#i skipped my march fic

[autumnlassitude]

I was inspired by @imagineitdearies fic Perfect Slaughter to draw Astarion and Tyrus stealing a quiet moment together. Poor Tyrus was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for so long.

[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[ceesimz]

Kissing a Fool

This is a classic sick fic - a quick trip to the out of hours doctors but nothing extreme.

If there was one thing that Alexia was, it was determined. That was what had gotten her to the place she was today, with countless trophies and awards in her possession, stadiums filled by fans adorning jerseys with her name and number, an endless amount of brands desperate to work with her, and millions around the world idolising her.

However, nobody was perfect.

Sometimes, Alexia's determination can, and will, bleed into pure stubbornnes. And that's when things can start to go a little downhill.

It all started one morning when she woke up beside you with a certain scratchiness in her throat and a dull ache behind her eyes. She ignored it, obviously.

Ignored it throughout your shared morning routine, paying you no mind when you asked if she was okay due to the disgruntled furrow in her brow and how she squinted uncomfortably with every slight increase of light. She also ignored it as she kept her sunglasses on whilst moving from her car to the main building for training, again acting none the wiser to the face you pulled at her as she walked around the facilities with the glasses still firmly planted and seemingly going nowhere anytime soon.

"Ale, you know you can't wear them for training?" You wonder amusedly as she holds the door to the locker room open for you. Shockingly, she doesn't reply, she just answers with a noise that can only be described as a huff. "If your head is hurting, take some pills before we start. Don't be stubborn."

"No. Todo está bien." She offers a tight-lipped smile as a consolation to her bare-faced lie, and the only thing you can do is sigh, nod, and leave her be until she finally gives in.

Though, in her world, giving in wasn't even a concept, nevermind an option. As expected, she woke up the next day feeling so much worse, to the point where she had no appetite and even if she wanted to eat, her throat was in way too much agony to simply just entertain that thought.

That was something you didn't realise though, because she normally had breakfast whilst you showered in the morning, meaning you didn't spot she had skipped that step. You also overlooked the fact she'd been completely non-verbal that day as she dared not to speak through fear of her voice failing her. It was only when you were rushing around, last minute of course, to pack your training bag when you needed her help.

"Ale, where are my new boots?" You called out from the bedroom, knowing she was at least somewhere in the flat. When you didn't get a response, you groaned frustratedly and marched out into the kitchen.

"Did you hear me?" You ask where she was seated at the kitchen island, slowly drinking a mug of honey and lemon tea whilst scrolling through her phone.

"I can't find my boots. Ale!"

Looking across at her from your place in the hallway by the front door, rooting through the storage cupboard beside it, Alexia shrugs half-heartedly.

"Okay, amazing, thanks for all your help. Don't blow up at me if we're late." You scoff at her, turning back to the cupboard.

Amidst your frantic search, you miss the way Alexia leans her body weight on the island counter in front of her as she stands, and the pained groan that goes with that. She walks over to the coffee table and pulls out the Nike box you were looking for from the bottom half of the unit, clearing her throat with a grimace before presenting it to you.

"Oh, thank god. Thanks, I'll be ready in literally just a minute, I swear." With a quick kiss to her cheek, you sprint back off to the bedroom to continue packing for the day.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Alexia fixes herself another honey and lemon tea that she purposely adds an ice cube to just so she can drink it before you come back in. It doesn't help at all though, and the realistic part of her mind immediately notices that is a huge red flag, but of course her workaholic mindset overrides it and shoves that thought to the side.

So when you come rushing back in, packed bag in hand, she offers a smile and leads you out of the apartment with a caring hand on your lower back.

Her untimely crash arrived later that day. The combination of a high fever and the symptoms that came with that and her illness, as well as the lack of food and the Barcelona sun, all colluded together to tear her down until all that was left was a lethargic and downtrodden shell of her.

You waited for what felt like forever as she showered, to the point where you were the only one left in the locker room. At some point she finally did walk out, her hair unbrushed and her face bright red and clammy despite the fact she had just showered, and her actions the past two days along with this appearance of hers caused alarm bells to ring in your head.

"Be honest, Alexia, how do you feel?" You question her pointedly, watching with a careful eye as she avoided your eyeline and cleared her throat for possibly the hundredth time that day.

"Fine." It was then that you realised that was the first time you'd actually heard her talk that day, and the sound of her voice sounded as comfortable as nails on a chalk board.

"Please, Ale, just be honest. You look awful." You tell her, to which she lets out a sharp breath, otherwise known as her attempt at a suppressed laugh. "What do you get out of lying about it? Nothing. If you're sick and feeling like shit, just admit it so we can figure out how to make you better."

The fact you said 'we' when talking about her being ill made the prospect of just dropping her act and accepting she's sick exceptionally more appealing, but she just couldn't do it. Tomorrow was an important Champion's League game, and there was no way she was going to miss it. Not a chance in hell.

"I am okay, I am coping. Let's go home." She managed to get out, swallowing harshly after speaking to choke down a gag due to the agonising burn of her throat.

"Will you at least take some medicine at home? There's no use feeling like this when there's things you can have to at least take the edge off." You try to compromise, knowing at the very least you will force some pills down her throat one way or the other.

She nods, finally admitting defeat to one little thing, and your stern persona softens a little. Under the light of the changing room, her face is pale apart from her rosy cheeks and there's a sheen to her forehead that indicates just how terrible she's feeling. And there was no point sugar-coating it, she really did look awful.

"Hey. Come here."

Offering your arms out for a hug, Alexia mumbles something you can't quite make out before stepping into your embrace and deflating with a deep sigh.

"It's all well and good hiding how you feel around the team, but not me. Please don't do it around me. A blind person could see you feel atrocious so please admit that and accept my help." You whisper, rubbing a hand up and down her back comfortingly.

"Don't want you to get sick." She mutters at the quietest volume she can, giving you a hint at just how much discomfort she was in.

"That doesn't matter to me. Let me take care of you. Please?" Hesitantly, she nods after a moment, so you pull back to get a good look at her face. What you're met with breaks your heart. "Oh, Ale. Let's get you home."

You do exactly that, demanding that she go get in bed the second you're through the door to your apartment. Now, in the comfort of her own home, you hope that she'll fully drop her guard down, but it seems a little trickier than you thought. She rejects the bed and settles for the sofa, though she grabs her laptop from the coffee table and opens it to start doing some work admin.

"What are you doing?" You ask when you come over with a glass of ice water and a pack of tablets.

"Work." She answers with a shrug. This was part of her routine, but you had guessed, incorrectly, that she would drop this part of the day considering how she was feeling.

"No, you should be resting." You tell her, sitting beside her and offering her the box of pills.

"I am not running on a football field anymore. I am on the couch like you asked. This is routine." Alexia answers. Her voice is barely there anymore, it was merely just a rasp, and the pain she hid was evident in each word.

"Alexia." You sigh disapprovingly, popping two tablets out of the packet for her. "If you're going to be like this, at least for the love of god take these pills."

She does as you say, swallowing them both with a grimace before turning her attention straight back to her laptop screen. You had tried your best to help her, but pressuring her further would only make the situation worse, so you relent and stifle a sigh. There was a little bit of guilt you felt at getting annoyed at her, but this was just who Alexia was. You didn't like this process, you despised it, but there would eventually be a time where she would come crawling back to you when her stubborn tendencies had taken it too far, you just hoped she was sensible about it.

It was undeniably difficult watching her as the afternoon bled into the evening, knowing at some point her meds had worn off and she was putting herself through torture for nothing. Still, she was adamant as ever that she was okay, so there was little you could do about it without causing an argument. The only positive was that she somewhat relaxed after eating less than a third of her dinner, cuddling up to you as the pair of you watched a film on the sofa.

Her blinks got slower and her eyelids drooped a little over halfway through though, so you decided it was time to usher her to bed. And if she refused, that would be your last straw before you blew up at her.

Thankfully, and quite surprisingly, she agreed and stood up before walking, very sluggishly, to your shared bedroom.

At her request, you make her a cup of the tea she'd had before and bring it to where she lay on her side once she'd done her routine, a hand covering her eyes to block any light. Placing the mug down on the table, you draw the curtains and sit beside her, one hand falling to her head to gently massage her scalp.

"Rest. Early night. Big game tomorrow." Alexia insists weakly, barely able to string a sentence together as she pats the space beside her for you to lay down.

"You've not taken any tablets, or drank your tea. I'm not resting until you do." You state, not-so-discreetly laying the back of your palm on her forehead to gauge her temperature. Her skin is burning, and you curse the pair of you for somehow not owning a thermometer in your flat. "Ale, you're really unwell."

"It's not too bad." She argues feebly, leaning up on shaky arms to sit up against the head board. You hand her the tea and tablets, watching as she winces even more than earlier whilst struggling to swallow the pills.

"Ale." You warn her. "I doubt you should even play tomorrow."

"No!" She croaks out, coughing afterwards. "I am playing. No other option."

Speechless at her defiance, you just shake your head and go about your own night routine. As you brush your teeth, you watch her through the crack in the door and see how she is when no one is around. Her face scrunches up every time she swallows, and her hand clutches at her throat too. Not only that, but you hear her let out strangled groans every so often whenever she moves, her body aching and her head pounding. This all indicates the exact kind of state she's in, and it's not one fit for a 90+ minute long, possibly intense, football game.

"Alexia, listen to me." You demand tenderly, sitting beside her again and taking her hand. "You are not well. Stop resisting that because you will only get worse. This game tomorrow, the rest of the team have it. I believe that absolutely, and I know you do too but you won't admit that aloud. I know what's going on in that head of yours; you're scared of letting people down and disappointing yourself, your family, me, and the fans. Well, I'll tell you. You won't let anyone down by not playing. People, and that includes me, just want you to be healthy. You can gaslight yourself into thinking you've not got a minor injury, but you can't do that in this situation. You need to slow down and rest before you end up in the back of an ambulance."

"It won't end like that." Alexia shakes her head.

"That was just an exaggeration, Ale. I have no doubt that you will be sensible and not let it get to that point. Please, for your own sake, prove me right." You sigh once more, flicking off the lamp to delve the room into darkness so you can settle for the night. "Get some sleep at least. I love you and I only want the best for you."

"Love you too."

The way she tucks herself up beside you for the night, her face buried in the gap between your neck and shoulder, tells you all you need to know. It's a subliminal sign of how much she needs you, a subconscious message that conveys how much she wants to give in to whatever illness she's got and let you take care of her. The thing is, she's not quite at that stage yet mentally.

So when you line up in the stadium tunnel the next day, a few people in between you both, you're staring daggers into the back of her head that she can surely sense.

Your attempts throughout the day to get her to skip just one match, where Barcelona were already winning 2-0 on aggregate, were completely futile because - shock horror! - she just would not listen. You gave her a piece of your mind multiple times, as did Irene and Marta and Mapi and other members of the Barcelona staff. What frustrated you most though, aside from Alexia's stubbornness, was Jona's willingness to put her on the pitch. He didn't think twice when Alexia confirmed with an apprehensive nod that she was well enough for the match today, and that's how you were in this situation now.

Throughout the whole first half, where Salma scored to make it 3-0 on aggregate, your eyes were on her any chance they could. By the 30th minute, her movements were sluggish and slightly lacklustre, you were adamant it was clear for everyone to see that playing today was not the right choice. Did that mean the referee or the match officials or Jona and his staff did anything about it? Absolutely not.

At a lull in the game, where the opposing goalkeeper was getting the ball for a goalkick, you jogged over to her and tugged on her jersey.

"You need to get off this pitch, Alexia. You are not fit to play." You warned her through gritted teeth before walking off without a response.

That didn't seem to deter her from continuing though, because she carried on playing like you hadn't spoken a word to her. Your fury only grew, and it took everything in you for it not to show through your actions in the game. You managed to suppress it until halftime, where you sprinted off the pitch to give Jona a lecture about the circumstances.

You were almost certain that, when Alexia walked back onto the pitch for the second half, there was steam coming out of your ears like a comedy sketch. If you thought your girlfriend looked awful the previous day, she looked even worse now.

"She snuck off to the toilets at halftime to... you know, throw up." Esmee reveals as you go to join the team huddle. That revelation just added fuel to the fire.

After the huddle, you carefully grasped her arm to give her another warning.

"Alexia, I know you were sick at the break. You need to get off the pitch, you are worrying me now." You choose a softer approach, hoping it'll get through to her.

"No. Leave it." She grunted, jogging away towards her starting position.

Turns out, as you had told her for the past 72 hours, that statement could not be more wrong. By the 60th minute, her movements were lethargic and lacked any strength or power, and each kick of the ball stole more energy from her already severely depleted endurance. Every step, every little movement felt like she was fighting a losing battle, and it was obvious to everybody at this point. Any longer and she would have had to been taken off on a stretcher.

But finally, finally, it seemed concerns were raised about her because she was substituted off. Alexia decided now was the time to give in, because truthfully she had never felt worse in her life.

The words from the staff and her teammates around her simply weren't registering in her head as she grabbed a puffer coat, zipped it up to her chin with the hood up, and staggered down the tunnel. She was freezing cold, yet to the touch of anyone else she was sure they'd be burnt at how hot her skin was. Stumbling through the door of the physio room, she just about made it to one of the beds before she collapsed down onto it.

By the time one of the team doctors caught up to her, she was shivering at an extreme level, also unable to stop the pathetic whimpers and whines that left her. The next period of time was a blur as the medics worked around her, urging her to take off the jacket as a cold cloth was draped across her neck and a bottle of water with electrolytes in it was handed to her. She sipped at it periodically, eyes tightly shut as the effect of her defiance ripped through her. With not much else to do right now but bask in self-pity, she was filled with regret and shame for letting it get to this point, where she couldn't even finish a game. If you were to ask her now, not that she could really talk, she would confess that she absolutely should not have played today.

To put it simply, she had exerted herself far too much and pushed way beyond the limits that her health could handle. Her actions were dangerous, to no one other than herself, and that paired with the worry people no doubt felt for her, eventually led to tears seeping from her eyes. She would never admit that they were mostly a result of how unwell she was feeling, no, she wasn't at that point yet.

The only saving grace in this whole thing was when you rushed into the room once the match was over. When you approached her, her eyes were still closed and she appeared to be stuck in some kind of trance. Your hand on her waist didn't alert her, neither did the hand that brushed her hair out of her face where it stuck to her forehead.

"Ale?" You whispered, jumping a little when her eyes flew open.

There was no other reaction from her though, she just looked at you with wide, frantic, fearful eyes that seemed to plead for help. It was then that you realised the trance she was in was a state of shock, and it instilled fear in you too.

"We think it's best we take her to the out of hours doctors. She has symptoms of tonsillitis, I doubt it is anything more severe than that, and it's just been made worse by playing today and not resting." One of the members of the medical team advised, to which you nodded instantly.

"Yeah, absolutely. Can someone drive us there please?" You asked, glancing back down at your girlfriend to see her eyes had shut again as more tears streamed from them. You took one of her hands and cupped her cheek, your thumb gently stroking over the burning skin of her face.

"Of course. We'll have it outside in a few minutes."

It was a struggle trying to get her to the car, but eventually you were in the backseat with her leaning heavily against you, her head on your shoulder. You clutched at her hand for the whole drive, filled with intense concern for the woman beside you. She could barely keep her eyes open, nevermind talk or move. To sum it up, she was ruined. And though, rationally, you knew it was all her own doing, you couldn't help but feel somewhat at fault for it getting this bad. Ultimately, there were lessons to be learnt for the both of you, and you'd be damned if you weren't going to do better next time. You never wanted to go through this again, nor did you ever want to even imagine Alexia this sick again.

The team doctor that accompanied you explained the situation to the receptionist at the sign-in desk, and fortunately there was a doctor available immediately for Alexia to see. That was a huge weight off your shoulders, literally, because the nurses helped to guide Alexia to the consultation room and assisted her in laying down on the bed.

It was quickly decided that giving Alexia an IV was the best way to start as it would provide her with fluids that she had lacked recently, before the doctor assessed how bad her tonsillitis was. He then prescribed her a round of strong antibiotics for her to take for the next ten days, something that would be a struggle due to the condition her throat was in but she'd get it done.

Now in proper care receiving treatment, Alexia was feeling slightly better and a lot less spaced out. The staff member from Barca had left a while ago once Alexia had been seen to, and for the moment the doctor had stepped out of the room to get her tablets. That left the pair of you alone now, for the first time since before the game earlier.

You were stood beside her bed, still grasping tightly to one hand as the other repeatedly ran over her hair to comfort her. Though, out of nowhere, Alexia rolled over and it worried your for a moment, thinking she might be sick, but she only dropped your hand and pulled you closer by the waist so that she could hide her face in your jersey covered stomach. With a soft smile, you let her rest there, glad she was doing well now.

No words needed to be uttered, it was a moment of silent intimacy that allowed both of you to process the events that had occurred and begin to decompress from the stress of it all. There was no doubt in your mind that your girlfriend was still feeling rougher than ever, but there was comfort found in the fact that she wasn't hiding her true feelings now. What she needed was you, that's all she wanted all along, and in this moment now she started to think she was borderline crazy for denying herself from that.

You could pin-point the exact moment she had that thought, because despite her weakness, she managed to pull you tighter to herself. Additionally, you felt her body deflate as she sighed into your shirt.

"Sorry."

Through her limited words that you had quickly grown accustomed to over the past few days, you know there are about a hundred other things she wants to say in this moment, but her voice and her vocabulary fail her. You couldn't blame her or fault her though, you never could, because that one word placed a plaster over an anxious crack that had formed with everything that had occurred.

"It's alright, Ale. I'm just glad you're on the mend now." She leans back a little and looks up at you with anxious, bloodshot eyes, and you understand the message she's trying to communicate. Your heart plunged at the broken sight of her, but you quickly reminded yourself this wasn't the time for that. You needed to relax almost as much as she did. "Don't worry about it, my love. Just relax for now, that's all I ask of you."

That seems to do the trick, because she settles back down afterwards and the last bout of stress leaves her body. Despite her weakened movements, her grip on your waist never faltered. The simple fact of it all was that you both needed the proximity right now. Love languages always came across as a bit of a farce to you both, but it was hard to deny that right now one of them was being portrayed at its utmost strength.

There was one last thing, however, that you had to do to settle those last niggling anxieties.

You move out of Alexia's space momentarily, smiling slightly at the disapproving mewl she lets out, and she watches with one eye as you pull up a chair beside her so that you're at a more equal level. She's still lay on her side facing you, one side of her face smushed against the bed which makes you let out a quiet giggle that pulls a confused look out of Alexia.

"You look a bit cute right now." You tell her, grinning when she huffed and closed her eyes. From your new position, you raise a hand and slowly start tracing your index finger up over her nose and down the right side of her face, repeating the movement over and over again. "I love you."

Her eyes opened once more at the statement you uttered, a hint of a genuine smile blooming on her face for what might be the first time that day.

"Same." Was all she could mumble, making you laugh and the sound of it caused her smile to grow.

"I feel bad for laughing but I can't help it." You somewhat apologise, and Alexia rolls her eyes jokingly.

When she gazes at you again, you're completely overcome with love and admiration for her, knowing there's not a soul on earth you could adore in the same way you do for her. At that, you lean forward to press your lips against hers, but upon first contact, she jolts away with wide eyes.

"No, amor." She grumbled despite the pain it caused her.

"Why not?" You wondered, feeling a little butt hurt at the rejection.

"You will get sick." The midfielder states like it's an obvious fact. Well, she was wrong.

"No I won't." You claim with a sly grin. When she frowned in confusion, you giggled. "I had my tonsils removed when I was younger."

A look of understanding and relief crosses her face, before she smiles and pouts up at you dramatically. To deny her now would be sinful. Her lips are a little chapped, but in the grand scheme of things, that minor fact is like a drop in the ocean, because your girlfriend is here, and she's safe, and she's going to get better, and most importantly of all, she's in love with you. In sickness and in health, right?

"You really are as white as a piece of paper, Ale."

"Stop being mean."

