#it may be small progress but any progress always counts :))

[sunnibits]

hello hello here is my legally obligated Art Vs. Artist for 2023!!

I struggled a bit more with inspiration and motivation this year, but I still managed to make some art that I’m proud of and enjoyed creating! I did a fair bit of OC art, contributed to Art Fight, had an unexpected amount of fun painting eggs, and of course still had time to squeeze in some slutty Izzy art <3 (albeit not nearly as much as last year).

all in all, a bit of a random mix this year, but I’m hoping to make more progress and regain some proper inspiration in 2024 :))

as always, thank you a million times to everyone who supports my art (especially to those who supported me opening my brand new inprnt shop!!) I truly mean it when I say every comment, every reblog, and every sweet message means the world to me <333 I’m eternally grateful :)

[sporadicbeans82]

Take Care || Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You interact with a lost child after a match, and Alexia thinks her ovaries may burst.

Warnings: A swear word, a tiny bit of angst if you squint, a little bit of fluff, insinuation of sexual content

Word Count: 3.2k words

You wander up to the barrier, a sharpie in hand. The calls for your name are, as always, nearly overwhelming. The bright Barça colors on flags and shirts and jerseys and hats have you beaming with pride, but they were incredibly distracting. 

You were making your rounds around the stadium after your win against Real Madrid, signing peoples’ jerseys and signs and various other items which were thrown rather unceremoniously at you. Your girlfriend, Alexia, was at your side, which probably worked to excite the people further. 

Alexia always managed to calm you down after matches, lowering your nerves and the pounding adrenaline which had been coursing through your veins throughout each match. The other woman worked to bring you down despite the screams and cries of your name from the Barcelona fans in the stands. It was unintentional for the most part, but she was aware of the calming effect she had on you. Therefore, after each game she often would take ahold of your wrist and tug you around with her to sign things. 

The two of you worked well together, chattering amongst yourselves in a mix of English and Spanish in a way that had become a post-match ritual. 

It was, of course, something which you’d missed since Alexia had been injured. Now that she was back, the way that the two of you flowed with each other so well was something that you appreciated even more. 

You slid behind her, hands on her hips for just a moment as you leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Voy… I’m going to go over there.”

Usually, Alexia encourages you to speak Spanish. However, you were still new to the language, and new to the team, and it was certainly a work in progress. Halfway through most of your sentences, you seemed to abandon any pretense of the other language. 

One of your hands lifted from where they rested comfortingly on Alexia’s body to point at a portion of the stands a few yards away. The woman was protective of you, and as much as she trusted and loved the fans which had stood behind her for years, you knew that they had the tendency to get rowdy. You had seen many of the videos that circulated the internet, of fans being disrespectful and rude towards players. 

Therefore, you had a tendency to show and let Alexia know where you’d be– it was a buddy system of sorts for you and your girlfriend. 

Alexia nodded, eyes scanning the area before she pressed a kiss against your cheek. As you began to make your way over, you squawked as you felt a hand smacking gently against the back of your head, and heard Alexia’s cheeky laugh from behind you. You resisted the urge to turn and stick your tongue out rather childishly, resigned to smile gently to yourself instead. 

Alexia was somewhat of a bully– she was always stealing your stuff and holding it above your head, making you earn it back with a kiss. Or she was sneaking up behind you and mussing up your hair, or smacking your bum as you walked past her. It was something which you were quick to learn that Alexia loved, and had quickly become something that made you laugh no matter the time. 

As you made your way over to the other section of the stands, you tried to pick out a few specific fans to interact with. There was someone holding a sign with your name, and you signed that for them with a small smile. 

Then, the first item was thrown at you. It was a towel, red and blue in the Barcelona colors, and you were quick to toss the item back. However, another item was thrown your way, and then another. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a few members of security making their ways over. Their hands were waving above their heads in what should have been a universal sign for “stop”. However, their shouts were drowned out by one of the many fans which pushed up against the wall to try to interact with you.

Alexia had taken notice of what was going on as well as one of the fans whose shirt she was signing pointed out your panicked form. She was quick to thank them, handing them back their shirt before running towards you as well.

There was now a flurry of items being slid down the barrier. You caught a phone before it could plummet to its technological death on the ground below, setting it back onto the guardrail for someone to grab when they could. and the cries of your name were, once again, nearly overwhelming. 

So much so that you nearly miss the weeping child being pressed harshly up against the barrier. 

If you listened closely, you could hear their panicked cries for help that came from the childs’ chattering mouth. Their eyes were closed tightly, hands clutching desperately at the top of the railing as though they were trying to crawl out. 

Their dark hair was pulled into two tiny pigtails on the back of their head which, if you’d had the time to take in more, you would have thought was absolutely adorable. 

You’re moving quickly, with jilted shouts in a tongue which is not your own, trying arduously to get the fans to move. They were crushing the poor kid, who may have been only three or four years of age. 

Five, maybe. No matter the language you used, the fans had been worked up into a frenzy. Thankfully, security had noticed the situation as well and began to hop over the barrier, working at moving the crowd.

As the crowd was pressed back, you took the risk and used your agility to hop the barrier as well, scooping the kid up and into your arms. The child wrapped their small limbs around you, nearly choking you with how hard they grasped at your neck. 

“I’ve got you. Tengo te. It’s okay. Está bien. Va a estar bien, cariño.” You work your voice in a soothing manner, much gentler with the way you approach and ease your way over the barrier now that precious cargo is entangled in your arms. 

Your Spanish is awful, as bad as Keira’s, and you desperately hope the child can understand that they’re okay over your harsh English accent and your inability to roll your “r’s” despite Alexia’s best attempts at teaching you over the years. 

Now that the child was safe, you were able to take in their features a little bit more. They wore a white jersey, one which was the signature of Real Madrid, and their shaking hands clutched tightly at the neckline of your own jersey.

The kid had buried their face into your chest, whimpering out rapid fire Spanish. You had no idea what they were saying, but you didn’t need to know the translations to figure out that the kid was terrified. 

You remembered something your mother had used to do when you were scared, and so your hand began to stroke gently at their back. You began to comfort them in what little Spanish you knew, mostly repeating the same basic phrases and humming a little to the tune of the victory soundtrack which was playing throughout the stadium. 

You could feel the kid slowly relaxing further into your arms, the shaking grip that the had on your jersey loosening until their hands moved altogether. They pulled away from you, curious brown eyes taking you in. 

Her brows furrowed in a stark contrast to the rest of her childishly vulnerable features. 

“Estás bien?” You asked, and the girl nodded slowly, although she still looked perplexed.

“Mi papa dice que- you’re shit!” You nearly choked at the sudden English swear words coming from the kids’ mouth. Her accent was, quite literally, all over the place in a way that had you fighting back laughter. 

“Is that so?” You asked.

“Sí.” The kid responded, managing to cross her arms over her chest as she leaned back in your arms. 

You supposed she was repeating words that her parents had taught her, if the white Real Madrid jersey that she was dressed in was anything to go by. The entire situation had become, rather suddenly, comical as you fought to keep your smile and laugh at bay.

“Te gustaría jugar fútbol conmigo?” You knew how to say that, the question coming out rather easily compared to the other ones as you spoke. 

The girl gave you the once over, her large eyes incredibly judgemental in a way that had you wondering if you’d stolen her stuffed animal without knowing it.

Finally, she nodded and you set her down. Having been by your side throughout the conversation, Alexia was quick to kick a football over to the girl. You gave the other woman a thankful glance, one which she returned before focusing her gaze on the child again. 

The girl practically ignored Alexia, however, in favor of kicking the ball your way. Apparently, the girl was not a huge fan of La Reina, much to your amusement. The girl kept sending scowls towards your girlfriend, kicking the ball much harder towards Alexia than she did to you. Just as Alexia was Blaugrana to her blood, the little girl was Madridista to her core.

Gently, you kicked the ball back. The two of you went on like that for a few moments before she began to try to show off in a way that children would do.

She attempted to kick the ball up, but ended up kicking it in another direction. You jogged to grab the ball, before kicking it back to the kid. The little girl giggled, a smile on her face as the two of you continued kicking the ball. 

You weren’t aware of the predicament you were putting your girlfriend in, who stood to the side with her hands on her hips, observing the two of you with a fond smile on her lips. 

Alexia had never wanted kids before, but as she watched you interact with the girl in the white jersey of their enemies, she swore her ovaries were going to burst. 

The way you were interacting so gently and kindly with the child had her wondering what you would look like in front of your shared house one day, kicking a ball with children of your own. She thought that you would be a good mother one day. 

Suddenly, Alexia wanted a future with you, wanted to have a house and children and a life built up around the two of you. She wanted it all, the feelings she felt nearly overpowering her other senses. 

She was so distracted that she was barely able to dodge out of the way of the football which was kicked, rather accidentally, at her face. The ball bounced off of her shoulder, and she looked over to you with a little smile on her face. You glanced at her sheepishly, looking apologetic as Alexia kicked the ball back towards you. 

The three of you went on like that, keeping the child calm and entertained with the ball while the security team worked hard to locate the child’s parents. It took another few minutes before the security team came back, with two adults trailing after them, both of which were sporting the white Real Madrid jerseys that their child adorned. 

As soon as they caught sight of their child, the mother was shouting words in Spanish far too quickly for you to comprehend before she was bounding towards the kid. The kid turned, a large smile on her face as she cried out for her mother. The two embraced, with the mom picking up her kid into her arms and hugging her tightly.

You looked at Alexia, only to realize that the older girl had already been looking at you.

“What?” You questioned, rather confused by the way the blonde woman was gazing at you, as if you’d hung the stars in the sky. Alexia blushed at the prospect of being caught, quick to bite back. 

“Nada.” The other woman responded, and you rolled your eyes playfully at her. The look you’d given your girlfriend earned you a gentle smack to your arm, and this time you couldn’t resist sticking your tongue out at her.

“Vuelve a poner tu lengua antes de que yo le dé un mejor uso.” You only managed to grasp a basic understanding of the sentence, enough to know she’d made a comment about your tongue. 

A blush coated your cheeks, and you furrowed your brows at her as you tried to figure out just what your girlfriend had said about your tongue. Instead of responding to your gaze, the woman lifted her hand and gently smoothed the crease between your brows with her thumb. You shook your head at her, and Alexia just winked at you.

You knew that the fans in the stands would be having a field day with this interaction, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to care as you gazed upon the most gorgeous woman you’d ever met. You wondered, briefly, how you could have been so lucky to fall in love with someone so good. 

“Gracias, muchísimas gracias.” You heard someone say, and glanced over to see the girl and her parents looking at both you and Alexia. You allowed Alexia to respond, as you didn’t know how much you could get by with a response. 

“De nada. Ella era muy buena.” Alexia responded, before the small family was escorted away. You noticed the way that the mother had taken ahold of her child’s hand, and smiled gently as the girl was trying to tug away. The little girls’ gaze was curious as she tried to stoop down to grab something from the turf. It was no wonder how the girl had escaped from her parents’ sight in the first place!

Before the family was even out of sight, Alexia was pulling you away and towards the locker rooms. 

“What?” You asked, confused at her sudden urgency. Alexia just gave you a look, and you were silenced by the utter yearning in the woman’s eyes.

It took you a few seconds longer to realize why the woman was suddenly looking at you like her next meal, and it was now your turn to blush. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato as Alexia urged you to change quickly, promising that the two of you would shower at home. 

Your teammates watched on humorously as you and the other girl were quick to change and leave the locker room. It was no wonder what the two of you were up to. Just as your back disappeared out the entryway, Mapi was passing a bit of money over to a beaming Ingrid, who laughed a little bit as her girlfriend groaned. 

The car drive home was utterly insufferable, with Alexia’s large hand covering your thigh and stroking at the skin she could find over your shorts. You resisted the urge to move her hand where you suddenly needed her, concerned with how quickly the woman had gotten you worked up by just simply putting her hand on your thigh. 

Alexia, too, was concerned by just how utterly quickly she was melting in the driver’s seat. So much so that she contemplated pulling over right then and there and having her way with you, but she decided against it as she slowly sped up, just a little bit, so that the two of you could get home a bit faster. 

You were sure that you’d simply implode if you had to wait any longer. The second that Alexia pulled into the car park, you were fumbling with the seatbelt and the door. Alexia put the car in park and turned it off, deciding that your bags could sit in the car for now in favor of snagging you before you could make your way over to your front door.

You giggled as the girl pulled you into her arm, planting several kisses against the skin of your neck and cheek and forehead– anything that she could reach, really. It was soft, the moment causing your heart to flutter in a way that made you ever more eager to pull the girl into your arms and wreck her in every way that she’d let you.

You wanted to be hers, to remind her why you loved her so, and your hands shook as you struggled with the door handle. Finally, Alexia was grabbing both of your wrists with her hand, unlocking the door with her own steadier hand and walking in. She tugged you after her, pressing you up against the wall as she kicked the door open closed with one of her feet. 

She pressed against you, a little whimper exiting her parted lips as they skirted upwards against the skin of your neck. She was so warm against you, her hands wandering under your shirt and running along the skin of your sides, causing you to shiver rather pleasantly.

She captured your lips on her own, claiming your bottom lip and sucking on it gently as she slid a thigh between yours. She flexed the muscle there, pressing firmly against you. It was almost too much and, somehow, not enough all at the same time. 

“Tan bonita, mi amor.” Alexia uttered against your skin, voice slightly muffled as she pressed another kiss to your lips. You struggled to keep up with her pace, nearly breathless as one of her hands grasped your breast and squeezed. You arched your back, pressing against her even more as your head fell back against the wall with a weak moan falling from your mouth.

Alexia didn’t miss a beat, moving to press even more kisses against your neck. You were thankful for the fact that you were given an off day tomorrow, knowing that you would be showing a few marks from your time with Alexia the next morning. 

Her breaths were warm, yours loud as Alexia continued to press passionate kisses against your neck. She sucked against the skin there, soothing it with her tongue before nipping at another piece of your skin with her teeth. Her ministrations drew animalistic noises from you, and you knew you were a pathetic mess beneath her hands. 

Then, Alexia was drawing away from you, and you were stunned at the loss of contact. The girls’ eyes surveyed you, dark with lust, before she tapped your legs. Just as you jumped, the girl caught her hands beneath you, and you wrapped your legs around her. She pressed more kisses against your lips as she began to walk towards the bedroom.

The two of you took a few detours, as Alexia pressed you up against a table, a wall, and even your couch. She ravaged your lips and neck, teasing you and making you beg for her before she finally took you to the bedroom.

There, she made sure to show you how you’d made her feel, intent on showing you just how badly she needed you and wanted you all through the night.

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

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Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases. 

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally. 

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room. 

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

  ‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’ 

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother. 

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas. 

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject. 

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’ 

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte. 

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises. 

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’ 

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’ 

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention. 

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly. 

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked. 

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away. 

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received. 

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework. 

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’ 

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done. 

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you. 

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming. 

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense. 

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg. 

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’  ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip. 

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited. 

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind. 

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair. 

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’ 

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever. 

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head. 

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’ 

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day. 

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head. 

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap. 

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea. 

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’ 

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’ 

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed. 

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’ 

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’ 

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick. 

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up. 

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye. 

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’ 

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks. 

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself. 

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there. 

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger. 

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ 

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that. 

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do. 

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences. 

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now? 

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores. 

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content. 

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’ 

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’ 

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine. 

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ 

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed. 

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by. 

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter. 

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better. 

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice. 

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did. 

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet. 

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought  Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions. 

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind. 

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for. 

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man. 

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’ 

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of. 

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh. 

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation. 

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance. 

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family. 

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly. 

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’ 

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone. 

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met. 

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’ 

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn. 

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’ 

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’ 

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so. 

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely. 

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for. 

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves. 

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here. 

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family. 

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit. 

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek. 

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’ 

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping. 

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think. 

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do. 

You screamed bloody murder. 

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’  you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you. 

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply. 

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired. 

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’ 

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire. 

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled. 

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname. 

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead. 

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape. 

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities. 

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff. 

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it. 

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment. 

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture. 

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste. 

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide. 

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot. 

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner. 

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’ 

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’ 

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms. 

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet. 

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie. 

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.��� 

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’ 

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you. 

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you. 

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off. 

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you. 

