out. It usually took a lot to make her blush, but something about Keanu made it easy, or maybe it was the alcohol.

“So you were forced,” Y/n mused, “I can totally relate.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Keanu chortled, trying to ignore how much more beautiful Y/n seemed now that she was smiling.

Y/n snorted in a way that her mother might have deemed ‘unbecoming’, “You think I wanted to spend my Wednesday night talking about proposals and mergers? And worse yet, how available everyone’s son is,” Y/n’s eyes rolled at just the thought of all the conversations she had had that night, about how much time she had spent running around with Jillian dodging anyone with a single son her age.

Keanu’s head fell back in laughter and Y/n thought, that for a man old enough to be a father, she was immensely glad that he wasn’t, considering how attractive he was. Rugged handsomeness; Y/n had seen the movies and the pictures, Keanu had aged like expensive whiskey, if only she could have a taste. “People have been trying to set you up?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Minus the pony show, it kind of felt like a county fair.” Their laughter eventually became reduced to twined smiles and as the space between them lessened, “I’m not interested their type though.”

“Their type?” Keanu’s brows furrowed, “What’s their type?” He licked his lips, looking down at her close to his chest, as much as he had resisted it, Keanu had drawn closer to her. God, his mind whispered as their close proximity clouded his thoughts, she’s so beautiful, a doll wrapped up in fine silk.

“Boys,” her voice had grown hoarse, in a throaty whisper, “I don’t like boys, they’re so.....immature and inexperienced.”

Keanu hummed in a agreement, “Sounds like you need a man.”

“It does, doesn’t it? A man with experience, who knows what he’s doing,” as she spoke, Keanu’s hand went to her waist, running the side of her torso before going around her, settling on the small of her back.

“Aren’t you something?” Keanu chuckled lowly, Y/n a little closer, “And here I was thinking you were a good girl.”

Y/n gaze darkened and she smiled suggestively, “Is that what you want me to be?”

All the alarms in his head had started to go off by then. She’s too young, half of his mind insisted, but every other part of him pushed him to submit, to kiss her and then some. Y/n looked so delectable, already in his arms, pressed to him. Keanu could feel her heat through the barrier of their clothes and the inviting view of her cleavage aided by the low cut of a dress that didn’t allow for a bra wasn’t really helping either. “Fuck no,” he breathed, his hand sliding a bit lower, cupping her backside. Keanu would have liked to think, that by all counts, he was a pretty decent guy. The kind that followed the rules and didn’t typically grab a girl’s ass an hour after meeting her, but Y/n was so enthralling that she was reminding him that under the right, or rather; the wrong circumstances, he could be anything but decent.

Licking her lips one last time, Y/n’s arms circled Keanu’s neck and without another word, he leaned down, his lips hovering a bare centimeter away from hers. It was a hair away from happening, and Y/n knew that she wasn’t ready for it to end there. She could feel his breath on her face and she cocked her head to the side to get a better angle, closing her eyes as she did.

“I have terrible timing, don’t I?” And just like that, they sprang apart, both sucking in nervous breaths. Y/n’s hand went to clutch her chest, ignoring the sinking feeling she got as the moment got further and further away.

“Jill?” Y/n groaned, disappointed.

“Sorry,” she cringed, “You two were in the middle of something. My bad,” Jillian held up her hands defensively, “I swear I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded and when Jillian didn’t go on, she gestured with her hands, Well, what is it?”

“Oh yeah! Um, they need you inside.....it’s urgent,” for another minute, Jillian lingered in the doorway, her eyes flicking between them, “Well, I’ll give you two a minute and meet you inside. Okay? Okay, I’m going now,” she waved awkwardly.

Once again nervous, Keanu stuttered, “You should....”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded hurriedly, “I need to.....get......I’ve gotta go,” she shook her head, scurrying off.

With a heavy sigh, Keanu ran his hands though his hair. Half of him was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to at the very least kiss her, while the other was relived that he hadn’t, the former being a little more overwhelming. Turning on his heel, he was trying to clear his head, when he heard the clicking of heels behind him, “For the record, you know where I live, and I’ll be here tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

“Alone?” He offered a intrigued smile.

“Completely,” Y/n winked, once again hurrying off. At her final exit, Keanu scoffed, still smiling, she really was something, and he could already tell that Y/n was up to no good.

#Keanu reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfiction #fanfiction #john wick #john wick fanfiction #lullaby #fanfic #chaptered fic #lullaby chapter 1 #Keanu reeves fanfic

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darthspideys · 4 years

Text

all that glitters // 1

chapter 1 // once or twice was enough

a/n : hi! welcome to another chapter of backstory/development because im gonna be honest with you I underestimated the work it was gonna take to make ten original male characters but next week you will get to meet all the guys I promise :) also from now on chapters are going to be released on Mondays at 9pm EST - as always shoot me an ask if you want to be added to the taglist

The mansion is massive. It doesn’t intimidate you in the way that you know it should, because she reminds her of home. Home is a sprawling mansion in Boston, with brick exterior that couldn’t be more different then the one in form told her with its white pillars and green plants growing over the front. You’re walking around to the back of the house, where there’s a group gathered outside. There are tiny tables put out with drinks and snacks on top of them, as the sounds of people making polite conversation fill the air. It looks torturous if you're being perfectly honest and you're happy that it seems you're moving past them.

“We’re going to go and do your intake interview just to get that out of the way,” Casey says, leading you through the courtyard. “Just like to tease the guys a little bit and see if they notice you.”

She smiles which only makes your anxiety worse, and you turn your head to the side hoping that they don’t see you just yet.

Suddenly, a loud noise cuts the air. You recognize it instantly, and you stop dead in your tracks. You're thrown back to New York, back to the overcast day, where you were so nervous about a presentation at work that you couldn’t pay attention to anything else. That’s when he ran right into you, pushing you back a ways with the force of his push.

He reaches out for you, and grabs your arm gently in a way that sends a shock through your body that you still can’t forget. “Sorry,” He says, with an accent in the voice you can’t forget, that you still haven’t forgotten after months.

“It’s fine,” You say quickly, in that way that you always do to be polite. “You’re fine.”

“You’re pretty,” He says and then shakes his head like he was enveloped in some kind of trance. “Sorry, again, I didn’t mean-“

“It’s whatever,” You tell him, holding up your hands in a way to stop him from talking.It's very awkward, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t think he was cute at that moment. He just keeps looking at you like you're a mural drawn onto the side of some building that he saw walking home from work. One second you weren’t there, and the next second you're right in front of him, all brilliant and bright and colorful. He can’t stop staring at you like he just ran into something that’s going to change his life.

You on the other hand are just thinking about how long he’s going to keep staring at you, and how much time you have to get to work before you’re late for the biggest day of your career. Then he opens up his stupid pretty mouth, “Do you want to get a drink with me tonight?” You almost say no, you should say know because he’s a stranger, a stranger who keeps looking at you in a way that makes you feel open to the world, like he’s exposed you to the sun finally but it’s beginning to burn.

But you give him your number, and scurry off because you have to get work. It’s only after everything that you romanticize the whole thing, probably too much. When the two of you are strangers again, you make up this whole story in your mind about this twist of fate chance meeting and how it felt to think that maybe this is the one for you. It’s a nice story, but you don’t think it’s true, until now he was just something to hold onto, not even a person, a concept, a what if to make you feel better when the world seemed so impossibly out of your control.