[sexlapis]

- house decor

꩜ nanami x reader

synopsis: you & nanami go home decor shopping and your methods for choosing furniture are…interesting to say the least.

suggestive, heavy sex implications, crack fic, fluff, gender neutral!reader, nanami & reader are married, reader embarrassing nanami

a/n: inspired by this tiktok video ^_^

masterlists

*

you do not enjoy shopping.

the bustling crowd, the loud, busy atmosphere, the blinding strain of artificial light and constantly moving around on your feet for hours on end when you desired the comfort of your home.

you do not enjoy shopping.

unfortunately for you, your newly wedded husband nanami did and being the good partner you are, you willingly put aside your mild discomfort to make him happy.

it’s so difficult being a good, loving and caring partner for your husband, really.

after shoving all of your previous shopping in the trunk of the car, relief floods you. finally, this day is over. it’s only 4pm and a long, cosy afternoon nap awaits at home.

instead, nanami waits beside the car, holding his hand out for you to hold. “come on. we still have one more place left.”

“what!” you groan. “i thought that was the last one!”

“nu-uh. just this one and we’re all done for the day.”

grumbling, you place your hand in his. nanami smiles softly at you and your frustrations ease just a little.

he drags you along the buzzing car park all the way to a large, furniture store.

furniture, huh?

“oh! furniture shopping!” you gleam, a mischievous glint in your eyes that nanami fails to notice. “i’m okay with this.”

“i think that is the happiest you’ve looked since we left the house.”

“yeah, i can tolerate shopping for furniture. not your five billion candles! also, i get to sit down.

“ah, _____,” nanami sighs fondly, pecking your temple quickly, “you are so lazy…”

you huff, but your attention is grabbed by a two-seater, emerald coloured sofa of velvet material. it looked comfortable and seemed like a good deal.

you glide your hand along the rim of the furniture. “what’d you think of this one, kento?”

“hm..it’s alright.” he replies, walking around the sofa and inspecting it like it needs a good fix. “it’s a little small, though.”

“yeah. yeah, that true,” you say, standing behind the lovely, exquisitely made piece of furniture.

you then place both hands onto the outside back of the sofa, and lean forward, effectively bending over. you shift around, seeing how it feels.

glancing back, you see nanami tilt his head and squint his eyes at you.

“…what are you doing?”

you smirk. “you know, jus’…seeing how it feels,” you grunt, standing back up and dusting your hands off like you did a job well done, “it’s too short for me anyway, it would hurt my hips when we..y’know…”

nanami lifts a brow on his perfect face, waiting for you to elaborate.

but you just turn to the kitchen section, skipping away to see what other pieces of furniture and house decorations you can terrorise.

“this one is nice.” you say to nanami, who followed you all the way even in his confusion, of course.

the kitchen setup was modern and sleek, taking on neutral tones like beige, white and brown.

“yes, i do like this one. i can see myself cooking on here.” nanami replies, referring to the electric oven.

“yeah, yeah..” you speak, opening and closing the kitchen cupboards. “hm.”

“what is it?”

“i dunno,” and then, you’re bending over again, this time over the kitchen counter display. “this area is a bit small too,” you jerk your body exaggeratedly, repeatedly moving forwards and backwards like you were being fucked, almost hitting your head on the cupboard above, “yeah, i don’t-”

“_____!” nanami hisses, face morphing into a incredulous expression as he marches over to you, quickly putting a stop to you act, “what are you doing?”

you look up at him from where you’re bent over. “wh-i’m testing it out. seeing if it’s what we need and whatnot,” you turn back around, still in the same position, “okay, now do a few practice thrusts on me, i need to see if-”

“_____!”

“okay, okay.” you huff, laughing a little. you stand up straight, taking a good look at nanami.

a pink tinge coats his cheeks and nose while he frowns at you, almost pouting.

how cute.

you grin and latch onto his fingers, pulling him along with you. “let’s see the bed section now.”

nanami sighs. this day will be longer than he thought.

*

you plonk yourself down on the alaskan sized mattress, body bouncing with the bed itself. sprawling out like a starfish, you hum, letting yourself sink into the comfort of the bed.

nanami stands, seemingly unimpressed. “_____, that’s the sixth time you’ve done that.”

“yeah, kento, i need to see if it’s good to lie on after a long day of work or something..” an idea springs to mind and you sit up quickly, “okay, try throwing me on the bed, but not too hard.”

“_____, no-”

“come on! nobody’s around. look.” you were correct, there was hardly anyone in the store at this time, considering it was a thursday and nearing late afternoon. “just indulge me. just this once,” you beam up at him, “please?”

nanami stared down at you. he and you both know that he will give in. he can’t say no to you, really.

nanami rolls his eyes at himself, holding his hands out and beckoning you over. “come here then..”

you spring up, practically running to him and throwing yourself in his arms. “throw me!”

he shakes his head at you, looking around before throwing you onto the bed. you bounce, cackling and smiling widely as you lay on the bed. nanami shakes his head fondly, looking down at your delighted face. “how is it?”

you breathe heavily, making a face. “eh,” you jump off the bed, “too bouncy and too loud.”

“really?” nanami blanks. “you’ve been jumping on this bed for ten minutes and you don’t-”

“ooo, come look at this armchair, kento!” but you’re already off to your next piece of furniture. you kneel down a little, “this one looks comfy.”

“yeah,” huffing, nanami strolls over, “yeah, it’s nice.”

your hand finds nanami’s back and you prompt him forward. “sit on it.”

he gives you a look. “and you won’t do anything ridiculous?”

“nanami.” you look at him pointedly. “sit on it, i wanna see what you think.”

nanami stared at you for second and obeys, walking to the couch and sitting, legs spread and arms resting.

“what’d you think?” you ask, admiring his thick legs and arms as you stalk closer to him.

“yes, it’s comfortable,” nanami stated and shifts a little. he feels the leather material of the armrest, “and good quality i’d say.”

“hmmm.” that’s all that is said before you’re plopping yourself onto his lap.

nanami sputters. “_____, wh-”

“shh, shush, i’m not gonna do anything this time. just wanna see how i feel sitting on your lap in this chair,” you look back at him from where you’re seated, smiling innocently, “yeah?”

nanami’s eyes thin, clearly not believing you and not a fan of displaying such intimate affection so publicly, but he sighs, “alright….”

you nod joyfully, rubbing his knee and turning to look at the layout of this particular living room. a large, black, smart television that nanami would definitely deem unnecessary, a cream, ruffled rug laid out across the floor, a mahogany, oval-shaped coffee table.

“this one’s pretty boring, right?”

nanami runs a hand down his stubble covered jaw. he forgot to shave, but you can’t say you don’t like it. “yeah, the only thing i like is the armchair.”

before he even finishes his sentence, you’re momentarily bouncing on his lap like a pogo stick, not even giving nanami time to process what just happened before you stand up, placing your hands on your hips. “yeah, yeah we should definitely get this one. comfy, quiet, nice looking. will fit perfectly into our living room, don’t you think?”

nanami stares at you, still planted on the armchair, unmoving. “i have nothing to say to you. you’re unbelievable.”

you cackle. “do you even know me?”

he mumbles, rising from the seat, adjusting his jeans slightly. you smirk, biting your lip and go to say something teasing, but he stops you, “not. a. word.”

*

a brand new, comfortable and most importantly, durable, leather armchair sits in your living room by the end of next week.

a/n: i luv when reader is a little tease 🤭🤭🤭

[gamergirl929]

I Shouldn't Be Jealous (You Aren't Even Mine) (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

Kristie Mewis knew she didn't have the right to be jealous, sleeping together in no way meant you were dating. However, when she saw Alessia Russo's arms wrapped tightly around you, she couldn't help but march across the field and stake her claim on something she wanted and didn't have.

Disclaimer: Full disclosure, this fic contains smut, if that isn't your think, feel free to skip this one, otherwise, I hope you enjoy, feel free to let me know what you think, feedback is appreciated! ❤️❤️❤️

“Y/N!”  

You turn on your heels, your lips splitting in a massive grin when you see Alessia Russo jogging your way. 

Considering you were currently a member of Arsenal, you and Alessia were incredibly tight, you had grown up together after all and even when Alessia left the NWSL to play overseas, you were still thick as thieves.

Since your childhood, you were attached at the hip, partners in crime your parents would call you, and that still stands to this day.  

You can’t help but laugh when Alessia lifts you in the air and does a spin, the blonde kissing your cheek playfully.  

“Knock it off.” You snort, pushing her chest halfheartedly, the blonde wrapping her arms around your neck.  

“But it’s been so long since we seen each other!” She giggles and you roll your eyes.  

“I don’t think I’d call a few weeks a ‘long time’.” Your fingers forming quotation marks in the air.  

Alessia swats at your hands.  

“Don’t act like you didn’t miss me...” She smirks and you shake your head, knowing that she was right.  

“Shut up.”  

You’re so deep in conversation with your best friend, that you don’t realize you’re being watched closely by a certain mid-fielder, a mid-fielder who was currently fuming.

************************************************************************

Kristie Mewis was jealous, incredibly jealous.  

She knew she shouldn’t be; she knew she had NO reason to be, it wasn’t as if you were dating after all, but seeing Alessia Russo run up to you, wrapping her arms tightly around you and spinning you in her hold made her scowl.  

She knew you weren’t dating, sleeping together to blow of some steam didn’t mean you were dating, but she still couldn’t stop the urge to stake her claim, especially when Alessia’s hands rested gently on your waist.  

The final straw for her was when Alessia’s arms wrapped around your neck, the blonde kissing your cheek lovingly, whispering softly in your ear.  

Kristie’s hands ball into fists, her nostrils flaring.  

“What’s the matter with you?” Emily Sonnett asks, her brows furrowed.  

She follows Kristie’s gaze, her hazel orbs widening.  

Her lips split in realization, the blonde turning back towards her teammate.  

“Oh my god, you’re jealous.” She teases, falling silent when the older woman shoots her a glare.  

Emily bursts into laughter, her arms wrapped around her middle.  

“You’re SO jealous.” She snickers, Kristie’s blue orbs going aflame, something that makes Emily’s laughter cease.  

“Coming Lindsey!” She yells, Lindsey Horan turning towards her with an arched brow.  

“I didn’t-- 

“Yes, you did, now let's go.” She says, dragging the USWNT captain away, the woman wearing a confused expression.  

Meanwhile, Kristie is still seething, her feet subconsciously carrying her towards the two of you.  

You turn, your eyes widening when you see the look on Kristie’s face, your brows furrowing.  

“Is something wrong?” You ask as you approach her, the blonde glaring daggers at Alessia, her brows arched as Kristie reaches her hand out, shaking it a bit harder than necessary.  

“Good game.” She says through gritted teeth, Alessia’s blue orbs darting between the two of you.  

“Everything okay?” She asks, her brows knitted in confusion. 

Kristie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with a smug smirk, noting the twitch at the corner of Alessia’s mouth.  

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Kristie asks, giving your hand a squeeze, her hand resting on the front of your jersey, your muscles prominent beneath her palm.  

“Are you ready?” She asks, your eyes dropping to the hand resting on your abdomen, your cheeks flushing. 

“U-Uh, yeah, give me just a second.” You say, turning towards Alessia, giving her a shrug, the two of you equally confused.  

“Well, I gotta get going anyway. It was great seeing you!” Alessia says, wrapping her arms around you once more, Kristie’s hand still very much in your own as you hug the English Player.  

Alessia turns, kissing your cheek again before she jogs towards her teammates, Kristie’s blue orbs burning holes in her back.  

“Are you okay?” You ask as you turn to Kristie, her blue orbs leaving Alessia’s retreating form and locking with your Y/E/C’s.  

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She says, her voice clipped.  

“Kris, I know you.” You say, placing your hands on her shoulders before you turn her towards you.  

“I know when something is wrong.” You say, ducking down to catch her gaze.  

Kristie sighs.  

“It’s nothing, now come on, we have to get to the locker room.” She says, dragging you across the field towards the locker room.  

You screech to a halt, your eyes widening, a smirk stretching across your face.  

“Were you staking your claim on me Mewis?” You ask teasingly, the woman stalling mid-step.  

“Were you jealous?” You say, poking her in the side playfully.  

She growls, turning on you her blue orbs locking with your Y/E/C’s.  

“I was NOT staking my claim on anything, and I am CERTAINLY not jealous.” She growls, her hand leaving yours as she stomps towards the locker room. 

************************************************************************

Kristie avoided you for the remainder of the day, you’d never seen the woman so jealous, but you also knew she’d never seen someone hanging all over you before.  

You hadn’t expected her to react the way she did however, you hadn’t expected the woman you were simply sleeping with to stake her claim on you in front of your best friend.  

In all honesty, it kind of made your heart swell.  

You knew when you started this arrangement with Kristie, it was about blowing off steam, about having your pleasure sated with someone you trusted, and that someone was Kristie Mewis.  

Your arrangement first started at the World Cup, the two of you sleeping together nearly the entirety of your time overseas.  

Though you thought no feelings would develop, they did, and they did in such a way that made you long for the blonde for more than just sex.  

You wanted her, in every sense of the word, you wanted to hold her, to call her yours, but that wasn’t what you agreed to, that wasn’t going to happen.  

At least that’s what you thought, now though, with her current display on the field in front of Alessia, you wondered if she felt the same way you do.  

Just as the thought cross your mind, your hotel room door swings open, the woman you were sharing it with making her way inside, her blue orbs meeting your Y/E/C’s.  

“Hey.” Kristie whispers, dropping her bag on the floor beside her bed before making her way out onto the balcony where you're standing.

The silence is tense, and awkward, the two of you choosing to remain silent, that is until Kristie’s hand moves to rest on top of your own.  

Your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing pink as she pushes her fingers in between your own.  

“You were right.” She confesses softly, your brows arching, though you remain silent.  

“I was jealous.” She mumbles, a small smile stretching across your face.  

“Why?” You ask, Kristie sighing softly as she shakes her head.  

“I-I just...” She stammers, her mouth opening and closing, as if searching for a way to put her thoughts into words.  

Instead, her mouth shuts, the blonde instead, cupping your cheeks gently before pulling you into a kiss.  

The kiss is unlike any you shared before, the kisses between you before driven by lust, this kiss however isn’t.  

It’s passionate, it’s soft, and loving, neither of you attempting to deepen the kiss like you typically did before, content with the slow and tender kisses you were sharing.  

You reluctantly part, Kristie’s forehead leaning against your own, your noses brushing lightly.  

“I love you, Y/N.” She confesses, your heart skipping a beat in your chest, your eyes going glassy.  

“I think I have for a while, and seeing you with Alessia, just...” She shakes her head, her gaze falling to the floor.  

“I wanted to be the one holding you like that.” She murmurs, her breath hitching when you tilt her chin upward with your fingertip until her eyes meet yours.  

“First off, Alessia and I are only friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.” You say softly, gently stroking Kristie’s chin.  

“And second.” You pause, leaning in, your lips meeting hers again, the kiss even softer than the one you’d shared before.  

“I love you too.” You whisper, Kristie’s eyes widening, her blue orbs watery as she surges in, her lips slamming against your own.  

The kiss is intense and emotional, the small of your back meeting the balcony’s railing as you kiss, Kristie’s tongue eventually making its way into your mouth.  

Her breath catches in her throat when you guide her backwards, her back now meeting the opposite railing.  

Your tongues tangle, the blonde midfielder moaning into your mouth, her hands sliding up the back of your shirt, her fingertips prodding into your back. 

She gasps when you lift her into the air, pressing her against the balcony’s door, burying your face in her neck, the woman moaning as you nip at her pulse point.  

Her legs wrap around your middle as you suck a bruise into her neck, now staking your claim on the woman you have pinned between you and the glass door.  

You carry her into the room, gently placing her onto the bed’s surface, something you’d done multiple times, but this time it was so different.  

You jerk your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but a bra and the pajama bottoms you were wearing.  

Kristie holds her arms up, a signal that she wanted her upper body to be as bare as your own.  

You jerk her shirt over her head, tossing it across the room before crawling on top of her, your lips inches away from her own.  

“I know we’ve done this plenty of times before, but I want this to mean something.” You whisper, the woman’s chest rising and falling rapidly.  

You yelp when you’re rolled over onto your back, the woman now straddling your middle.  

You sigh when her hands settle on your stomach, her fingers prodding into your abdominal muscles as she teasingly runs a finger down the line between your abs.  

“I do too.” She says softly, smiling as she ducks down to kiss your lips before almost immediately pulling back.  

Your throat bobs when she undoes her bra in one swift motion, the sight of her bare chest never ceasing to make your cheeks flush.  

She moans softly, her head tilting backwards when you cup her breasts, lightly teasing her nipples with your thumbs.  

“Ah.” She moans when you sit up, your lips wrapping around one of her erect nipples, your tongue lashing against the pink bud.  

Lithe fingers tangle in your hair as you turn your attention to her other breast, giving it equal treatment as the other, but unlike the other, you leave small purple bruises in your wake.  

“Who’s staking their claim on who now?” Kristie teases and you chuckle, rolling the two of you over, her back now against the bed beneath you.  

“Nobody better ever see these besides me.” You say, flicking your tongue against her nipple again, Kristie gasping softly.  

She sits up, unhooking your bra, her lips wrapping around your own nipple, a groan crawling up your throat.  

“God, I love that sound.” She says against your breast, giving your nipple a light bite before turning her attention to the other.  

You push her back onto the bed, her back arching when you slide a hand between you, her slick already soaking through her shorts.  

“So wet for me, huh?” You ask, teasingly drawing small circles against the wet spot on her shorts.  

“Oh.” She moans, throwing her head back when your teasing caresses increase in speed, the circles you're drawing against her much faster than before.  

“Just like that.” She sighs, her brows knitting as your hand leaves her entirely.  

She moans loudly when she realizes your hand is sliding into her shorts, bypassing her panties and making direct contact with her clit.  

“Fuck.” She moans as you press your thumb against her clit, giving it a small rub.  

“Please.” She begs, whimpering when you tease her opening with your fingertips.  

“Mmm.” She whines when you slide two fingers into her tight heat, your fingers expertly and almost immediately finding her spongey frontal wall.  

She keens as your fingers slip in and out of her, curling in just the right way to massage the spot in her that makes her see stars. 

“Yessss.” She hisses, her dark blue orbs fluttering open, locking with your equally dark Y/E/C’s.  

“Keep your eyes open.” You whisper, your throat bobbing as she does everything to fight her fluttering eyelids, her core fluttering around your fingers.  

She gasps when you slip a third finger into her, the pulsating of her core around your fingers, telling you that she was close.  

“I love you, Kris.” You whisper, leaning in, your forehead resting against hers as your fingers slide in and out of her pulsing core.  

“I love too-- 

Kristie’s back arches, a high-pitched moan leaving her as she trembles, her core clenching down around you, pulling your fingers in.  

You draw small circles on her clit, prolonging her orgasm, the woman continuing to twitch and whimper. 

She grabs your wrist, stopping you from rubbing her clit any further.  

“Jesus.” She pants, a smirk stretching across your face as you grab her ruined shorts and panties, dragging them down her body and tossing them behind you.  

Your eyes lock with Kristie’s as you slide down her body, your tongue swiping across your lips as you hook Kristie’s legs up over your shoulders.  

You wiggle your eyebrows, the blonde giggling as you tickle her inner thighs with the tip of your nose.  

“Do you think you can handle anymore?” You ask, kissing the inside of her thigh tenderly.  

“We can always stop if you want.” You smile, leaning your cheek against her thigh, the blonde brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face.  

“You get in THAT position, and you think I’m going to tell you to stop now?” She asks with a grin, and you chuckle.  

“I will admit, I WAS hoping you wouldn't want to stop.” You smirk, your eyes falling to her glistening core.  

Kristie’s fingers tangle roughly in your hair when you surge in, running your tongue along her slit before flicking it against her clit.  

“Fuck.” She sighs, moaning when your tongue runs through her lower lips, teasingly circling her entrance.  

Her back arches, her eyes squeezed shut. 

“Right there.” She whimpers when you start sucking on the throbbing pink bundle of nerves between her legs.  

Kristie’s back arches off the bed as she climaxes with a loud cry that you know can be heard in the rooms nearby.  

She quakes violently, your lips wrapped firmly around her clit, sucking it wildly until she’s crying out again, being rocked with a third orgasm.  

This time, you stop, knowing the blonde was spent, the woman panting heavily, staring bleary eyed at the ceiling above.  

“You alright there?” You ask as you crawl up her body, the woman chuckling breathlessly as you collapse beside her.  

“More than alright.” She says, covering her eyes with her hands before she turns towards you, your arms wrapping around her as you pull her against your chest.  