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’ 

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied. 

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you. 

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire. 

‘Yes, mother.’ 

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words. 

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss. 

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time. 

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.” 

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted. 

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours. 

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio. 

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone. 

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did. 

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio. 

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens. 

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave. 

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

[melzula]

Smoke and Shadow

part one

pairings: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: it’s finally here! hope you guys enjoy this and sorry it took so long! and ofc reminder that reading the comics is suggested for this piece

summary: The Princess decides to pay Zuko a visit only to find the Fire Nation in disarray.

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

Returning home from the Fire Nation always feels bittersweet; you miss your people, but you know that once you’re back in the South the ache of homesickness will be replaced by your longing to be at Zuko’s side. You once thought the end of the war would mean easier days for your relationship, but being the leaders of two different nations seemed to keep you apart more often than it kept you together. Leaving him never got any easier, but you knew in your heart that this was for the best. You had duties to fulfill and people to take care of, so you’d just have to be patient. Things will settle eventually and the distance will become easier, you just have to see it through.

“Do you really have to go? You just got here!” Kiyi complains with a frown as she watches you pack your things and prepare for your return home.

“I’m sorry, Kiyi, but my people need me.“

“Can’t someone else do it?” She retorts, prompting you to let out a small laugh of amusement. She certainly had her older brother’s attitude at times.

“I’m afraid not. I have a tribe to rebuild and students to teach,” you explain to her. “Things don’t run very smoothly when the Chief is away for too long.”

“Will you at least come back and visit me?” The little girl begs, and you can’t really find a way to say no to her when she looks at you with her best pleading eyes. “I want to see more water bending tricks!”

“I promise to come back as soon as I have the time,” you assure her before giving her a tight hug. You’ve grown rather attached to Zuko’s little sister since meeting her, so it’s not easy having to say goodbye.

A gentle knock at your door alerts both you and Kiyi of someone’s presence, but once you see Zuko’s face peeking through the doorway you smile and part from the girl so that she can run out to play in the palace halls. “My love, the ship is ready to leave when you are.”

“I suppose I’m ready,” you sigh with a melancholic smile, melting into Zuko’s touch when he pulls you into his embrace. “It’s going to be hard being away from you.”

“I know,” he comforts while resting his warm hand upon your cool cheek, “but it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll be together again soon.”

“I’m already counting down the days,” you profess earnestly, eliciting a soft chuckle from him in return. Rubbing his nose affectionately against your own, Zuko angles his face to reach your lips and press a tender kiss against your own. It’s the last one you’ll be sharing for some time, and he makes sure to savor it for as long as possible. Your kiss is impossibly sweet, your smell of fire lilies intoxicating, and it pains him to have to pull away from you.

“I love you, y/n. I hope you know that.”

You smile before pulling him in for another kiss, enjoying your perfect goodbye.

~~~

A month has passed since you left the Fire Nation, and the South has developed swimmingly. With the help of your sister tribe, the outer villages have slowly begun to transform into cities equipped with new buildings, homes, and even town halls. Progress is steady and your tribe is growing, and it will only be a matter of time before the Southern Water Tribe is restored to its rightful glory.

As your advisor, Hakoda has agreed to oversee the Southern Reconstruction Project so that you may focus on teaching the next generation of water benders with Master Pakku. Your time as Chief is spent either at your school or in your office to approve new construction plans and debrief with Hakoda about the progress of the rebuilding project. You’re as busy as ever, but you couldn’t be any happier.

“Sifu y/n, why do we have to learn about healing?” One of your students complains as you set out the practice mannequins for the children. “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!”

“Healing is just as important as bending,” you explain thoughtfully. “As a wise woman once told me, ‘You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.’ Some situations require a gentle hand, and it’s important your bending has balance. Healing can save lives, and your gift can be used to help your people.”

“Sifu y/n,” another student says with her hand raised eagerly in the air, “is it true you healed Fire Lord Zuko from a lightning strike?”

“It is,” you reply with a fond smile, laughing at the amazed gasps your students share at the story. “I wouldn’t have been able to save his life if I hadn’t known how to heal, and that’s why it’s important for you all to learn. Now any last questions before we begin?”

A little hand raises into the air and you nod, signaling them to continue. “Do you miss Zuko?”

“Always,” you sigh wistfully, the familiar ache of longing pulling at your heart strings. You wondered what he was doing now and if he was thinking of you in this moment.

After teaching your healing class, you retire to your office for the evening to look over the new construction plans Hakoda has prepared for you. However, your mind seems to be elsewhere for the night as you find yourself repeatedly looking upon the frame on your desk. The night of your coronation you’d had a local artist paint a portrait of Zuko and yourself. You shared the biggest smiles, the two of you adorned in formal water tribe attire for the festivities ahead. It had been a perfect night, and the painting served as a reminder of the wonderful time you’d had together.

Sighing, you look over your schedule for the upcoming week. Nothing too major seems to be taking place, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you took a short trip to the Fire Nation to see how Zuko and Kiyi were doing. Hakoda could handle the reconstruction project on his own for a few days, and Pakku could look after your students in your absence.

Grabbing a scroll and a brush, you quickly begin scribbling out a lengthy list of items for Hakoda and Pakku to oversee while you’re gone. It seems your mind is made up, and as soon as your affairs are in order you’ll be using the secret tunnel to travel to the Fire Nation to finally see Zuko again.

~~~

Zuko was exhausted.

Carrying the guilt he felt for his sister’s kidnapping as well as the awkward tension that came with working alongside his ex-girlfriend wasn’t exactly helping him keep his peace. More children were going missing with every night that passed, and it seemed he wasn’t any closer to catching his sister and her group of Kemurikage. A part of him wished it really was spirits tormenting his people instead of his sister, but he figured she’d have to turn up eventually.

“We’ll find them, Zuko,” Mai comforts, carefully resting her hand upon his tense shoulder as he stares down at the array of scrolls scattered across his desk. Various passages about the Kemurikage and information about the men part of the New Ozai Society line the endless papers, and yet none of it has gotten them any closer to figuring out where the missing children or Azula are.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmurs before shifting his gaze to the bush of fire lilies out in the courtyard. It dawns on him then that he hasn’t had the time to write to you lately, and he feels you deserve to know about Kiyi‘s disappearance and Azula’s return. He’s sure you’d know just what to do, just what to say to make him feel better, and he needs the comfort now more than anything. “I should write y/n. She cares for Kiyi just as much as I do, she should know.”

Mai’s mood immediately sours at the mention of the Southern Princess, but she’s able to mask it well enough for Zuko’s sake. Despite being willing to work with her ex-boyfriend to find her missing brother, their past relationship was still a sore subject for her. It’s not exactly easy getting over the fact that the boy you thought was in love with you was really just using you to get over someone else.

Their talk at the Boiling Rock hadn’t given her any real closure, and her encounter with the Princess at the flower shop didn’t leave the greatest impression on the girl. Mai still couldn’t see what was so special about her, and she didn’t understand what kind of future Zuko saw with her. She supposed it didn’t matter what she thought anymore, and it didn’t matter what Zuko did with his life. She was with Kei Lo now, and the Fire Lord was no longer her concern.

“Is writing a letter to your girlfriend really your top priority right now?” She can’t help but to retort sarcastically, prompting Zuko to scowl.

“Y/n could be a great help to us,” he argues defensively. “She views things more clearly than I do at times and keeps me from making rash decisions.“

“So is she your girlfriend or your babysitter?”

“Mai-!”

“I know, I know,” she sighs with a passive wave of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Zuko lets out a quiet breath before turning to meet her gaze. He’s unsure of how to approach such a sensitive subject, but he knows he must if any progress is to be made. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I know no apology will fix the hurt I caused you, but you have to put it behind you if we’re going to work together. Y/n is my girlfriend, and Kei Lo is your boyfriend, so why are things still so awkward between us?”

“It’s not that simple, Zuko,” Mai snaps, a bitter scowl masking her features. “It’s not just that you broke my heart, it’s that I was stupid enough to let you! I should have known I’d never be enough for you, and you talking about her is like throwing salt in the wound. It’s like a constant reminder that I was never good enough for you, that what we had was all just a lie. I never want to feel that way again, but I feel it every time I’m around you. I’m like the pathetic ex-girlfriend you can’t get away from.”

“Mai…”

“I can’t believe I still care about you,” she grumbles sullenly.

“I care for you too,” he insists before gently taking one of her hands in his own. “Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I do. I always have, even when we were children and I pushed you into the fountain to put out that apple on your head. You’re a good friend, and I owe you more than I can ever repay you for what you did at Boiling Rock. Can’t we still be friends?”

Mai is silent, her gaze set firmly upon her hand in his own. The sensation is warm and familiar, comforting, but she knows the hurt that is to come if she agrees to his request. Maybe one day she can learn to love Kei Lo and fill the emptiness, be the one doing the using instead of the one being used, but she can’t accomplish this feat with Zuko in the picture.

The room is quiet and tense, but still she does not remove her hand.

And neither of them notice the figure in the doorway watching the scene unfold.

~~~

You’re surprised to find Zuko’s end of the tunnel blocked off by Fire Nation guards. He hadn’t been expecting you of course, but you didn’t think you’d find the passage closed off like this. What had happened while you were away to promote such a drastic measure?

“Excuse me,” you call gently so as to not startle the guards that face away from you, “I’m here to see Fire Lord Zuko. May I cross?”

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in or out of the Capital City,” one guard states gruffly, but his companion waves him off dismissively.

“She’s the Southern Chief and the Fire Lord’s girlfriend,” he explains before gesturing you to continue forward. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear we’d blocked his beloved from seeing him.”

“O-Oh, my apologies,” the first guard stutters sheepishly before clearing himself out of your path.

“What’s going on? Why is the Capital City in lockdown?”

“Children of the Fire Nation have been going missing and the people are becoming restless,” he explains. "The Fire Lord wants everyone to stay put until a culprit has been caught and the children are returned safe.”

“How awful,” you murmur quietly before an uneasy feeling begins to hit you. “Have you heard anything of Kiyi, Ursa’s daughter? Is she safe?”

The two guards exchange solemn glances, and that’s all you need to know before immediately rushing towards the palace. If Kiyi is in danger, you want to do everything you can to help Zuko find her and the other missing children before it’s too late. Who knows what danger they could be in?

Your trek to the palace isn’t easy, what with the protests and unrest occurring on the streets as a result of Zuko’s harsh restrictions, but you manage to weave your way through the chaos and make it to your destination. You’re a bit overwhelmed by the commotion, blind to the conflict that’s been occurring in your absence and unaware of what exactly is going on, but you do your best to focus on finding Zuko first.

Surprisingly, the palace hallways are relatively empty, and you slow your sprint to a walk once you reach the throne room corridors. The pristine gold doors are left open, and the sound of Zuko’s voice carries through the air. Already you can feel the worry melting away just by hearing him speak, and though you want nothing more than to run in and throw yourself into his arms you stop to listen. You want to make sure you’re not interrupting anything important before you announce yourself.

“I care for you…” you hear him say, prompting your brows to furrow slightly in uncertainty. You can’t exactly make out everything he’s saying or what the context of his conversation is, but you’re able to note the soft gentleness in his tone, and a part of you is starting to feel strange listening in. Who is he speaking to in such a manner?

Peeking your head around the corner, you can’t help but feel your heart begin to sink to your stomach at the sight before you.

Zuko stands in the center of the throne room, gently clasping one of Mai’s hands in his own as he speaks to her in a comforting manner. You’re not sure what exactly they’re saying to each other or why she’s there, but watching the scene unfold before you fills you with dread and insecurity. Surely Zuko wouldn’t be unfaithful to you… would he?

You’ve worked hard to build your trust in him again after all you’d both been through, but you can’t help but question what he’s been up to in your absence. Why was he with his ex-girlfriend, and why he was holding her hand in what looked to be like an intimate moment? Was he thinking of leaving you again? Had he changed his mind about your relationship? What had you just walked in on?

“Zuko?” You call meekly, as if you shouldn’t be there interrupting their moment and as if you’re not his actual girlfriend. The two startle at the intrusion, but when Zuko realizes that you’re actually there before him he immediately releases his hold on her and runs towards you.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, engulfing you in the tightest hug imaginable. You’re unsure how to react at first, still reeling from what you’d just seen, but eventually you return his hug. Your weary gaze sets upon Mai who keeps her eyes down to the ground and refuses to look you in the face.

“Am I interrupting something?” You warily ask when he finally pulls away. He falters for a moment, almost offended by your insinuation.

“No! No, of course not,” he rushes to explain. “We were just… talking.”

“It kind of looked like it was more than just talking to me,” you say defensively. You don’t want to be jealous or accusatory, but you can’t help it. How could you not question them being alone together and holding hands?

“Princess, I swear there is nothing going on,” Zuko pleads earnestly, taking both of your hands in his own. “Mai is only here because the children of the Fire Nation are going missing and she’s helping me find them.”

“They took my little brother,” she adds quietly, solemn gaze still focused on the ground.

“They took Kiyi,” Zuko utters sorrowfully. His eyes are full of shame and worry, and you find it difficult to be upset with him when he looks so hurt and vulnerable.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur softly before pulling him in for a tight hug.

“I have the city on lockdown until I’m able to find the people responsible, and I’m doing everything I can to get them back. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I didn’t mean to exclude you. I swear I was just going to write you and ask for your help.”

“You never have to ask,” you say with a comforting smile. “I came to surprise you because I missed you, and I’m glad I did.“

“So am I,” Zuko professes earnestly before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Neither of you notice Mai leaving the room.

~~~

Zuko catches you up on everything- the Kemurikage, the “Safe Nation Society,” the kidnapping of Tom-Tom and Kiyi, Azula’s return, and Ukano’s possible connection to Zuko’s sister. It was a lot to process, but you were quick to get up to speed so that you’d be able to do all you could to help.

“I don’t think you should have kicked Aang out of the throne room,” you chide Zuko after hearing him recount his disagreement with the Avatar. Fire Nation guards escort you to the Capital City prison as you converse, and Zuko hopes that by the time you reach your destination Mai’s father will be caught and ready for questioning.

“I tried to do things his way, but if he isn’t going to see things my way then I can’t have him around,” he tries to explain.

“Zuko, I saw firsthand how restless your people have become as a result of your harsh lockdown rules. Aang might be right,” you try to reason with him. “I don’t think causing fear and uncertainty is going to help us find the missing children.”

“I had to do something,” he argues weakly, “I have to get my sister back and stop Azula before it’s too late.”

“You will,” you assure him firmly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze.

As the two of you talk, Mai trails along quietly behind you both. A whirlwind of emotions are festering in her mind; she wants her brother returned to her, but she feels guilty exposing her father to Zuko and his guards and costing him his freedom. It feels like she’s working with the enemy, and perhaps in a way that’s true.

She can’t help the scowl that plays upon her features as she watches you and Zuko walk arm in arm to the prison. While she’s fretting over her family, it almost seems as if you two don’t have a care in the world about anything but each other. That isn’t true, of course, but her resentment clouds her better judgement, and all she can feel is disdain for the couple in front of her.

You were Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, a master bender, kind, beautiful. She could understand why any guy would want you, but why did Zuko? And why did you have to want him back? You had practically everything, you grew up a Princess, so why couldn’t you have just let her have this one thing? Why did you have to take him back and take him away from her after she’d finally gotten the one thing she’d always wanted?

“I’m sorry about your brother,” a voice says, pulling Mai away from her thoughts. So wrapped up in her cynicism, she hadn’t even realized they’d made it to the prison. A couple feet away, Zuko speaks to one of his men about the riot that had broken out on behalf of the Safe Nation Society. And in front of her you stand, your features kind and your words remorseful despite the tension you share.

“Thanks,” she says flatly, unsure of what else to say. The last time she’d spoken to you had been in the flower shop, and it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant conversation. She knows that you’re trying, and she knows this is all just as uncomfortable for you as it is for her, but she still isn’t so easily swayed. She doesn’t think you deserve her sympathy or understanding, and she doesn’t plan to go out of her way to be nice to you.

“I don’t have any siblings so I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I want to help however I can if you’ll let me.”

“You can help by staying out of the way,” she replies bluntly, her gaze hardening much to your surprise. “Zuko promised he’d help me find Tom-Tom, and I don’t need you distracting him while you’re here.”