Only now he’s here. Standing in a group of attractive men, ready to fight tooth and nail hoping that you'll pick him, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe this is fate. But you push it down, there’s no room or whimsy or fate or some invisible string in the midst of this fishbowl, this curated environment where nothing is real, and you can’t know if anything is genuine.

“So just tell us your name, where you're from and what you do.”

There is so much smiling, the person in front of you is smiling, there are people off to the sides smiling, and well there's a couple of production assistants in the back not smiling which you appreciate. After an hour of hair and makeup, they’ve sat you in a plush red chair with three spotlights and three cameras all at different angles, you assume you look good because otherwise they would’ve called the makeup and hair people back in.

You platser on a fake smile to match theirs, “My name is y/n l/n, I was born and raised in Boston but I live in New York. I work as an associate editor at a magazine, so I organize what’s going onto my segment and then I read over everything to make sure it's good to publish.”

“What’s your family like?”

You’re smile dims for a moment, and you hope the camera didn’t catch it. “I’m a very family oriented person,” You lie right through your teeth, and it’s natural. “My family is a driving force in my life, I have one brother and one sister, we are all so close and they are both happily married, I just want to have what they have.” You hope that the smile sells it, because saying that out loud makes you want to throw up in your mouth a little.

“Why are you here?”

You want to roll your eyes, isn’t that that question of the year? “I’m just ready to want someone who wants me back, it’s a little weird sure, but at least you know the people here aren’t going to play games. They’re all here for a reason, hopefully it's the right reason, but either way it’s nice to not play the should I text them back game.”

You answer what feels like a million more questions ranging from deep to what’s your favorite animal. When it’s all done, your face hurts from smiling, and you can’t wait to get a makeup wipe. An assistant leads you to your room, and you flop down on the queen sized bed happily. You’re looking forward to getting some sleep, or at the very least some mindless scrolling through instagram time, but there’s a knock at the door as soon as you settle in.

By this time, you’ve changed into your sweatpants, and your hair looks disheveled to say the least so of course there would be a guy at the door. Standing in the doorway when you open it, is a very tall man with windswept black hair and piercing blue eyes. “Hey,” He says looking you over and then hitting his hand against his leg a couple times absentmindedly.

“Hi?” You say with a raised eyebrow, “What can I help you with?”

“I just wanted to meet you before tomorrow, I’m Liam.” Well he’s definitely Canadian, that you can tell the more he talks, but there’s something else about him that you can’t quite place.

“Liam can I ask you something?” You say.

“Sure,” He smiles, “Whatever you want.”

“What makes you think you’re more important than anyone else?” You ask with a sweet smile, and try to hide all of the disdain from your face and your voice, because you’re going to need this guy to like you later so let’s not burn bridges right away. He looks a little stunned, “I mean everyone’s going to have to play this game right? Why do you think you should get the head start?”

You’re half wondering what he would say when he answered, if he was willing to give you a good answer for why he thinks he’s better than you’d probably be willing to have a conversation with him tonight. But of course, he doesn’t say anything, just stands before you dumbfounded like you’d just asked him how many cells were in the human body, like he didn’t even know where to start. “Well, good night then,” You say and slam the door in his face.

It’s going to be a long few weeks.

taglist:

@anikinskywalkr // @living-life-underoos // @poesflygirl

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader au #all that glitters series #tom holland series #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot

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makorragal-312 · 4 years

Text

Void (Part Three)

Here’s the (hopefully) long awaited part three of the Void series. I really hope you guys like it!

Man, was getting permission always this stressful? Lance was currently pacing around the Garrison, avoiding the confused gazes of Garrison personnel and visitors alike. He had just come from his "sit-down" with Coran to get his permission to take out Allura on their date; which had only proven to be one of, if not THE most stressful conversation he has ever had in his entire life. Usually when a guy gets the dad's permission to take out their little girl, there's nothing more than the cold stare, telling him to bring home his little girl by a decent time, and the infamous "if she comes home crying, I'll break your kneecaps" line, or at least something to that effect. He didn't expect to come out of it having to scurry around the Garrison with his head down because of him wearing the equivalent of Altean courtship armor for just a simple date.

And now he found himself here. Aimlessly walking down another hallway in the Garrison to calm his nerves, which was somewhat difficult considering the metal bucket that was weighing down on his head.

"Lance! Are you okay?"

Lance raised his eyes to find Shiro walking towards him holding papers, a look of concern on his face. The red paladin gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"H-hey, Shiro! Don't worry about me! I don't wanna keep you." Shiro stopped in front of him, a smirk making its way on his face.

"Really? Because you look like you want to make a mad dash for the dorms. And besides, I can make some time." Lance sighed. He should've known Shiro would see right through the facade. He was always able to tell when something was wrong with him or anyone else on the team and he never hesitated to stop and listen to anyone's problems. That's what made him great to Lance, and something he definitely missed when Shiro was gone for all that time.

"Yeah. I'm just worried that Coran is gonna kill me if he finds out I took this stuff off." Lance replied. Shiro leaned back and took in the boy's attire. Aside from the VERY visible and VERY mangled bucket, he had on two metal pots that served as shoulder pads, each with a corresponding cape and a link of sausages around his neck. Honestly, it's no wonder why the sharpshooter looked like he wanted to run for the hills.

"I'm guessing this has something to do with Allura? Like a date?" the former paladin inquired. Lance snapped his fingers and pointed at him, signaling that his guess was correct. This caused Shiro to widen his eyes.

"Wait, really?"

"I know. I was shocked, too. But she said yes and we're gonna just go with the flow, y'know?" Lance stated, a blush creeping up on his cheeks as he looked down at the ground. Shiro looked at him, only to feel a tiny ping in his chest. As happy as he was for the red paladin, he couldn't help but be reminded of his brother, the one who had bared his soul and fears to him not too long ago. Who was worried about this kind of development happening. But despite that, his friend was happy and he needed to support him.

"Wow. I'm happy for you, Lance." Shiro finally responded with a small smile. Lance smiled back at him.

"Thanks. At least

someone

has the decency to say that with a straight face!" Lance yelled. Shiro raised an eyebrow in confusion, prompting the red paladin to keep going.

"No, listen! I went to tell Pidge the good news earlier! But guess what? One look at me like this and she was on the floor laughing for a good two minutes! Hell, I could still hear her when I was walking away!"

"Hunk laughed at you, too?"

"No, Hunk was cool. He at least had the decency to try and hold it in and gulp it down and give me some tips." Shiro nodded in acknowledgement. He expected this kind of reaction from Hunk and Pidge, but he knew that they came from a good place and there was no malicious intent behind it. Lance stilled for a moment.

"By the way, where's Keith?" he asked. With everything that had been going on the last couple of months, Lance couldn't even remember the last time he even talked to the aforementioned black paladin. He was still somewhat looking forward to finishing their conversation from several moons ago, but with everything going on with Earth they barely had time to acknowledge it. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if Keith ended up forgetting.

"He said he was going to relax with Cosmo. Knowing him he's probably outside." Shiro answered. Lance, unbeknownst to himself, exhaled in relief.

"Okay. Thanks for listening, Shiro!" Lance said as he began to run past his friend, starting his search for his friend. Shiro smiled and waved at him.