“What about you?” She asks, and you hum, ducking down to kiss the top of her head.  

“I think we’ll have enough time for you to return the favor, don’t you?” You ask, the woman leaning back to look into your eyes, a loving smile stretched across your face, your Y/E/C orbs sparkling with what could only be described as pure adoration.  

She leans in, pressing her lips gently against your own, before bumping the tip of your nose with hers.

“Yeah, we do.” She says softly and your lips split in a grin.  

“You better, I mean I DID just make you orgasm three times.” You shrug and she rolls her eyes, giving your shoulder a playful shove.  

“Oh, trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” She snorts and you smirk your tongue trapped between your teeth as you sneakily slip your hand back between her legs, the woman gasping when your fingers again brush her clit.  

She whimpers, her arms wrapping tightly around you as you draw small circles against the swollen bundle of nerves between her legs. 

Her back arches as your small circles increase in speed, her brows furrowed.  

“Fuck.” She says, her mouth a gape, her head tilted back.  

It isn’t long before she begins shuddering as she climaxes again, her nails digging into your back as her thighs quake, the slick between her legs growing.  

“Shit.” She whispers against your neck, panting heavily, her hot breath dampening your skin.  

“You won’t forget that one either, right?” You ask, and she chuckles, kissing your collarbone.  

“Not a chance.” She says, continuing to pant, gently caressing your back, knowing she’d done some damage with her nails.

You snort, the woman pulling away from you with a furrowed brow.  

“What’s so funny?” She asks and you chuckle.  

“I thought you were going to murder Alessia.”  

She scoffs, hiding her face against your neck.  

“Shut up.” She mumbles and you chuckle, tightening your hold on the woman.  

“Come on, it was cute.”  

You yelp when she playfully nips at your collarbone.  

“It wasn’t cute.” She growls and you snort, the woman squeaking when you give her sides a squeeze.  

“It was.”  

She groans, nuzzling against your collarbone, a smirk stretching across your face.  

“If this is what happens every time you get jealous, I might have to make you jealous more often.” 

Kristie whines, her voice muffled by your shoulder, the exhaustion in her voice evident.  

“You better not.”  

You chuckle, kissing the top of her head again.  

“I only have eyes for you.” You whisper against the top of her head, smiling when you realize the woman has dozed off.   

You nuzzle against the top of her head before whispering again.  

“I’ve only ever had eyes for you Kristie Mewis and I will always only have eyes for you.”  

You tighten your hold on her, the woman humming as you bury your face in her blonde hair, you too eventually drifting off with the woman you loved, and the woman who loved you fast asleep in your arms.  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.” 

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.” 

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.” 

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox. 

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff. 

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter. 

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time. 

“God, it’s late,” he says. 

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...” 

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.” 

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--” 

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.” 

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--” 

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?” 

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen. 

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.” 

“What is this about? The date?” He asks. 

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.” 

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view. 

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.” 

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch. 

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut. 

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.” 

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints. 

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.” 

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top. 

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder. 

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?” 

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.” 

“Right, lined up the block, huh?” 

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.” 

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out. 

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet. 

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward. 

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.  

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets. 

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard. 

“Water?” He asks. 

“Sure, fridge,” you point. 

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop. 

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!” 

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash. 

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you. 

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.” 

“I was trying to help,” you say. 

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches. 

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?” 

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears. 

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.” 

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?” 

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.” 

[jayybugg]

church

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader Based on the song Church by Chase Atlantic

Summary: You and Enzo are in an endless, toxic cycle.

Warnings: Language, Slight Time Skips, Jealous, Toxic Enzo, Smut (18+), No specific house mentioned, Cheating, Use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.6K

Music:

Note: HI soooo here's another fic based on a song. Hope you guys enjoy it! Again, thank you @pizzaapeteer for proofreading and @cafekitsune for the banner. ENJOY!

You’re wearing nothing but my t-shirt,

Call me shallow but I’m only getting deeper, yeah

Stay on the ground until your knees hurt

No more praying, baby, I’ma be your preacher

You stood in front of Enzo’s mirror, fixing your hair and make-up. You wore only his quidditch jumper, completely bare underneath. Not even underwear. Enzo watched you intensely as you dolled yourself up.

“What are you doing?” Enzo asked. Your eyes met his in the mirror, a smirk curving  onto your lips. “I’m getting ready for my date, of course.”

Enzo’s eyes narrowed, searching your face for any bluff. He didn’t see any, just confidence and determination. He stood up and walked over  to you, standing behind you in the mirror. He twirled a piece of your hair around his finger before sliding his hand up to your roots. Before you could react, Enzo was gripping your hair and yanking your head back to look at him.

“Going on a date? After I just railed you into my mattress for the last hour? Are you that desperate for attention?” Enzo said, his voice dripping with insult, he frowns at the smile growing on your face.

“Last time I checked, I was single.” You laughed, “Shouldn’t you be cleaning up your dorm before your girlfriend gets here?”

Enzo releases your hair, spinning you around to look at him. His hands cup the sides of your face, clasping your jaw. “Is that what this is about? Are you jealous, Y/N?”

You scoffed at Enzo’s question. Of course, you were jealous. You were the “other woman”, and you hated it. You were possessive and wanted him to yourself, but his stupid girlfriend was always there. Were you going to tell Enzo that? Absolutely not. He didn’t need his ego inflated more than it already was.

“Get over yourself, Berkshire.” You rolled your eyes. You attempted to pull away from him, but he wrapped his right hand around your neck, keeping you close. “Don’t fuck with me, sweetheart. You’re mine and you know that.”

“I’m not-”

Enzo pushed you to your knees, keeping his grip on your neck. “Shut the fuck up. You want to go on a date? Fine, but I’m going to keep that pretty mouth of yours occupied until it’s time for you to leave.” Enzo muttered, “Open your mouth.”

You looked up at Enzo, squeezing your thighs together. You opened your mouth slowly as Enzo pulled down his boxers. He wasted no time shoving himself into your mouth. He held your head in place, gripping your hair as he used your throat as he pleased. Your knees dug deep into the floor as tears flooded your eyes, but you cared little about the pain.

And I’ll keep leading you on

If you keep leading me into your room

The drinks are all gone

But that’s fine, baby, so am I

Your blood boiled as you watched Enzo whisper into his girlfriend’s ear. It pissed you off how she giggled and clung to him. Your heart was pounding louder in your chest than the music that boomed through the Slytherin common room. The party was in full swing, but you stood in a corner, too occupied with your anger to enjoy it. Maybe your anger came from your own stupidity. Maybe you weren’t angry at Enzo or his girlfriend, maybe you were truly angry at yourself.

You scoff as you watch Enzo's hands roam the girl’s body. That was all you needed to see before you downed the rest of your drink and marched over to the dancefloor. You didn’t need Enzo. You could get any boy at this party because you were fucking hot. You knew that, Enzo knew that, everyone knew that.

This included Enzo’s friends.

You spotted Draco’s blonde hair easily as you weaved through the crowd. You knew Draco had a small crush on you. He was a little too prideful and shy to ever actually admit it, but it was obvious from the way he stared at you whenever you came around him.

“Malfoy.” You called for him. Draco turned, his eyes low and red. He must've just got back from a “walk” with Mattheo and Theo. “Y/N.” His eyes scanned your body before finding their way back to your face. “You look good.”

“Don’t I always look good?” You teased, pushing your body up against him. Draco’s eyes traveled to your breast before chuckling. “You do.”

You could feel eyes burning into your back as you talked to Draco. It was a no-brainer as to who it was. Smirking, you grabbed Draco’s hand. “Dance with me.”

Draco didn’t protest. He downed the rest of his drink, throwing the cup away before following you to the floor. You grinded against him as his hands roamed your body. His hands found their way to your ass, giving it a light squeeze.

Your eyes found Enzo again. His gaze was focused on you, ignoring whatever his girlfriend was saying in his ear. “Bathroom. Now.” He mouthed to you.

You clenched your thighs together, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be right back, Dray.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you rushed to the bathroom. You shut the bathroom door, locking it swiftly. It didn’t take long for you to hear three rapid knocks; you unlocked the door and Enzo slid in, locking the door behind him. His eyes were ablaze as he glared down at you.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?” You tilted your head in fake confusion. Enzo scoffed, walking closer to you. You took a step back, your back hitting the wall.

“Don’t act stupid, love.” He growled, “Is this because I was spending time with my girlfriend? Are you angry?”

Enzo’s voice was mocking. He was belittling you.

“You know what? Yes, I am angry. I’m angry because you treat me like shit. Like I don’t matter but then you do shit like this. You’re possessive and overprotective, you’re leading me on.” You sneered at him, fed up. The liquor in your body was spilling the feelings that you so desperately were trying to keep back.

“Of course, I’m leading you on. As long as I get to have you, I’ll do anything to keep you.”

Enzo’s lips pressed against yours before you could think about anything to say. Your mind blanked as he slipped, his tongue passed your lips and his hand slid up your dress.

Pulling away slightly, he mumbled against your lips, “You’re mine, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.”

I’m about to take you back to church (back to church, baby)

Well, tell me your confessions, baby, what’s the worst? (yeah, what’s the worst?)

Baptize in your thighs ‘til it hurts (you know it hurts)

‘Cause I’m about to take you back to church (oh, yeah)

You were tucked away in the corner of the library, reading a book. The library was empty as you had skipped your last two classes to go to your hideaway spot. Your legs were tucked under you, causing your skirt to rise as you immersed yourself in your book.

The book had captivated your attention, the world uned out to you. So tuned out that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps that approached your corner. 

Enzo leaned against a bookshelf, eyeing you.“So, this is what you’re doing instead of attending class.”

You jumped, looking up frantically. You clutched your chest, glaring at Enzo while he smirked at you. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You scared the shit out of me.” You said breathlessly.

“Maybe if you weren’t so absorbed in that book, you would’ve heard me coming.” Enzo shrugged. “Why are you skipping class?”

“Why does it matter?” You snapped at him, “You’re not my keeper.”

Enzo raised his eyebrow at you, walking closer. “Cut the attitude, Y/N.”

“Or what? Who are you going to run and tell on me to? Snape? McGonagall? Oh, oh, oh! Maybe your girlfriend?” You smile sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his threat. 

Was it petty of you to keep bringing up his relationship? Yes, but you didn’t care. Pettiness was the least of your worries.

“What did I tell you about mentioning her?” Enzo muttered, standing in front of you.

“I don’t care. I’m not going to stop bringing her up just because you can’t handle reality.”

Enzo huffed, bending down to your level. His hands ran up your bare legs until they hit the hem of your skirt. Your breath hitched as the movement stopped there, but his fingers fiddled with the skirt. “Maybe I need to give you a reminder.”

“A reminder?” You whispered.

“Yeah. A reminder that she doesn’t matter.” Enzo pushed your skirt back. “A reminder that you belong to me.” He rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit. “A reminder for you to remember your place.” He blew softly on your pussy, grinning at the wetness forming.

“E-Enzo……”

Enzo shushed you, pushing your underwear aside. His arms hooked around your thighs, pulling your pussy closer to his face. Enzo took one long lick, his eyes focused on you. He watched as your eyes fluttered closed and your breaths became quicker.

“You should…We should really stop this.” You struggled to get the sentence out as you looked down at him.

Enzo kept his eyes on you, taking another long lick before sucking softly at your clit. You let out a strangled moan, your hand flying to your mouth to conceal what was happening.

“Tell me to stop and I will, sweetheart.” Enzo said, “Or tell me how much you want me to keep going, and I’ll make you cum right here, right now.”

You cursed yourself internally for being so weak. So pathetic.

“Please…... Make me cum, Enzo.”

He grinned, diving straight into your pussy. He was sucking and licking you like a starved man. His arms pinned your bottom half down, holding you in place. Slipping two fingers in as he sucks your clit sends waves through your body. You threw your head  back, your skirt  scrunching at your waist. Your eyes were closed with your lips parted slightly. Lines formed on your forehead as you desperately tried to conceal and control your moans. A sense of pride surged through him. He was the only one that got to see you like this. He was the only one who could make you feel this good.

Only him. And he planned on keeping it that way.

Even if that means fighting every guy you talk to or repeatedly having to pull you into broom closets whenever your jealousy of his girlfriend takes over. He was willing to do that.

I’ll keep you open until the sunset

Speaking in tongues, yeah, we ain’t done yet, yeah

Don’t take my verses out of context (yeah)

I know it’s weighing on your conscience

You sat in the back of Potions, your head angled down to your table. Memories of you and Enzo flooded your mind as if someone was performing legilimency on you.

You were avoiding Enzo. Anything that you thought he might attend, you avoided.

Eating in the Great Hall? You ate in your dorm.

Going to quidditch games? You spent time in the library.

Hanging out in the hallways? You took shortcuts.

You weren't doing this because you felt guilty about his girlfriend. You didn’t care about her. You were tired of feeling as if you weren’t enough. Tired of feeling like you were just some toy to him.

You had successfully avoided him for another day. You stepped out of the shower, wrapping your towel around your body. Stepping out of the bathroom, you made your way to your closet. You were too busy digging around for your pajamas to notice Enzo’s tall frame staring at you from your desk.

 “Have you lost your mind?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you turned around at his voice. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake! What the hell are you doing in here?” You asked, eyeing him.

“Where the hell have you been?”

You rolled your eyes, fixing your posture. “I’ve been around. Why?”

“I’ve been looking for you.”

You hated the way your heart soared hearing that. He was looking for you? Did that mean that he cared?

“Well, you’ve found me so you can leave now.” You said, tightening the towel around yourself.

“Why?”

You looked at Enzo, tilting your head. “Why what?”

“Y/N. Don’t act stupid with me.” Enzo glared, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

You took a deep breath as you looked at Enzo. “I’m done, Enzo.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” You said, “I’m done with the sneaking around. I’m done with the secrets. I’m done with not being enough.”

Enzo stood up, his jaw clenched as he took long strides towards you. You took a step back, your eyes tracing every part of his face. He looked angry as if he was only seeing red at this very moment.

“You aren’t done. We aren’t done.” Enzo gritted out.

“Wha-”

His hand found its way around your neck, pushing you into the wall behind you. His mouth was on yours, keeping you close as he controlled the kiss. He squeezed your neck lightly causing a gasp to slip out of you. Enzo used that to slip his tongue in your mouth.

The kiss was filled with desperation, lust, and need. His tongue was exploring you as if he had never tasted you before. As if he was scared that he was about to lose you. Enzo’s free hand tugged at your towel. Your grip tightened on it causing Enzo to grunt in disapproval.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with lust. “Drop the fucking towel, Y/N.”

You felt need and want grow in you as you clenched your thighs together at the command. The lack of response seems to send Enzo over the edge.

“So, you want to be a brat, huh?” He said, his grip on your neck getting tighter.

“No, I-”

Enzo yanked the towel out of your grip. The piece of fabric hit the ground leaving you exposed to Enzo. You whimpered at the cold air that hit your body. Enzo cupped one of your breasts, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“You’re not done. We will never be done, Y/N. Get that through your fucking head.” Enzo said, “You’re mine. Not anyone else’s, do you understand me?”

You nodded gingerly but Enzo narrowed his eyes at you. “Use your words, baby girl. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” You said, “I understand.”

Enzo grabbed your hand, placing it on the dent in his pants. “Do you see what you do to me? Nobody and I mean, nobody can do that.”

“Not even your girlfriend?” You quipped, almost regretting your question.

Enzo smirked at the question, “Not even her.”

Enzo pulled you towards your window, yanking your curtains open. You raised your eyebrows, looking over at him. “What are you doing?”

Enzo didn’t answer the question, picking you up and pushing your back up against the cold glass. You yelped at the feeling of his hands spreading your legs and dipping two fingers into your pussy.

“If anyone looks up, Enzo, they can see fully what we’re doing.”

“That’s the point. Let everyone, including my girlfriend, see. Let them all know that you’re mine.”

You heard the sound of his pants hitting the ground. Enzo teased your entrance with his tip, smirking at the small whimpers that fell from your mouth.

“Please.” You pleaded. Enzo continued to tease you, slicking his dick with your wetness. “Please what? Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Please fuck me against this window. I’m begging.”

Enzo chuckled, sliding into you slowly. You both moaned at the feeling, Enzo’s hands gripped your hips. “So good. You take me so well, baby.” Enzo whispered in your ear.

Enzo started thrusting at a relentless pace, holding you up so he could dive into you however he wanted. “Fuck, Enzo…. Oh fuck.” You moaned, your hand gripping your back. Your nails were digging into his back, the harder he fucked you.

It didn’t take long for that feeling to well up deep within you. Your legs were shaking, and tears were pricking your eyes. “I-I’m about to cum. Enzo!”

“You wanna cum, baby?” He whispered in your ear, “Be a good girl and cum all over me.”

You let out a strangled moan as your legs tightened around him. “I’m about to cum, too. Deep inside you. Come on, let it all out for me.”

Enzo’s thrusts became sloppier and slower as you both came together. Enzo let you down slowly, chuckling at your inability to walk. He bent down to your level, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“You’re mine. Forever.”

You nodded slowly, a smile finding its way to your face. “Forever.”

[starlightsuffered]

can you please make kyle fics 😇 i loved your old ones

STRONG CONTENT WARNING

School Parking Lot

Info - Fauxcest, daddy kink, roleplay, ageplay, kinky scene, unprotected sex, some breeding kink, car sex, reassurance, getting off on the taboo, desire for cumflation/blow jobs, baby talk, dom male, school girl outfit, biting nipple, finger sucking, size kink,

I pulled up in my car. I felt my cock straining in my dark trousers. I took it out and let out a desperate sigh. I let it throb against the fabric of my shirt. I gave into temptation and rubbed it a bit.

“Ohhhh baby girl,” I let out a sigh of relief. I couldn’t wait to play out this fantasy. I’d begged y/n for weeks and she said she didn’t want a lot of people around. She agreed that her first week of work we could engage in this roleplay. I had felt a bit guilty for pushing it but telling from her sopping pussy when she let me kiss it goodbye this morning, she was excited too.

Finally, finally, she sent me the go ahead. Alleviation pumped through me. I was finally gonna get my perverted wish come true.

I marched into her work place, though right now we were pretending it was where she went to school. I straighten my tie and rolled up my white sleeves. I yanked open the door I knew went to her classroom.

She wore exactly what I’d asked. I swore under my breath as I took her in. My eyes drank in the delicious sight. Her breasts were nearly bursting out of the button down. The shirt was sheer enough I could see the mauve coloured bra she wore. She flaunted a short black skirt and long black stockings. The little school girl outfit had my cock drooling.

I stalked up to her. She gave me innocent doe eyes.

“Why am I here?” I demanded.

“Um, I don’t know, the office told me my daddy was here to pick me up,” she said in that tantalisingly submissive voice.

“Come with me,” I growled.

“Yes Kyle,” I agreed.

I pulled her to the car, I was so excited I could skip. I slammed her against the black body of the vehicle. I pressed my body against her so she could feel my hard length. I snatched my phone from my pocket and brought up the little sex tape she’d made me.

“Daddy had to leave his business trip, do you know why?” I demanded.

“I haven’t got a clue,” she said with faux innocence.

“Daddy found this among my work files. You think I was able to work after I saw this? You think I didn’t catch the next flight here and come to comfort you?”

“I’m sorry daddy,” she pouted. “It’s hard when you’re so sexy. I thought you’d like them. You just make my princess parts feel really wet and weird and I don’t know what’s happening.”

Fuck she was good at this. With how long it had taken her to agree I thought she might not know how to act. However, all this was perfect and I was getting dizzy from all the blood running to my cock.

“Get in the fucking car,” I snarled. She climbed in, wiggling her ass a bit too much for her own good I climbed in the back with her.

“You think you’re smart for doing this?” I snapped. She gave me a pitiful look.

“I’m sorry daddy, I thought you’d like it. I thought you’d wanna see your little princess when you were away,” she whined.

“Fuck,” I grunted.

“Daddy Kyle,” she purred. “Am I too old to sit on your lap?”

“Ohhhh, fuck no, get over here,” I said in a husky voice. She scrambled into my lap.

“Daddy,” she giggled coquettishly. “There’s something hard under me.”

“You want to know what that is don’t you?” I said in a deep voice.

“Uh huh,” she nodded.

She moved back so I could undo my belt. She licked her lips as she heard the jingle. I pushed down my pants and boxers. I pulled out my cock to show her.