“I want to help him find Kiyi,” you argue defensively, “I’m not going to get in the way of something as important as finding the missing children. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Because you have a really good track record of getting in the way of things that are important to me.”

Stunned by her admission, you can’t help but find yourself falling short of words. You knew Mai didn’t exactly think highly of you or approve of your relationship, but did she really still believe that you’d stolen Zuko away from her? You’re not to blame for what Zuko did to her or what she went through. You’ve endured just as much hurt as she has if not worse, and it isn’t fair for her to paint you as the problem.

“I didn’t even know about you and Zuko until we were already broken up! I’ve never personally tried to hurt you, and I don’t expect you to like me, but you need to get over yourself. Zuko isn’t what’s important here, you and I are not what’s important, it’s the kids. It’s Tom-Tom and Kiyi and all the children that are probably so frightened and alone. Can we at least agree on that?!”

It’s silent for a moment, you and Mai simply starting each other down for what feels like ages until she finally relents. Her tense shoulders slowly fall in defeat and she sighs, somewhat embarrassed at her little outburst. She’d been letting her emotions get the better of her lately, failing to conceal them like she was usually so good at doing, and it was painfully embarrassing for her to come to this realization.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, “let’s just focus on finding the children. The sooner this is all over the sooner we never have to see each other again anyway.”

“Fine by me,” you huff indignantly. Though Mai has more to say, she isn’t given the time to once she spots her boyfriend being escorted towards the prison in handcuffs.

“Kei Lo!” She exclaims before turning to the Fire Lord. “Zuko, this is obviously a mistake! Get him out of those cuffs!”

“I’m not so sure,” Zuko says hesitantly, looking to you for guidance to see if he’s making the right choice. You merely give him a hesitant shrug, not really wanting to get involved in their quarrel. You don’t know the full story, so it’s better to just stay out of it.

“Are you serious? You need her permission to let my boyfriend go?” She exclaims exasperatedly. “Release him!”

“What were you doing with the Safe Nation Society, Kei Lo?” Zuko prods firmly, ignoring Mai’s complaints.

“They ran into me! Literally!” The boy argues to try and prove his innocence.

“You’ve betrayed your allies bedore, who’s to say you aren’t acting as a double agent now!”

“Zuko! Stop being ridiculous!” Mai scolds angrily before looking to you. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

“I’d rather not get involved…” you trail off awkwardly, only irritating her further.

Eventually Zuko allows for Kei Lo’s release, but you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t too happy about it. His firm gaze seems to be burning holes into the back of Kei Lo’s head as he watches Mai embrace the boy, and a part of you wonders if he’s feeling some sort of jealousy towards him. Surely he wouldn’t be, he has no reason or right to be jealous, at least you think so anyway.

“Zuko?” You utter softly, placing a careful hand on his back to get his attention. “If I ask you something… will you be honest with me? Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear?”

“Of course, my love,” he says earnestly before giving you his full undivided attention. “What is it?”

“Do you… do you still-“

“Zuko!”

You startle away from Zuko at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening as you see Aang sprinting towards your boyfriend with Suki and Ty Lee in tow. You’re honestly surprised to see him considering he should have been heading back to the South with Katara and Sokka by now, and based upon his reaction it seems he’s just as surprised to see you.

“Aang!”

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” He exclaims in bewilderment.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Zuko interrupts. “I thought you left.”

“Well you thought wrong, buddy!” Aang corrects him impatiently. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Suki, Ty Lee, and I found something you need to see! Come on!”

“Fire Lord,” one of Zuko’s men interrupts, “the sun will set before we know it. We need to make a plan our people will rise up again.”

Zuko shares a quiet glance with the men before looking to Aang. You know what his answer is going to be, and you know that the Avatar isn’t going to like it.

“I’m sorry, Aang, but General Mak is right. I need to handle this my own way.”

“Even if your way is stupid?!” He rebuffs indignantly.

“What Aang means to say,” you correct, trying to put a nicer spin on his words, “is that maybe the approach you’ve been taking isn’t working. Maybe keeping your people on lockdown like they’re criminals in their own homes will only make things worse. You need to change your approach.”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I know what’s best for my people.”

“I’ve seen your people, and they’re not happy. They’re scared, and I know you want to find Kiyi and stop Azula but you need to start thinking rationally first.”

“Can you please just trust that I know what I’m doing? Help me come up with a new plan to keep the Fire Nation citizens in order and find Azula and Ukano so that we can find Kiyi.”

His pleading eyes beg for your understanding and support, but you’re hesitant. You know that Zuko means well, but you don’t agree with his methods at all. Being a leader yourself, you know that fear and unrest is not the way to solve problems. You must treat your people with trust and respect like they deserve, otherwise they won’t be able to do the same for you.

Luckily, Aang buts in before you’re able to shoot Zuko’s request down. An air scooter is abruptly thrown beneath your boyfriend, lifting him up and carrying him away to spirits know where- if the situation weren’t so serious you’d laugh at how discombobulated Zuko looks being swept up off his feet and whisked away by a ball of air.

“Aang, slow down!” You call out before sprinting after the pair. Suki and Ty Lee are right beside you chasing them down. “Why are our reunions always so chaotic?”

“I don’t think this group knows how to live without chaos,” Suki quips with a breathless laugh. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Ty Lee and I will catch you up on everything on the way there.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you applaud gratefully.

You can only hope that whatever it is they’ve found will make things much easier from here on out.

Because you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

[byoldervine]

Writing Tip - What ‘Habit Over Motivation’ Actually Looks Like

We’ve all heard the writing advice that you can’t rely on motivation to get you through writing a book, sometimes you need to force yourself to do it and make a habit of it. And a lot of us will scoff at that or find it too restrictive or boring, it leaves us feeling like it’s a chore rather than a fun activity

As someone who only worked out what people actually mean by it recently, let me explain my take on it

You’re not always going to be inspired to write, you’re not always going to be motivated to write, but if you only write when you’re motivated it’s gonna take a crap ton of time - and writing anything to completion already takes donkey’s years as it is. Forming a habit is going to enable you to write consistently, and thus even unmotivated or uninspired progress is still made. Hence, sometimes you have to force yourself to write

But writing too much will make that habit impossible, or at least it becomes a chore and not a fun activity. You need to give yourself realistic goals to meet, even if it’s only something small. Write for ten minutes a day, write 500 words every week, any snail’s pace progress regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Something small enough that it doesn’t drain you but frequent enough that there’s still a habit being formed, there’s still consistency to it

I used to only write when I was inspired and motivated and could get myself to start writing, and even then the word count would be inconsistent. It could be weeks or even months between proper writing sessions. But now that I have a baseline for productivity, I have a baseline for consistent progress. And I’m only on 1K words a week! And if that doesn’t work, you can do less, or go by time spent writing if that’s a better metric for your writing style!

There’s no such thing as not enough progress when it comes to forming a consistent habit; if you can get at least one word per deadline (day, week, whatever) then that still counts as consistent progress

What everyone else seems to think of is “You must get this big amount of words written daily, think of it as eternal NaNoWriMo, if you miss even one day you’re a failure and you’ll never get the book done, SUFFER FOR YOUR ART!”

Just do what’s comfortable and it’ll be fine, no worries

[f1daydreamers]

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐬 [𝐌𝐕𝟏]

gif credits: @overtake

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seeing your boyfriend play with his nephews stirs emotions inside of you. While it may be the first time you and Max have acknowledged it, it may also be the last.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, like one mention of alcohol, mentions of an unknown future, parenthood, lmk if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 1.0k words (3 mins reading time avg)

...

The sun dipped below the Monaco skyline, its rays streaming through the expansive windows of the apartment you shared with Max.

In celebration of his successful '23 season, you both agreed that throwing a rather modest dinner would be the perfect way to bring everyone together after a demanding year.

You'd dumped the last of the dirty plates into the sink, thanking Vic as she was already some steps ahead of you, cloth and disinfectant spray in hand as she wiped down the table.

Casting a quick glance around, you confirmed the absence of any stray cutlery, leaving only everyone's respective cups.

However, both your mind and your movements abruptly hit pause, as if your heart had taken the reins, softening at the sight of your boyfriend playing with his nephews, attentively listening to every word they were saying, whether it was meaningful or mere babble.

You smiled as Luka got up and wrapped his small arms around Max's neck, his hand rubbing up and down his little back.

Your eyes even threatened to well up a bit at the wholesome scene. As you brought your fingers up to your face, Max's gaze lifted to meet yours.

You fake-coughed, pretending to shield your mouth, averting your eyes and busying yourself, desperately trying to regain your previously lost train of thoughts.

Max couldn't help softly smiling to himself, but his moment of retrospect was interrupted by a few taps on his cheek from his nephew, who was determined to recapture his uncle's attention.

…

As the evening progressed on, you constantly found your mind plagued with thoughts that unravelled a potential future with him, one that included the laughter and chaos of children.

Yet, a persistent counterargument resounded in your thoughts, reminding you that neither would be ready, both still traversing the barely begun stages of real adulthood.

The internal conflict tugged at your emotions, creating a fine line between the yearning for a future adorned with parenthood and the sober acknowledgment of the unadorned present. As the dinner gradually transitioned into an intimate gathering with hushed conversations among the group that remained, you politely excused yourself.

Max's arm, once comfortably wrapped around your body, now gracefully descended onto the sofa behind you. With your hand placed flat on his thigh, you leveraged yourself up, slipping out of his gentle grasp.

He let maybe five, ten minutes pass by, granting you some alone time should you have needed it.

But eventually, he placed his beer bottle on to the corner table, crossing the lounge before pushing open and then shutting one of the doors to the apartment balcony.

Lost in thought, your mind had barely registered the sound, your body jolting when his hand pressed into the slight dip of your waist.

You sighed when you recognised the touch a few seconds later, turning your head to meet Max's rather sympathetic eyes.

"Sorry," he quietly apologised. You shook your head, dismissing the need for one. Turning to face him, you wrapped both your arms around his torso, gently resting your head against his chest - a hug he warmly welcomed.

"Want to tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours?" He asked, and you could practically sense the smile creeping onto his lips. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when you needed to unload your thoughts, and his intuition was always eerily accurate. You sighed, feeling his grip on you loosen as you pulled away. Leaning against the railing behind you, Max took one step closer, then another. Pursing your lips, you realised how pathetic this may possibly sound when vocalised. "Just watching you with your sister's kids. It got me thinking, I guess."

Your boyfriend already had a strong inkling as to where this was heading, but he patiently granted you the time and space to elaborate.

He arched an eyebrow. "Thinking about what?"

You lightly shrugged, pressing your bottom lip up to your top. You hesitated for a moment before the next words left your mouth.

"You know, family and stuff. Kids."

Max studied your face for a moment. "Kids, huh?" He said with a knowing smile.

You avoided eye contact, answering with a simple, "I don't know."

He chuckled softly. "Is 'I don't know' code for 'I do know but I'm scared to share my answer' because you think I don't know mine?"

Caught off guard, you silently cursed that eerie sixth sense of his, tensing as you looked up into his eyes. They were light, despite the depth of the topic.

You frowned. "Well, do you.. want children, I mean?"

There was a warmth in his gaze, one that offered you comfort. He looked over your face, his shoulders slumped as if the walls of undiscussed territory had crumbled without much of a fight.

"With you, yeah."

Your frown deepened, but this time, a different emotion flickered in your eyes.

His admission was unexpected, and a pleasant shock washed over you. The corners of your lips twitched as surprise softened into a tender smile. For a moment, your gaze lingered on his face, searching for any sign of jest or hesitation, but you didn't find any.

"If you're ready, then so am I." He added.

And just like that, the hours you spent wrestling with your own thoughts now dissipated into the evening breeze. You held back the surge of emotions within you, searching for the right words.

"Really?" you managed, but not without a quiet sob escaping at the end.

Max chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pulled you into him, embracing you for the second time tonight.

"So fragile," he teased, and you smiled despite the tears streaming down your face.

"Shut up," you retorted, your voice a mixture of laughter and tears.

There was a moment's quiet before your boyfriend spoke. "On second thought, why do I need a baby when I've got one right here?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, your voice muffled as you tried to argue.

"Babies cry a lot more."

"Hmm, between you and a newborn? I'd say it's pretty even."

You lightly slapped Max's stomach with your hand; his laughter eventually melting into a warm smile, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

...

Masterlist

[locallixie]

housemates — lee know

> summary . how can you live your life peacefully with having your housemate constantly seducing you like that?!

> genre . smut, fluff, housemates au, forced proximity, housemate!minho, gn!reader.

> warnings . sexual tension, general sexual themes, minor language, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, tipsy sex.

(wc) > 6.3k

(sunny's note) ☆ "and they were roommates.” wanted to be sweet and cute, until lee minho is in the equation. sorry for the late upload, i had a really bad writing slump and progress was slow. but i made it!

You shouldn’t have agreed to this if you knew this was how it would turn out. What a mistake, your kindness that yourself and other has taken for granted. And currently stuck in a living situation that tested your patience every waking hours, your dormitory experience was no match for this.

Jisung had asked you for a ‘small’ favour a couple months earlier, about how his friend got evicted and was now homeless, wondering if you could let him stay for a while until he find a new place. First of all, that was not a small favor. Secondly, you didn’t even know this friend that he was talking about. And you were reluctant to let a stranger stay in your house right off the bat. You lived in a dorm before, but that was a dorm and not your own house.

“Please, [Y/N], just a couple months.” Jisung pushed over the phone, you could tell he was outside from the loud and slightly muffled noise that the speaker picked up upon.

Sighing, your soft spot for him would be the death of you. Agreed with hesitation, since you were glad you were out of the dorm life and regained your privacy, but it seemed that life had came to pull you back in. Jisung should be expecting your complaints if something bad happened between you and your new housemate.

From the first initial meeting, you got some of the weirdest vibe from this guy. Maybe it was the amount of black and leather he was dressed up in, or the bitchy look on his face that could kill with a single stare. How the fuck was Jisung friends with a person like this? They were the complete opposite of one another, the guy looked as if he committed first degree murders as his favourite past-time. What you meant was you were convinced that he was a sociopathic killer, and he was probably plotting yours and Jisung’s death soon.

For one person, he sure did had a lot of stuff. You three brought around eight or ten different sized carton boxes up to your apartment, not counting the two gigantic suitcases that he had to take a second trip with Jisung to go get. He must have been living in his old place for very long to have that much stuff, wonder why he got kicked out? Possibly because the landlord found the bodies with how sharp his eyes always glared at.

“Don’t worry about the rent, Minho can pay for his half.” Jisung reassured, starting his car. The engine roared loudly, it had been through a rough day of carrying all that stuff to here.

Before he left, Jisung told you one last thing. “Oh, and don’t be afraid to ask him for help around the house, Minho may look intimidating but he’s quite a sweet guy.” With that sentence stuck in the back of your head, he drove away. If you could even have enough courage to ask him to take the trash out, maybe that statement would be proven.

You did all the house chores yourself, you didn't ask for any assistance from Minho. Wether it was because you were used to having to do everything yourself, or he was just still as unapproachable as the first time you two met. But he too, barely talked to you. You heard his voice once or twice when he was on the phone, but he did not speak a full sentence to you and ought for short few words replies.

"Do you need any help?" Another voice emerged from behind your back, offering assistance.

You pulled the trash bag out of the can, "I'm good, thanks,"

"Whatever, suit yourself." Minho walked away. Not even a bit of small talk? It frustrated you of how aloof he was acting, he didn't want to get to know you at all. However, it pissed him off just as much, you would always shrug him off every-time he offered to help you. As you two had made it clear before, you hardly knew each other, and here you were living together as people of unfamiliarity.

You didn't know his last name, or how he met your three years best friend—Jisung. Neither did he held any personal information about you, he wasn't even sure which variation of your name was the correct one. Already a month has passed by and no one was willing to start up a conversation with the other person. This ice between you and Minho just kept getting thicker and colder.

Ranting on the phone, "I'm telling you, I can not get through him! I think he hate me!"

"Calm down, [Y/N], he doesn't hate you." Jisung reassured, sighing as this was the third phone call of the month that you were expressing your discontent for the same subject. "It's simple, just talk to him, even if it's small talk."

Hearing the front door opened, "Fuck, he's back, I'll talk to you later." You didn't let Jisung say 'bye', hanging up in the midst of his sentence.