"No problem! Have fun!" the former paladin shouted back. He watched as the Cuban boy ran, attracting more attention from his mere apparel alone. Once he was out of sight, Shiro sighed softly, a conflicted frown on his face. Lance was going to get his happy ending, but at the cost of his brother's own happiness. The captain began his walk to find Iverson, mentally saying a silent prayer along the way.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

It only took a few minutes before Lance was able to spot Keith, atop of the black lion. He was sitting next to Kosmo, staring out at the sunset. Like it was going to be the last time he would ever get to enjoy such a beautiful sight with such content. Lance couldn't help but to stare at his leader in awe, like he shouldn't be disturbed. But given since he was already here, he might as well go all the way. And so he started to climb.

"Man, you can be a real hard guy to find when you wanna be." Lance said, exhausted.

"Hey, Lance. Whoa!"

Through his exhaustion, he was a able to spot Keith's second take at him before looking up at him in utter shock. Slight embarrassment took over Lance as he looked down.

"What are you wearing?" Lance sighed, slowly walking towards the half-Galran and sitting down..

"Coran made it for me for my date with Allura." He heard Keith pause before he went on.

"A date with Allura?" Wow! Well done, Lance." Okay, that was something Lance didn't expect to hear. Sure, Keith isn't the type to tear someone down when they got a sliver of good news, but he usually isn't one to sound so...

happy

about it. The most he would do is just shrug and mutter out a little "Good for you" or "Congratulations" before walking out. The red paladin thought back to the conversation when they were saving Shiro after he crash landed back on Earth.

Oh, wait. I remember you. You're a cargo pilot.

Well, not anymore. I'm fighter class now thanks to you washing out.

Well, congratulations.

"Thanks. But it could be our last. I can't keep all these Altean customs straight." Lance remarked sadly, taking off his heavy metal bucket in the process. He's not going to lie and say he didn't feel any pressure going into this date. This wasn't just any regular girl. This was a princess from another planet. One who he actively died for so that they could have this moment in time. So, naturally, it came with the territory that he had to follow some customs the same way he would've had he still stayed on Earth and never found Shiro. And it didn't really help that he spent all that time trying to get her attention only for her to brush him aside and reject him, even going as far as to fall in love Lotor. But considering that he was now out of the way, Allura finally noticed him. But he couldn't help from asking himself, "Why though?"

Keith saw Lance's internal struggle and tried to form the proper words. As much as the situation itself upset him, he couldn't leave Lance looking and feeling this forlorn about the future.

"Listen, if she's going out with you, it's because she like you. The annoying, stupid, Earth version of you." Keith responds with a smirk. Lance, still looking down, released a slight laugh. Keith felt his chest release at the sight. He was hoping that he hadn't said something to make the object of his affection crawl back into his shell of self doubt, but seeing him smile and laugh relieved him to no end. He watched as Lance raised his head out and looked ahead, savoring the sight of the sunset. The black paladin turned his head in the same direction. He had always been fond of sunsets ever since Shiro came into his life. Every time after they raced each other, they'd just stop and take a moment to watch. And now that Lance was sitting right next to him, it was nothing more than perfect to him.

"You watching the sunset?" Lance asked after a moment.

"Yeah, might be a while before we get to see it again."

"Man, I'm really gonna miss this place." Lance said somberly. It didn't take long for the bittersweet feeling to consume both of the paladins. This was their last day on Earth before they went back up into space to stop Honerva. If they learned anything from their time in space the first time around; it was that even though time in space might be slow, the time on Earth will remain the same. While they hadn't aged (with Keith being a unique exception), their families and loved ones did. There was a good chance that once they came back this time around, their loved ones might be older, or heaven forbid already gone. So they knew they had to get this done as quickly as possible, so that they can come back to making more memories.

"That's why we've gotta end this war." Keith paused, thinking carefully about what to say next.

"And we're gonna do it with the Lance that's the Paladin of the Red Lion, the Lance that's always got my back, and the Lance who knows exactly who he is, and what he's got to offer." Keith finished, turning his head to smile at Lance. The blue paladin paused in surprise of what was just said to him, but smiled soon afterward. A small smirk soon started to grace his features.

"You know what, mullet? You've gotten a bit better at motivating! Normally, you would say that I look flat out ridiculous." Lance joked. Keith rolled his eyes and shoved him, turning his head to the side chuckling. He did think Lance looked ridiculous, but he couldn't help but to find it endearing on how absolutely

done

he looked. How

cute

he looked.

"You do. But I'm just being supportive, I guess." Keith replied honestly. Any other time, Lance would be at least somewhat offended, but at this point he saw how much Keith had changed since he had left the team so he knew he was telling the truth and wasn't being sarcastic. That wouldn't stop him from trying to at least somewhat annoy him. Lance looked past him to look over at Kosmo, who was looking down at the ground.

"Hey, Kosmo? What do you think? I'm as handsome as ever right?" Lance asked in his flirty tone, oblivious to the fact that Keith facepalmed at his question. The space wolf turned his head to the red paladin in intrigue, only to sneeze and teleport back into the Garrison as if the question was never asked. Lance scoffed in fake offense as Keith tilted his head back in laughter.

"Seriously?!

E tu

Kosmo?!" Lance wailed in defeat. He quickly looked back at Keith who was still laughing at the site.

"It wasn't that funny, mullet!" he yelled. Keith's laughs slowly began to die down as he wiped his eyes of possible stray tears, chuckling to himself lowly.

"No. It really was." Lance grabbed the bucket next to him and proceeded to hit Keith in his shoulder repeatedly, not enough to hurt him but to teach him a lesson. Mid-hit, Keith took the bucket from Lance's grasp and placed it back on his head in retaliation, laughing some more. Little did he notice that the Cuban boy had begun staring at him. He couldn't help but to take in the way the half-Galran's shoulders bounced with every chuckle. How he attempted to wipe his bangs out of his face. How much harmony his laugh brought to his ears. How his smil-

"You good?'

Lance was startled out of his stupor with a confused and slightly alarmed Keith staring back at him, his ears slowly starting to turn red. Lance, himself, began to get flustered.

"Y-yeah. Just, um- Man, is it just me or is there some weight on my shoulders?" Lance asked aloud, moving around frantically and trying to lose the collar of his uniform. Keith looked him up and down, scooting a little closer to his flustered comrade.

"I mean, you ARE wearing pots for shoulder pads." Keith stated with amusement. He watched as Lance's eyes widened and looked at his shoulders, almost forgetting that he had them on to begin with. He then watched as Lance began to remove the sausage link and attempt to remove the pots. He succeeded in removing the pot and cape on his left shoulder with ease. But when he attempted to remove the pot form his right shoulder, the handle ended up getting caught on his uniform. In a rather on brand chain of events, the movement of his arm caused the cape that was attached to the pot to fling over his head, blinding him. The red paladin put up a valiant struggle to remove the cape, but alas it was to no avail and proceeded to fall onto his back and squirm in defeat, still struggling. Keith could only look at the scene, utterly dumbfounded. He chuckled before deciding to put Lance out of his humiliating misery.

"Okay. This is just getting sad." Keith chuckled, leaning forward to pull up Lance. He reached over and grabbed the cape off of Lance's head, not realizing how close their faces would be once it got pulled off of him. All Keith could see in this moment was blue.