“Oh,” she gasped. Her tits bouncing as she overdid her response.

“Yeah that hard thing was daddies big, thick, hairy, adult cock,” I cooed as I cupped her jaw. I pressed my thumb to her lips and she automatically sucked my thumb inside her mouth. She was whimpering and suckling on my thumb. My dick was rock fucking hard.

“Oh daddy, I want it,” she whimpered. I throbbed hard.

“Yeah? You want my big cock in your snug cunny?” I asked her.

“Yes, but d-daddy,” she looked cautious. She was pressing her huge tits against me. She looked so innocent and sweet. She’d be so delicious to ruin.

“I-I don’t have hair down there daddy. I know that might be what you want. I’m inexperienced,” she sniffled. Fuck this shit was hitting hard as fuck. I was only barely keeping myself together. I wanted to fucking pounce on her and just go wild.

“Want to know a secret baby girl?” I whispered, my fingers digging into her curves.

“What?” She asked with a girlish curiosity.

“Dad likes snug little hairless puffy pussies like yours. I think they're so much better than anything else,” I murmured in her ear.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned. Soon she was lifting up her skirt, and she wasn’t wearing fucking panties. I gulped.

She straddled me before sliding down slowly on my heavy dick. We both let out near wails of bliss. I grabbed her hips.

“Am I so small daddy can work me up and down on your grown up dick?” She asked with a giggle. I was ramming up into her while bouncing her. I was wild. I wanted to ruin and destroy her completely. I was so turned on it should be illegal.

“Oh, oh, oh!” She let loose such sweet, high pitched whines.

“Daddy has wanted to take your juicy cunny for so long,” I growled.

“Yes!” She cried. I wanted to hit her cervix.

“Daddy, I’m so naughty,” she said earnestly, gripping my shoulders to aid her movements.

“Why? tell me princess,” I ordered as I undid her buttons. Her nipples were hardened buds. I bit the left one and she groaned.

“I love daddy cum so much! I wanna suck you off every morning. I want my little school girl uniform to bulge a bit more because my tummy is so full. I wanna be cum drunk and unable to tell any of my friends at school who made me that way.”

“Oh yes,” I snapped with delicious pleasure. Her cunt was so fucking tight and perfect. I was bouncing her weak little body. Her tits moved up and down heavily.

“You want your baby girl to blow you all the time?” She asked in a whimpering tone.

“Yes, fuck yes. Oh that tiny tummy bulging with daddy cum. Fuuuuck me, I need to knock you up. It’s so perverted and taboo and wrong! I was to fill you over and over.”

“Pleassssse!” she nearly howled. “PLEASE!”

“DADDDY! Your cock!” She squealed. She was going so far down. My balls slapped her ass. I was deep and snug inside her. She was clenching and moaning.

“You gonna go to school with my cum running down your thighs baby?” I cooed. “Be a good girl and keep it inside you as long as you can?”

“Yes, fuck yes, anything you want or say,” she panted.

“I know baby girl,” I soothed. “You’re so good for me. Taking that sexy little video. You knew daddy would need to wank on his business trip didn’t you?”

“I knew, I knew, I knew,” she heaved.

“That’s my good girl,” I told her. I was on the brink of exploding.

“Daddy, touch my clitty please,” she begged. I stopped her movement. I pulled out and pressed my tip to her bundle of nerves. She threw her head back and rubbed her nipples.

“Does daddy’s tip feel good on your swollen clitty?” I asked.

“Mmmhmm,” she whined.

“Now, you’re going to let daddy bust a nut inside you with no protection aren’t you?” I asked as I carefully guided my cock back inside her.

“Yes sir,” she nodded.

“That’s it, bounce, oh fuck,” I grunted. I was moving her almost violently. She was hiccuping and moaning and sucking my thumb. She looked completely out of it.

“Dad, gon come,” she mumbled. Her snug, fluttering walls were all I needed to paint her insides white. I gasped as I shoved myself balls deep and emptied myself. I was groaning over and over.

“Yeah, yes,” I moaned as my nut worked out of me. “Just had to take you in daddy’s car even if people might see because you gave me those naughty videos.”

“Mmmmmmm,” she let out a submissive keen.

It was the best orgasm I’d ever had. Waves of perverted pleasure washed over me. I filled up her cunt with my special daddy cream as he needily whined. I fucked back up into her to hear the wet sound of the creampie some more. I was so satisfied. I hoped that was my largest load ever, she deserved it.

“Thank you,” I breathed. I held her close. She was still on my dick. She had wrapped her arms and legs around me. The scene was finished and she was feeling cuddly, needing reassurance after all the nasty things we’d said to one another.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I repeated. I smiled as I rocked her and rubbed her back. She was so perfect to let me act out this desire.

“We’re not bad are we?” She asked in a small Voice.

“No, it didn’t hurt anyone, and we’re two consenting adults, plus, it’s just a kink.”

“Thank you Kyle, I love you,” she promised me. I kissed her temple.

“I love you too.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[koolades-world]

Hellooo

I really need a fic abt dis rn, my brain is just so 🫨

So, if it's fine, could u do something abt the brothers with an mc who base their worthiness on scores and grades? Like, if mc gets a bad score and grades, they'd constantly feel Worthless and would isolate themselves from everyone. They'd also skip meals and oversleep, feeling like everyone's disappointed at them.

Thank youu!-

hi! yes, of course!

writing this while wearing fake nails that'll hopefully pop off soon haha so if there's spelling mistakes where only one letter missing, that's because i didn't hit the key hard enough with my nail lol

enjoy :)

Mc who bases their worthiness on grades

Lucifer

while he doesn’t pick up immediately, he noticed after you got a bad test score, you’d not be around as much, like meal times

he puts two and two together, and gently confronts you

he offers you help with your work and studying, if that’s what you want, or just his support

either way, you’ve secured exclusive access to his room for peace, quiet, and his encouragement

Mammon

since he spends so much time around you, he catches on quickly

while his bad grades bounce off him, he can see how hard you take it when he tries to joke with you about it to make you feel better

while it’s hard for him to be real with you, he lets you know you’ll forever be the hardest working person he’ll ever know

you’re so resilient and for someone who’s been thrown into a strange world, you’re doing amazing. his late night snack runs always have your favorite in it now

Levi

while you never directly told him, he kind of saw his own self destructive habits in you

at first he’s not sure what to do

does he mention it outright? eventually he got so upset seeing you like that, he blurted it all out

in this, he tells you just how much he cares about you and now he’s a flustered mess

Satan

despite how well he does, he always feels like he's living in the shadow of lucifer and how smart he is. it's part of the reason he picked up reading: to learn and differentiate himself from lucifer

belphie can put him to shame when he just tries and he hates that

he really understands how you feel and is quick to tell you while it’s not abnormal to feel, he understands you

he knows it’s not a healthy habit and he wants to work through it together with you

Asmo

he knows despite outer appearances, not everything can be as it seems

he notices your self care seems to wane around the times you do poorly in class

when this happens, he marches down to your room with a self are lit in hands and demands you relax because he knows you’re so much more than a grade

he just wants you to know to and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you see you how he sees you

Beel

the first time he sees you haven’t eaten in at least a day, he’s quick to offer you something to eat

he’s not sure why you seem to be trying to avoid the question or say no politely

eventually, once he learns, he sweeps you into a giant hug and he lets you know you’re more than just the letter or number attached to your work

he knows you try so hard, and as long as you don’t give up, you’re going to be alright. everyone has their off days and he’s going to do his best to make those days better for you

Belphie

when you begin to join him in progressively getting up later and later in the morning, he knows something is wrong

one morning, after everyone has left, he’ll hop in bed with you and gently talk to you about what’s been going on while hugging you

he offers you help with your work and tells you a grade doesn’t define you in relation to how other see you, especially him

he’s in no place to judge and he knows sometimes all people need is a helping hand from a loved one

[navybrat817]

He's not stalking you, he's looking after you, baby

Oh, is he?

Follow You Home

Pairing: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Florist!Female Reader Summary: Bucky just wants to see you smile when he visits you at the flower shop. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: (S)talking, (c)reepy behavior, talk of (v)iolence and (d)eath, (s)exual thoughts, delusion, obsession, homeboy has issues (still love him), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future fics for this AU will venture into (d)arker territory. Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @rookthorne. A/N: For @springdandelixn's Double-Trouble Sleepover (featuring flowers) and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Mini March Challenge ((s)talking, ribbon, plaid shirt). ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A sense of serenity and calm washed over Bucky Barnes as he walked into the flower shop. The fragrance and colors almost overwhelmed him the first time he went in, but he learned to adjust. One of the only blessings of the trauma he experienced is that he could be extremely adaptable when the occasion called for it. Now he craved the sweet scent that surrounded him.

The way he craved you.

“Hi, Bucky,” you called from behind the counter. “Right on time.”

Like when he saw you the first time, he stared at you for far too long. He was still too intrigued to care if you caught him. Unlike most people around him, you never cowered under his gaze. You always greeted him with a smile which was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Even if your smile didn’t reach your eyes today.

Still beautiful. Still mine.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a quick look around as he made his way to the counter where his flowers were waiting. “I brought you something.”

“Let me guess?” you asked, your smile still not as bright as normal. “A candy bar because I’m so sweet?”

Sweet enough to melt on my tongue.

“What gave it away?” he asked, handing it over with a small smile of his own. He could have set it on the counter, but he liked having an excuse for his fingers to brush against yours. “One day I might switch it up on you.”

“No, this is nice,” you said, sniffling. “Thank you.”

I’m reliable. Dependable.

Predictability had a way of putting some at ease. It communicated stability, safety, and security. He made sure you knew exactly what time he’d be at the shop and on which day. He always purchased the same flowers. Always brought the same wrapped candy after you commented one day that you craved it.

You'll crave me the way I crave you.

“Beautiful,” he said as he inspected the small bouquet and took a moment to steal a glance at you. Not that he needed to look over the arrangement. They were perfect every time, right down to the perfect ribbon bow to hold them together. “Mrs. Bradshaw will love them.”

Every week he bought a small bouquet of tulips for his elderly neighbor. She didn’t have many people to look out for her, so he checked in whenever he could. In some ways, she reminded him of Rebecca. Or at least what he thought Rebecca would be like if he got to see her grow up. Maybe it was why he felt the need to protect her.

He felt the need to protect you, too.

Just not from myself.

“It’s nice that you do that,” you said, ringing them up with another quiet sniffle.

“I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?” he asked, putting the change in the small bowl by the register.

“Just not a great day,” you tried to brush off.

“Bad customer? I don’t mind taking care of them. Just tell me who,” he offered.

A man screamed at you weeks ago over the cost of flowers for his wedding. You explained that he was receiving a discount and the price was agreed upon, but it wasn’t good enough for the jerk. You threw him out after he shattered one of your vases.

Bucky shattered one of his knees.

I’m not a bad man.

“No, it wasn’t a bad customer,” you said, your eyes misty as you reached for the candy bar and changed your mind.

"You can talk to me," he urged, placing his hand on yours long enough to provide comfort without being uncomfortable. "I'm your friend, right?"

I'm actually more than that.

"Yeah," you nodded, taking a deep breayhy. “You know my boyfriend?”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a moment. When his slight obsession with you began, he found out everything he could. While it didn't surprise him that you had a boyfriend, it disappointed him. Especially when he discovered that he was a decent man. Always friendly when he visited the shop. Even kept your place nice and tidy when he stopped by.

It was a feat Bucky didn't break every single one of his fingers for touching you.

“Yeah, I know of him.”

“He dumped me. Through a text,” you said as more tears welled up. “Just said we were through. No explanation. When I tried to call him, he blocked me."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice filled with sympathy as he grabbed a pack of tissues from his jacket pocket.

"My stuff was in a box this morning, waiting in front of my door," you went on. "I thought things were going great between us. Not too fast or too slow, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe he was seeing someone else."

"If he was, he's an idiot,” he said, itching to walk around the counter to hug you. It broke his heart to see you upset. “They can't see someone as perfect as you when they have you right in front of them.”

“I’m not perfect,” you argued, dabbing your eyes with the tissue. “Look at me. I’m crying in the middle of the shop.”

“You’re perfect to me,” he said.

In every way.

"Thanks, Bucky. You've always been very kind."

“It’s the other way around,” he said, clearing his throat. “And I appreciate it more than you know.”

Because of Bucky’s past, he did his best to blend in most days. As a man forced to do bad things against his will, the truth behind his actions didn’t matter to some. They had their minds made up about him and would never trust him because of what he did.

Do people feel better by making me a villain?

But one day, while he was out trying to make amends, he spotted you helping a homeless man on the sidewalk. He had seen him before. Most passed him without a second glance, but you crouched down and checked on him. You even gave him a bit of food you had on you and some money.

“I wish I could give you more, but that’s all I have,” you said.

The man nearly cried with gratitude. No one else cared, but you did. That was when you spotted Bucky looking your way. He could avoid being seen if he wished, but part of him wanted you to notice him. If you recognized him, in a good or bad way, you didn’t show it. You merely smiled, gave him a friendly nod, and walked on.

As if you hadn’t changed his life.

Bucky didn’t mean to follow you at first, but he had to make sure you got to wherever you were going safely. He didn't want anything bad to happen to you. Besides, a gaze between the two of you wasn't enough to leave him satisfied. Once he squashed his curiosity and made sure you were okay, he thought he’d leave you be.

He was wrong.

The second he walked into the shop and saw you again, he knew you had to be his.

“You’re caring and strong. You deserve kindness and respect,” he told you, wondering if the depths of his feelings showed in his eyes. “Someone who will love and cherish you for who you are.”

“I might cry again,” you smiled.

It reached your eyes this time.

“I’m just glad you’re smiling again,” he said. It would be beautiful to wake up to it each day. He was going to make that happen.

“Is it okay if I ask for a hug?”

“Sure,” he said, opening his arms.

You moved around the counter and leaned into him with a sigh. He smiled as he held you, feeling a warmth inside of him that he hadn’t felt since before he met you. He imagined many times how he’d make you shiver with need once he had his hands on you and it took strength not to stretch you out on the counter.

Just like it took him strength not to touch you in your home.

Watching wasn’t enough. It never was. He’d have you in his bed soon.

Where you belong.

“It’s probably for the best. I think he was stealing some of my panties,” you said against his shoulder before you gasped. “Oh, my god! I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky loved the feel of your satin underwear around his cock. It was easy to imagine how wet they’d be against your pussy as he teased you. Not that you’d wear underwear much once he had you. Maybe he’d keep you in one of his Henley’s. Or a plaid shirt so he could rip it open. Or little sundresses so he could push them up around your hips.

So many options.

“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled when you kept your face hidden. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with me.”

As you should be.

“Thank you, Bucky,,” you said, lifting your head and gazing at him. "You're a good guy."

"I'm trying to be," he whispered, holding you a bit tighter before he let you go.

If anything, he'd be good to you.

"Here," you said as you pulled away and grabbed the largest red rose in the shop. “You should find someone special to give this to. I think they’d be very lucky.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” he said as a couple walked through the door. “I should let you help them. Is it okay if I see you tomorrow? Just in case you need a friend."

"I'd like that," you smiled.

"I'll see you later then," he smiled back.

“Bye. Thanks again."

Bucky left the rose next to the candy bar when you weren't looking and walked out the door with his tulips in hand. He’d have to explain to Mrs. Bradshaw that he’d be moving shortly. His new home was ready. A place outside of the city. Quiet. Secluded.

Perfect for the two of you.

Bucky was going to take great pleasure in the two of you christening every room of the place. He'd even fill the rooms with roses and other flowers to show how special you are. You deserved beauty in your home.

He frowned when he suddenly thought of your tears. Your now ex-boyfriend hadn't seen him coming. As much as part of him hated that he ever touched you, had been inside you, he didn't want to cause an innocent man pain. Not when his only crime was that he wanted you.

I just wanted you more.

He almost felt guilty for sending the text and blocking your number. He felt even worse when he remembered how the light left his eyes. That feeling went away when he boxed up your things. It had to be done.

No one would find the body.

Maybe I am a villain, but I'll be your hero, too.

Once Bucky saw you home safely tonight, he’d wait until after midnight to make his move. He did say he'd see you tomorrow. He’d show you how easy it is to break into your place undetected and bring you to your new home. A place where he could keep you safe from a world that didn’t deserve your kindness.

He didn’t have a choice or control over his life in years past, but he did now. He chose to take back control. To begin again.

Starting with you.

And who better to love and protect you than the former Winter Soldier?

You'll love your new home, right? Bucky thinks so. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kurogane2512]

After reading the Cocolia one shot in wattpad and then in Tumblr, I can't help but wonder at the end. I really want to see what happened after 😭😭

I want a Herrscher of the Void (Sirin) reader meeting Star Rail Himeko and the reader avoids her when meeting her because back in her universe, killing her Himeko was the biggest regret the reader made, thinking it was all a trap for her, now living in regret she has to get used to this Star Rail Himeko as they journey on the Astral Express. (SFW or NSFW)

I actually have a request for a fic about her continuation with the Express so I'll be writing all my thoughts in that! 🥰

And oh my god my heart broke reading the request all I think of is the arc when Kiana suffered the aftermath of the Hyperion battle and blamed herself so much for Himeko's death 😭

Game: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: HSR Himeko x Herrscher!reader (HoV)

Type: Fluff and slight angst with comfort

The Astral Express soared through the vast empty galaxy when an unexpected obstruction rocked the train and alerted its passengers. Pom Pom notified that some kind of portal formed on the path and an entity appeared from it, stopping the express from moving. March and Dan Heng took out their weapons and stood on guard while Welt stood in front of the door as it opened, the obsturction finally coming in their sight.

"Oh, it really is a train... Huh, interesting."

Welt's eyes widened at the person in front. How could it be? He had no idea.

"....Been a long time, Mr Welt. So, this is where you have been all these years."

"....Y/n, or should I say.... Herrscher of the Void? What's your objective here?"

"Now now, no need to be on guard. I'm not here to harm anyone, I was just strolling through space when I picked up your energy and thought to say hi~"

Welt glared at you then looked back at March and Dan Heng who lowered their weapons on his signal and allowed you inside.

"You have changed, Y/n. Did you win over the Honkai?"

"Mhm, you could say that. The price was leaving everyone and everything I cherished, but I don't regret it."

"You have been... floating through space since then? How long has it been?"

"I don't know anymore.... I remember I left a few months after that incident. When did you leave Earth, Mr Welt?"

"....Around 8 years after that incident according to Earth's time."

"I see, it's been a while then...."

Safe to say, your first encounter with the Astral Express Crew was full of surprises and uneasiness. Welt introduced you to March and Dan Heng to the best of his abilities, intentionally skipping to disclose too many details about Earth. You had just begun to take in the atmosphere and feel of the Express when your eyes fell upon a familiar woman walking towards you.... those flame-like wavy hair and golden eyes, you couldn't believe your eyes.

"Ahem, Welt? What's going on?"

Welt walked up to the said woman and explained the same things to her, all the while you stood speechless at your spot and stared at her with wide eyes. It was a splitting image, yet there were significant differences between her and the woman in your memory.

"H....H-Himeko? Is that you....?"

You spoke in a shaky and unsteady voice, countless memories and images surging through your mind at the moment. The woman responded to your voice and looked at you with a gentle smile, and right at that moment you saw her again. That face appeared in front of you, projected on this woman's face with the exact same expression.

"Ara, you already know my name? Welt, did you tell her?" the woman named Himeko spoke, and indeed her voice was exactly the same as well. It was like meeting a clone, but deep inside you knew what was happening yet you found it hard to believe.

"Ah, no— How to explain this?" Welt said with a sigh and held his head. Himeko softly chuckled then came closer to you, observing you from head-to-toe for a moment with a smile.

"Welcome to the Astral Express. I'm Himeko, the Navigator of the Express. It's a pleasure to meet someone like you, Y/n. Welt has told me about Herrschers on his home world, and I must say it's quite exciting to meet one with my own eyes finally."

This woman was her, yet also wasn't her. You didn't know how to react.

"Uh... I... I...." you stammered and stepped back, wanting to run far away from here.

"I.... No.... I.... I'm sorry!" you blurted out and summoned a portal but couldn't jump in as Welt held your arm and stopped you, using his own powers to cancel out your portal.