Minho worked a nine-to-five job, you weren't sure of his occupation in particular. You got a sense of his routine, he would leave the house at exactly seven-fifty in the morning and usually came home around five or six—depending on the traffic that day. On few occasions, he was nice enough to bring food home for the both of you.

"Hey, you're back quite late today?" You asked, seeing the clock already hitting six at the moment.

He set down a few plastic bags on the table, "I got groceries on the way, I'll cook dinner." He explained shortly, bringing ingredients to the kitchen for preparation.

That was a first, he had never offered to cook before, much less thanking you for the meals you made for dinner. Guessed he was just hot and cold like that, and this was his way of showing his gratitude. You weren't mad, on what normal day would you have someone cook for you enjoy? You technically did everything yourself when you moved out a few years ago.

Watching his figure diligently cooking in the kitchen, it comforted you in an unusual way. He was like your own personal boyfriend—for tonight at least, he would cook and then sit at the table with you to eat, maybe he might even offer to wash the dishes. A fine, hard-working young man? Anyone who could scored him would probably be winning in life. You couldn’t hide your jealousy if he ever bring home a date.

He walked over to you, holding out a spoon with a small portion of thick orange liquid. Minho asked, “Try it, tell me if it suit your taste.”

The tangy flavour stood out immediately, he must have put something citrusy as it melt into your tastebuds. It was good, no, amazing even! This hidden talent of his was worth all the waiting you had done, you never knew Minho could be such a great chef. For a while, you thought this guy couldn’t possibly hold a knife correctly, yet you were proven wrong of your assumptions.

You nodded, the sound you made when encountered good food already told him enough. Everything smelled so mouth-watering, and the presentation was tempting you to devour everything in on sitting.

"Thanks for the food!" As soon as he placed the last dish onto the table, you immediately picked up your utensils. You could not hold yourself back when face with good home-cooked food, good home-cooked food made by an equally good-looking guy.

Minho sat down beside you—he usually sat across from you which kept a nice distance between the two of you—he was very close today. Asked he, "How is it? Good?"

You didn't hold back on your praises, "God, why didn't you cook sooner? This is actual heaven~!"

He simply smiled in a humble manner. Your face was a little puffed up when you eat, which he found quite endearing. Watching you stuffed your entire face with rice, sweet and sour ribs, and eggrolls. Flattered by how much you were enjoying it, yet concerned from how fast you were eating.

"Slow down, wouldn't want you to choke." He gazed at you as he advised.

"Unless you like it like that." Immediately, you started coughing profusely. A grain of rice flew up to your nose, making everything worse the longer it stayed stuck up there.

Minho patted your back, "Woah, are you alright?" Uh, obviously no?! You were coughing out rice over here, how could you even be remotely okay? And how did he expect you to be okay after that suggestive comment he just made? This guy was unbelievable. The smile laced with deviousness, as if he was silently planning something that would catch you off guard—which certainly did a minute ago.

He picked up a single rib and ate it with his chopsticks, he probably mind getting his hands dirty from that sticky sauce he used. How could Minho looked so graceful while eating while you were here devouring everything down like a fucking caveman. Work on your image a bit, would you? Especially when you were living with someone that wouldn't use their hands to eat ribs.

"Have you been talking to Jisung recently?" Minho suddenly questioned, setting down his bowl as to show respect.

You turned to him, confusion sitting on your shoulders and your heart sinking with a bit of guilt. By any chance, did he overheard your conversations? "Yeah, I have." Continued by another question, "What? Are you two not talking?"

Minho's eyes was bigger than you expected, now seeing him a bit closer from your distance from each other. It curved in a very pretty way, and glistened upon every reflections of his soul. You couldn't help, couldn't help but get a little sad every-time you gazed into his eyes, or when they would unknowingly stared back at you. He looked at you, as if through his eyes saw you as the most precious person to exist in the short timespan that was the human life.

"He haven't been answering my texts and calls, I don't know if he's upset with me or something?" Minho sighed, "Can you...just ask him for me?"

In a bit of hesitation, "Would it be a bit rude for an outsider to chime in? Whatever it is you and Jisung are going through, it's best if you two worked it out together...privately." You told, trying to offer other solutions.

Minho let out a tired breath, "I don't know, I'm not sure what I did wrong that made him upset with me, that's what I'm most worried about."

You patted his back, "Just talk it out with him, communication is key!" How ironic, you could hardly hold a conversation with him, and now you were here giving out communication advise? Unreliable source. You knew you shouldn't interfere with whatever beef Jisung and Minho was having between each other, but you were making it seem like you wouldn't ask Jisung for details. Or Jisung would tell you himself from how much he like to rant to you.

Minho flashed a genuine smile towards you, "Thanks, I owe you one!"

Your heart skipped a beat, just one enough for your whole system to go the very bit haywire. You were finally making some good progress with Minho, and his entire intimidating and remote façade all came crashing down when he smiled. Keep up the good work!

“Are you and Minho back on speaking terms yet?” The other line went quiet for a few seconds, you heard a sigh being let out.

Jisung replied with a question, “He told you?”

Fuck, your nosy tendencies were acting up again, it slipped out of you like a natural instinct. “No—um, yeah he did but I don’t know the details or anything! He was just wondering if you were mad at him or something since you stop contacting him.” You went on to explain, trying to tell Jisung that you weren’t intending to be impolite and simply wanted to help your friend out.

The other giggled at your tone of voice, of how freaked out he got you. You acted as if the people you were working for to take down started suspecting you to be a double agent, but unlike those action films, you were terrible at hiding the truth.

“My girlfriend don’t like the fact that I’m still friends with my exes, so she wiped out their contacts from my phone.” The whole problem was finally solved as the explanation came out.

Wait, one thing. “Minho is your ex?!” You exclaimed at the sudden realization.

Jisung was absolutely enjoying this from the other line, “What? You want him?” He teased.

Your face went red, denying the question thrown at you. This whole time, this was the relationship your housemate has with your best friend? And he had never cared to tell you about anything regarding this romance he once had? All these people do was lie. Struggling through your words, you outwardly rejected the idea. “No—! No– I don’t! I—!”

Jisung interrupted, “It’s fine, he’s all yours.”

You tried denying, “No, I don’t want him—!” Quickly being cut of by Jisung once more.

“And he’s a really great kisser—”

“Jisung, shut the fuck up!” You hanged up in embarrassment, throwing your phone away in a state of panic. Why would he tell you that? As if you needed to be more careful around Minho now that you knew these things about him. God, how did he expect you to continue living with this knowledge? Unlike Jisung, you saw Minho everyday of the week.

The door to your bedroom suddenly opened, “Are you okay? I heard a thud.” Minho was still in his work attire, a tad bit sweaty from the heated summer air, the first two buttons of his shirt were left undone. Solely from the condition of his appearance was in, you were mentally restraining yourself.

“Did you just came back?” You asked, begging that he didn’t heard your conversation with Jisung on the phone a few minutes ago.

He replied shortly, “Yeah, I’ll go shower now so we can eat.” Closing your door as he left without another word, left silently with knowing what you said earlier. He heard enough of your phone call, you were too caught up with talking that you didn’t hear the front door open. Minho was halfway across the hall to his room when he heard you shouted, his name fell out from your mouth as clear as day.

Oh, Jisung never told you that he and Minho were a thing? Now it was kind of awkward for the both of you. But if you wanted him, he wanted you too. He saw the way you would look at him, stealing glances from across the table. He was a very attractive guy, you were sure he wholeheartedly knew this, and he used it to his advantage.

Coming out of a cold shower, his hair was wet and dripping water down his back and shoulders, but at least have some respect for you by covering up his entire bare torso. At the dinner table? Was he going to be half-naked for the whole duration of dinner? He wanted you dead, you boldly claimed.

“So…how was work?” You opened up a topic, hoping he would start talking to fill the silence that was ongoing between the two of you.

Minho let out a chuckle, "Not fun." Handing you a pair of chopsticks and a ceramic bowl. That was understandable, he did looked quite worn out coming home after work.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking." You raised a question into his occupation.

He began picking up food from the many plates into his bowl, the wondrous scent controlled his chopsticks faster than his mind. Minho answered while pouring the meat broth over his rice, "I'm an accountant."

An accountant? Was that a code word for sex workers? No one in their right mind would go into accounting. Minho out of all people, worked as an accountant? You had no negative comments on his intelligences, or his work ethics. But accounting sounded so boring for someone as interesting as Minho, you thought what he said was a joke of some sort. Maybe he had a side hustle doing unconventional and dirty jobs.

"It's not fun, but I got bills to pay." Minho joked to lighten up the mood, filling in the empty pauses with yours and his joyful laughs.

He shook his head in a subtle yet prominent dissappointment, smiling to hide his actual emotion on his feeling of unfulfillment. "I wish I became a singer back then."

What he said piqued your interest, you looked up at him with a spark of excitement. Straight into his eyes, you asked. "You sing?"

His vocals was almost professional singer level, for a first in the short timespan of knowing him, you saw such happiness on his face. Holding the microphone as he sang you a love song, the amount of money you spent on that karaoke machine paid off. Minho wasn't wrong or thought too highly of himself when he said he should had became a singer, you would have said the same thing if you knew him sooner. And if he did, you would support him with your all.

The atmosphere got a bit hotter and hotter as the night went on, with alcohol entering the table as an uninvited guest. When a sensual song came on, the mood totally changed for better or worse. His loose t-shirt was showing some skin, it was too a little short as it was showing peeks of his toned stomach underneath. Your mind was going places, wether it was because of the alcohol getting you tipsy or it was your inner desires for intimacy.

Minho did not broke eyes-contact with you, in a hushed voice, stating that you were the only beauty he would keep in his sight tonight. Gently holding your hand in his, he placed it on his chest. Did you feel it? Under the warm and shaking palm of yours. His heart beating at a tiny bit quicker pace than usual, beating for you with all of these temptations in him.

"Minho, I should go to bed now, it's getting awfully late." You told, diverting away in a flustered mess. Yet, despite your attempt at diluting the air, Minho persuasion didn't seem to back down. Too heated, too close as you could now smell his liquor-laced breath.

Eyes half-lidded which made his desires just the more prominent, he was serious with no control. Before your lips could touch one another, a loud vibration emerged abruptly that pulled both of you out of that drunken trance.

Blindly grabbing for your phone, your eyelids were giving up as each minute continued to pass by. You didn't look at the contact name, the alcohol was taking over your system like a pernicious poison. A voice echoed out from your phone speaker, it took you a few seconds to register the other line’s speaking and its distinct frequency.

“Where is your report?! [Y/N], you are driving me crazy with your constant delays!” They roared at you, annoyed and angered.

You got off from your place on the couch, walking away with your phone in hand as you used your last few excuses to save yourself. “Seungmin, it’s not really a good time right now, can I call you back?”

Seeing you caught up with work on the line, he figured he would clean up this mess you two made on the coffee table for you. For a moment, he thought you felt it too. He might had read the room wrong, but the way you tried to avert from the situation felt almost like a reassurance for him. As if you wanted to go further with him, go little deeper, but you were unsure if he was onboard as well. He thought of apologizing, after you sober up more than the state you were in at the moment.

You swore, you couldn't remember anything from the night before. Went to bed at nearly one in the morning, woke up head-empty and half of the blankets and pillows were off your bed. Come on, you could confidently say that you did not exceed your limit. Yet as shown this morning, you had a rough night yesterday with the leftover liquor running through your veins.

You were absolutely dumb-founded when he said he was sorry for what happened last night, as if you remembered everything clearly to its very details. Let's see, you ate dinner, you talked, sang a couple songs out of boredom you assumed, then it all when foggy after that.

"What are you on about? I have no idea of whatever the hell you are apologizing for." Telling him straight up, you could not register anything he was saying to make any sense.

Frustrated, and a bit taken over by the shame from yesterday. "No, it's okay, you're better off not knowing anyway. Sorry for making a scene so early in the morning."

Minho finished the few last sips of his Americano, grabbing his laptop bag from under the dining table in a hurry. "I have to go now, see you again at six." He bid goodbye at the front door.

Before he go for the next ten hours, you told him tonight's plan. "I have a few friends over tonight, if you don't mind their companies."

"How many are coming?" Minho asked.

You tilted your head as you tried to remind yourself of the size of your party, maybe even the identities of your guests as well. "Just three. Jisung is going to be there too, if you want to see him."

You could forget anything, anything that you deemed important. But one thing that you couldn't seem to shake off your mind, as it has been bugging you ever since you knew of it, was the bygone romance Minho had with your best friend—happened to be Jisung. Now that you were non-actively trying to persue the guy, it left a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Though Jisung had affirmed that the past was in the past, you could court his ex-boyfriend all you want.

Minho looked down, "We'll talk later, okay? I'm late for work." Leaving things unfinished between you, he closed the door as he left.

You didn't work until around noon, you could work from home if you wanted, yet you still came into the office everyday since things moved faster with you being physically there. But after that call from Seungmin—head of your department, you were already considered brave for the mere thought of showing up. Despite how nice Seungmin actually was, his anger was incomparable to anything you had ever seen.

After your short shift, you went back home to get things prepare. On the way home, you had already picked up a few ingredients. Said ingredients were just a six-pack of cold beers and Gochujang sauce for the beef. The others wouldn't come for another hour, for the time being, you would have to get everything ready by yourself.

Pray to god that the table grill was still working today since you haven't brought it out for a good few years now, it was collecting dust in the very far back of your cupboard. The hangout had been planned for a little while already, you got most of the things a day or two prior.

Was Minho going to join you? His expression carried a bit of hesitation when you asked this morning, though you would be happy to have him if he did changed his mind. The more the merrier!

Hyunjin and Jisung came over just a tiny bit earlier than Felix, guessed he was caught up with some baking for desert. You and your friends were all gathered up together at the dining table, it felt crowded by how small of a space you had to eat for four people. Happy that Hyunjin’s beer wasn’t on the floor since it was standing so confidently at the edge.

“When is Minho coming home?” Jisung suddenly turned to you.

“I don’t know, usually he would be back by now.” You shrugged, just now noticing today’s abnormalities. Maybe something came up at the office, or he had something else he needed to do beside from work matter. Whatever it was, you just hoped he would get home safety.

Speak of the devil, not even ten minutes had passed and the front door softly rang of clicking keys. You came to open the door for Minho, meeting his slightly stunned expression. His glossy tired eyes under the dirty frames of his glasses gazed back at you, his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead as if he ran his way home. God, he looked rough, but so strangely enticing at the same time.

"Hey, we were just talking about you!" You beamed.

"Sorry, I'm late. My digital files got corrupted, so I had to get I.T to check that bitch out." Minho sighed deeply, you could imagine how long it took to resolve it purely from how worn out he presented.

The others greeted him at the dining table, getting a stool for him to sit since you were out of chairs. Minho was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, one he knew, one he didn’t. He felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable sitting in such a tight spot, especially when yours and his thighs were rubbing against each other. He didn’t mind it too much, he liked you anyways.

“Ah, Minho! This is Hyunjin, and that’s Felix, they’re my college friends.” You introduced. Though he was a year older, they treated him with a casual formality. Felt more like meeting old friends than new people, your group broke the ice a lot quicker than he had previously expected. Soon you all were drinking and chatting, learning a bit too much about each other for the first meeting.

Felix tapped out, “No more, I’m driving tonight.” With Jisung following along as most had already decided to stop drinking, including you.

You placed your hand on the shoulder of the person next to you, “Are you still going? Damn, you must know how to handle your liquor.”

Minho stared back at you as you spoke to him, his eyes half-lidded like the night before. The first few buttons were unfastened, his bare and defined chest laid underneath the thin fabric. A sheer cast of sweat made his body glistened by the overhead light, his glasses was slowly slipping off his nose bridge which reflected the sweat even more than it should have. His face was flushed red and pink everywhere, flushed from a love confession of a drunken mind. Any minute now, he might just be making out with you.

His heart and guts was burning up with these carnal desires, if your friends weren't here, you could bet he would be fucking your brains out like how you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted you just as much, so shamelessly wanted you.

Minho leaned in suddenly, his lips and hot intoxicated breath lingered your ears. Whispered gently with his mellow, sleepy tone of voice, "When are they leaving?"