To say that Lance was also taken aback by this new development was surely an understatement. One minute, he sees nothing but blue cloth on his face and the next he comes into contact with his friend's gleaming purple eyes. Just the sight of them had the Cuban boy entranced. Somehow, he couldn't help but to think back to when they were on that planet after they brought Shiro back. That same sense of tranquility and slowed urgency present as it was back then. Only this time it was different. He knew he didn't have time to savor this. He had things to do, a date to go on, a princess to see. And yet he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Lance?" Keith asked breathily. Lance leaned in an inch closer to him, as if he wanted to hear him say his voice again. He noticed the way Keith took a quick look as lips before he looked back up and tried to keep his gaze.

"Keith, I-" he started. At least, he

wanted

to.

"I gotta go change." He said finally. He slowly but urgently grabbed the pots, capes, and bucket and stood up, ready to begin his descent down the lion, but not before looking back at Keith.

"Thanks for listening, Keith. It meant a lot." Lance said with a nervous smile. Keith gave him the same smile before looking back out to the sunset, or at least what remained of it. With the bucket filled with pots and capes on his arm, he climbed down. As he went, he began chanting phrases to get him ready for the date before him.

You got this, man! Show her a great time, sharpshooter! Give Allura the time of her life! Get yourself out of these clothes! He's your friend. Right?

#klance #klance vld #klance voltron #vld keith #vld lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron s8 #voltron fanfic

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Favorite Season - Jonathan Toews

Word Count: 8,690

POV: Jon’s

Sidenote: This is not my gif

Second Sidenote: Wishing Jon the best and hoping that he is able to be back on the ice soon!

People always assumed when you talked about what season you loved the most, that you meant hockey, for obvious reasons of course; it was your profession, but once you'd met (Y/N), the word season took on a whole new meaning. You'd kindly respond and tell them no, that wasn't the season you were talking about. They then assumed that you'd meant spring, for that's when (Y/N) walked into your life. Well, ran into was more like it. She'd been rushing to the United Center for an interview for a summer internship program, while you were on your way out. Neither one of you had been paying attention, which is how you'd ended up holding her in your arms that first time. You knew from that first moment that you never wanted to let her go.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," (Y/N) said as she tried to regain her footing.

"No, it's my fault. I should've been watching where I was going." She stepped out of your arms to pick up the strewn contents of her bag and being the gentlemen that you were, you knelt down to help her. "Here let me help you." You picked up a small paperback book and glanced at the title. "Alors tu apprends le Francais?"

"Oh geez, this is so embarrassing," she admitted, a blush staining her cheeks. "I just bought this book a week ago, in hopes to learn French but I'm afraid I don't know a word of what you said…well, other than French." She laughed softly to cover up her embarrassment, but the sound was like a melody that you wanted to play over and over again.

"I just asked if you were learning French." You handed the book back to her with a smile, as you both stood up off the ground.

"Well, don't I feel stupid." She placed the book back in the bag, then placed it on her shoulder. "But yes, I'm trying to learn French. I'm hoping to go to Paris after graduation. Which gives me approximately one year to learn the language, you so eloquently speak."

"Thank you, but I grew up speaking it, so it comes naturally."

"Ah, well, you're lucky." She took a step away. "I've got to run. Again, so sorry for bumping into you."

"It really wasn't your fault."

"We'll call it a draw," she said with a lift of her shoulder as she turned and walked away. It was then you noticed a small snowflake charm on the ground.

"Wait, you forgot this." She turned back around, meeting you halfway.

"Oh, this must have fallen off my keychain again. Thank you, I would've been devasted had I lost this. I owe you one."

You weren't sure if they were just words spoken or if she truly meant them, but you decided to take a gamble. "How about dinner?"

Her beautiful eyes got even larger, at your poor attempt to ask her out, and you thought you'd just made an idiot of yourself. "Um…sure." She dug into her bag pulled out a pen, then tore a page of her learn to speak French book out. She scribbled down her name and number, then handed it over to you. "Call me." Then she turned and took off again. "Sorry, I'm really late." She was halfway down the hall as you stood there glancing between her name and her. "Hey what's your name?" she called out.

"It's Jon."

"Make sure you bring my page to dinner. I expect you to teach me how to say whatever's on that." The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she disappeared down the hall. You called her later that night, and then the following day and every day after that. By the end of spring her French had improved, but not to the point where the two of you could have full conversations without her questioning words here and there. Yes, that spring had been magical and if someone would've asked you as summer started, you probably would've said that it was your favorite season. But then summer did start, and well that meant you got to see (Y/N) lounging by the lake in a bikini. Your twenty-year-old self thought there was no better season than this. Again though, that wasn't the season that would stand out in your mind. Nor would it be fall, when just after six months of dating her you told her you loved her.

It hadn't been some grand gesture like you see in the movie. Rather it was really quite simple. You'd just lost the season opener to the Nashville Predators. It was your first season as captain of the team and you'd really felt the pressure; more from yourself than anyone else. You were the last to come out of the locker room, and you were feeling pretty defeated, but there stood (Y/N) leaning against the wall, holding a piece of paper which read, 'Tu Les Auras La Prochaine fois.' But it wasn't the sign saying that you'll get them next time that made your heart skip a beat, it was seeing her smiling face holding it that did it for you. "Je t'aime." The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and you didn't want to take them back. She looked a bit startled and unsure of what to say. "It means I love you, silly. Man, I really thought your French was getting better."

"I…I know what you said. I just want to make sure, you meant it."

"Je t'aime, Te Quiero, Ti Amo, they all mean the same, (Y/N). I love you. I probably should've said it the day I met you, but…" She still didn't say anything and suddenly you were starting to wonder if maybe today was too soon. "You don't have to say it back."

"No…I mean…Yes…" She closed her eyes then, gathering her thoughts. "Damn, I said that all wrong. I love you too, Jon. Je t'aime." Her lips were on yours then, the kiss was like so many you shared these last few months, only there was more heat, more passion as you poured all your love for her into it. "Let's go home," she softly whispered when you broke apart, a glint in her eye that told you she wanted to show you how much she really loved you.

Your lips quirked up into a smile. "Anything you want, mon amour."

Yes, fall definitely was one of your favorite times, but it was Christmas that always held a special meaning.

That first Christmas would always hold a special place in your heart. You could remember it like it was yesterday.

You'd just come home from a quick road trip to Detriot. You dropped your bags off at your place and then headed over to (Y/N)'s apartment. When you got there, caricatures of her and her two roommates were drawn on the door, all three dressed for Christmas and around a cartoon tree. You had a hard time knowing where to knock for all the decorations on the door. (Y/N) came scurrying to the door. "You're back," she said jumping into your arms and kissing you soundly. Your lips never left hers as you stepped into the apartment.

"Mmm, I see someone missed me."

"I always miss you, but I'm glad you're back. You're just in time to help me hang the rest of these decorations. I could use your height."

"Oh, so now you only want me because I'm tall." She released you then swatted you on the arm.

"No, but it doesn't hurt. Here can you help me string these lights up?"

You took the strand and hung them up per her instructions. "Boy, you really go all out for Christmas."

"But of course, don't you?"

"Not really. I don't even have a tree."

"Wait, what? You don't have a tree?" She repeated your exact words as if the thought was impossible.