"Hold it, Y/n! Dan Heng, March! Don't let her leave!" Welt ordered and both March and Dan Heng immediately held you from the other side.

"W-What?! Welt, let me go! What's the meaning of this?!" you shouted and struggled out of their hold; you could push everyone away in the blink of an eye but the presence of the woman in front made you powerless.

"Y/n, calm down! Let us talk first!" Welt shouted.

"I don't want to! Let me go! I'll leave and never come back! I promise I won't hurt anyone!" tears were swelling up in your eyes as you looked back n forth at all the people in front. Himeko was visibly worried and tried to help as well, but the barrage of traumatic memories and your past weighed you down causing you to pass out in front of everyone. The next time you woke up was in one of the rooms of the Express, tears stains on your face as you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and recalled your past.

You had a slight hope it was your Himeko, but you knew that wasn't the case and maybe that was for the best. You ended up staying on the Express for a few days on Welt's request, you didn't understand his motive but you couldn't deny you were drawn to the company here. March and Dang Heng were pleasant to be around and kept you occupied with questions and activities, eager to see your powers and know you more.

As for Himeko? You didn't see her after you woke up, you were informed she was fixing up any problems on the Express caused by your unexpected arrival. But that was only for a day. Afterwards, you saw her every now and then sitting in the lobby drinking coffee or reading some book. She always greeted you with the same gentle smile and offered you to sit beside her but you politely refused every time.

You had come close to everyone on the Express except Himeko, and she was quick to notice that. It was obvious how you avoided her, either looking away from her whenever in the same room or making very small talk if she tried approaching you. While Himeko would never interfere in your personal life, she couldn't deny it was upsetting how you avoided only her. She wondered if you hated her, and what she did to make you hate her.

You had become a reliable helping hand around the Express, Pom Pom seemed to find you quite efficient and was happy to have you on-board. There were times when you'd reach places generally difficult to reach in the Express and fix errors; like the time when the engine suddenly stopped working and Himeko was trying to fix it but she needed someone to go outside and aid her. It was an easy task for you so you offered to help, despite your hidden reluctance.

"And... that was it! Well done, Y/n. Thank you very much for the help. I'd normally make Dan Heng go outside and do that but you made it so much easier. Say, would you mind if I invited you for some coffee and snacks? Or anything other than coffee even, I'd just like to thank you for helping me with this." Himeko extended a cordial invitation to you, hopeful that you'd accept.

"Ah.... Um, sorry but no. You don't need to do that to thank me. Uh... s-sorry, I'll leave now. You can call me to help again, I don't mind."

"A-Ah, wait, Y/n—!" Himeko tried to protest but you already teleported away from her sight. She sighed and looked down in perplexion; thanking you was just one reason; she had hoped to get to know you better and perhaps clear any misunderstandings. It was truly confusing and upsetting to her now. She decided to talk to Welt after all her attempts to befriend you failed, he was the only person who knew you best.

That night, you laid on the bed of your cabin when an unexpected knock came on your door followed by an even more unexpected voice, "Y/n, it's me. Are you still awake? I'm sorry but I needed your help with something." It was Himeko. You sat up in shock and contemplated what to do, ultimately deciding to agree since you wanted to help her. You didn't care what she thought of you, as long as she was safe and happy.

"Oh, sure. I'll come." you opened the door for her and she asked you to come with her. To your surprise, she took you to her own room. You didn't understand what kind of help she needed here, and you became slightly suspicious.

"S-So, what do you need help with, Hi— Um, ma'am?" you struggled to even say her name.

Himeko smiled, "Have a seat first, make yourself comfortable."

You slowly nodded and made your way to the bed then sat down on one side. She looked through her belongings for a while then picked up something and came to sit beside you quite closely, making you shift away from her in a tensed manner.

"Here, does this look familiar to you?" Himeko handed you a photo and your eyes widened looking at it, your hands trembling while holding it.

"T-This... how come? W-Where is this? And how do you...?" you blabbered a string of words and looked at Himeko in shock.

"....It's on a Space Station that the Express regularly visits. I don't know if it's the real thing, but it is there in their storage room as a prized possession of the Space Station's owner. Sometimes I have been close to it and observed it, and I hear some strange whispers in my ear for a brief moment but I'm never able to make out what they say."

"I see.... I do know about it. It's.... from my world, from someone close to me."

You looked away then handed back the photo to her and abruptly stood up to walk out, "Is that all? Sorry, I'll help you some other time—"

"I know what happened, Y/n. I know who you are referring to." Himeko spoke before you could leave, making you stop in your tracks with your back turned to her.

"....Did Welt tell you?"

Himeko sighed, "Yes.... I didn't want to barge into your personal matters but I became increasingly worried how you avoided me. Will you give me a chance to talk, Y/n?"

"There's nothing to talk about.... It's not your fault, none of it is. You did nothing wrong. It's my own inability and fear. I'm sorry for making you feel that way but just know you are not in the wrong."

"Then!" Himeko suddenly came near you and held your wrist, "Then, let me help you through that fear! Let me help you overcome it!"

Her words shocked you, the touch of her skin sending shivers in your body. You gritted your teeth then slowly turned to look at her, the same gentle smile and kind eyes gazing at you.

"....Let go. I don't deserve it."

Himeko was surprised by the hurtful look on your face then frowned at your words and pulled you towards herself, tightly embracing you.

"Who decides that? I believe people can change and deserve a second chance, a chance to make things right and forge their own path. I look forward to the future."

".....You are so much like her. She would also say something similar in such situations."

Tears welled up in your eyes, Himeko gently caressed your head while embracing you and you couldn't hold back anymore. You melted in her touch and familiar feeling, wrapping your own arms around her and holding her close as if you never wanted to let go. Both of you sat down on the bed beside each other and she held your hand while wiping the tears from your face then cupping your face.

"S-Sorry, I don't know what to do in this situation...."

"Well, for starters, how about telling me what's on your mind? You have only been saying 'sorry' and running away from me every time I tried to talk."

"Ah, sorry about that. No, I mean—" you mindlessly blurted more string of apologies making Himeko chuckle and hold you again.

"Just calm down first, okay? Take it slow, you don't have to force yourself."

You nodded then finally calmed down enough after some time and felt like talking.

"How much did Welt tell you?"

"Not much. He explained what Herrschers were in your world and what kind of powers you have. He said you likely hold yourself responsible for causing pain and destruction there, and that you have seemingly been floating in space for a long time as punishment for your actions...."

"He left out the most important part then.... Yes, he's correct about all of that. I.... lost control of myself and killed so many people, destroyed so many lives. Among them was her..... the one woman I loved. She saved me, but I was blinded by power and....k-killed her too."

Your breath hitched as you finally said the words deep in your heart.

"That woman was.... Himeko in your world?"

You nodded, "She looked just like you.... Same hair color, eyes and voice. She was my teacher first, she taught me so much and helped me. And I.... what did I do to repay her?"

More tears filled your eyes and Himeko caressed your head, "I understand. Thank you for being so brave and telling me."

"I know I shouldn't project her on you. You are indeed similar but also significantly different, I have noticed it during the time I have been here. But.... I.... I'm sorry I just—"

"Shh shh, it's okay. No need to say more, I completely understand."

You nodded and she again hugged you closely, keeping your head on her chest and tenderly caressing it.

"But you know, Y/n, what Welt told me about Herrschers was different, especially about you. He said you were experimented on as a child and injected with the Honkai virus. Then the Honkai virus is responsible for what happened, it controlled your mind and made you do all that, then you left your planet to stay away from everyone and keep them safe. And now you gained control over the Honkai all by yourself; so tell me, how is any of this your fault? To me, it seems you are just a victim like everyone else. In fact, you have suffered the most in all of this."

"....I'm still the one who committed all those actions, it was my body and my face. If I was strong enough to gain control earlier then I would have prevented it, but I couldn't. It is on me.... I can't undo it even with these powers."

Himeko looked at you with a sympathetic expression then gently held your chin and turned your face to herself, you gazed into her deep golden eyes and felt lost as if you were looking at the love of your life. But you knew what the truth was and there was no denying it, it was pointless to gaze into this depth and search for her. You pulled away from her grip and turned around, your back facing her now.

"Uh, thank you for listening but I'm fine. I'll leave the Express tomorrow and not bother any of you more, it was a nice change of pace meeting you all and you treated me really well. I can't thank you enough..."

Himeko was caught by surprise, "You know, everyone would be happy if you stay. They have all already accepted you as a Nameless. Pom Pom loves how helpful you are with repairs, March is happy to have a companion around the same age as her and it seems you both share some hobbies, Dan Heng is intrigued by you and finds you a good practice partner, Welt is... well, you already know him enough."

"....And what about you? What do you think of me? I have only been avoiding you all this time...."

Himeko smiled to herself and moved closer to you then embraced you from behind, wrapping her arms around your torso and snuggling into your shoulder. The action made you blush, her body pressed closely to you and her breath tickled your ear, her lips even ghosting your skin.

"Why, you are very helpful to me as well. Everytime you helped me selflessly and asked for nothing in return. I know how you observe me and keep a close eye on me even when we aren't in the same space. You avoid me up-front but you are otherwise always attentive to me, aren't you?"

"....How did you know?"

"Hehe, just call it a Navigator's instinct. Of course, I'm happy if you stay as well. You have been alone and lonely long enough, it's time you heal your wounds and find happiness. If you like being with us then you are more than welcome to stay."

"I do... I really like it here. All of you are so different yet you seem like a family, I didn't know this is what a family felt like...."

"Mhm, we have been together for a while and faced many things together. All of us will always support each other. That's the way of the Nameless."

You wiped the tears in your eyes then let out a chuckle, "To think it's Himeko again who's comforting me.... It's a strange turn of fate."

Himeko smiled to herself then kissed your cheek, a blush forming on your face as you slowly turned to face her. She cupped your face and caressed your cheek with her thumb then came closer and kissed your forehead too followed by kissing your other cheek.

"H-Himeko.... you don't have to...." you said embarrassingly.

"Hehe, I can't help myself. You are so adorable and you finally called my name~"

You looked away bashfully, giving her the chance to kiss your cheek again. The barrage of kisses on your face didn't stop and soon you found yourself pinned on the bed with Himeko straddling you, both of you gazing at each other with ragged breaths and red faces. She cupped your face and slowly leaned down to connect her lips with yours, initiating a soft and gentle kiss. Your eyes opened wide at this, yet the feeling of her lips on yours made you melt into her and kiss back.

The kiss didn't last for long, it felt more like a loving peck with how quickly she pulled back, leaving you with a sense of wanting more. Himeko smiled and sat up on your waist, pulling you with herself. She wrapped her arms around your neck and embraced you again, whispering in a soft tone, "Let's take it slow, shall we? If you want to do more, that is~"

You blushed then kept your hand on her upper back and nodded, "I do.... but I don't want to think of you as a replacement for her. You are Himeko but you are not her, and I want to love you for who you are not because you are Himeko. Um, did that make sense?"

"Mhm, I understand. I also want that, I'd be upset if you take me just because I look and sound like her...." she paushed then leaned close to your ear, "....I'll make you love me, I hope you will be prepared~"

Little did you both know that you were already drawn to her, the Himeko that she was and not the one in your memory.

[boldlyvoid]

Love Story

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: About a week into knowing her, Spencer knew he wanted to marry her one day. So, for her birthday, at The Eras Tour, he kneels to the ground and pulls out a ring...

Warnings: allusions to sex, stupid couple fights, Spencer spoiling her, roadtrips, food and drink mention, talks of the future (future kids) proposals.

a/n: this fic is for my best friend in the whole worlds birthday. @reidsbookclub, i love you, i hope you have the best time at your concert tonight <3

Word Count: 6k

Set in the Sweet Nothing Universe

He’s been in Reno for 3 months and dating Y/N for 3 months now, too. 

They practically live together now that it’s summer vacation for her. She took on some kids for tutoring, and she sees them a few hours a week whenever they have time. She mostly goes to their houses or meets them at the public library, which is right next door to his work. She brings him in a coffee or a snack whenever she’s in town, they have lunches together and she even stays a little longer in town so she can drive him home afterwards. 

It’s been wonderful. 

Everyone at work knows her, they call her Mrs. Reid as a joke and she thinks it's cute… Spencer, on the other hand, wishes she was his wife so, so bad. It’s way too early to ask her, even if he knows in his heart that she’s the one for him. So he’s waiting. He’s not sure how long he’ll wait. He doesn’t even know if she wants to get married one day. He still has some things to learn about her. 

Her birthday is coming up, soon, he knows that much. He actually learned about her birthday when Penelope was first telling him all about her. August 4th, making her a Leo, the lion sign, even though she’s as gentle as a flower. 

They haven’t planned anything for her birthday yet, it's still a couple of weeks away. He knows she’s told her kids that she’ll be busy from the 3rd to the 6th, taking 4 days just to herself, she wasn’t planning on doing anything. Spencer wants to treat her to something so bad. Be it a nice dinner, a gift she wants or a trip somewhere. So he takes those 4 days off too, he books it in advance with his boss, it’s approved and now he just has to plan something. 

During one of his lunch breaks that she isn’t sitting in on, he takes out his phone and calls up Penelope. Having known Y/N longer, she’s the perfect person to discuss ideas with. 

“Spencer my lovely! What are you doing calling me at 3pm on a weekday?” She answers full of cheer. 

“Y/N’s birthday is coming up, I need your expert advice on what to get her,” he heads right into it, skipping all the niceties, he only cares about her. 

“Taylor Swift tickets, duh!” 

“I tried that months ago, they sold out way too fast,” he complains. “We missed the Vegas show 'cause I obviously didn’t know her in March, all she has left are the Seattle and California shows… but again, they’re all sold out and the resale tickets are insane.” 

“Hey, six grand for 2 tickets with the love of your life is so worth it,” Penelope teases. “I might have a connection to the Inglewood show… maybe I can see if they have any last-minute tickets?” 

“How do you have a ticket connection?” 

“My brother's wife works for Ticketmaster, she said they save some tickets for important people until the last minute and if they’re not taken, they get released to the general public and you can get better deals if you call Ticketmaster instead of going online,” she explains. “I’ll give her a call, I’ll see what she can do.” 

“Okay, call me back when you know more?” 

“Will do, Spence-roo,” she says before hanging up, making him smile. 

—

He goes home to Y/N’s apartment that night, they have a home-cooked meal together and they settle down on the couch to watch something on TV and just relax for the rest of the night. 

She’s cuddled into Spencer’s side watching TikTok on her phone. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, barely watching anything for more than 30 seconds and then she stops on one. Spencer can hear the music and the cheering, it’s a tour video. He peeks over to it, watching as someone proposed to their girlfriend in the middle of Love Story. 

She likes it, opens the comments and congratulated them. The next words out of his mouth are barely in his control. They just tumble out. 

“Do you ever think about getting married?” 

She smiles up at him, “To you? Absolutely.” 

He pulls her in for a kiss. She locks her phone and tosses it to the side so she can climb into his lap and kiss him some more. His hands migrate to her hips, and she runs her fingers through his ever-growing hair. Making out with her on the couch, she lightly grinds against him, he hums into the kiss, breaking it to kiss her jaw along to her ear. 

“I’d want to marry you too…” 

She cups his face, staring him down, “Ask me whenever you’re ready.” 

“It’s not too soon?” 

She shakes her head, “No… I mean, people will probably think you knocked me up because of how fast we’ve moved but, it’s been 3 months. We know everything about each other, we sleep beside each other every single night, and I never want to break up with you. The next logical move would be to get married.” 

He steals another kiss, “I think,” he kisses her again on her jaw again, making his way down her neck, “You’re right.” 

She smiles, letting him go down to her boobs, “about people thinking you got me knocked up?” 

He laughs against her, “I mean, we fuck so often—

“No, don’t even joke,” she pulls his attention back to her. “You can’t get me pregnant just randomly, I don’t have enough money to pay for my substitute. You’d have to knock me up so I can have the baby in the summer…” 

He laughs, “You’re not serious, right?” 

“I’m completely serious. I don’t get maternity leave, I have to have summer babies if I want to keep my job.” 

“I have money,” he reminds her. “If we get married it becomes our money, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.” 

She settles slightly, her shoulders drop again and she stares at him so softly, “I’d still worry, you know me.” 

He kisses her again, reaching up to brush her hair back, “I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life… and if we ever had kids, you know I’d do the same for them.” 

“Do you want kids, like genuinely?” She asks. “Cause I know you love Henry and you said that you thought about having them with Maeve but—

“I want you to have my babies… whenever you’re ready,” he tosses the phrase back to her. 

That does it, she dives back in for another kiss, heating it up tenfold, he cradles her head and back, leaning down against the couch so he can hover over her. Working the button on her jeans open, he starts to tug on them when his phone rings. He wants to just let it ring, but it’s Penelope's ringtone. He hasn’t changed it, no matter how long he hasn’t worked with her, it’s still the same thing. 

“Hold on,” he whispers, trying to pull away. 

“Leave it,” she tugs him back in. She gets a few more kisses in and then he pulls back further. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he reaches out to grab his phone off the coffee table and walks out of the apartment to take the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” Penelope answers. “But I have good news. We were able to pull some strings and I got you 2 floor tickets for the 4th.” 

“No way?” He’s gobsmacked. 

“Way!! I gave her your information, the tickets are in your name and they’re being mailed to you so you’ll have physical tickets. You can just pay me back.” 

“What was the damage?” 

“they were $1800 each…” 

“That’s a lot better than the resale price,” he’s so glad. “Thank you, Penny, really, she’s going to love this.” 

“Hey, she was my friend first, I’d do anything for her,” Penny teases. “Now go back to hanging out with her, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

“thank you, we love you,” he reminds her. 

“I love you too!” And then she’s gone. 

He heads back inside and she’s no longer on the couch. The tv is off, all the lights are out, and she’s retreated back to the bedroom. He knocks before he enters, “Hey… sorry about that.” 

“It’s fine,” she says, clearly a bit upset. “I get it, works more important that me sometimes.” 

“No, no it’s not… and that wasn’t work.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn’t.” 

He timidly walks towards her, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. I know. But it was important… it’s for your birthday, that’s all I can say.” 

She bites back a smile, looking him dead in the eyes. “Really?” 

He nods, “You still have from the 3rd to the 6th off, right?” 

She nods, “I do… why?” 

“I’ll tell you more when the day gets closer, just, don’t plan anything, I want to make this special. This is our first birthday together, I want to celebrate you.” 

“Okay, you’re forgiven,” she gives in, she rushes over to him and tosses her arms around his neck. “But next time it rings and you’re about to go down on me, it can wait.” 

“It definitely can,” he agrees, picking her up, he tosses her onto the bed. “Let me make it up to you.” 

—

She watches the era’s tour live streams on TikTok every weekend, she favourites outfits that she’d want to wear and she tells Spencer all about the surprise songs that she’d want to hear live one day. 

What she doesn’t know is that Spencer has memorized everything she’s said and he’s been using it to his advantage. He’s found her Pinterest board with eras tour dream outfits, and he’s made a playlist of her favourite songs so he’ll be able to sing along no matter what surprise songs happen. And he’s started to buy tour outfits for himself too. 

He puts a lot of work into her tour outfit, too. It’s midnights themed, he got her a denim jacket with the back panel cut out and replaced with a starry lace pattern. He bought iron on paper and printed out her favourite lyrics to iron onto the arms and put stars on a pair of dark blue Converse. He’s even been making friendship bracelets while on his lunch break at work. He just hasn’t been able to decide on what to get her to wear under the jacket and with the shoes. Nothing seems to be perfect enough. 

He’s walking home from work one night when he passes a window display full of sparkly dresses. He just doesn’t want to get her the wrong size. So he has the bright idea to take one of Y/N's dresses with him to the store to compare sizes. Trying to steal one of her dresses… that’s going to be difficult. 

“I have a question for you,” he asks that night at dinner. “But you can’t ask any follow-up questions or anything, okay?” 

“Alright..?” 

“Can I have one of your dresses to compare to a dress I want to buy you for your birthday?” 

She swoons, “Yeah… or you could take my measurements?” 

“Either way, I just want to make sure it fits.” 

And so that night she gives him one of her favourite dresses. She tells him the size she prefers in different fabrics and he makes a mental note of every single thing she says. 

-

The next day, he brings the dress to work with him, people want to ask questions but they don’t. He makes it through the day, walks out of work with the dress and right into the store he saw yesterday. 