“We’re just going to have some tea and brownies, they’ll be on their way soon. Why do you ask?” You returned, asking in with a bit of hesitation in the back of you mind. Could it be he was overloaded enough, or did he not like your friends? You doubted the second one, since they had so much fun together. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

He didn’t further elaborate, ending the subject then and there with no other explanation. His intentions were unclear, as if he was hiding something from you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Hopefully not something shady, or would leave you with a bad image of Minho. Keep it simple, he was probably tired and he needed a bit more peace and quiet. And he couldn't get any peace and quiet if your friends were here, right?

You wanted him to take off his shirt, take every single piece of fabric on his body off, let you admire all of his grace and beauty. Occupied with drooling over your housemate, the teapot seemed to had slipped your mind.

"Fuck!" Yelped you, the heat of the hot tea finally burned your skin.

Hearing pain from your voice, Minho and the others were already there to aid you. Especially Minho, he grabbed your hand into his as soon as he noticed. Luckily for you, the injury was minor and running it through cool water was good enough.

Minho really has you in a chokehold, metaphorically speaking obviously—unless. If you two did become a thing, would it be a little awkward? Maybe not for Jisung, but you were unsure of how or what to think in a situation like this. Though, despite how much you might try to push the idea away due to having quite a lot of repect for your best friend, you couldn't help yourself.

Seduction existed in his eyes and body language, it was subtle yet effective. An absolute disaster that the two of you also lived together, which pumped you up with an amount of hormone that a high-school student would have.

The way he dressed may be ordinary, office worker fashion. His shoulders flexing in his fitted button-up, straight dress pant hugging his thighs. His thick frame glasses further accentuated his winsome features. There was no exaggeration that he, for a definite, has a lot of admirers from work. You too, would be weak on your knees if Minho was your colleague.

It was around eight o’ clock by the time you finished up, which wasn’t late—at least to your definition—but tomorrow was still a work day. Especially for Hyunjin, who was flying out of the country for a business trip, of which it was crucial for him to leave early morning for his flight.

“I’m catching a cab home.” Jisung answered when you asked him how he was going to get home without a car, since the other two already left on their separate ways.

“No, I’ll drive you home.” You offered kindly.

“You drank a lot tonight, you really shouldn’t be driving, [Y/N].” Jisung denied, pointing out the slight alcoholic haze you were in. He wasn’t wrong, you were a literally beast with the bottle. However, you were awake enough to still talk normally and sort of think, like being half asleep.

Reassuring you that he would be fine on his own, and that he would be sure to text you when he arrived at his place. You knew Jisung for too long for you to be worried about him on trivial things, it simply felt like the right thing or a common habitual saying you had going on. You just wanted to take extra precautions since you both had been drinking the whole night, and there were quite a lot of problems existing because of it.

"Don't worry about me too much," Jisung soothed you once more. However he had no regards for what a sentimental moment that was happening between the two of you, immediately back to his ways of joking to dilute the air. "You should be worrying about if Minho can keep his dick in his pants near you."

You smacked him on his shoulder, "Shut up, he's right over there!"

"I mean...I see the way y'all look at each other, we all know, [Y/N]." He commented, giving you a playful look. You wanted to murder Jisung, and you would make it look like an accident too. Were you being that obvious about your feelings? But the way Minho acted around you didn't help too!

Jisung waved goodbye to you and to Minho—who was in the kitchen, washing up dishes and shot glasses. "I'll see you on Saturday for coffee if you can even get out of bed, bye!"

Nodding, as you watched him walk away from your apartment to the main elevator, realization hit later than expected. You yelled out in annoyance but Jisung would definitely laughed it off and ignore you. "Hey, we're not fucking!"

You had to stay up to finish a few reports and lone documents, so that meant you wouldn't be able to see Minho during his morning coffee. Coming over to offer another hand in cleaning up, it wasn't a big mess but was a mess nonetheless. You might take care of everything for Minho to get some well-deserved rest that he has been needing.

Minho turned around as he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Let me take it from here, you should be getting ready for bed by now."

"No, I'll help." Minho single-mindedly refused your offer. "And too, I can't sleep with this raging boner you gave me."

Too sudden, too out of nowhere, your neck snapped to him when you heard him said those words. His expression was neutral, as natural as if he had said and had done nothing wrong. Still washing dishes and bowls, scrubbing and rinsing like he has been doing the same thing for years. Did he heard himself at least, or was it a thought that went loose.

"Oh, sorry." What the fuck were you supposed to reply to that? Thank you? Was that a compliment in disguise of some sort? Feuling the fire even more, the desires becoming stronger and intense, he had agreed to throw away his principles already.

Minho inched closer to you, his eyes on yours as he asked nicely for attention. "If I tell you that I want to fuck you right here right now, would you be mad?"

Face flushed, hot as when you would place your hand on your tea cup to check the temperature. He was evil, disregarding your state of mental stability by saying things of the same kind so out of pocket. He, for a fact, waited for the right time to confess his sins. The kettle was boiling all night, the heat and steams were his deepest thoughts.

You turned off the sink, your hands cool and wet and smell of dish soap from the water. For a split moment, you were solely looking at each other, begging either one to make a move. Minho leaned in towards your direction, his bare forearms brushed gently against yours. The alcohol in both of your bodies made the moment all the more intimate, slowly yet steadily closing your distance between each other, breaking down the wall of sexual tension you had unconsciously built that stood with all its might.

The faint taste of his strawberry chapstick on your tongue, his lips was a little sticky but so soft that you didn’t quite mind. There was no way of stopping him, as you too, did not want to stop the thrill ride that was ongoing. Letting out heavy breaths as he sucked dark red marks onto your skin, lips painting your blank canvas. May he be the only alcohol you would get drunk on, let you drink him up like your sorrows and distress.

“Oh, Minho.” You breathed, moaning out his name as his hands rushing to take off your pants. Hot tongue making a line on your stomach down to your sex, freely as his mouth worked on you like how you dearly enjoyed his food. Both your legs resting on his broad shoulders just did nothing but helped spread you wider.

Your sweet voice singing out to encourage him, using his tongue in all directions that favoured you. Stomach knotting with alcohol and dinner and a heaven he had created for you, coming onto his lips, a result of prolonged temptations.

Every fabric that touched yours and his bodies that day were all scattered on the floor by second round. Never even seen your best friend naked, and here you were admiring his ex-boyfriend’s entire unclothed figure with no ounce of shame left in yourself. You could not keep your hands away from him, so greedily touching him in different places.

Neither could wait any longer, deciding to lay each other’s pride out on the dining table. Minho placed his lips on yours, closing his eyes yet still seeing the vivid image of you in his dark mind. With each passing second, his cock making its way into the very depths of you. You hugged him quite tightly, as if you haven’t scored anyone in a while.

Your eyes told him everything he needed to know, you body twitching and squirming under his embrace, the silent language that told him every one of your secrets. Thrusting faster and harder, wanting to hear you make some more music for his aching soul. Minho grabbed your legs, pushing them against your torso as his cock went deeper into you. You could barely keep your eyes open, or could you stay present with him. This pleasure felt like a dream, a dream that softly pulled you in.

Minho kissed your lips once again, “Baby, don’t sleep on me, I’m not done with you just yet.”

But as much confidence that he may has in him, he was nearing his high and coming apart for you along the way. Minho’s vocals were heavenly when he sang for you, and were just as heavenly when he came into you. He kept going despite being out of breath and tired for you, he started something and he was going to finish it.

Second time felt much more powerful than the first, almost like he gave his all. You could feel his seeds dripping out from inside of you, onto the dining table and even the chairs. Dirtying everything all over again, now you had more cleaning to add onto your list. Guessed neither of you were going to get any sleep tonight.

[redrose10]

Alright here is Chapter 5! Originally it was supposed to be a much shorter chapter but I didn’t like the way it flowed so I changed it up. There are still a few more chapters to go!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 3,016

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Yoongi had started making an effort. It was small but you did notice little things like the tea kettle already filled when you got up in the morning and he’d text you to ask how your day was going. He didn’t seem to be bringing home women any more either but you knew he had other ways of accomplishing that so you were still skeptical.

Yoongi walked through the door after a particularly hard day. His company was denied the patent that they desperately needed to move forward on a new project costing them millions of dollars and precious time. He of course got chewed out over it by the entire board and it soured his mood for the rest of the day. He just wanted to get home, take a shower, have a glass of whiskey, and get in bed.

When he entered his home he heard loud music blaring through the speakers. He recognized the song as some girl group but he’d never cared enough to actually pay attention. It was catchy though. But what really caught his eye was you dancing around the kitchen in a white T-shirt that was just long enough to barely cover your backside. Your hair up in a messy bun. Your hips swayed to the music as you stirred something in a pot before returning to the cutting board. He watched you for a few seconds admiring your beauty. How you sang along to the song somewhat off key but still managed to sound beautiful. He did deserve the scolding he got earlier because he truly was an idiot. An idiot that had someone like you right there practically handed to him and he tried his best to ruin it all.

Slowly he walked over and cleared his throat, “It smells really good in here. What did you make?”

You were startled nearly jumping a foot in the air as you didn’t expect him to be home so early, “Oh Namjoon’s mom gave me a recipe for Jajangmyeon so I wanted to try it out.” Yoongi knew you hadn’t spoken to his mother since the wedding but here you were exchanging recipes with another man’s mom. That stung. “Would you like some?”, you asked almost certain he’d turn you down like every other time but to your shock he nodded, “Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

Placing the bowl in front of him he immediately took a huge bite.

“This is amazing Y/N. Best I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.”, you replied before digging into your own bowl. The two of you made light conversation over dinner. It felt domestic and while this was what you’d always wanted it created a fear in you that eventually this would all come crashing down and be worse than before.

He ate the bowl in no time and even asked for seconds. Once you were both finished he offered to clean up and wash the dishes. You stared at him in disbelief causing him to stop what he was doing and look up at you. “What?”, he asked like what he was doing was completely normal.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah I’m fine. Why?”

“Well I’m just waiting for you to tell me you got someone pregnant or like you’re dying or something.”

Yoongi chuckled and for the first time you saw his gummy smile. “I just thought I’d help you out since you made that delicious meal.” You gave a small smile, “Oh okay. Well thank you.” Quickly you made your way back to your room to hideout until he went to bed. You fully expected to wake up and realize this was all a dream.

After that night things between you and Yoongi stayed pretty weird. Technically they were pretty normal for a married couple but for the two of you it was strange.

He started eating dinner with you at least once a week sometimes more. Some mornings you’d wake up to him making breakfast. The two of you never spoke much but ate in comfortable silence. One day he even insisted that he accompany you and Namjoon to the opening of a new art museum claiming that he didn’t want rumours to circulate about the two of you but the way he placed his arm around you any time Namjoon got a little too close for his liking told you differently.

Things peaked at weirdness on a chill October night. It was the annual Min Gala and the first big event that you and Yoongi would be attending together. There had been other smaller gatherings here and there but nothing of this level. The Min Gala was known globally for its luxury and grandeur while pulling in celebrities and royalty from around the world, and you were now going. Which is why you were currently staring at yourself in the full length mirror you had purchased for your room. The outfit, something Jimin had picked, a velvet navy blue floor length dress with a deep v cut in the front and a slit on the right side that almost went up to your hip. Even you had to admit that you looked incredible. While admiring yourself you heard Yoongi lightly knocked at the door, “Y/N we seriously have to get going. We’re gonna be late.” Not wanting to make him angry you grabbed your clutch and swung open the door not expecting him to still be standing there.

He looked you up and down with wide eyes. “Y-You look very nice.”, he stuttered. You gave a shy smile back, “You look very nice yourself.” He then lead the way for you two out to the waiting car.

When the driver pulled up to the event you went into panic mode. There must’ve been 100 photographers along with hundreds of other various personnel. You were very out of your element. Yoongi could sense your uneasiness. “I know it’s a lot Y/N but keep your head up and just look ahead. I’ll be there with you through the whole thing.” You nodded as the car door opened. Yoongi stepped out first then turned and gave you his hand to help you out also. He placed a hand on your lower back and started quickly but gently ushering you through the crowd. You did your best to politely ignore the various questions being thrown at you while also trying your best not to trip due to the blinding lights. Once inside you felt a rush of relief. One of the staff members came over and grabbed your coats while a waiter brought you a glass of champagne which you happily downed.

You fully expected Yoongi to run off to the first woman that looked his way and leave you to fend for yourself but surprisingly be stayed by your side until an older gentleman came over asking to speak with him for a bit. Yoongi excused himself and told you he’d be back shortly as business needed to be handled.

You weren’t alone long though before Jimin slid over wrapping you in a big hug and catching you up on all the gossip you missed. He was in the middle of telling you a story about his trip when another presence walked up next to you. The man looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. Luckily Jimin stepped right in to introduce you, “Oh Y/N please meet one of my really good friends. This is Taehyung.” The man gave you a big boxy smile before reaching out to shake your hand, “Hi Y/N, It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”, you smiled. Taehyung was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. He had soft black hair that had some natural curls which fell perfectly. Smooth skin and beautiful eyes. He was dressed impeccably. His outift a dark purple three piece suit. It reminded you a lot of the dark green suit Yoongi had on the day you met him and that’s when it hit you. You were talking to the famous fashion designer and owner of KTVY, a very prominent fashion line that had quickly entered the same ranks as well known brands like Dior or Versace.

You spoke with Jimin and Taehyung for a while listening to their various escapades. Taehyung playfully pouted when he realized you weren’t wearing one of his designs and Jimin being the one that picked it out made him pout even deeper. Taehyung started grabbing at your dress talking about the low quality and how he would’ve made a nicer dress for you. It was clear he was a very hands on person but you felt comfortable with him. “Looks like someone’s jealous.”, Jimin leaned over whispering into your ear. Glancing over your shoulder you spotted Yoongi staring back at you while ignoring the man next to him expressively talking with his hands. Instead of his trademark unreadable expression he actually looked angry and it made you feel a certain kind of way.

When he was finally able to break free from the conversation with his business partner Yoongi walked over and pulled you into him before placing a kiss on your cheek, “Come on Y/N. Let go find my parents.” As you were being drug away you quickly waved goodbye to Jimin and Taehyung missing the way they both rolled their eyes and giggled to each other like teenage girls. After your meeting with Jimin and Taehyung, Yoongi’s mood for the rest of the evening seemed to change. He refused to leave your side. Every ten minutes he’d tell you how beautiful you looked, the most beautiful woman in the world. He also decided to start trying to mask his anger by downing Jack and Cokes like they were water.

Eventually you were able to cut him off and convince him that it was time to go home so there you were waiting for the driver to pull up while you did your best to hold up the swaying Yoongi. Luckily you were able to sneak out the back so no one other than a few kitchen staff saw you. Once in the car you started digging around looking for a bucket or bag or anything incase Yoongi’s body decided to rid itself of the alcohol on the way home. Just as you reached to look in one of the cabinets you felt hands grabbing your waist pulling on you and you fell back onto the seat next to Yoongi.

He started nuzzling his face into your neck mumbling something you couldn’t quite understand. “Here you need to sit up.”, you said while doing your best to push him over. He looked at you with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“You are not going to feel good tomorrow morning. This is gonna be the hangover of all hangovers.”

He scoffed, “Yeah well I can’t feel any worse than I did earlier.”

“What do you mean?”, you asked while searching the car for a bottle of water you knew he needed.

“The way Taehyung looked you up and down and the way he had his hands all over you. I’m gonna kill Jimin. I told him not to introduce the two of you.”

You snorted at his remark. Yoongi looked over at you, “I’m serious. And after I kill him he’s fired too.” You just laughed it off. You were like 99% sure Yoongi wouldn’t do either but you made a mental note to text Jimin later and give him a warning.

Once you were standing outside your penthouse door you were fumbling with the code while trying to keep Yoongi standing upright and you were really regretting not taking the help from the driver when he offered. Even though Yoongi had a small frame he was surprisingly heavy and the fact that he had zero control right now was not helping. After finally getting Yoongi in the door you started walking him towards the kitchen to get some water and some food in his system when suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. Within seconds he had you pushed up against the wall with his arms on either side caging you in while using the wall to brace himself. Slowly he placed kisses starting behind your ear and trailing down towards your cleavage.

“Fuck that Kim Taehyung. I’m never buying shit from him again.”

You chuckled at his whiny statement before Yoongi grabbed your hips pulling you flush against him as he continued to pepper kisses all over any visible skin he could reach.