"It's not really a huge deal in my family, besides I'm usually never home because of hockey," you told her as you finished hanging the lights. (Y/N) walked over to the closet, grabbed her shoes, and put on her coat, as soon as you were done. "Uh, babe, where are you going?"

"To go get you some Christmas decorations." She opened the door, then looked back when you didn't follow. "Are you coming?" You had no choice but to follow her.

The rest of the afternoon was spent picking out lights, ornaments, a tree, and more decorations than you could fit in your shopping cart, but you didn't mind being dragged from store to store as (Y/N)'s face lit up in every one of them. "Ok, star or angel?" she asked you holding up two tree toppers, but before you could answer she kept going. "I mean part of me thinks that we should go with the star. It's pretty traditional and well they always sing about hanging the star on top of the tree, but I like the symbolism of the angel."

You looked both of them over when she finally decided to take a breath. "Angel, definitely." She turned the figurine towards her looking it over, while you walked behind her, letting your hands slide around her waist so you could pull her close. When she turned back to look at you, questioning your choice, you simply said, "You're my angel and she reminds me of you." She kissed you then, right there in aisle C8, amidst the Christmas decorations.

"Angel it is then." She set the tree topper in the cart and the two of you headed to the checkout. On the way there, you spotted a sprig of mistletoe and tossed it in the cart unbeknownst to (Y/N). It wasn't until the tree was up that night, that she found it. "I don't remember putting this in the cart."

"You didn't. I did." You took the mistletoe out of her hand and went to hang it up in the archway. "If we're going for full-on Christmas, we can't forget the best part." Grabbing her hand, you lead her over to where you'd just hung the little green sprig.

"You really think you need this, to get me to make out with you?" Your hands encircled her waist as she spoke the words, and you drew her in close to you.

"Well, no. This is just an excuse." You pecked her lips quickly. "Besides, this is my first time decorating for this holiday, I might as well go all out."

She returned the kiss, only it was more heated as you slid your tongue inside her. She moaned into your mouth before pulling back. "In that case, let's make it a little more memorable." She stepped out of your embrace, her fingers trailing down to the button on your pants. It slipped out of the buttonhole easily, before she slid the zipper down. You sucked in a breath, as her hands snuck inside the waistband of your boxers and she slid them and your pants all the way to the ground. (Y/N) fell to her knees, her hands skating up your thighs as you felt her warm breath fan across your cock. It twitched before you felt her lips place a kiss right on the head. Her lips trailed all the way up and down the length of your shaft, teasing you.

"Babe, you're killing me." A wicked glint in her eye was her answer back, as she placed her puckered lips on the head one last time before she finally took you inside her mouth. Your hands threaded through her hair as she sunk down to take most of you in. She took her free hand and wrapped it around the length that didn't fit inside and gave it a gentle squeeze, then her mouth started to work its own little bit of Christmas magic as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked on your cock. "Damn, baby that feels so good," you hissed out, your hips rocking a bit into her mouth. If this was (Y/N)'s idea of Christmas traditions you were all for it, and mistletoe was definitely going to be a staple to your decorating every year.

(Y/N)'s free hand slipped down to your balls where she cupped them and you felt yourself close to bursting. Your body tingled as she hummed around your cock. With her mouth and hands on you it felt like there was enough electricity coursing through your body that you could light up a million strand of Christmas lights at the moment. "(Y/N), I'm going to…" she didn't stop though just took your cock deeper until you swore you hit the back of her throat. It was that move, that pushed you over as you spilled your seed in her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, though some dribbled out and you thought it was hot as hell.

That night would forever live in your mind, as you returned the favor by making her cum not once but twice under that same mistletoe. Even though, it was one of your favorite memories from that first Christmas. It wasn't that, that made Christmas your favorite season. It was the way that (Y/N) embraced the joy of the season in everything she did. Even the simplest things were a little brighter with her around. She made everyone around sparkle and shine just like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Not that she wasn't always that way, but there was just something special about (Y/N) and Christmas and thus it became your favorite time of year.

There had been no Christmas break that year in the NHL, meaning you had no time to head back home, so (Y/N) had invited you to her house to be with her family. They had welcomed you with open arms and you had found out, why she'd loved Christmas so much. Her family went all out, decorations were everywhere and presents were piled high. They'd included you in all their traditions, from frosting to cookies to playing Christmas charades. They even had you cut a piece of wheat for Baby Jesus's manager, as was their annual custom to do before opening presents Christmas morning. That first Christmas had set the tone for all those to follow after it.

Hockey took precedence the following year, as you won the Stanley Cup and it seemed like the summer and fall flew by. One thing was for sure though, and that was that (Y/N) was with you every step of the way. You knew you had to make that Christmas extra special. It was the first time your family flew in for the holiday. (Y/N)'s family all came to your place as well that year. The house was filled with love and laughter and was about to get a little more exciting.

All the presents had been unwrapped and everyone was lounging in the great room. "I think there's one more present here," you pointed to a box you had hidden off in the corner. "Looks like it has your name on it, babe."

(Y/N) took the gift and looked at the tag. "It doesn't say who it's from."

"Well, that happens from time to time. You know Santa's elves are really busy this time of year," her mom chimed in, giving you a little wink. "Go ahead and open it."

She tore through the layer of paper to the box, then lifted the lid, which happened to reveal a smaller box. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, laughing as she took that wrapped package out and removed the paper again. Lifting the lid, she found yet another box. "You've got to be kidding me. Did you do this?" She was staring straight at you because she knew this was totally out of your character. All you could do was simply shrug. The unwrapping went on for another six layers until she finally revealed a small black velvet box. All your family gasped as she went to open it. Her eyes were fixated on the container, as she slowly pulled back the lid. The look of excitement on her face was almost too much for you, and then her face fell, exactly like you thought it would. "There's nothing in it." She whispered, her voice small as she lifted her eyes to you. You could feel her family and yours glaring at you for pulling a stunt like this. You decided now would be a good time to put everyone out of their misery.

Dropping down to one knee in front of her, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the extravagant ring that you'd had made for her. The gasp from everyone this time was probably heard down the street as they took in their first glimpse of the engagement ring. (Y/N) covered her mouth with her hands and you saw one lone tear slip down her cheek; a happy one, you hoped. "(Y/N), I was going to leave this in the last box, but then I couldn't. For your real present isn't this ring. It's me. That is if you'll have me." She was already shaking her head yes before you even had a chance to ask her the question. "I guess what I'm asking is if you'll spend every Christmas from now until the end of time with me?" Another tear slid down her cheek and this time you knew for sure it was a joyful one. "(Y/FN), will you be my wife?"

"Yes, Jon, yes!" She was down on the ground in your arms kissing you before you could blink. She almost tackled you to the carpet, but your hand reached out and steadied you both on the end table beside you. That's when you realized the ring popped out of your hand and had fallen somewhere amongst the pile of wrapping paper.

You broke from the kiss immediately. "Shit, I dropped the ring."

"I don't care. You're my present and apparently my future as well." She locked her lips with yours again. The two of you were so caught up in each other, you forgot about the rest of your family in the room; who had now gone on a search for the engagement ring.

"Found it," your mom said breathing a sigh of relief. You took it and slipped it on (Y/N)'s finger making it official. That Christmas was definitely one of the most memorable.