The shop owner clocks him right away, noticing the dress, she thinks he’s making a return. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” 

“I’m surprising my girlfriend with Taylor Swift tickets for her birthday and I’m trying to plan her outfit, too, and the dress in the window is perfect! I brought in one of her other dresses, just to compare sizing so I get it right,” he explains. 

“Oh my god, aren’t you the dream boyfriend?” She teases. “Can I see that?” 

He places it on the counter for her, she takes a look at the tag and holds it up, “I think I have the window dress in this size… what era are you going for?” 

“I made her a jacket in the Midnights aesthetic and her shoes are evermore,” he shares. “The dress in the window is kinda mirrorball-esque, I like it.” 

“You know your shit,” she can’t believe it. “Do you have an outfit picked out?” 

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t decide if I want to do fearless or lover…”

“You could do both, get a puffy Romeo shirt and some pink pants, that would be cute?” 

“Yeah, yeah I like that idea… you know the Lover album cover, the heart she has around her eye? How would I do that?” He asks, he hasn’t had someone to talk to about any of this, so he’s taking a chance and asking everything. 

She’s really helpful, she’s able to get him the dress in the right size, show him where he can get adhesive sparkles for the face, helps him plan his own outfit and even get some accessories too. He spends a fair bit of money in her store and he thanks her. 

“I’m going to bring her back here after the tour, maybe she can get her engagement party dress here,” he suggests. 

“Wait, are you going to ask her to marry you at the show?” 

He nods, “During love story.” 

“She’s one lucky girl,” the shop owner swoons again. She’s overjoyed for them. “If you bring her back here for that I’ll give you a discount, that’s the sweetest thing in the world. I really hope she says yes.” 

“Me too.” 

—

He stole a piece of her costume jewelry when she wasn’t looking, a ring she typically wears on her right ring finger and brings it with him to all the jewelry shops he goes to. Finding a ring that feels like Y/N is hard. He wants it to be perfect, he wants it to be big and pretty and something she’ll show off to everyone. He wants it to be a ring that will stay in style for the next 50 years, he wants it to last. 

He’s looked at a million styles, every colour and cut imaginable… but nothing seems right. He knows the kind of rings she likes from her Pinterest, but even they don’t seem to fit what he imagines for them. This ring is supposed to symbolize their love and their relationship. It has to be perfect. 

He finds the ring on Etsy of all places. It was his last chance to get a ring. There were only 2 weeks until her birthday and he had to make sure the ring was in his possession before they took their trip to LA. 

The ring comes in two parts, one ring for the engagement and the other for the wedding. The wedding band perfectly encompasses the engagement ring, making the main ring look like it has little leaves coming out from around it. 

He gets them in white gold, the main stone is a man-made, oval-shaped diamond and the stones around it are man-made opal, 4 on each side to be exact, shaped like little diamonds. The wedding band also has man-made stones, in green. Together, they look perfect. He has them expedited, he pays the artist top dollar to make sure they’re at his house by August 1st and he prays they make it. 

—

She picks him up after work on July 31st and when they arrive at his house, there’s a package sitting on his front step. Part of him is furious that they just left it, they didn’t leave a drop-off notice and take it back to the UPS store for safekeeping, the rest of him is relieved that it made it. Y/N on the other hand, is nosey. She wants to know what he ordered. She’s curious as to why he didn’t want to open it in front of her, but she doesn’t bring it up again once he hides it in his room. 

They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she wraps her arms around him, stands on her tip-toes and rests her head on his shoulder to watch him stir around the pan. “Can I ask a question about my birthday?” She pries slightly. 

“Depends on the question.” 

“Do I have to pack a bag or anything?” She asks the first question. 

“Yeah… I got us an Airbnb for the few days we’re taking off work,” he explains, not giving away too much.

“Okay, and what should I pack?” 

“Underwear, pyjamas, comfy clothes,” he lists off a few things. “Makeup and whatever you want to do with your hair… I’m going to tell you what’s happening the day of, you’ll have a few hours to plan for each event.” 

“Each event?” She picks that out. 

He just nods, “You’ll find out more later.” 

“Fine,” she sighs, resting her chest against his back now, she holds him tighter. “I’m going to go all out for your birthday too, you know.” 

“I know… we’re kind of obsessed with each other,” he teases. 

“I think it’s called love,” she reminds him. 

“You’re right… I do love you a lot,” he says as he spins around in her grip and hugs her close, kissing her neck gently. “I love you so much.” 

She hums happily, “I love you too, sneaky man. It’s killing me that I don’t know what’s happening but I trust you.” 

“Good,” he pulls back and cups her cheek. “How would you feel leaving late on the 2nd instead of early on the 3rd?” 

“We can do that, I know you prefer driving at night,” she knows him well. “We can pack after work and leave once we’re done.” 

“I will be packed the day before,” he teases. “I’m not a last-minute man.” 

“Oh, I know, you don’t do anything lightly, but I might need help packing,” she reminds him. “You can help me pick out accessories and shoes to match whatever you got me.” 

“You think I didn't get you shoes and accessories? Have you seen me?” He teases, that’s one thing she loves about him. He’s always matching.

She just laughs, “Of course you did.” 

—

Spencer walks from his apartment to hers with 2 suitcases, one for his own things and one just for their eras tour outfits. He has her second key fob, so he unlocks her car when he arrives and puts his things in the backseat and heads up to her apartment. He knocks once but ultimately lets himself in. “Babe?” 

“Bedroom!” She calls back, letting him know where she is. 

“Hey…” 

“So I’ve played out a bunch of outfits, what ones will be good for what you have planned?” 

“Anything is good, I have your outfit for the main event planned, the rests are dinners, brunches and us driving to and from California.” 

“We’re going to California?” She can’t believe it… but then she clues in. “Oh my god, Spencer, why are we going to California?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, you tell me?” 

“I’m going to lose my mind if we’re doing what I think we’re doing,” she explains, rushing to his side, she places her hands on his shoulders, “I’m going to go nuts.” 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to…” 

She can’t believe him, she just hugs him and holds him there, “Oh, you’re so cute when you try to lie to me, I love you so much.” 

“I love you,” he hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. “Now, hurry up and pack, we can check into the Airbnb after 10pm tonight, if we leave now we could be there by midnight?” 

And so they pack her up, they check the apartment to make sure everything is off and all the widows are closed and they head out. She locks the door, he brings her suitcase down to the car and she lets him drive. He’s a lot more comfortable on the road at night, he takes them out of Reno, down Highway 695 towards Carson City. They see Bridgeport, Willow Springs, Mammoth and Crowley Lake, Big Pine, Independence, Long Pine and then they stop for gas and a snack. He drives from Long Pine to Ridgecrest and then they pass through Mojave around 11:30. 

They’re in the home stretch now. She knows exactly what’s happening when they go through Santa Clara.  She can see on their GPS that by taking the 405 south they’ll end up in Inglewood in just a few minutes. 

He got them a cute little Airbnb just a stone's throw from the stadium, they’d be able to walk to and from if they wanted to. Once he parks outside of it, she turns to him with tears in her eyes. “How did you manage to do this?” 

“Penelope,” he says with a smile. “She knows someone at Ticketmaster, they got me really good tickets for the 4th. I bought you an outfit, I made myself one, too… I know how badly you wanted to see her so I made it happen.” 

“You really are the man of my dreams,” she swoons. “Thank you.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he reminds her. Meaning every word. 

“I know… now let’s get all our shit inside so I can give you a proper thank you.” 

—

They spend their first day there just looking around. They have brunch at a cute little spot she’s always wanted to try, they visit the National History Museum and Exposition Park. It’s a lovely day where they just get to hold hands and be together. They order dinner to their Airbnb and eat while watching TV and then they spend another night in bed together. It’s perfect. 

When they wake up on the 4th, Spencer smothers her in kisses and wishes her a happy birthday… they don’t leave the bed for a while after that. 

He orders her breakfast and while they’re waiting for it, he shows her the outfit he has picked out for her. The dress, her jacket, the shoes, a cute little clear purse for the stadium and a lot of sparkly makeup options for whatever she wants to do. 

“Spencer, this is perfect?” She’s amazed by it all. “How did you know?” 

“I found your Pinterest,” he shrugs. “and you always show me cute outfits on TikTok, I took a lot of inspiration from what I knew you’d like and your favourite songs to make this… and these,” he pulls out a ziplock bag full of bracelets. All handmade. All perfect.

She spreads all the bracelets out on their bed, and she reads each and every single one. He has sent titles, lyrics and abbreviations, even quotes from Taylor that he’s memorized from how many times she’s watched Miss Americana on her days off. “Spence, how am I going to part with these?” 

He shrugs, “Don’t trade your favourites? Maybe leave any special ones here?” 

“Yeah, I guess I could do that… I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of making these just for me, seriously, when did you have the time?” 

“On my lunch breaks,” he laughs to himself. “I had no idea what I was doing and then Keesha, our undercover girl, showed me how to make them better.” 

“Everything is perfect, Spence,” she stands and wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “This is going to be the best night of my life.” 

She really had no idea. 

“I was thinking we could maybe go get our nails done,” he says as she pulls away. “We don’t have to be at the stadium till 6, I think it would be nice to get some eras nails done? I might even get some colour?” 

“Yeah, that sounds amazing!” She agrees, not thinking anything of it. 

He really just wants her to think her nails are pretty when he slips the ring onto her finger later tonight. 

He already made the appointment with a local nail salon for 1pm, giving them enough time to head back to their Airbnb and get ready for the show and maybe even get something to eat before they go. He’s such a planner. She loved every second of it, it made her less stressed to know that he already knew everything that was going on and he was confident about it too. 

He gets his nails done as well. He’s always wanted to but never had the chance to. He gets just basic gel while she goes all out with a shorter acrylic shape, she gets sparkles and stars all in the 10 different album colours and she loves them. She keeps staring at them the whole walk home, she loves how they sparkle in the light and how pretty the shape makes her hand look. 

The ring is going to look even better on her hand now. 

They shower together back at their place, Spencer watches in awe as she does her hair and her makeup and it’s not until the end that he hands her the adhesive sparkles and asks her to help him put the lover heart around his eye. 

“What did you plan for your outfit?” She asks while carefully sticking each sparkle to his face. 

“I got some bright pink pants, like, highlighter pink, bright,” he smirks. “I also bought a puffy shirt like Romeo… I wanted to go for Lover Story.” 

She laughs, “Oh you’re going to look good.” 

“I also bought cowboy boots…” 

“You didn’t,” she can’t believe it. “What colour?” 

“Pink.” 

“Oh my god, Spence… really?” 

“well like you said Lover and Midnights go together like they were planned to be back to back and you’re my other half so I wanted us to match… and then I’m partly fearless which came after Evermore which is on your shoes, so, it all matches.” 

“I love you,” she cups his face gently, “like it’s insane how much I love you.” 

“It’s not insane. It’s the perfect amount,” he teases, pulling her in for a kiss. 

—

She doesn’t know they have front-row seats until they’re at the stadium getting their tickets checked. The best part of her reaction at the gate is that she thinks this is the last surprise… she’s so overjoyed with the thought of being that close to Taylor Swift that she can’t even fathom him proposing tonight. 

From all the Tiktok's that she’s watched since March, she knows that the best time to go to the merch stands isn’t before the concert. It’s during. So, on their way to their seats, they simply buy some overpriced drinks and trade a couple friendship bracelets before heading towards their seats. She looks around with her mouth agape, amazed at how big the place is and how much of the stage takes up the floor. 

At their seats, she shakes her head and lets out an exasperated laugh, “I can’t believe you got these?” 

“Only the best for my girl,” he teases, wrapping his arm around her, he brings her in and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Happy birthday.” 

“I love you,” she smiles up at him. “Thank you for this, really. I’m going to thank you a million times.” 

“You don’t have to,” he waves it off. “I wanted to come too, you know, she’s a big reason we’re together in the first place.” 

“If only we could tell her thank you,” she laughs. 

“We should’ve made a sign,” he teases. 

“We should’ve…” she agrees. “Maybe I can just put big text on my phone and hold it up to her?” 

“That could work.” 

So that’s what she does, sitting in her seat, waiting for the opener, she drafts a few things to say while the stadium starts to fill up. 

It takes a while before someone behind them actually shows up. Spencer worried there for a moment that the seats behind him didn’t sell and thus part of his plan for tonight would be ruined… but then a couple girls, in their teens, show up just before HIAM comes out to play. 

Spencer takes something from his pocket, pretends to reach between their seats to the floor and turns back to one of the girls. “Um, I think you dropped this,” Spencer says to the girls behind them, he hands them a note and a $5 bill. Y/N watches him hand it back to them and then turns right back to watching the openers play. 

“Oh thanks,” the girl says with a smile. She opens the note and her eyes widen as she reads it. 

‘Can you please record me and my future fiancé during love story? I have an important question to ask her and I want to remember it forever.’ And his number at the bottom. 

She looks at Spencer with her eyes full of tears and nods, mouthing “I can do that.” 

He gives her a thumbs up and turns back to watching the show. HAIM are a band he’s heard Y/N play before, he’s surprised how many words he knows just from being around her. They’re amazing and he knows that because they’re on the tour now, that means their song with Taylor has been added to the setlist. He really likes that one, even if it is about premeditated murder. 

He knows the setlist like the back of his hand. It starts with Lover, the intro is a remix of all her eras names over top of the song Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince, the dancers wear these big sheets of fabric, peacocking around the stage and then they cover the middle of the main diamond stage. Once they lift the sheets back up, however, Taylor emerges onto the stage and the crowd goes wild. 

He’s seen the show on Tiktok live so many times that he’s okay with missing it in person, instead, he watches her. He watches the way she stares at Taylor like she hung the stars and the moon herself. Like she’s some sort of god and everyone here is blessed to be in her presence. She cries, shaking her head in disbelief, she chants the words back to her and doesn’t even realize Spencer has been staring at her the whole time. 

“Look how close she is,” Y/N bumps his shoulder and points. “She’s literally right there.” 

“I know,” he smiles, so in love with her he couldn’t even pay attention to Taylor. 

When Cruel Summer starts, she screams so loud, Spencer’s sure she’s going to lose her voice tomorrow. He finally starts paying attention to the show now. Singing along, he knows all the words. He actually really loves this song. And the man. He loves everything from Lover simply because he’s so deeply, deeply in love. 

Post-lover, Taylor heads in for a costume change and thats when Spencer starts to feel anxious. He’s 2 songs away from his big moment. He checks his pockets, he still has the ring, in its box staying safe, it’s right there and ready to go. He almost blacks out for most of Fearless, he snaps back into it for You Belong With Me and the first note to Love Story gets his heart beat racing a million miles a minute. 

He looks back at the girl behind him who has her phone out already she smiles at him, nodding like she’s ready to go and he takes a deep breath. Taylors walking down the catwalk, she’s going to be literally right in front of them when he gets down on one knee… he doesn’t think she’s seen a proposal this close and in person yet on this tour? Maybe she’ll notice them? 

He sings along, genuinely loving the song and it steadies him a little. Y/N is singing too, jumping up and down and pointing at Taylor during all the best parts. She’s having the time of her life… she has no idea what’s coming.

The second chorus comes and he reaches into his pocket, he’s holding the box in his hand and his heart is in his throat. 

“And I got tired of waiting… wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading! When I met you on the outskirts of town!” Y/N sings along. “And I said Romeo save me I’ve been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you but you never come is this in my head I don’t know what to think, he kneels to the ground and pulled out a ring and—

She notices then that he’s dropped to one knee, following the song, he holds open the little black box and she screams. Everyone in their section is screaming. “Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone I love you and that’s all I really know!” Spencer sings along to the song.

She’s frozen, can’t believe this is happening and real but she looks at the ring and then at him, her eyes full of tears. “Yes!!! Yes, I’ll marry you!!” She gets down to the ground with him and pulls him into a kiss, he smiles into it, happier than he’s ever been in his whole life. 

When she pulls back he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her ring finger. He helps her back to her feet and all she can do is stare at it. “Holy shit?” 

“I love you!” He shouts, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to love you forever.” 

She pulls him into another hug, not even noticing that Taylor did see it. She pointed at them, she got excited and there was footage of it from a million different angles that she’ll get to see later. She finishes the song, running back to make her mark and then she disappears once again to get ready for Evermore. 

Y/N snuggles into his side, her left hand resting on his chest, she keeps pulling her hand back to look at it. There’s just enough quiet between eras that she asks, “Where did you get it? It’s beautiful.” 

“Etsy,” he says with a smile. “It was on my doorstep the other day when you came over.” 

“No way?” She laughs, “how long have you been planning this?” 

“Since I asked you how you felt about getting married one day,” he admits. 

She stands on her tiptoes and leans in for another kiss, “I Love you.” 

“I love you,” he reminds her. “Forever and always… but I actually mean that.” 

She laughs, “god, you really are the number 1 fearless stan, aren’t you?” 

He’s about to reply when the girls behind him poke him in the back, “Hey!” They both turn around. “I texted you the video and my friend got the other angle of Taylor's reaction!” 

“She saw it?!” Y/N freaks out. 

They nod, freaking out with her, “Yeah!! She pointed at you guys and she was so happy!!” 

“Holy shit!” Y/N shouts for the second time. “This is the best day of my fucking life, how does it keep getting better?” 

“I don’t know man, but congrats!” The girl says. “You guys are so cute together.” 

“Thank you,” they say at the same time. 

She looks at him this time like he hung the stars. If you told him just 4 months ago that he’d find the love of his life and get engaged to her at a Taylor Swift concert of all places, he would’ve laughed… now he can’t imagine his life going any other way. 

This is where he was always supposed to be. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans 

[silencesscreams]

be my mistake

steve harrington x f!reader (smut)

“steve, how could i avoid you? it’s impossible, you’re everywhere i look!“

a/n: also i slipped in a little amy march reference in the discussion part, its my steve fic, sorry in advance if you dont like it and its shitty!! english isn’t my first language so sorry about any grammar mistakes

warnings: angsty-ish, best friends w the scoops troop (i love them so muchhh), afab reader, crying, swearing, kissing, praise, oral (f receiving), begging, a bit of degradation, penetration, unprotected (do not do this pls.),

MINORS DNI

you could say that working at the local family video had its perks.

specially when your two closest friends worked with you but, of course, none of them knew about your recently resurfaced crush on one of them.

steve was not the same guy he was when you met him, sure, he flirted with a lot of girls, and with you, but he was nicer. he was sweet to customers, he even occasionally 'babysit' (that was how robin called hanging out with the kids he was friends with).

recently, steve had become more touchy towards you, he was constantly giving you hugs, he even held your hand at the movies once! sure, you and steve had become best friends, but did he know the effect he had over you? he must know. you blushed whenever he barely touched you, and you felt like your feelings were pretty obvious, you never knew how to hide them properly. he must know, right?

something else, which robin had noticed and commented on with you, was that steve hadn't flirted with any girls in a while now. sure it was weird, because thats basically the thing he did the most, but you didnt really bother, it actually made you a bit less insecure.

you, steve and robin started to watch movies every late monday, since you had less customers on those days, so you'd usually 'work late' and get some takeout and watch some shitty movie you'd probably talk through and make very bad jokes about later.

“ladies! im going on a second date tonight!” he said, barging in with a smile on his face. you could feel your heart fall to the ground, you didn’t even know he had a first date with someone recently.

“what? with who?” robin asked confused.

“her names camila, she goes to state college, i think”

“hm, and did you tell her you have no dreams for the future and work at a family video?” robin teased him.

“oh please, i have a lot of dreams!” he complained, putting on his vest.

“sure you do, stevie” you commented, rolling your eyes playfully. why were you feeling so stupid?

you could feel your stomach fall to the ground, god, that hurt.

it was not like you ever even kissed him. so that meant he was just flirting with you for the fun, then, god, that hurt even more.

and plus, it was steve harrington.

you wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship ever, specially not because of some crush you had, if you could even call it that.

it lasted so long it was probably a free fall at this point.

and so steve went on the date.

and with that, steve had a new girlfriend.

and you hated every single cell in her body.

camila was mean, evil, sick, twisted, a bitch, disgusting and she had this god awful breath. her perfume left you with headaches. and did i say she was mean? because she really was.

but you couldn’t help to not be at least a bit angry at him, and so you found yourself avoiding him at all costs. mostly because he was always with camila and you found her insufferable, but it was also because, yes, you were hurt.

then steve and camila broke up.

so you found out, you had no excuse not to hang out with him anymore. you had no excuse to skip movie sessions, outings, or anything else.

and so whenever a hang out would come up, you suddenly had a sore throat, a headache, a fever. and you don’t know why, but robin wasn’t judging you for it.

you told her about your crush and told her that was the reason you weren’t hanging out with them outside of work, and she understood. she didn’t even question it, and that made you feel worse about it.