He moved his left hand to your lower back while his right hand slowly started moving down your hip to the slit in your dress that he gently started to toy with. “Y/N, I don’t know how you did this to me. I wanted to hate you so bad. I wanted to hate our situation. I tried so hard to prevent you from breaking down my walls but I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to love you and I’m scared because I think I’m starting to.”, he mumbled between kisses. He began to tease the lace of the black underwear that you had on and that’s when you broke out of your haze and stopped him.

He was drunk and you were sober and even though he initiated all of this it felt like taking advantage of him and there was also a part of you that was worried once he sobered up he’d regret everything and his words would mean northing.

“Come on Drunky. Let’s get you to bed.”, you said pulling him down the hall. He looked around the room confused, “Who the hell is Drunky?”, which earned a big eye roll on your part. You help him get undressed and put him in the bed. You tried to leave to go get some water and some pain killers but he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the bed next to him, “Please stay with me. Every time you walk away from me I worry it’ll be the last time I ever see you.” Again you remembered that this was just the liquor talking and in the morning he’d probably be upset that you were even in his room. You nodded and laid in the bed so he rested his head on your chest as you began to run your fingers through his hair hoping it would soothe him to sleep faster.

Thankfully it worked like a charm because he was asleep within minutes and you quickly got the supplies you were looking for before setting them down next to his bed for easy access when he woke up the next morning.

You pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and did a double check once again to make sure that he had everything he would need before heading over to the door.

You stopped when you noticed a bottle sitting on his dresser. It was beautiful and very ornate. A matte red glass bottle with a gold topper. In big intricate letters it read ‘Solace, A Comforting Fragrance by KTVY’. You chuckled at the irony that this was his choice of cologne. Gently you popped open the top and the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla hit you and a wave of memories of the last year came flooding back. Taking a look over at the man who was now softly snoring you felt anxious and uncertain about the future. You knew how to handle cold cheating asshole Yoongi. That was easy. But this new Yoongi, the one who’s been trying to improve and who claims he’s falling in love, you don’t know how to move forward without getting hurt more than you already have been.

Placing the bottle back in its spot you walked out gently closing the door behind you.

The next morning Yoongi woke up with a massive headache. After downing the glass of water and pain killers he took a quick shower and walked out into the kitchen. You greeted him with a smile and placed a large plate of food down in front of him, “Here this is called Y/N’s happy hangover special. You need the grease and carbs. There’s also hot coffee ready for you but you need to finish a glass of water first.”

He smiled and began to dig into the food letting you know how good it was. He watched you walk over and water the blue hydrangea plant that he had delivered a few weeks ago. He thought back to that morning. He wasn’t sure what was more beautiful, the flowers themselves or the way your face lit up when you saw them.

Then like a bad flashback the events of the night before came back to him. How he was filled with jealousy watching Taehyung touch you. How he used alcohol to try and extinguish the flames that burned inside of him. The way he kissed you and grabbed at you like a horny teenager. How he told you he was falling in love with you. It was all true.

You hadn’t mentioned any of it yet though which concerned him. He thought maybe he’d upset you or took it too far too fast. He was worried that you didn’t take his words seriously and assumed they were only spoken thanks to his drunk state of mind.

He wanted to tell you all of that same stuff now, while sober, and maybe have a deeper more thorough discussion. He cleared his throat, “Umm Y/N, about last ni-.”

*Ding*

Checking your phone you saw a text from Jimin letting you know he was outside.

“Hey Yoongi I have to get going. I’m hanging out with Jimin today. Don’t wait up.”

“Oh okay.”

Grabbing your purse you ran out the door without looking back.

He bit his lip staring at the space you were no longer occupying. “I deserve that.”, he whispered before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

[wanderersbell]

wanderer x reader

summary: sometimes, when he thinks you aren’t looking, he makes his vision glow and dim softly in a steady rhythm. the illusion of a heartbeat.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1,175

a/n: hellooo first time posting i am terrified of my writing being percieved but i’m full sending it and might never do this again so slay ig. scara is kinda ooc (he is not being a jerk lmao)

sometimes, when he thinks you aren’t looking, he makes his vision glow and dim softly in a steady rhythm. the illusion of a heartbeat. 

it’s one of the many things you’ve noticed he does in the time that’s passed since you met him. he’s complex, stubborn, hard to read, prone to outbursts, and yet it’s the small actions and glimpses of vulnerability that remind you how truly human he is. no matter his origins, what his body may be made out of, or how many lies have poisoned his consciousness, he feels everything the way a human does. 

you don’t get to see it often, whenever he knows you’re looking he makes a huge show of being a brat and flaunting an arrogance that seemingly never left him after his loss of divinity that he knows irks you to no end when you just want a solid answer out of him, but there are times he isn’t aware he’s being perceived. 

you have a tendency to become so absorbed in a task that you lose all situational awareness and he knows this well by now, choosing those moments to let his guard down while you don’t pay him any mind. he’s shown you a side of himself that’s remained previously undiscovered until he grew undeniably fond of you over time. he shows this in the way he bounces his leg when you’re hurt or not feeling well, the way he disappears off to sumeru city when you claim that nothing sounds good to eat only to return with the pita pockets he knows you’ll eat no matter what, in the way he lets you stroke and place featherlight kisses against his knuckles when he wakes up from a nightmare and looks down at his hands that have done so many cruel things and calls himself a monster. 

that last one has only happened twice thus far, and he always refuses to meet your eyes for a while the next morning, but his tolerance for your small shows of affection and comfort are welcome progress in comparison to the offense he used to take from it when he only saw it as pity. after all, he hates being looked down on. however, actions often speak better than words. 

you know he doesn’t understand why you seem to care for him, and you know that it’ll take time for him to fully open up, which is why you make sure to give him the moments you’re occupied with other things to unmask and decompress and never interrupt him when you accidentally tune back into reality, but it’s only a matter of time before you give yourself away. 

and now, while you watch him from where you sit at the bank untangling a fishing net, you think this might be the day you finally do. 

he’s standing a short distance away under the shade of a tree where he was initially scrutinizing your work and making snarky comments about it that fell on deaf ears as you paid him no mind, but had at some point fallen silent and let his tense shoulders drop as he watched the wildlife around him. 

the dappled sunlight through the leaves above him dance along the top of his hat with the movement of the wind and soft metal chimes can be heard as the ornaments on his hat sway with it, but it’s the soft sound of elemental energy that had taken your focus away from the net and when your attention fell on him, he was doing it again, making his vision beat lightly against his chest. the sight makes your heart clench and a lump form in your throat, watching him gaze so softly down at the item hanging down from his shoulder. he holds his right hand underneath it gently, almost as if even the slightest of touches would throw off the rhythm, and it’s in this moment that you release a sigh a bit too loud that has his eyes snapping to yours in an instant. 

for a moment he looks like a child that got caught stealing sweets, eyes wide and body frozen in place, before he eventually frowns and sends you a sharp glare while turning his body away from you and crossing his arms with a huff, pretending to go back to staring off into the distance. 

your feet start carrying you to him before your mind can even process the movement but he keeps himself faced away from you until you move in front of him. he looks unsure and hesitant, but there is an undeniable level of trust that had built up between you two that kept him from growing instinctively defensive. 

“what?” he demands, refusing to meet your eyes. 

“do it again.” 

when his gaze finally lands on you he looks almost taken aback. “why?”

you shake your head. “just do it, please.”

he looks like he wants to argue, but decides to keep his mouth shut and lets his arms fall back down to his sides in defeat when he realizes you’re dead serious. slowly, almost shyly, his vision starts glowing with anemo energy again, steady and strong. when you reach your hand up softly to touch it he tenses up and almost backs away, but after a reassuring glance from you holds himself in place and nervously waits to see what you’re trying to do. 

you lean closer as your fingertips make contact with the metal casing around it, feeling the rush of energy against your hand every time it brights and dims again. you might be imagining it, but the rhythm seems to pick up the closer you get. 

when your warm lips meet the cool glass against his chest, it reacts immediately; the elemental energy starts pulsating faster and faster inside of the vision while the wanderer stiffens before you, entirely frozen on the spot as his ‘heart’ beats wildly at your boldness. his expression remains almost entirely neutral, so much so that you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell he was even flustered had his vision not given it away, and the thought makes you smile softly knowing he can’t hide how these small shows of affection get to him now. the flush rising in his cheeks is proof of the fact that he’s more than aware of this, and he wastes no time shoving you away and yanking his hat down to cover his face while he turns away in embarrassment. 

instead of saying anything, you clasp your hands behind your back and return to the riverside where you left the tangled net, and you can literally feel the way his eyes are burning holes into the back of your head when you pick it up and start picking at the knots again. 

what you don’t see is the way he stares at you with pure wonder and adoration spilling over in his indigo irises, hand resting over the place your lips had just been as if he can hold the feeling there forever.

[ceriphea]

A Starry Night

Summary: A perfectly clear night left you to reminisce your time with Astarion. Allowing him to explore his own boundaries, he's finally made the plans to spend a night full of pleasure and joy out of his own free will with you.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav(Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, little plot, oral sex, graphic language

Words: 4065

Additional: I may have just created a whole new side tumblr and satisfied my urge to write this down despite not long ago saying I wouldn't be writing anymore. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read! I aimed to keep from descriptions of Tav so you could picture your own as best as possible. :)

Read on Ao3

The night was quiet. Much quieter than usual. Quieter anyway since Lae’zel and Shadowheart decided to put peace on their bickering and allow another to live in each other’s presence. Most of the camp had been resting as it was your turn to keep watch for the night. 

Not that there was much to look out for. If you don’t count random appearances of Mizora or vampire spawns. Most nights went by peacefully at this point. The only thing possibly interrupting a good night's rest were dunkards stumbling by the little camp your group had settled down in. 

Your eyes were settled on the sky, clear as ever. Every single star was visible to your eyes and it brought a small smile across your lips. It reminded you of your first night with Astarion. 

The two of you had started out as a fling. Something to make your situation a little more passable. After all, who didn’t enjoy good sex? However as time progressed and the more nights the two of you had spent together, the more the simple fun of having sex turned into feelings for another. It came easier for you than for the vampire. 

Astarion was troubled, damaged from the years of torture and pain he had endured. The closer you became, the more you learned about his trauma. And that was how you learned that Astarion had not enjoyed himself during sex for a long time. Your initial reaction was hurt. Mainly because of your own trauma that you carry with yourself as well as the fact that you’d like to think you’d do well enough to please your partners. Though after the initial reaction you understood. For him sex had always been a technique for his victims. A mere measure to bait people into aiding to his will. And he did in fact enjoy what you two had just the drive was not what it was meant to be. 

It was then, when you established your relationship with Astarion, showing him you cared about him beyond sex, that you told Astarion you wouldn’t have sex until he felt ready for enjoying it for the act that it is between two people that like each other. Not because he felt like he needed to just for the sake of it. To get an advantage out of it.

There were many times he had tried getting it on with you when you offered him your neck. He tried because he felt like he owed you for allowing him to drink off of you. However each time you turned him down for him to underline your point and make him understand he didn’t need to do something just to pay you back. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to have sex with him, you loved having him since he had been your best partner. You just wanted him to stop feeling like he was forced to have sex with no real meaning to him.

He understood after a while and now it had been a good amount of time since the last time you slept together. You couldn’t even recall how long exactly. Not that your mind was allowed to drift any further as the elf in question settled down to sit beside you.

“Pardon me, my love but I felt like my presence was required here,” Astarion said playfully, his red orbs gazing at you intently. Some of your thoughts must have slipped through to him thanks to that worm inside of your head. There was never any telling which thoughts you’d get to keep to yourself and which would be transferred over your illithid connection.

“Oh, did you now?” you inquired with a quirked brow aimed at him, trying to play it off like you haven’t been thinking all about him.

“Your thoughts are louder than you think, darling. It’s a surprise you haven’t woken up anyone else. Or perhaps they are now having sweet dreams about me,” he shrugged with a smirk, not once did his eyes leave yours. A slight blush crept upon your cheeks, fearing he heard more than you had expected. Not that it was anything to be ashamed of really but still, sometimes you liked to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“You wish,” scoffing, you rolled your eyes and let your eyes drift back to the sky again. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Astarion standing back up, his hand coming into your sight, an offer to help you up. “Come, I’d like to show you something.”

Once again your eyes met his before darting to his hand and back to his eyes. You were meant to keep watch and not exactly meant to go away from your post. And if you went with Astarion it could range anything from a few minutes to hours. As if he read your mind once again, the pale elf clicked his tongue and almost pushed his hand into your face.

“Come, no one is going to die. We’ll only be gone… shortly.” You knew he was full of shit but there was nothing else you could say against him. Finally placing your hand in his, Astarion pulled you to your feet. Instead of letting you go however, he pulled you in flush against him and pressed a peck to your lips. “There you go, now come on.” 

Letting go of your hand, the vampire then started leading the way away from camp. It wasn’t exactly far but far enough to barely see the campfire flickering. The air here was slightly clearer, the streets now empty. It was rather late at night, anyone awake at this time was either at a tavern or in their homes. 

“So where exactly are you taking me?” you asked, following your lover along. “If I tell you that would ruin the surprise. Now shush, we’re almost there.” A low chuckle escaped his throat. It was not exactly strange for him to have this sort of behavior, however something about him on this particular night just told you that he had something up his sleeve. 

A minute or two later the two of you had arrived at a house, empty by the looks of it but kept well in shape. Astarions slight fingers worked on the lock before opening up the door and inviting you in as if it was his very own house. Did you just let him break into a random home without any complaint? Yes, you did. In many views the two of you had shared your perspectives and breaking into places was a common ground. Whether the group needed loot or your information was in it. 

You figured that Astarion perhaps found some hidden treasure in here and wanted to reserve it for just you and him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had chosen to keep some valuables from the group in order to fend for you and him. But once you had entered the house, the elf swiftly moved behind you and chose to cover your eyes with his hands. You could feel his mouth near your ear by his warm breath first before he whispered, “Now walk as I tell you and keep those pretty eyes closed until I tell you to open them.”

Something about the way he spoke sent a tingle through your stomach and into your core. Perhaps it was a bit of deprivation of intimacy that made any sensual act like this even more exciting to you. 

You trusted him with every single step, letting him guide you through the house that couldn’t be any quieter. Standing still for a moment, you heard him opening another door before your path continued shortly before you came to a final stop. “Open your eyes, my love,” his last words drew out in a seductive tone while his hands removed from your eyes. Opening them, you blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting in the room which was merely the night sky and the moon shining in through a wide set of windows. 

Before you displayed a master bedroom, decorated neatly with a bed bigger than you’ve seen in the past few years of your adventures. This wasn’t just some treasure he had found, this was more. And the thought of it alone sent a contraction of urgency through your core, leaving a damp feeling in your pants. Oh, how weak you were. You didn’t dare speak, still taking in the room as Astarion came into view, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

“What do you think, dear?” his voice was merely above a whisper while his eyes burned into yours. Slowly Astarion inched closer, close enough to wrap one of his arms around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. Even if you wouldn’t say anything, your hardened nipples pressing through your thin linen shirt against his chest would tell him everything.

“Who have you bribed to get in here?” you teased, not wanting to give into him too quickly. He knew how much you wanted him, you didn’t need to tell him. 

“There was this drunk dwarf tumbling through the streets. I may have convinced him that this is in fact not his home. And by the looks of it, it may very well not be. Not for tonight anyway,” of course Astarion had to respond in a snarky manner just before his voice turned seductive again. You knew where this was going. And this time around, you weren’t going to stop him. All his last attempts had been whenever it wasn’t really convenient, mostly out in the open. This time he had taken the effort to find a nice and comfortable bed, a place of warmth. 

“But you and I both know we aren’t here to talk about such unimportant matters. Rather we are here because I want to devour you,” he started, his voice dangerously low while his eyes darkened in desire, “I want to love on you. Every single inch of you.”

He had barely touched you and yet your cunt was getting drenched in arousal by the second. It had been a while since Astarion voiced his desires for you in this way and oh, it was a turn on. The room immediately felt a dozen degrees hotter as your lips crashed against Astarions, moving in a passionate pattern while his hand that was initially resting along your waist from being wrapped around you, moved down to cup your ass. One of your hands slid up his chest and further up until it was settled on the back of his head, grasping a handful of his hair while the vampire deepened the kiss. A small moan escaped your lips when the hand on your ass gave you a firm squeeze. You were almost sure that were his fingers to wander further inward and to your core, he could feel your wetness through your linen pants.