The following summer you married. Most people expected the two of you to have this big grand wedding, which would've taken another year or more to plan, but neither you nor (Y/N) wanted that. Instead, it was a quiet ceremony with just family and close friends, exactly what you wanted, as you couldn't wait for her to be your wife. That Christmas was your first as husband and wife, and there was more than one Mr. and Mrs. Toews ornament hanging off the tree.

Payback came your second Christmas as a married couple. There you were opening box after box. "Really babe? I would've expected this last year."

"Gotta keep you on your toes, Mr. Toews."

You unwrapped yet another box. "So is the Rolex we looked at a couple weeks ago in here?" She mimicked your shrug from two years ago. It had to be the watch, for the shrug was always (Y/N)'s go to move when she didn't want to tell you that you were right. Sure enough, as you peeled back the paper on the last package, there was the signature green box of the famous company. "Nice try babe, but I guess I outsmarted you this time." The hinge creaked as you opened the box, but you were shocked when there wasn't a watch inside, but a positive pregnancy test. "Are you…?"

Your eyes locked with hers and she was nodding her head. "Yes, yes we are." Your lips were on hers in an instant, as this time you were the one with tears in your eyes.

"I don't get the big deal over a watch." You heard your brother say in French in the background.

"They're having a baby you idiot," your dad told him, cuffing him upside the head.

Levi Abram Toews was born on July twenty-fifth of the following year, giving you a little bit of Christmas midway through the following year. His first Christmas was probably one of your favorites. At six months old, he was sitting up and just starting to crawl. (Y/N) had to move all the floor decorations up, because he started to chew on all the snowmen that he could grab. Levi's little eyes sparkled as he was mesmerized by all the twinkling lights and bulbs. You thought you couldn't love Christmas anymore, but seeing it through your son's eyes made the holiday even more joyous.

You didn't think anything remarkable happened the Christmas of 2014 but by Valentine's day it became clear that your wife was pregnant again, and your new little one had to have been conceived on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. It too would always hold special meaning whenever you looked at your baby girl. Elizabeth or Lizzie as you liked to call her, joined your little family on September 25th, 2015. Making her the cherry on the cake to winning your third Stanley cup. Lizzie was daddy's girl and everyone knew it, even your wife. Of course, there were a few ornaments on the Christmas tree that year. One with Lizzie's picture in the cup, along with her first Christmas ornament, all got hung alongside the three Stanley Cup ornaments and Levi's bulb. Your tree was getting quite full.

As were your wife's hands apparently, as you could see (Y/N) getting more and more tired as Christmas 2016 rolled around. Oh, she was still her fun-loving and joyful self, but she also looked completely exhausted most days. She would dust off any concerns and tell you that was the price she paid for having two kids under the age of four. "Babe, why don't you come and sit down," you told her having just gotten back from your last road trip before Christmas, which was only three days away.

"I can't. I still need to finish wrapping the gifts, then I've got cookies to bake, and get the food prepped for Christmas Eve dinner."

"What can I do to help?" You asked rubbing her shoulders as she worked in the dining room wrapping the presents since the kids were finally in bad.

"You could…" She spun around to talk to you and that's when your heart fell out of your chest as she collapsed right into your arms. Your blood ran cold as you saw color draining from her face. Gently as you could, you laid her down on the floor, calling out her name. "(Y/N)…baby…(Y/N) please wake up." You ran and grabbed your bag knowing that you had smelling salts in there that the team used every now and then. Breaking it open, you wafted the scent over her nose, praying the whole time for her to wake back up. It took a bit, but eventually, she did rouse. "Oh thank god."

"What happened?"

"I was going to ask you. You just fainted in my arms." She made a move to get up but you could see that another bout of something had hit her again. "No just stay there. I'm calling the team doctor."

"Jon, don't. I'm sure I'm just tired. I'll be fine."

It was too late for her to try to change your mind as you already had the doctor dialed up. He asked a few questions, basically checking to see if she could be pregnant, but that wasn't an option as she'd just finished her period two days ago. He recommended that you head to the hospital and get (Y/N) checked out. It was a fight to get her there, especially so close to Christmas, but eventually, she gave in and once her parents came to watch the kids, the two of you were on your way.

You rushed into the emergency room, where (Y/N) went through a series of tests. You hadn't realized until that moment, when (Y/N) was laying in the hospital bed, that she'd lost some weight and seemed very fatigued. Your wife was always this strong and unmovable force, yet right then she looked so frail. Mentally, you kicked yourself for not noticing these things earlier. After hours of testing, the emergency room doctor came in to speak to you both. He told you that there was definitely something off in her blood work and that he wanted to admit her for further testing. (Y/N) put up a fight, not wanting to be in the hospital another minute. She insisted she had way too many things to do than just laying around waiting for them to tell her she would be fine.

"You're staying and that's final." She argued with you, but in the end, you won out again.

Thankfully, she was out of the hospital by Christmas Eve and when she came home, her parents and yours had most everything done so that it was a perfect Christmas for your children. It was two days after Christmas that you received the worst news of your life. (Y/N) had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctor wasn't sure what stage it was in but wanted her for more testing before they would try and figure out treatment. It couldn't have come at a worse time, as you were just gearing up for a ten-day road trip.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Damnit Jon, you are going. You're the captain of the team and they need you," she shouted back to you. The two of you had been arguing since you put the kids in bed. Your parents were still there, they had decided to stay a little longer with (Y/N) being sick to help out with the kids and her parents were only minutes away, but none of that mattered.

"I'm also the captain of THIS team," you said pointing back and forth between the two of you. "And right now, that's more important."

"It's just some testing at this point. If there's anything more serious, you can be on the next plane back here." Her voice was quieter now, and you couldn't tell if she was just weak from cancer or tired of fighting, but you could see the determination in her eyes not to lose this battle. You needed her to keep that same look for whatever was to come and it was for that reason alone that you found yourself agreeing to go on the trip.

You could see her crumbling on the screen, her mom and dad beside her for support, but it wasn't enough. You should've been there damnit. Why in the hell had you listened to her? You wanted to scream through the phone but couldn't; you needed to stay calm and be there for her. "Baby, look at me," you said in a gentle yet reassuring voice, and her tearstained eyes locked with yours. "We're going to beat this." She sniffled loudly, then straightened her back, that steely determination taking over.

"Of course, we will." What you didn't know, was that she cried the entire ride home in the backseat of her parents' car, or how she made her dad ride around the block several times before going inside to see your children. All the while, you were on the phone with the team doctor finding out everything you could to help your wife. The two of you found the best specialist in North America and had her records sent there. A week later, you were by (Y/N)'s side at UPMC Medical Center in Pittsburgh determining the best course of treatment.

The surgery, which took place in February and caused you to miss a few games, went very well. The two of you stayed in Pittsburgh five days before flying back on a private plane home to your children. Who didn't seem to understand why mommy couldn't pick them up and carry them around anymore. Your parents and (Y/N)'s were godsends, as (Y/N) insisted you go back to hockey. You hated being away from her, though with every day that past you could see her strength building up. That was until the chemotherapy started.