“okay, whenever you’re ready to hang out again, feel free to come over, alright?” that was all she said. and it hurt deeply, because you missed your best friends.

but being around steve was unbearable.

and you still, gave it a shot.

monday came around, and robin invited you to hang out at steve’s and watch friday the 13th. for the first time in 2 months, you said yes.

punctually, you were at steve’s, it was 7pm and that was half an hour later to what robin scheduled with you, but her car wasn’t on the driveway. that definitely made you nervous. one thing was hanging out with steve AND robin, the other was hanging out with steve.

took a while for steve to answer the door, once he did, he was standing there in all his glory, wearing grey sweatpants and shirtless. you could feel all your dignity (which was very little) leave your body. you were feeling your body get hotter by the second and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy.

“hey, come in” he smiled awkwardly, looking around his house nervously.

“sorry i didn’t answer the door earlier, my family’s out of town and i forgot and assumed someone else would answer it.” you smiled at him.

“no problem” you said, trying so hard not to look at him.

“hm, i’m gonna put something on, sorry about that. feel free to sit on the couch, eat, whatever you want to do is fine”

“okay” you smiled, heading over to his living room. there was popcorn on the coffee table, the vhs tape on the table and there was a half filled dr pepper bottle on the floor. you thought it was sweet steve put this together, why aren’t you that mad at him anymore?

when he came back, he was wearing a old t shirt, stained with something that looked like ketchup. he was smelling good. had he put on perfume? god, you missed his smell.

“you wanna start now?” he asked, putting the tape in the vcr.

“maybe we should wait for robin, right?” you asked, fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“she’s not coming. didn’t she tell you? she got caught up with something at work.”

“oh, right.” she didn’t tell you, and you were sure that was written all over your face.

“y/n?” he called.

“yeah?” you looked at him, your ears flushed.

“have you been avoiding me?” oh shit.

“what do you mean?” you decided to lie shamelessly was just the way to go.

“you know what i mean. you never go out with us anymore, and now i’ve just mentioned robin isnt coming, i realize its because of me.” oh shit.

“what?” you laugh anxiously. “no, i just wanna see the movie, its not like that.”

“stop it. you havent been able to look at me for weeks now and i dont get it. goddamn it! im your best friend!” he sighed, rubbing his eyes the way he did when he was nervous.

“steve, how could i possibly avoid you? you’re everywhere i look!” you blurt out, he was looking at you now. “you’re at my job, you’re near my house, you give me a ride home, you’re in my fucking friend group!”

“i just wanna know what i did, because i never meant to hurt you-“

“steve, stop it, you’re being mean.” you were looking at his hairline, not actually being able to see his eyes in that moment, you were about to do it. “you know how i feel about you and you always have.”

that was probably it, that was the death of the friendship.

“what?” he lowered his head, trying to get something out.

“you dont get to do this to me, okay? you don’t. not when you desperately flirted with me for months just to get a girlfriend. not when you tricked me into thinking that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same. not when i’ve been in love with you since middle school.” you felt like you just had a knife shoved into your stomach because of the way he looked at you. brows furrowed, eyes empathetic, but not looking at you directly.

“im going home.” you managed to get that out, with eyes watery and cheeks flushed. you got up, trying so hard not to look back at him, counting your steps to the door.

one,

two,

three,

four,

five,

six,

seven.

you felt a hand gripping your shoulder.

“stay.” he whispered.

“what?” you turned around, looking up at his hazel colored eyes.

“stay.” his hands were on your waist.

“okay.” you answer, looking directly into his dark pupils and that was probably it for you. someday this man might just kill you, your heart was beating faster than ever and you could feel your stomach knotting and knotting and knotting, it was so silly. you felt so incredibly silly.

until he pulled you in. until he was just a few centimeters away from your lips.

it all happened way too fast.

his lips were touching yours, his hands all over you. you ran your hands through his hair, your mouth parted as his tongue slides into your mouth, licking over yours. his hands on your waist.

your hand goes under his shirt and he felt so warm, until he pulls away. you look up at him, doe eyed and he smiles at you.

he doesn’t even have to say anything, and neither do you.

he takes you up to his room, his hand pressed against your lower back, leading you upstairs with the biggest smile on his face.

he opens the door for you, as you head in you notice he’s just looking at you, blushing and shifting from foot to foot. he gives you a look you had never seen before and it makes your heart pound faster than ever. you can’t bear to hide a smirk.

he stood still in the doorway, but he quickly steps forward once you go up to him and peck his lips, giving him a perfect view of your bra.

holy fucking shit.

then, like it didn’t drive you insane, you pull away, grinning at how he went forward with you.

you were sat at the edge of the, bed legs crossed and eyes observant as he locked his door.

with a speed that drives you crazy, steve lifts you and pulls you into his lap, so you’re straddling him. he does that so quickly, it makes you yelp once you land comfortably, instinctively grinding your hips down, making him groan, the low tone of his voice making heat shoot between your thighs.

“such a tease.” he was toying with the hem of your skirt. “this is hot.” he whispered, voice thick as he lays his left hand on your overexposed thigh.

you go over to kiss him again but stop in the middle of the way, liking the way he looked at you. you lift his hand, from the fabric of your skirt up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles. the action feels so intimate and sweet it makes him smile a bit (he also gets a bit hard but that’s not the point).

you look down at him from where your sat, eyelashes batting as you stop kissing his knuckles when he pulls his hand from you, slipping his fingers between yours and gripping your thigh with the spare hand. you kiss down his neck and he can’t stop thinking of how pretty you looked, really.

that shirt, that bralette he knew was under it.

its not fair you looked like that. he just couldn’t help himself at the sight of you.

his hands coast up your bare sides under the shirt, that made you shudder and rock a little in his lap, the relief of the friction ended suddenly as he grabd your hips and pins you down firmly onto him, so you can’t move.

it was useless to try to roll your hips, specially with his hold pinning you down.

he hums, hand sliding further up your top and squeezing just below your tit.

you can’t help but moan a little as he palms your skin, his voice low and thick as honey,

“you look like…” your head tips back at the feeling of his hands on you and he takes that as an opportunity to trail soft kisses along your neck “like you’re mine.” you mewl weakly as his hand cups your breast, his touch clouding up your brain.

“you’re mine, right?” you nod eagerly, pushing up against the hand tucked under your shirt. he clicks his tongue and rolls your sensitive bud between his fingers, “not an answer, hun.”

he had barely touched you and you’re already shaking, breathing heavily and face flushed.

he started kissing your neck, nipping at it.

“answer or you’re not cumming tonight.” the timbre of his voice was incredibly low once he said that, it made your eyes round and your hips buck into air.

“steve, yes, i’m yours. i’ll be so good, please.” you whined.

he squeezes your breast in approval, humming at the way your eyes shut when he touches you.

“good girl.” he lifts you up, manhandling you as you’re being laid down on the bed, his hand leaving you and making you whine. you can feel him moving downwards, trailing kisses down your neck, stomach, before arriving between your legs.

he chuckles ad you whines, trailing soft kisses down your body.

“don’t be greedy.” he looked up at you from where he’s kissing, the waistband of your skirt, eyes wide as he takes in your already fucked out and needy expression.

“my greedy girl” you nod at that, head tilted up as your back arches up a bit, his mouth still pressing messy kisses to the inside of your thighs, “practically begging for me, huh?”

he’s mocking you, nipping at your inner thighs, marking up anywhere except where you need him. his hands are gripping and rubbing soft circles into your thighs, feeling you go lax and needy under him.

“steveee” you say, blushing at how desperate you sound, “please.”

you feel him smile against your inner thigh, looking up at you, “what it is it, princess? can’t even speak and i’ve barely done anything to you, huh, so needy.” his head drops down as he sucks another hickey into you hip, “use you words.” you grind upwards and he pins your hips down, tutting. he looks at you expecting something and you know he wont give you shit until you beg for it.

“steve, please,” your voice tapers into broken whines as your hips move on their own accord, missing his mouth. “need you in me, please, i’ll be so good for you. need you so bad, please.”

“that’s all you had to say, baby.” with that, his fingers push the fabric of your skirt up, showing your lace panties. he groans at the sight.

“shit, you’re so pretty.” he presses a kiss to your clothed core, making you moan, “gonna fuck you with these on, okay?” you nod lazily, the feeling of steve mouthing over your panties makes speaking very difficult. he grins,

“so fucked out.” he flattens his tongue over you, pushing your panties aside as he swipes his tongue over to your wet heat, lapping from your slit to your swollen clit, “haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re practically soaking.”

your hand has gone to his hair, your grip tightens. he knows that your pouting at that, even if he’s not looking.

steve pushes your legs farther apart, pushing your thigh up slightly as he lapped messily at your pussy.

your hands are tugging on his hair, stirring him on as he flicks over your clit in quick strokes that leave your legs shaking around his head. he looks up at you, your head thrown back slightly, shirt hitched up showing your bralette. he reaches up with one hand, helping you take of the shirt.

once its off, he sees your lacy bralette fully, straps falling down as your back arches. it’s probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

he lifts your hips slightly, pressing two digits to your slick entrance, watching how you try and push against them, hips pinned down as you buck down mindlessly,

“steve!” you mewl, voice wrecked. he hums, flicking over your clit with his togue. “aw, doll, is that all you can say?” he gently fucks his fingers into your tight heat, feeling the way you clench around him as you let out another mewling main, legs thrown over his shoulders as he crooks his fingers upwards, pushing up against the sweet spot inside of you. your legs tighten on either side of his head, fingers fucking faster into you, “so fucked out, its cute.”

you blush red, eyes shut and lips parted in soft whines of his name. he liked the way you said it.

his fingers curl against your g-spot, fucking into you in tune with the quick movements of his tongue.

“fuck, steve, ju-just like that, please” he’s placing sloppy kisses over your clit, his fingers thrusting into you, picking up their pace as you clench around him, dripping over his hand.

“fuck, so pretty for me, baby” he groans as he kisses your clit, “such a pretty pussy, can’t wait to fuck you, gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” he watches how you nod weakly between your choked moans of ‘yesyessteve’. you clench around him, his fingers fucking rapidly in and out of your cunt. you were just about to scream once he leaned forward, taking you clit in his mouth, lips latching the sensitive bud and sucking hard, fingers still curling up against your overworked spot as you grind upwards into his mouth and hand, his palm grinding against your entrance.

his fingers fuck into you fast and rough, his free hand reaching up to palm your breast through the fabric of your bra, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer to your climax.

“i’m gonna cum, oh my god, i’m gonna cum don’t stop please-“ you moaned as your words turned into mostly incoherent nonsense. your thighs were clenching around his head, your hands curling in his hair as he lapped at you clit, his fingers hooking against your heat, watching how you fell apart at his touch, hips bucking as you chased your high.

“steve- fuck- you’re so fucking good” you can barely finish a sentence, grinding against his mouth desperately.

he loves you like this, whimpering and so needy, talking through broken little whines. the way you’re begging has him working over you faster.

he groans, feeling the was you clench around him, your slick walls contracting around his digits,

“fuck, you like that, don’t you? being mine? only good for me, huh?” any coherent answers get lost in your pleas of yes, please. he chuckles, fucking his fingers harder into you.

“ohmygodsteve” you’re a moaning mess, legs spread wide and shaking, his tongue circling your clit after his hand dropped, gripping your hip to lift you up slightly, fingers fucking into you slightly deeper. you’re praising him breath;essay, making his fingers move faster, sucking harder on your clit. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, the sight of you making him impossibly hard as he ground his hips into the mattress, taking in the way your head was tipped back, how your mouth was parted in soft moans of his name, how your fingers are gripped at his hair, grinding into his mouth and hand.

“aw, are you gonna cum already?” you nod as best as you can, his fingers are moving roughly in you, pulling you towards your finish. you try to hold off when he murmurs, flicking your clit with his tongue.

“cum for me, let me feel you squeeze my fingers with that thigh pussy.” you cum hard on his tongue, his digits still fucking into you, drawing you out of it. your climax crashes over you in waves, the feeling of being fucked open when you came making you whine.

you’re whimpering as he pulls his fingers out of you. steve reaches up and pins your legs up to your chest, kissing you hard and rough. he nips ate your lips and murmurs,

“still need me, baby?” he’s rubbing your cheeks and you can’t help but push against his touch. your voice is broken and whinny,

“yes, please, need you so bad.” he kisses you again and you can feel his hair brushing over your face,

“good fucking girl.” you practically preen from his praise, as he sits up, taking off his shirt and lowering his sweatpants, he takes a moment to dip his hand below his waistband to palm himself through his boxers,

“fuck, need you so bad,” you whine in response, as he pushes is boxers down, his erection hitting up against his stomach. you moan then, seeing him stroke his cock at the sight of you, he chuckles, running his hand down his shaft at the way you’re whining for him.

“needy little slut, aren’t you?” you feel the blunt head of his cock nudge against your slick entrance as he lines himself up to you.

“your needy little slut” you say, grinding against his tip, your slick coating him. he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his voice low as he presses himself closer to you, stretching your cunt around him.

“of course you are” he’s spreading your legs and kissing you. he rocks his hips forward, not fucking you, but enough to make you moan, “tell me if you want to stop, okay?” with that, he pushes into you.

pushing his thick length into you in one stroke, the sudden stretch making you moan breathlessly. he groans into the crook of your neck, biting down on that soft spot,

“still so tight” he wastes no time starting to ove, shallowly rolling his hips up to you. “fuck, feels so fucking good” he kisses your neck, cooing at you. “pretty girl, look at you, taking it like such a good little slut.” he’s pulling your bra down, the flimsy lace pushed back. he fucks you harder, your tits bouncing with each hard thrust into you. you’re moaning lewdly as he thrusted forward, his cock stretching you open. it feels so good, the feeling of him filling you up. you cried out and gripped at his arms, each hard thrust fucking you into the mattress.

“fuck, steve, harder” he cocks an eyebrow, then pulls out to the tip, you whine at the lost.

“you asked for it, doll” he thrusts forward roughly, filling you up with his cock, you feel him even deeper this time, the press of him against your walls making you whine louder as he thrusted harder. “can you take this?” he fucks into you rapidly, mocking you, pushing you against the headboard. “you said you wanted it harder, didn’t you?”

your cheeks burn at the way he degrades your his relentless thrusts making the heat in your abdomen start to build. you’re moaning soft chants of ‘yes, please and steve’, babbling nonsensically through your moans. his thrusts are hard and deep, pushing against your walls, filling you in perfectly.

the rapid slap of skins fills the room as his hips pick up pace, slamming against yours with each thrust, the base of his cock grinding at your clit, the friction making you moan.

“fuck, taking me so well” he’s kissing your neck and playing with your tits, “you were made for me” he groans.

“oh my god” you moan as his cock pushes into you faster, the brutal snap of his hips making you cry out, you start babbling again, chasing your high. he feels so good inside of you, the roll of his hips bringing you closer to the edge.

he can tell you’re close, from the way your hips have started bucking upwards excitedly, grinding on his cock, the way your hands are gripping the nape of his neck. you yelp as he throws your legs over his shoulders, fucking you deeper as he angles his dick perfectly against your g-spot, ramming against it with every thrust.

“please, need it so bad” you beg, steve hums, his pace unflattering as he pounds into you,

“need what, baby?”

“need to cum” your voice sounds destroyed, “please-! please, need you to make me cum, steve” he grins, grabs your hips and lifts you up, fucking into you faster than before.

“only i can do this, huh?”

“you! only you, steve!” you moan out, trying desperately to press yourself against his his harsh hursts. you clamped around him as you felt your high building again. he must’ve felt it, reaching down between you two and pinching your clit, thrusts getting faster as you cried out.

“i want you to cum” he says, fucking you onto his cock, “cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

his thumb rubs your clit faster, moving in time with his rapid thrusts, hips pistoling into you, fucking you hard as you came with a loud cry of his name, this one harder than the last. walls clenched hard around him as you gripped the back of his neck. seeing you, head thrown back in ecstasy, face screwed up in pleasure as you cry out his name, has him groaning. head dropped into the crook of your neck as his thrusts get faster and sharper, the overstimulation drawing out high keening noises from your throat, his cock nudging against your cervix as he spills inside of you.

“fuck, so good for me, honey” he kisses your shoulder. “such a good girl” he murmurs. he pulls out slowly and takes you in his arms, laying you down.

he starts getting up and you tug gently at his wrist. he kisses your forehead smiling.

“don’t worry, i’m just gonna get some things in the bathroom”

when he gets back, he throws you an old shirt, which you quickly put on.

“i can go, if you want to.” you mutter, looking down at your hands.

“what? no, are you crazy? stay. come on, lets watch that movie” he smiles at you, opening the tissue case.

“okay, i will then.” you couldn’t help but smile.

“hey, about that thing you said earlier” he looked into your eyes. “i love you too.”

-

tag: @nix-rose

[fleetingvow]

Hello, I really loved your writing for Wednesday and was wondering if I could request something.

Reader was hurt badly on the final fight and Wednesday gets worried about her, gets emotional just as she did with Thing. She doesn't leave reader's side until she wakes up and when she does she can't help but hold her because she thought that was it for a moment, and maybe confesses her feelings? You can elaborate it as much as you'd like, I'd just like for that to be the general idea, love some hurt/comfort.

Much love. <3

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday addams never cried for anyone, not until she held you fighting for your life, desperately trying to stay alive to return the whispered confession. ( 4.15k words )

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. major angst. character death ( reader’s ). unproofread. english not being the author’s first language.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view. another love by tom odell being the angsty essential to produce this fic.

REQUESTED BY. anonymous. thank you for your lovely words, and for trusting my writing to create a perfectly stomach churning plot! do enjoy this work.

LISTEN TO WHILE READING. optional. another love by tom odell.

TAGS. @ryver19 @danysflames

𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬 wasn’t worried about braving the ancient face of Crackstone before, she definitely was now. Not because she was scared of him. It’s because you were the most idiotic person she knew. What were you doing in a battle that you shouldn’t be in? Were you even aware of what you were getting yourself into? She wanted to know what was going through your mind when you marched in the courtyard without a weapon or anything to protect yourself with. Just a glare that wouldn’t do anything.

The fire burning so fierce dancing with the breeze turned slow. Everything seemed too leisure for her liking when she spotted you standing there. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, but it couldn’t possibly now, could it? Xavier was mad enough to try and help, and now you? What were you going to do? Why were you even here?

You weren’t glaring at the pilgrim. You were glaring at her. The blade that was in her possession had shattered and her attention was turned to you. That was the last thing you needed. You hated Wednesday for being the centre of everything because you knew it meant sacrificing so much, even herself.

She used to love seeing you angry and defeated, but not like this. Not this way when you were getting defeated by the monster that stood before her and not her. Not when your hair moved with the wind so slowly as she met your gaze while watching the fire burn in your eyes in the middle of danger. She felt weaker.

You were a vulnerability. A phenomenon in which she, herself, couldn’t even explain.

Paying attention to the movement in your peripheral view, your eyes darted to the figure, slowly coming to the revelation that it was Bianca, in all her grace, standing not so far away from the distracted pilgrim.

You heard a victorious crackle emit from the old man’s mouth, and that’s when you knew. You quickly turned to Wednesday who was trying her best to suppress her noises of struggle. It just made you angrier. Your heart skipped faster in your chest as your mind ran circles in your head, putting it all into shambles that made it difficult for you to think. This anger had neer been felt by you before. It was suffocating, restricting, and it tightened your chest to the point that you almost gasped for air. That’s when you recalled what you came there for.

To help Wednesday put Crackstone back to where he belongs.

You shut your eyes and found yourself a moment before opening them again. When the young Addams thought you had nothing as a weapon, she was wrong. Locking eyes with the siren, you nodded and lifted a hand to reveal the lustrous object from your back. Using your ability, you passed the dagger to the girl who took the blade, understanding the task that she now shouldered.