Though instead of wandering to your core, his hand wandered to the back of your thigh, his other hand joining on the other thigh before he picked you up. Both your legs immediately wrapped around his waist. Within a few quick strides Astarion carried you over to the bed and more or less dropped you onto the soft sheets. 

Once more your lips met in a matter of passion and lust while the vampires hands now made their way to explore your body, tugging at your shirt in order to remove your clothing from your body. You were just about to interrupt the kiss and stop his wandering hands for a moment in order to ask him if he was certain this was what he wanted. That’s when your tadpoles connected and he let you know that this was something he wanted out of his own free will. Something he wanted to enjoy. 

And therefore you only deepened the kiss, allowing your own hands to wander his body now, tugging at his very own shirt and pulling it over his head. Astarion used that moment to remove your shirt as well just before his mouth latched back onto you. This time however his lips met your collarbone, actively leaving out your neck. He did his best kissing your skin and nibbling at you without letting his teeth graze your skin. Your eyes closed as the vampire moved to devour you just as he had announced before. 

Starting at your collarbone, his lips traveled down towards your breasts. While his hands cupped your round mounds, his tongue darted out tracing a wet line from the top of your breast to your hardened nipple and around it before his lips closed down on the sensitive nub providing it with a short sense of suction before letting his normal teeth tease for a moment. Then he moved on to do the exact same thing to your other breast. You couldn’t help but moan in pleasure, indecisive whether you wanted to close your eyes and simply enjoy the feeling or whether you wanted to watch him with his intense stare on you, aching to give you the pleasure he feels you deserve. 

The choice came easy as your eyes automatically closed the second his lips started traveling further south past your navel and to the hem of your pants. Elegant fingers slipped right beneath the hem, taking your underwear with them as Astarion removed your pants in one go, leaving you entirely bare in front of him. 

Only now that a slight breeze of air met your core, you realized just how wet you were. It was a surprise you hadn’t completely drenched your pants between your legs. Taking one of your ankles in hand, Astarion began peppering kisses all along the inside of your leg, positioning your leg angled on the bed and letting his lips travel until he almost met your core. Then he moved onto the other leg, once again mirroring the exact same motions which now had you with your legs spread and Astarions head lingering right in front of your raging hot core. “I want you to look at me while I feast on that delicious cunt of yours,” his voice was even lower now, arousal and hunger clouding his own senses while his hot breath fanned against your wetness. Just as he ordered you opened your eyes and glanced down at the elf between your legs. He looked like he had been starving for weeks and had the first real meal in front of him. And just like that he settled in and wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you in place as his tongue darted out between your folds, licking a long stripe up to your pulsating clit. 

Once there his tongue ran slow circles around it. Once, twice and then his lips closed around the sensitive nub. He varied the pressure of his suction, earning several moans from you while it became increasingly more difficult not to roll your eyes into the back of your head and crumble under the pleasure you were feeling. Eventually he released your clit only to drag his tongue back through your folds, working you in all your favorite patterns. It didn’t take particularly long until you could feel your orgasm building up, blame it on the amount of time it had been since the two of you had sex. 

Astarion could tell you were getting close, his thumb finding your clit to rub circles on it while his tongue kept swirling around your folds as well as penetrating your core to pleasure those sweet spots inside of you. Without warning your vision blurred while your insides contracted, attempting to clench around a cock yet being left empty while your orgasm rushed through you. 

The vampire consumed every drop of your cum, working you through your orgasm until your hips stopped twitching. Your chest was heaving from your previous release, eyes once again meeting Astarion when he slowly withdrew himself from you if only to get rid of the rest of his clothing. His erection was standing tall and proud, precum smeared all across his tip. You licked your lips at the view. He moved in closer until he was leaning above you, almost getting into position. However you wanted to return the favor as much as you were dying to feel him inside of you. Your first thought was to just toss him over and take the upper hand, however this was all about giving him the choice. So you opted to give him the choice once more. 

Before he had lined himself up at your entrance, you covered yourself with a hand and gazed straight into his eyes as he met yours with confusion. “May I suck you off?” 

To others it may have seemed like a stupid thing to ask, however you wanted him to know he had all the freedom in the world to choose what he wanted. Astarion remained confused for a second or two more before capturing himself and nodding. “Of course darling, I’d love nothing more than to feel those sweet and luscious lips around my cock.”

His voice was almost like a purr as he removed himself from above you and settled down on the bed, leaned up against the headpost while you scrambled up to position yourself between his legs. Your core was still pulsating from your release or was it the need of being filled by that long and thick shaft that stood tall and proud in front of your face? 

One soft hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a pump or two as your lips traced kisses along his thighs until they settled at his balls, traveling up the length of him slowly until you reached his tip. Your hand settled at the base of his shaft, holding him in place now while your tongue slowly swirled around his tip, earning low moans from the vampire. You could tell he was less used to this sort of act as his eyes darted between arousal and uncertainty. With help of your tadpole you let him know that he was allowed to stop you whenever he felt like he needed to. 

Your lips wrapped around his tip all the while your tongue still swirled around him. Keeping the pace slow, you slowly started taking him more into your mouth, relaxing your throat in order to take him as much as your body would allow. His breath hitched within his throat, chest heaving with pleasure while his eyes never left yours. Picking up the pace, your head started bobbing along his length, using the hand at the base of his cock to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

It wasn’t long however until Astarion gently pulled you off of his cock by your hair. His eyes had an apologetic touch within them before he spoke. “I need to have you, my love,” he spoke in an urgency. You understood and you wanted him to be in full control. “And I need you,” you responded with a gentle smile as you leaned up to capture his lips with yours. Your release still lingered on his lips, shooting another wave of heat right through to your core. 

Astarion didn’t waste time deepening the kiss, easily spinning the two of you around in order to have you pinned beneath him again. With ease he settled between your legs, allowing his length to slide along your wetness a couple of times before reaching between you in order to line himself up with your entrance. 

With one long push the vampire filled you with his entire length, stretching your insides deliciously. A gasp left your mouth at the fullness you had missed all this time. Astarion couldn’t keep himself from letting out a shaky breath either. He remained still within you for a moment or two, simply relishing in the feeling of your insides contracting around him over and over as your insides adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you.

“Please, fuck me…” you whispered against his lips, unable to take the stillness of him inside you any longer. Without any further notice, he withdrew himself almost entirely from you only to slide his entire length into you again. He kept on repeating the motion until he had picked up a moderate pace, each thrust earning a moan from you. You could tell it was different. Astarion had always been a rough lover. Fast and hard thrusts were his thing. Just a small glimpse at his face told you the whole story. Of how he was taking it slow in order to find his pleasure, his desire for this. His lips were kissing along your collarbone again, moving up to your neck until he hesitated.

Noticing the hesitation, your hand came up to the back of his head, bringing him in closer to your neck. You knew exactly what he was getting at. Or why he was hesitating. “Do it,” you moaned softly with his next thrust and that was all the confirmation he needed. His teeth immediately dug into the soft skin of your neck, the stinging pain feeling yet so pleasurable. 

As he was drinking from you, Astarion had picked up his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and quicker. At this point he barely pulled even halfway out before his cock slammed back into you, brushing past all the good spots. Your moans picked up in volume, the mixed feeling of your cunt being pounded while your neck was being fed on combined an amount of pleasure you couldn’t even describe. 

Astarion felt it too, the pleasure of the entire situation, how tasting your blood made his cock turn indefinitely harder, how your cunt clenched and your thighs quivered with each of his thrusts. And he knew that all of this was because he wanted it. Not because he had to gain advantage for something or to manipulate someone. He released your throat for a moment, the blood running down your neck and dripping onto the pillow beneath you, if only to moan out your name, “Tav..” he grunted, knowing his release was near. Slyly lifting your legs a little over his waist, you caused his cock to change the angle within you, brushing right past your g-spot and close to hitting your cervix with every thrust.

“Astarion..” you moaned in return, feeling your own release coming in closer. His head lifted from your neck, wanting to see your face and he hooked his arms underneath your knees and essentially lifted you up higher as his hips pounded against you. The sound of skin slapping against skin as well as both of your moans echoed throughout the room. It only took one more thrust and you were sent over the edge. Your thighs quivered against his hold, hips twitching and insides clenching wildly as your second orgasm of the night rushed through you. It felt like you lost control over your body as you were not able to control a single movement.

Seeing your pleasure filled self, Astarion pushed himself deep inside of you, his body coming to rest flush against you as his release emptied all the way inside you, his own hips stuttering with just how much he came. 

Once he emptied himself entirely and both your bodies calmed from the intensity of your orgasms, he pulled his member out and settled on the non-bloody side of the bed, pulling you into his tight embrace.

“That was marvelous, darling…” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, not minding the blood remaining at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”

His voice was sincere and you knew this was it. He found his control. His own will. The one thing you had been working on with him. “Not for this, my beloved.” You countered softly, finding his lips for a kiss. You stopped caring for the taste of blood a long time ago. 

The two of you had laid together, calming from your highs for a while longer. However this was not the end of the night just yet. You lost count of just how many times the two of you had sex that night. All you knew was that your shift of staying guard for the camp was long forgotten.

[friendship-ditch]

Training

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: You meet Katniss while training to be a soldier.

Warnings: Some light swearing and lightly described injuries. (SFW)

Word count: 2879

Having spent most of your life working the markets of District 12, you weren’t the best fighter, and you hardly knew how to wield a sword. Although your life had been full of poverty, it was also full of peace. That was why you were surprised when informed that you would be drafted as an emergency soldier for the rebellion on the side of District 13.

You progressed your way from dummies to other trainees, but the breathing beings were much more ferocious than the sacks of old flour. You’d been training for a week and hadn’t won a single duel yet.

After your third loss, you left to nurse your wounds and practice on your own again. You wrapped your shoulder and lost track of time. It was far past dinner and you finally stopped when you heard a clatter.

That was when you noticed somebody else was here too.

You abandoned your training and went in search of the sound. In the small arena beside you, you noticed another girl around your age.

The girl's hair was tied into a side braid, bow clutched tightly between her fingers. She was shooting effortlessly at the holograms, taking down one after one with ease. When the training session ended she turned over her shoulder and noticed you watching.

You felt a heat creep up your neck and spread across her cheeks as your eyes locked with her gray ones. They were cold and reserved, but not angry.

“Sorry.” You stuttered, stepping away from the wall. “I thought I was the only one here. You’re amazing.”

By some miracle the girl didn’t seem bothered. She slung her bow over her shoulder and came over towards you. As she stood a few feet away from you it finally clicked in your head who she was.

“I’m uh—I’m y/n.” You stammered, suddenly not wanting to meet her eyes in case you blabbered on.

Standing in front of you was not just any girl, but Katniss, Katniss Everdeen; The Mockingjay; The Girl on Fire; The girl who fueled a rebellion with just a few berries.

She was practically a celebrity down here in 13, and once upon a time back in childhood you may have even called her a friend. You were sure she didn’t remember that.

Was she always this beautiful?

“Katniss.” The girl said with a nod. She eyed you curiously for a moment, the smallest flicker of recognition in her eyes but she said nothing about it. In fact, she didn’t say much at all.

You nodded too, unsure what else to do. This was quickly turning awkward.

“You’ve been training for a while.” Katniss finally states. It’s a weird thing to say, but it’s a true observation. She then points to the wrapped wound on your shoulder. “Is that new?”

That blush sparkled across your skin again, this time from embarrassment rather than awe.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m not the best fighter, so I’m just training.” You explain. “They’re going to draft me as an emergency soldier.”

“Then you should definitely train more. You need it.”

The bluntness of her statement drew out a frown across your lips. “Thanks.” You mumbled, even more embarrassed than before.

Katniss seemed to realize what she said and gave you an apologetic look, though she said nothing else on the topic. She checked the time and then hung her bow on the wall.

“I have to go. You should rest, you won’t help anybody by wearing yourself out.”

You watched silently as she left the room and turned the light off. Katniss was a lot more stuck in her own world than you remembered, but she was just as good with a bow as ever.

The next day you came early to training and worked your ass off for an extra hour but it still didn’t work. You were as good with a gun as a mouse, you couldn’t even get an arrow to shoot the right direction from a bow, and a 2 year old would’ve been better with a knife. The only reason you hadn’t been brutally murdered in training yet was that you knew how to dodge and escape mostly unscathed, but that wouldn’t do you good in a real battle.

Every failure was just increasingly more frustrating and you were debating on signing yourself up as a human shield instead.

Finally, you gave up. You dropped the bow and sank to the floor with a loud groan.

“You’re holding it wrong.”

The voice snapped you out of your self pity and you lifted your head towards the sound, finding a surprise.

Katniss stood at the entrance to the small arena, her own bow in hand and quiver strapped to her back. She was a little sweaty but seemed just as alert as ever.

“Your hand is too low.” Katniss continued as she stepped in. She pulled her bow off of her back and held it up to demonstrate.

You watched wide eyed with curiosity.

When Katniss handed you your own bow, you hesitantly took it and tried to copy her example.

“Like this?”

The other girl let out a soft chuckle. She set her hand on top of yours, her fingers were warm. She gently moved your hand up just a little. “Yes, like this.”

You slowly nodded and did as she said, holding the bow her way. It did feel easier.

“There you go.” Katniss nodded with approval. She helped you up to your feet and offered you an arrow. “Now, aim and shoot.”

Her breath was hot and tickled the side of your neck, making your heart stampede. She helped you prepare, her hand still over yours. As you angled and aimed the bow, she nodded.

“Shoot.”

The command snapped you back to reality. You let the arrow fly and missed the target by more than a few feet. So much for getting better. Now you felt like even more of a letdown.

“Sorry.” You muttered, ashamed of yourself.

Katniss shook her head and handed you another arrow. “Don’t be. Nobody gets it perfect on their first try.”

You didn’t get it on your second try either, or your third, but you were getting closer. Finally, on your fourth try, the arrow hit the edge of the target and not the wall behind it.

Katniss congratulated you with a rare smile and helped you a few more times until you continuously hit the target.

“Now keep practicing like that. You’ll get it soon enough, you have good form.” Katniss explained, letting her hair out of her braid. She’d taken a seat on a bench to watch you shoot. “And remember to rest, you’re no use as a worn out soldier.”

You couldn’t help but smile too.

The next few days, Katniss continued to give you shooting lessons, and became less reserved. When you started to always hit the target straight on, she began to teach you how to hit moving targets.

“Keep your focus on them. Don’t aim for where they are, aim for where they will be.” Katniss breathed against the back of your head. One of her hands was on your shoulder, the other on your elbow as she slowly turned you with the hologram.

You did what she said, looking ahead of the hologram. When it was moments away from your gaze, you released the arrow. It shot right into the target.

Katniss gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Great!”

You looked up at her just as she looked down and her chin bumped into your forehead. As if the way she was holding you and how she stood a few inches taller than you wasn’t already making your heart flutter, that certainly did it.

“Sorry.” She blurted out, stepping away. You missed her warmth already.

“It’s alright, it didn’t hurt.” You assured her quickly. “Thank you for teaching me, I really think I’m getting somewhere now! I’m the best shooter in my whole group!”

That made Katniss beam with pride and instead of saying something, she responded with a hug, and a tight one at that.

“I’m so proud of you.” She whispered happily, resting her chin atop your head without any pain this time. She hugged you close.

You couldn’t help but melt into her embrace and hug her back as tight as you could. It had been a long time since anybody had ever hugged you in this manner and it just felt so good, especially since Katniss was the one doing it.

When you broke away from the hug, you couldn’t help the bright blush on your face but luckily she didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I think I’ve taught you all there is about how to use and work a bow.” Katniss told you, unaware of the way that made your heart sink. “I think my work here is done.”

“Do you know how to use a sword?” You asked rapidly the second she was done speaking. “Or a knife? Or just… anything else? I suck at just about every weapon out there.”

Katniss let out a sharp sigh and shook her head. “No, not well enough to teach you at least.”

An unconcealable frown broke out across your face and you slowly nodded. That was probably for the best anyway, Katniss most likely had better things to do then train you at odd hours of the night. But you didn’t want to lose her yet. You two never hung out or talked anywhere else but this was like your own little world together. You frowned even more and sighed.

“But… we could take a lesson together.” Katniss prompted the question hesitantly, as if you’d deny her. “If you want. I think learning more hand to hand things would help me as well.”