There were to be six to eight rounds of chemotherapy that (Y/N) was going to have to take. They would fall in four-week intervals. You were there the day she got her first one. It took over eight hours for her to receive the treatment through her port that the surgeon had put in. She seemed to take it really well or so you thought until you found her hunched over the toilet a couple days later throwing up. She tried to shake it off, act like it was nothing new, telling you it was just like being pregnant again, but you knew better. You could hear the tremble in her voice, see the tears she fought so hard to hold back, while you held back your own. You'd give anything to take this pain away from her, but you couldn't.

It wasn't until round three that her hair started falling out in clumps. She was sitting at the breakfast table, the kids at her parents when she brushed it back to pull it out of her face. Strands of hair covered her fingers, a look of horror covering her face. "It's ok baby, we knew this would happen."

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. "I just thought that I made it this far with it, that maybe they were wrong." You were at her side in a minute, holding her as she started to shake from head to toe.

"Let it out (Y/N). It's ok to be sad or mad or anything. I'm right here." It was the first time that she'd cried about it, at least in front of you.

"It's not fair Jon," she sobbed into your chest. "I want to be there to watch my kids grow up."

"And you will, mon amour. We're going to fight this every step of the way." She cried for a solid hour, as you held back tears of your own, telling her in a calming voice that she was going to beat this. All the while being scared as hell that she might not.

Later that day, you helped her shave every strand of hair from her head. It was the hardest thing you'd had to do in your life. You'd rather take a ninety mile an hour puck to your face then to see your wife this broken and defeated. In the end, she took a deep breath as she looked herself in the mirror, eyes still glassy from tears. "You will not beat me," she told her reflection, then looked at your reflection. "I will fight this with every breath I have." Your lip trembled as you fought back the river of tears that threatened to spill over at her strength. Your wife was a fighter, and you knew she would conquer this disease and you'd be beside her every step of the way.

That summer you spent every available second with (Y/N) and the kids. Treatments became a normal part of your routine. The problem was with everyone, you saw your wife getting weaker and weaker. She was practically skin and bones, even though she would force herself to eat. When she took her final round of chemotherapy in October, you breathed a sigh of relief. The doctors said they wouldn't know if the chemo had worked for a few weeks and so you waited. Praying every night that her cancer was gone once and for all, and your wife would no longer have to suffer.

A month later, you were back in Pittsburgh, sitting in front of the doctor who held your entire fate in his hands. "I'm afraid it's not good news," he started to say, and your face drained, while (Y/N) gripped your hand tightly. "The chemotherapy hasn't responded as we'd like." Everything he said after that was a garbled mess. Your mind clouded over and there was a loud ringing in your ears. You wanted to grab this man by the throat and tell him to make your wife better. That was his job, wasn't it? He was supposed to heal people, and damn it he should've done that for (Y/N). "I'm not giving up hope yet." It was those words that finally drug you out of the blinding rage that was coursing through your veins. He proceeded to say that there was an experimental drug and that they had no way of knowing if it would work, but it might be something the two of you would be interested in trying. He handed you a bunch of paperwork to go home and read before making any decisions.

"I think you should take it," you told her the minute you got in the car.

"Maybe we should read what he gave us first."

"It doesn't matter what that says (Y/N) if it means that you get to stay here with me and the kids; I think we should do it."

"It's not a 'we' Jon. It's me who has to do this. What if it has some long-term effects or…" she started to list scenarios, that meant nothing to you.

"The only long-term thing here is that you're dead. Do you want that? Because I don't." You were yelling at her, and you didn't want to, but couldn't she see that this drug was your only option. "I need you (Y/N). The kids need you." This time you couldn't hold back the tears as they started to fall hard and fast down your cheeks. "Damn it, I love you and I'm not willing to lose you. Do you understand me?"

You could barely see her swallow hard as tears flooded your vision, and while you knew you needed to be strong for her; you were finally breaking. "Ok," she whispered softly, and you grabbed her holding her to your body as close as you could with the console in the middle of the car. "I'll do it."

"You will?" you mumbled into the crook of her neck. You could feel the dampness of her shirt from your tears but all that mattered was that she agreed to take the treatment.

"Yes," she answered pulling you back so she could look in your eyes. "I'd do anything for you, my love." You kissed her then pouring every ounce of love you had for her into it.

The following day, after reading through all the paperwork, (Y/N) called the doctor and got set up to take the new drug. Once you were back in Chicago, she started treatments right away. The drug was aggressive, even more so than her first round of chemotherapy and within two weeks she wound up in the hospital, her immune system so compromised that you had to suit up in a gown and mask every time you went to see her. The kids weren't allowed in, which killed her, but you had them facetime her every day.

As Christmas grew near your spirits were low. (Y/N) insisted that you put up all the decorations just as you had every year. She ordered the kids' gifts online so that they wouldn't miss out on a single thing. Her only term for taking the new treatment was that you continue to play hockey. Her parents stepped up and watched the kids while you were away. You were just returning home from a road trip, about a week before Christmas when you stopped in at the hospital to see (Y/N) before heading home. When you walked into her room, you barely recognized her. Her frail form looked almost lifeless as she lay in the hospital bed, so much so that you had to check the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing. Thankfully she was.

"Salut mon amour," you said in a soft gentle voice, wanting her to know that you were there but at the same time not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. She turned her head to the side to see you, a weak smile gracing her chapped lips.

A scratchy "hi," was all she was able to muster back. You took your gloved hand and held hers in it. God, what you wouldn't give to just touch her skin and feel her once again. But since you couldn't, you stroked your thumb back and forth over her palm, hoping that she could somehow draw from your strength.

"How are you feeling today?"

The smile dropped, and so did your heart. "I don't think this is working Jon." It was too soon to tell. Even the doctors had said that. She just needed to hang on, give the drug more time to work. "I think we need to start preparing for the worst." Her hand squeezed yours, whether it was for support or to support you, you weren't sure.

"No, baby, I'm not ready for you to give up yet."

"I know Jon, and I'm fighting I really am. But it's just so hard...Hard to breathe…Hard to move. I don't feel like me anymore." A tear slipped out and though you had a glove on your hand, you reached up and wiped it away.

"You've just gotta fight (Y/N). You've got to do it for Levi, and Lizzie, and god baby please do it for me." You were begging now, both her and god. You couldn't lose her, you weren't ready to live your life without her yet.

"I will my love…..but Jon, there may come a day when I can't fight anymore and I need you to support me on that." You knew what she was talking about, that if the doctors wanted to put her on a ventilator, she didn't want that. Though if it could save her…you weren't sure you could follow her wishes.

You nodded your head not willing to put in words something you couldn't promise just yet. You stayed there with her for a while; until she basically kicked you and told you to go home and get some sleep. The moment you walked in the door of your house, you screamed in anger. There were all the decorations that (Y/N) made you hang with the kids and you hated every one of them. They were torturous reminders that your wife wasn't there this Christmas, that she couldn't be with you and the kids. You grabbed the strand of garland that hung on the archway into the living room and ripped it down, throwing the ball of mistletoe across the room. It felt good, and so you tore down some more, just letting all your anger and frustrations out. It was a side of you that hardly ever came out even on the ice. Oh, you'd definitely dropped the gloves a time or two but only when someone really deserved it. Only now there was no one to fight. It was a disease and you couldn't throw it up against the boards or punch it in the jaw. So instead, you took it out on the decorations. Every wreath that hung on the wall you ripped it apart with your bare hands. Every Santa figurine that sat on the table, you smashed against the floor. You were just about the tear the stockings off the fireplace when you stopped. It was seeing your wife's name knitted into the fabric that got you and instead you carefully took it off the hook and brought it to your face as if it were her and you could simply hold her that close once again.