However, that didn’t provide you much comfort. Wednesday was looking at death straight in the face and your trembling body didn’t stop to just stand around and watch. Your feet dragged you hastily a few feet away from Bianca.

This caught Crackstone’s attention as he slowly turned his head to you, grinning like he faced the Devil in front of him and made a sacrifice for a deal. You couldn’t even describe the disgust and fear you felt as you saw his face fresh from the dead.

“Those who intrude shall join the abomination in the depths of hell!”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes as you swallowed your spit cautiously to watch his every little move that could be used against you.

What were you doing? You looked stupid! Wednesday’s furrowed eyebrows already said it all. Her heart pounding in her chest almost ripped her open when she saw Crackstone raising the sceptre in his hand, about to conjure such a damage on you. She hated that she couldn’t do anything but look at you, mentally telling you not to do what it is that you’re going to do and run to safety.

You lifted your arm slightly and tried your best to pull the sceptre away, but all it did was drain your energy and create a tension that you couldn’t even control, yourself. You were pulling his source of power, but it seemed as though your telekinetic ability wasn’t enough to do anything. Crackstone was far more powerful. You didn’t stand a chance.

You raised your other hand and conjured an object to hit him in an attempt to distract his attention from the focus he had on his sceptre. He didn’t budge and destroyed it to pieces.

“Enough!” He shouted and with a move of the mace, you were thrown across the courtyard, your back hitting the stone pillars causing you to descend to the ground with an aching body and a sharp grunt.

“Y/N!” It was unrecognisable as to who yelled for your name, but you were tired.

You were shaking extremely now. The statics ringing in your ears became deafening to the point that you didn’t hear what the next thing was. Your vision got blurry, and dark spots started to patch up your vision. You closed your eyelids shut numerously in an attempt to recover, and as you did so, you caught the bits and pieces of what was occurring right in front of you.

Bianca groaned as she toppled on the ground just the same as her. Crackstone looked unfazed as he stood with a stab, the fiery blaze of fire appearing on his back to his lower chest. He turned and soon, it was your turn as you stood. He took the blade to make use of it, but you weren’t having it. Not to Bianca. Not to anyone in that courtyard, except him.

You swiftly got on your feet, ignoring the statics and the migraine that had formed once you stood up. Your limping feet dragged you in front of the siren as you stopped right there with the dagger whipping past the air at lightning speed.

You were getting sick of lifting your hand, but it was needed this time or anyone in this courtyard is dead. You tried to stop the blade from rushing towards you, and for a second, you thought you did.

That was when you caught the smirk on Crackstone’s face. You knew it wasn’t good. So did Bianca. Your eyes widened in fear, but you didn’t have much time to react.

When with that, the blade pierced through your flesh with the sound of the metal cutting through your skin and burying deep in your body as you let out a shortened gasp. With pursed lips, you looked down and saw the dagger on your lower abdomen. The blood was quickly seeping through your clothes, shining under the joined light provided by the moon, the stars, and the fire that Wednesday thought used to burn in your eyes.

Before you completely succumbed to the dizziness was the sight of Crackstone turning to Wednesday. Then, it blurred. All your eyes could gather was the fire getting fiercer in the form of Crackstone’s figure. Was it fire? You didn’t know, but you heard the low monstrous scream that almost made you let out a victorious cry.

But once the final disappearance of his body started in the blaze, it burst into a powerful surge of what his power once was, causing a strong wave that wiped the fire off the courtyard.

You looked at Wednesday who returned the gesture as she glared at you with her sharp narrowed eyes. You plummeted to the ground shortly after with Bianca rushing over.

Wednesday marched forward and pushed the siren aside in haste as she kneeled down next to you. Your breaths were hitching, your hand laid on the dagger, stained with the red hue of your metallic blood. Beads of sweat started forming on your forehead which felt odd to you as you began to feel colder each minute.

“Don’t you dare pull out the knife,” Wednesday’s command made you groan. You could feel the metal in you, and it was the most discomforting sensation.

Wednesday didn’t know how to act or feel. She didn’t even know what to think, but the fact that you laid there on the ground, bleeding out as you trembled made her lose her mind. She couldn’t have that or else she’d lose her composure.

“I’ll call for help,” Bianca proclaimed before running out of the courtyard.

But that wasn’t the end of it all when you and Wednesday’s ears perked up at the sound of a gun cocking in the distance. And lo and behold was Thornhill with a gun in her hand, aimed at the girl who slowly stood up to confront Laurel.

“You brought a gun to a sword fight. It’s probably the first smart decision you’ve made today.”

“I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I get to kill you, Wednesday.”

You groaned and shut your eyes from the stinging pain, your eyes getting tired to keep wide open as yet another fight occurred. Laurel had her gun pointed straight on Wednesday, but it was as if you didn’t feel the pain when a bee appeared followed by Eugene with his bright smile that seemed to crack the tension into two, replacing the delight of the moon to the shine of the sun.

You could’ve exceeded the amount of the stars of thanking him for saving Wednesday, but your breaths were getting shorter, and you knew there and then that this was probably the last time you’ll ever feel your heart beating in your chest.

You swallowed the lump on your throat. No, you can’t cry. Not now. Not here on the ground.

“Eugene, search the school for an emergency medical kit. Make it quick before I dig a grave.”

Wednesday turned to you, not wasting another minute to rush next to you again. She put her hand on your chest to feel the pound of your hope inside. You didn’t like this weak profile of you in front of the girl you so badly wanted to defeat just because you saw a bit of yourself in her.

( Cue the start of the music )

You always hated your reflection, hence why when she attended Nevermore, she had become nothing but a walking mirror yet also an ironic form of what you despised.

She despised you equally. You always gave her that stare she didn’t like. Wednesday found you to be a scuff on the floor she’d walk past on, but you became addicting to defeat that even winning against Bianca had become pointless when she spotted you in the crowd and challenged you in the archery field.

“It hurts,” you mumbled shakily as you tried your best to hold a noise down your throat.

She hated that. She hated that it affected her. Wednesday shouldn’t care for you, not after all the pent up anger she felt when you were around. Not the anger that made her want to stick around you more in order to rub it in your face that she was so much better than you tried to prove yourself to be.

A noise escaped your lips.

That made her close her eyes. She never did that. She wanted to remove the sight of you in front of her, and she thought it was just because you looked so human — weak. Or was it because of the hurt that she felt in her stomach? She has had enough. She wanted cotton to block her ears from your noise. You had been suppressing the noises, but God, this noise was different now. You were suffering, and it made her stomach churn once she noticed that she knew that.

Why would she know that about you?

“Wednesday,” you called, your voice being something she couldn’t get herself to listen to but still tried.

She opened her eyes and clenched her jaw.

“You’re about to cry.” Wednesday remarked dryly, hiding the fact that it made her want to stab her eyes for noticing such a detail. “It’s unnecessary.”

Who was she kidding? She had an arrow that pierced through the flesh of her shoulder and it already stung. What more a stab that she knew what felt like? Especially twisted. It was an electrocution with tenfold the increased voltage on the maimed part of the body. It wasn’t just that. There was more to it than she saw from you now.

You chuckled. “Yeah, I thought that too.”

You didn’t want things to end like this. Wednesday wasn’t a mirror. She was a similarity that you had an opportunity to know and relate to. You had a chance for her to be your friend, but instead of taking that chance, you looked at her like a competition just because you hated the aspect of yourself that you tried to link with her.

Wednesday tensed up when your bloody hand found hers on the dirty ground. Your fingers touching hers making her head spin faster than the Earth on its axis. There was a sensation there. On the spot that your cold hands inflicted upon the place of contact. A slight feeling that caused her to look down at it, her eyes going from anger to something gentle and unexplainable. You were holding her hand. She wanted to process that in her head.

You were holding her hand.

Wednesday wanted to kill after the contact, because the look you had on your face mirrored hers. She knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Can we pretend like we didn’t try to kill each other for the whole term?” Your voice was barely a voice. The question had become a whisper that only she could hear.

No, no. You weren’t doing this. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. The young Addams never asked for it but why were you doing it? God, you were stubborn. She hated you so much!

But you were you. There was nothing she could do about it. You were your own person, and that’s perhaps . . . Wednesday looked at your joined hands once again. It made her feel.

You made her feel.

Every aspect of you made her feel alive.

She thought she’d known thrill and the concept of romance all her life, but she was sure that every bit and piece of what she knew about it could be matched with this — this fluttery feeling in her stomach. The spark crackling on her skin that you were in contact with. Your eyes sending shivers down her spine. This state of you that angered her so much. Her knees shaking from fear of having no one in Nevermore to compete with once again.

Why did she feel this way?

She was supposed to despise you. Wednesday pursed her lips. She looked down at yours. There was a night that she pondered over why the first thing she kept seeing was your lips when she saw you. Then, after that one thought came the billions in her head when she lied still on her cold bed in the middle of the night that would sometimes even last until the light of dawn. She thought it was just because she hated you.

She thought it was just because you provoked such an emotion in her that was far too complicated for her to comprehend. Now, Wednesday wanted to test a theory, but was there even a theory to be tested, or was it the truth?

“I never hated you.”

She heard laughter from you. Was it funny that she said that? Was that statement pointless to you? Did it mean nothing? Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her eyelashes doing that thing you usually found amusing.

You looked away and focused on the blanket of stars glinting so brightly above you. You let out a breath, “Huh.”

Should you tell her the truth? “Since I’m dying, I think you deserve the truth.”

That made her look up at you again, tearing her gaze away from your hand again. you almost laughed at her if you weren’t so badly injured now.

“I think I never hated you too, Wednesday.”

If an instrument was checking the pounding of her heartbeat, the machine would have gone crazy as the lines came in shambles. It was the same for you, but how would you know? You — why was she staring at you like that?

Why were her eyes the ones glossy now?

“You’re about to cry.” You commented, ignoring the sharp pain that started to become worse now that you thought was like the one before. You didn’t think much of it. Yes, it was painful, but why would you? “It’s unnecessary.”

You gasped at yet another pain. Your hands clutched hers, making her shift in her spot, her fingers squeezing you back.

That didn’t help your already dying heartbeat. There was more to what you said before, but you had to refrain yourself drom embarrassing yourself in front of her just in case this was the last.

And you were sure this was your last.

You vowed never to fall for the traps of love, most especially its romantic form. You saw and experienced many things that you never wanted to look back on ever again. However, you hated how your wall slowly crumbled down for Wednesday who almost shared the same perspective as you, although hers was more glum and grim. Yours was about the matter of love. Hers was about life.

Maybe this similarity was the reason you managed to be close to her. Not that close. Just this close. Just this in which you’d share the peace in front of the quiet lake without saying another word. Just holding each other’s gazes on occasions and looking away, with you clearing your throat and her bumping your shoulder to the point that it would ache later on for no reason. Just stealing glances at certain times while the other was accompanied by another at the Rave’N. Just fighting most of the time. Just acting like nothing happened the next. Just ignoring each other’s presence while looking back when walking past each other in the corridors of Nevermore.

“Y/N?”

You gasped, “I can’t — ” You panted for air again, “Breathe.”

“Don’t speak.” Her trembling hand removed its grip from yours as she stood up, frantic yet graceful when she spotted and obtained the blade she banished Crackstone with on the ground. The girl cut the edge of her long skirt and proceeded to take a long piece, careful not to make her own shorter than it should be.

She then proceeded to kneel down next to you. No, you weren’t leaving her hanging like this. Your truth was barely the truth, and she wnated to hear from you. She badly wanted to hear your voice again in full volume, in that pitch that she always knew.

Wednesday cried for Thing, but God, you? She knew she’d fill an ocean. This couldn’t be happening to her again.

She hated you now. She hated how scared you were making her feel in that moment. Were you even aware of what you were doing to her? She was supposed to be in her best composure, handling this in a graceful way that wouldn’t require her to shake so much, to curse in her head just because you were struggling.

Why did she care?! She cared so much it was too unnecessary, and her eyes were starting to water from this sight of you.

The girl wrapped the cloth around the knife that she couldn’t pull out. She put pressure on the spot but her heart dropped to her stomach the most when a tear escaped your eye.

Wednesday’s eyes widened. She quickly took you by the shoulders and laid your head on her lap in a hurry. Now was the time that she didn’t know what to do the most.

You couldn’t leave her like this.

She couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t.

She wanted to spend another moment alone in the quiet in front of the lake, staring at your reflections and stealing glances over the water.

She wanted to ponder about you at night, questioning why it was your lips first that she captured when she looked back at you when you passed by each other in the hallways.

She wanted — no, demanded to see your annoying face that kept popping up in her nightmares and daydreams to show up beaming at her, laughing at some stupid joke someone told.

Your life story can’t just end like this.

What was she to do without you? Wednesday could imagine a world where it was just you and her living off the taunts of each other, competing to wind, but enjoying each other’s company.

She envisioned you laying your head on her shoulder after a long exhausting day, ranting to her about how your day went. She could envision herself just nodding, being the same old her that people often thought did not care enough.

Did you care enough?

Because she did. Enough to hold you in her arms, to embarrass herself in front of you.

How the mighty have fallen for the graces of someone like you? You thought.

“If you die on me, I will make history repeat itself just to bring you back and I'll stab you again myself.”

You used what bit of your energy was left to quirk your lips up to form a curve. You liked Wednesday.

It was clearer than the water you occasionally stared at for hours in her company.

“Out of all the people in the world, the ones I share the same blood with, used to tell my secrets to,” you quietly gasped for air to continue, “This, Wednesday Addams . . .”

Your clutch on her arm was starting to loosen as your eyelids started to slowly drop down to meet the darkness.

“This is the only time I feel given a damn about.”

Wednesday’s eyes didn’t know which to focus on. They darted on the dagger, the blood, the cloth, your eyes, your parted lips — “Y/N?” That was the first time her call for someone had a frantic frightened tone.

Your hand on the ground without another sign of movement was a touch of something that amde her feel as if someone had poured acid in her stomach. Her hand made its way to your cheek, not caring whether the blood on her hand got on your face.

Why weren’t you waking up? Why weren’t you opening her eyes and shooting up from the ground to tell her that you were just joking? She didn’t care if it was a fucked up prank, as long as she knew you were still there.

But no, God no, you weren’t.

“Wake up, Y/N.”

She shook you, but there was nothing. She placed two fingers on the side of your neck to check your pulse but she couldn’t get any sign of it.

A tear fell.

Wednesday halted. The girl touched her cheek, wiping the drop of what she vowed never to do again and leisurely examined her finger that shone with the wet surface because of the tear.

There she knew.

Wednesday wished she had realised it before, but no, it took you reaching the end of your own life story before she could even understand.

She knew a bit about you.

She knew you were Y/N and that you used to live in a small home in a small town in Romania where you had a family that pushed you around just because you were an outcast. That you had a gift that none of them could accept, for it was deemed to be witchcraft or that it made them insecure to use as a reason to make you feel small.

She knew you used to have friends who spilled all your secrets that made you fall from your grace. From being at the top down to the six foot level underground.

She knew you had a fling. She knew it didn’t end well. She knew your family put you in Nevermore to get rid of you and find yourself.

She knew that you cried yourself to sleep, knew that you believed that no one cared.

She knew what was going on in the back of your mind when you wiped away your tears in front of the lake.

Wednesday just wished she never looked away when she saw who you were. She wished she never resisted what it was that she felt.

Because what you went through? She knew it was that much of a cut and the stab that Crackstone had done to you was the thousandth.

Or maybe it was the words that were left unsaid?

AUTHOR’S NOTE. part two will be coming up soon! this will be edited tomorrow since it’s so late already and i have to wake up in about four hours again. if you want to get tagged for the next part, just leave a comment. thank you!

[prolix-yuy]

Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!

Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.

(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)

So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.

As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.

All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:

"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."

If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.

Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.

Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.

Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!

WHAT'S NEXT!

The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!

As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:

Series:

I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.

SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!

Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.

Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.

One Shots in Progress:

Decoherence Follow-Up

Incubus!Dieter Ask

You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.

This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s your first day at work. Your nerves have simmered over to a nice whirlwind. Even as you sit at your desk, going through the various training materials. You haven’t managed to calm down. Your heart is beating so fast.

Everyone’s been nice. You don’t know why you’re jittering. Like your mother says, you’re overthinking, and like your father says, you need to sit still. You grab the armrests and try to make yourself stop moving. It only makes you want to boil over.

You swivel back and forth and look at your coworkers. They’re all so busy like bees in a hive. They know exactly what they’re doing and you still feel lost as you sift through endless SOPs and corporate training videos.

You see a woman with purplish red curls with a mug, steam curling over the brim. Ah, that’s a good excuse for a break. You still need to figure out the office coffee machine. Daniella, your supervisor, briefly pointed it out during her tour. It’s one of those fancy industrial pod brewers.

You stand and nearly skip between the desks. Be cool. You slow your pace and hold your shoulders straight, your squared toed kitten heels clacking on the tile. You poke your head into the kitchen and find only one other employee inside.

The man’s shoulders are broad and straight as he stares silently at the coffee machine. It grinds and spurts out dark coffee. You come up next to him to peruse the spinning rack of pods, tapping your chin as you think. You peek over at him.

“Hi,” you smile, “any recommendations?”

His pale blue eyes meet yours for an instant before quickly flicking back to his cup. A plain black porcelain mug without any decoration or glitz. You already know which cup you want to bring in; the one that looks like a honey pot and has a small lid resembling a bear sticking his head out with a little honeycomb stitch between his ears.

You take one of the paper cups and a pod of the butterscotch twist. You stand back and wait your turn. He scowls as if mentally urging the cup to fill.

“I’m…” you introduce yourself, “I just started over in Research and Development.”

He doesn’t respond. He puts his hands behind him, clutching them tightly as his forearms tense. The tendons bulge out beneath his skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, a grey button up with black trousers. A bit grim but an aesthetic for sure. There’s several rings on his fingers as they curl around each other.

“It’s my first day,” you continue the one-sided conversation, “so… that’s why you never saw me before.”

He growls and grabs his cup as the machine dings. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he turns on his heel and marches out. You watch his back and shrug, blowing out between your lips. You get it, some people aren’t the social type.

You put your cup under the spout and tap the touchscreen. It takes you a lot of poking around to figure out how to brew the coffee. You step back and wait. Caffeine should definitely help your nerves… fuel them at least.

💗

Lunchtime comes and you grab your bento box and head down to the cafeteria. Daniella said you could eat your desk if you wished but you need a break from the screen. Besides, you notice that most people don’t.

You enter the cafeteria. There are tables here and there but they’re already crowded. You notice a few people from your department and head over to that table. Tammy moves her bag onto the seat before you can claim it. You frown and apologise as you back away.

Hmm.

You look around. You don’t know anyone. You don’t mind making new friends but it’s like high school all over again. Everyone has their clique and you’re just wandering in between.

Your gaze falls on the only table with more than one seat free. There’s a single person sitting at it, his head down as he runs his hand over his close cut hair. Hey, it’s… that guy. He didn’t give you his name.

You cross the room and near a chair, putting your hand on the back of it as you hover by the table.

“Hi, um, do you mind if I sit here?”

His eyes dart up and he says nothing. He shrugs and sits back, smoothing out the pages of the book in front of him. You sit, your bento box clanging loudly as you do. You give a sheepish smile as he clears his throat but doesn’t look at you.

You flip back the clasp and pop open the lid. He shifts in his chair as you take out your plastic cutlery from the little compartment. You try to be quiet but you can’t help but hit the fork off the side.

You look over at him. He has only his empty mug and a half-eaten protein bar. You look back at your colourful medley of food. Maybe he’s on a diet.

“Do you like hummus?” You ask.

He doesn’t look up. You bite your lip. You’re just being friendly but maybe he’s not hungry.

“Um, uh, you remember me?” You poke at your couscous, “from the kitchen? I didn’t get your name.”

He sighs and turns the page. You nod. Not much of a talker. You let your fork lean on the edge of the bento and grab the sides of your chair, scraping it closer. He snarls and finally looks at you.

You stop and show your teeth like a threatened animal. His jaw clenches and he refocus on his book. You stir the couscous and take a bite, swallowing as your curiosity piques.

“What are you read–”

“I’m not,” he grits and shuts the book without marking the page.

He stands and pockets the protein bar, swiping up his mug and book. You gape at him, stunned. You don’t know why he’s so upset. You’re just trying to be polite. He storms away and you frown at your food. Well, you’ve always got a friend in snacks!