"Please (Y/N), please don't leave me," you called out to the void that was your house, as you dropped to your knees, tears freely flowing down your face. It was all too much. You'd finally reached that breaking point and just laid on the flooring sobbing and praying to God to save your wife. It was the only Christmas wish you had. Sure, you'd prayed when you were younger asking god to make you a better hockey player and then that you would be drafted in the NHL, but never in your life had you wanted anything like you wanted this, for your wife to be fine, for her to live a happy healthy life with you and your children. You'd trade everything you had if you could.

At some point, you picked yourself up and looked at the disaster that you'd made in what was once a storybook Christmas home. (Y/N) would be so disappointed in what you had done, not to the house, but to the mess that your kids would walk into when they would come home. You cleaned up the broken shards of glass, restrung the garland, and tried to salvage what you could of the other decorations you'd destroyed yet somehow the house still seemed to be missing something. There were tons of extra decorations in the closet, as your wife seemed to always buy more and more every year, well you couldn't really blame (Y/N) as you tended to help as well. So, you dragged yourself upstairs to see what else might try and make the place a bit more festive.

It was in rummaging through the closet that you stumbled upon it. It was a simple container, not very big with the word "Love," written in script on the top. You peered inside and were stunned to find dozens of envelopes, each marked with either yours or your children's name on them. It was then that you realized they were goodbye letters from your wife, as some were addressed to Levi and Lizzie on their eighteenth birthdays or their graduations. There was even one for each of them on their wedding day. A gasp left your mouth at the realization that she didn't plan on being around for any of these occasions. You weren't sure what hurt more, the fact that she was giving up or that you'd be facing a life without her.

All that anger and hurt from moments ago came surfacing back and you had the urge to punch your fist through the wall this time, though you fought it for the sake of your kids. Flipping through the envelopes you saw different ones with your name on them. You picked up the one that was on top of the pile marked 'To Jon on Christmas Eve.' It was heavier than what you thought and you realized that it wasn't a letter but a video. Taking the box, you headed downstairs to see what your wife had to say.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn't be watching this, as you hit the play button on the remote control, yet you couldn't stop yourself. Maybe there would be something on here that could help you convince her to fight harder. It took a second for (Y/N) to come on the screen. She looked weak, yet still as beautiful as ever as she sat in the chair up in your bedroom. Her wig was on, probably in hopes that you'd remember her like she once was and not the sickly cancer patient she feared everyone saw.

"Bonjour, mon amour." God, you loved how she spoke French to you. She'd been so earnest in her studies those early days and now was rather good at it. "I'm not sure where to start with this. I want you to know that this is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I hope that you're watching this after the kids' are in bed and you've put all the presents under the tree. God, how I'll miss doing that with you, but I know that you will make this Christmas and every one after special for our two little angels. They are so lucky to have a dad like you, just like I was so lucky to have you as my husband." Tears were streaming down (Y/N)'s face as she spoke to you on the screen, just as they were flooding your eyes.

"I love you so much," she swallowed hard, the movement visible as her body was frail. "Even more than I love Christmas." It was a small attempt at humor on her part, and you wish that you could smile at it, but at the moment all you had were tears of sadness. "Remember that first Christmas when we bought the tree topper together. You told me then that I was your angel. Well, now I truly am. I hope that when you place her on top of the tree, you'll know that I'm smiling down at you and our babies." Your eyes automatically went to the angel on the tree. Her soft smiling eyes shining right into yours. A sob broke from you then, as you realized how much the angel looked like your wife. She had the same eyes, the same hair, and the same soft easy smile that melted your heart.

"I'm going to miss this time of year with you; the laughter, the joy, the mistletoe. It was always my favorite season with you, though you made everyday special." You knew how she felt, for you had a feeling you'd miss her most at Christmas time. "Jon, I'd give anything to be with you right now. Just know that if I had to do it all again, I would. I'd go through every treatment, every needle, every single bit of it, if it meant one more Christmas with you…hell, even if it was one more day with you." She wiped away the tears then, visibly collecting herself to continue on with what she had to say.

"But I want you to be happy, Jon. I want you to love again. I want you to find joy in not only Christmas but every day, even if I'm not there. And I can see you sitting there, shaking your head and telling me it's not going to happen, and maybe it won't tomorrow or the next day, but I hope it does someday. I love you too much to not want you to love again. Be happy, you deserve it." You weren't sure how she could ask this of you, there was no way that it would ever happen if she wasn't in your life.

"Bumping into you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the best thing to happen to me, Jonathan Toews and for that I thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better friend, husband, or father. You will always be the love of my life...and what a life we had." There was still more of it to be had, you just knew there had to be. "I love you, Jon. Merry Christmas, my love." It took another second and then the screen went blank.

"I love you, (Y/N)," you whispered up the angel smiling down at you. Tears clouded your vision until all the lights just seemed to melt into one giant one. This was not how things were meant to end. You laid your head back against the sofa and closed your eyes and just prayed. Even though you'd just done that hours ago, you asked God to do the impossible, to give you a Christmas miracle.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you woke up sometime later to a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Jon, sweetie, wake up, my love." You could swear that was your wife's voice. It took your eyes a minute to regain focus, but it was your wife standing over you, in Christmas pajamas, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her hair, you thought vaguely, not some wig because she'd lost all hers, and she looked healthy, strong in fact.

"You're here? You're ok," you said jumping up and running your hands down her arms.

Her smile told you then that it hadn't been a dream like you thought, and you looked over to the screen on the tv, to see the Christmas message she'd sent you back up on the screen. "You were watching it again, weren't you?" she asked.

You had to shake yourself to get the cobwebs out of your brain. It was six years ago that you found the video, though you've replayed it every year since. That first time watching it you'd wanted to run to the hospital and shake some sense into your wife, but something stopped you. Maybe deep down you knew she had never truly given up, for she had called you Christmas Eve saying that she was feeling much better. The kids had gotten to see her on Christmas day, though there were still precautions taken. It was a week later that she was home and with you as her strength continually improved. She grew stronger every day after that as well. It was months later that her cancer was declared gone by the doctors, the new treatment having saved her life and yours in the process. She was a survivor and you thanked God every day for giving you that miracle you'd asked for so long ago. "I still don't know how you found them," she said to you. "Or why you continue to watch that video every year."

"I watch it because it reminds me of how close I was to losing you." Your arms encircled her waist now, drawing her closer to you. "And how magical the Christmas season is as it brought you back to me." You gazed into her loving eyes, yours shining with that same love you saw in hers. "And to hold you a little tighter each day." You did exactly as you said, squeezing her so that no space was between either of you, before dropping a kiss to her lips.

"I'm not sure it was the Christmas season that helped me find the strength to fight. I'm pretty sure it was you, Mr. Toews." Her lips found yours in a soul-stealing kiss, as she poured all her love for you into it.

You maneuvered the two of you under the archway where the sprig of mistletoe always hung. "Well, Mrs. Toews, Christmas will always be my favorite time of year, though I treasure every day with you. Joyeux Noel, mon amour."

"Merry Christmas, Jon."

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