The permanent frown on your face was replaced with an even bigger smile and you nodded with glee.

The next day, the two of you signed up for a class together that would teach you the basics, give you each a wooden stick, and then let you at it. Katniss warned you beforehand that she could be a bit competitive and you took that challenge with a grin.

“I thought your aim was supposed to be good!” You called out teasingly as she swung at you and missed, hitting the wall. If there was anything you were actually good at on your own, it was dodging.

Katniss didn’t appreciate the tease. “You’re moving too quickly!” She shouted back, lunging at you again.

You stepped back and her stick smacked right into yours. You two had been at it for about an hour and were both sweaty and dirty. You were actually having fun, dodging and using your height as an advantage. Katniss was not and growing more and more pissed every time you ran. You couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Maybe you should strike faster!” You exclaimed, blocking another one of her attacks and swiping at her feet. “Or just, I don’t know, be better?”

Katniss groaned and lunged again. This time she managed to take a jab at you and was coming back for seconds. She raised her stick high and struck.

The only reason you weren’t smacked in the head was that you frantically swung your stick back at her, and clocked her right in the nose.

“Shit! Katniss!” You exclaimed. Both of your sticks clattered to the ground at the same time as she stumbled backwards and you ran to her side.

Giving your trainer and now friend a bloody nose wasn’t on your schedule at all.

Katniss had a hand clamped over her nose, blood filling her palm as she winced and groaned. Tears were brimming in her eyes but she was fighting to keep them back.

“I’m so sorry!” You blurted out. You brought her over to the first aid station and held ice against her nose until it stopped bleeding.

Finally, Katniss looked up at you after she wiped the last bit of blood away. Instead of the expected anger in her eyes, there was actually a small glint of humor.

“I thought you said you weren’t good with combat.” She said, in a surprisingly teasing voice.

“I’m not. I just panicked. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Katniss assured you, a smile teasing her lips. She rubbed the side of her nose. “I’ll just have a big bruise on my face for a week or two.”

When you realized she was messing with you, you couldn’t help but laugh and sit beside her.

“I think tomorrow, you and I should meet here, and you should train me.” Katniss told you, her voice now serious. “It’s only fair, right?”

You felt a little spark of hope in your chest and grinned. “Right.”

And so the next day you were at it again. You spent a lot of the time just teaching Katniss how to dodge, and in turn, she gave you a few tips on aim.

You’d also upgraded to an arena with some obstacles to heighten the risk.

Running after Katniss, you chased her up a rock. You were laughing but also focused; a little too focused. Katniss stopped at the top and you ran right into her, causing the two of you to topple to the ground, you landing right on top of her.

You two looked at each other, chest to chest, and faces both flushed. You were too stunned to move and Katniss had gotten the wind knocked out of her so she wasn’t able to talk.

Eventually you both just started to laugh. You stayed on top of her, shaking your head and giggling.

Finally she spoke up. “Alaina, you’re making my leg numb.” Katniss groaned teasingly. “My whole body is numb now.”

You blushed even more and rolled off of her and sat up. She sat up beside you, still panting.

“I need a minute.” Katniss breathed. Her head slowly found its way onto your shoulder as she tried to catch her breath.

You sat quietly, even more flustered by the way she was leaning into you. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and waited until she felt okay enough to stand back up.

“Don’t go apologizing yet, you’ll regret it after I beat your ass.” Katniss said as she picked her stick back up, a grin on her face. She wasn’t done, not yet.

You were surprised by her persistence but grinned back at her. “You’ll be the one begging for your life when your ass is flat on the ground.”

The two of you spent the next half hour training and sparring, eventually giving up when you were beaten and bruised.

You sat beside Katniss on the bench, wrapping up the gash on her arm with some medical tape. You were exhausted from fighting, but you didn’t want the night to end either.

“There you go.” You sealed the tape off and pressed a soft kiss to the wound. You didn’t realize what you did until it already happened and you blushed bright red. “Sorry. My mother always did that to me.. She said it made the wounds hurt less.”

“It worked.” Katniss told you, looking over her shoulder at you. “But I think you missed.”

Confusion clouded your gaze. “What do you mean?”

“You missed.” Katniss repeated, flipping her whole body to face you. She took your hand and lifted it up to her face, using your finger to point at her lips. “You missed by a lot actually, I think we need to work on your aim.”

You could’ve fainted on the spot. Your heart raced in your chest and you grew even redder. Was she… Did she really ask you to kiss her? There was no way this was happening. She couldn’t have felt the same way you did.

Katniss watched your confusion with amusement. She took your hand and pointed it to your lips.

“May I? I think I should demonstrate this too.” She murmured softly.

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat.

Katniss smiled softly and her lips met yours with ease. The kiss was short and sweet, but something you had been longing for so badly. You smiled too and then kissed her again, and then once more for good measure.

Finally, Katniss pulled away, her hand finding yours once more but just holding it this time. She smiled lovingly at you, her face red.

There was no way you could let her win this. You two had built up a competitive streak over the last few weeks and you weren’t going to let it off here.

“How about one more round?” You asked, picking up your stick. “And then, you come back to my room, and I’ll fix your wounds there.”

Katniss blushed even more but her eyes glimmered. She let out a laugh. “You think I’ll have more wounds by then? You’re that good?”

You laughed too and helped her to her feet. “I’m not sure, but I’m sure you’d want me to kiss every single one of them either way.”

“You bet.”

The two of you returned to the arena, eagerly awaiting what would come after the spar, and knowing that your lips wouldn’t just stick to her wounds.

[bellasprettywords]

So High School pt. II (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: This little one shot is the continuation for So High School, I really hope you guys enjoy it

As always, this is not proofread because of who I am as a person

My masterlist

Warnings: Just fluff and kissing

Word count: 813

y/n – your name

Part 1

Saturday finally came around, and you were a little too excited about your date with Reid; you finished tying up and prepping the living room, making sure you had enough blankets, cushions, and snacks, so everything could go perfectly. Once again, the feeling of being sixteen, and having your first hang out after school with the guy you were crushing on invaded your whole body, and made your stomach flutter with excitement, when suddenly, you heard a buzzing from the intercom.

“Hi, y/n, this is Spencer… Reid!” you heard the young doctor stutter nervously, and the butterflies in your stomach went crazy

“Hi, let me buzz you in, and you already know the way up” you said trying to sound cool, and collected, but pretty sure that the huge smile on your face sounded through the intercom. After a couple of minutes, you heard a soft knocking on your door, you opened it and the gorgeous Doctor was leaning over the door frame, holding a small cardboard box.

“I brought pie! You know, because we are watching American Pie, I’m not sure what the movie is about, but if it’s about pies we are prepared” Spencer said, handing you the little box with a huge grin, with his cheeks turning bight pink

“Thank you, wow, that’s lovely, although there are not that many pies in American Pie… it actually the expression… well, you’ll see, please come on in” you said chuckling. Gosh! He really was the sweetest man in the whole world, and you just couldn’t believe that you’d have him all by yourself for at least a couple of hours

“Please take a sit wherever you’d like” you said motioning to your couch, “And, would you like anything to drink? I’ve got water, soda, tea, juice, and coffee, although it may be kinda late for coffee, you know?” you asked Spencer walking into the kitchen

“Actually, coffee was great, I’d take it with five sugars, please” he said, taking a look around your apartment living room, making you a little nervous about him profiling you through the stuff that’s lying around in the room

“Damn Doctor Reid, and you wonder why you can’t stop shaking” you said chuckling to hide the fact that you were nervous about having your crush at home. You sat down on the couch handing Spencer his coffee, and trying to shake away the nervousness that the situation created for you: you were alone, in your apartment, with the guy you’ve been crushing on for the last two years, but you were always too shy to admit it.

You played the movie and for the first fifteen minutes the two of you were completely immobile, but as the jokes progressed, you could feel Spencer and yourself moving closer and closer to each other. In the blink of an eye, you were cuddling under a blanket with your face leaned on Spencer’s shoulder and his arm was wrapped around you, softly caressing your arm.

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” you asked, looking up at the guy whose arms you were wrapped on

“Tell me” he said, looking into your eyes sweetly

“This date definitely reminds me of high school dates, you know, just hanging out watching a movie, although, those date usually ended with heavy make out sessions” you said jokingly and Spencer gulped loudly

“I… I wouldn’t know, I graduated from high school at 12, so I didn’t really have any dates with my peers” he said looking a bit embarrassed maybe?

“Oh, well, you didn’t miss much, I mean, dates pretty much went like this, although…” you said sitting up straight on the couch and Spencer gave you a puzzled look; you knew this was your chance, and you were going to take it. You leaned slowly towards Spencer, caressing his cheek with your hand, as you felt him leaning closer to you

“Is it okay if I…?” you started asking, but were quickly interrupted by Spencer’s lips, merging sweetly into yours. You moved your hands to his head, where you caressed Spencer’s curls, and you felt him placing his hands to your waist, making you sit closer to him as the kiss progressed. Spencer swiftly pulled you over his lap, and you gave a small bite to his lower lip, which gave Spencer the green light to insert his tongue into your mouth and move his hands from your waist, to your lower back

“Thank you” Spencer said in between kissed, which made you pull away from him to understand what was going on, so he went on “You know, for giving me the High School experience I missed out on” he said with a small smile forming into his lips

“You don’t have to thank me, but I’ll take another kiss” you said jokingly and Spencer leaned once more, kissing you tenderly

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 5

Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood afternoon, everyone.

:) Have fun

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Awkwardness, flashbacks, feels

Word Count: 1,950

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

This wouldn't be your and Bucky's first undercover mission together, but it would be the first one where the tension between you is decidedly not sexual. You're not even sure how well the two of you can pull off this charade since you have no idea what your chemistry is like anymore. Used to, you could do anything together, be anything together.

Not so much now.

There’s an awkwardness between you. Silences pregnant with all the things left unsaid – or should have been left unsaid. You’ll catch Bucky watching you from the corner of your eyes, always with an unreadable expression like he’s trying to figure you out again without actually asking any questions.

You can't imagine that you've changed so much in the intervening months, but Bucky makes so much progress in therapy that his confidence in himself and his personality grow by leaps and bounds all the time. 

You don’t know this new Bucky, but you wish you did. You wish you had been with him to see his growth, encourage him on. 

You’ve missed out on so much of your life by staying away from the Tower. You’d had so many plans that never came to be – no walks in the park when the flowers started to bloom, no trips to the beach on the hottest days of the year, no ice skating when the first snow fell. You kept a tab on everything that should have been on the calendar in your mind, noting all the days that had significance in the past but went uncelebrated this year.

But what’s done is done, and you have to pay for your actions – half a year away is a small price to have Bucky back in your life, even as a stranger instead of your lover. 

You’re now trying to organize your new life on the outskirts of a small town in Russia, just a few miles away from a HYDRA base. Snow was falling thick and fast as the quinjet touched down hours ago, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white outside your new home. The small, two-bedroom cottage looks rustic, but it is still nicer than most of the surrounding homes due to Tony’s influence. There is hidden technology that will help the house to stay warm in this cold climate and random high-tech appliances, lights, and other things that look normal and are anything but.

With the HYDRA base going radio silent, you may be in this little home for longer than was initially expected earlier this year. Bucky is sure that the base is still active, though.  He spent a lot of time here as the Winter Soldier, but no one has received reports from the embedded spy in recent months. This inactivity is concerning since you're no longer sure what is going on inside the building anymore.  

It would be too obvious for Bucky to go undercover inside the facility, so that leaves it up to you to infiltrate as a researcher. The spy had assured last year that no one from the facility lived in the town you’ve settled in, so it’s safe enough for Bucky to remain close by as you work.

But the small town you’ve settled in is so traditional that the only way to remain inconspicuous as a younger woman is to be connected to a man in some way – be it living with family members or a husband.

And since you don't want to be labeled an outcast or worse, Bucky is here.

Bucky is going to be a mechanic at the small family-owned shop just down the road, and his prosthesis is covered in Stark technology that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it. Bucky used to spend a lot of time fixing up old cars and motorcycles between missions, so he should really enjoy spending his days in the garage helping out the Kowalds.

Unfortunately, your background isn’t as fun. You’re a whiz when it comes to biology, so Nat cooked up a false resume full of lab work that centers around eugenics and biomanipulation – things your spy had reported the facility was actively looking into. In order to get your foot in the door at the HYDRA facility, the Avengers had to create a background so disturbing that you're not even sure if you can interview for it properly.

 You're just zipping up into your thick winter coat when Bucky walks out of the kitchen drying his hands on a dish towel.

“You headin’ out now, doll?” He asks, a small worry line between his eyebrows.

“Yup,” you answer back with a comforting smile on your face. “I need to go meet with our contact to make sure that everything is still okay.”

“Just be careful, yeah?” he tells you, slinging the towel up onto his shoulder. Today is his first day at the mechanic shop, so he's dressed in blue overalls with a small name tag stitched onto his chest. The sun is just barely rising, but he's going to be late if he doesn't hurry.

"You know me, Buck. My middle name is Safe."

"Your middle name is Trouble and you can't convince me otherwise, babygirl."

You stick your tongue out at him and blow a raspberry, holding your middle finger up in the air as you turn around and head out the door. Once out of his sight, you smile and bask in the feeling of having your friend back.

You'd missed the banter and easy wit you used to share together, so this small exchange feels like a return to normal. The awkwardness might return in time, but you hope Bucky has forgiven you enough to power through.

You trek along the deserted streets. The early hour and layer of snow on the ground seems to be keeping the townsfolk within their homes, wrapped snugly under their warm blankets. You sigh heavily and watch your breath fog in the air, the mist condensing and freezing your skin as you walk through the cloud.

You pass house after house, noticing lights turning on and the sound of hairdryers, televisions, and conversations humming in the air. Everything has a vague, indistinct quality to it, lulling you into daydreams of what their lives are like. Is it simple? Do they enjoy this cold, snowy location? Or are they also dreaming of a warm day laying in the grass in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top?

A memory worms its way to the surface of your mind of a day spent just like that with Bucky. 

This was only a few weeks before your friends-with-benefits situation started. It was the hottest day of the year so far, the humidity heavy in the air and making the sidewalks and parks of New York City intensely uncomfortable. Even though Stark has the Tower equipped with the latest technology, he's incapable of leaving anything well enough alone. He'd been tinkering with the HVAC and somehow short-circuited the entire system. Everyone in the Tower was miserable and cranky, choosing to avoid one another in an attempt to stave off arguments and confrontations. 

You'd been sitting in the shade of the balcony, fanning yourself as you watched all the teeny tiny people on the ground maneuver the crosswalks and traffic to get to where they were going. It was no warmer outside than it was in your room, so you chose to people-watch instead of lay there and sweat miserably on your clean sheets.

Just as some bratty kid you’d been watching chucked the ice cream he’d been yelling for only moments ago onto the sidewalk, the sliding glass doors behind you whooshed open. The sound of metal knocking against the doorframe had let you know that Bucky was the one to interrupt your spying.

Regretfully turning your neck, you felt your skin sliding wet and hot against itself. A frown marred your features as you stared at Bucky as he stood behind you, his eyes alight with mischievous glee.

“What did you do…?” You question slowly, almost afraid to know what that look was all about.

He shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Nothing too bad.”

“BARNES!!!” a voice roared from the depths of the Tower.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and a small, disbelieving smile graced your lips. “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Buck.”

Bucky hmm’d and glanced back into the building when a CRASH reverberated from where the voice had yelled moments ago. “I was going to get out of here for a while. You wanna come?” he questioned breezily.

“And why would I want to leave when Tony’s working on fixing the AC?” you replied as you continued to fan yourself. Bucky’s eyebrows had quirked ever so slightly.

“Y/L/N!!!” 

Your hand had frozen mid-fan and your eyes widened so much that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where’d you say we were going?” you asked as you rose quickly from your seat and bypassed Bucky at the door.

***

“You little shit!” You had laughed uproariously when Bucky finally admitted to the prank.

“What else was I gonna do?” he responded, turning his face to look at you.

Even with the intense heat that day, you and Bucky had decided to forgo the climate controlled vehicles in the garage and went instead with the fastest getaway vehicle – Bucky’s bike. The wind had whipped against your body when you held onto Bucky and watched the city fall into the distance behind you. 

He apparently hadn’t had a destination in mind, so you had ridden until cities and towns disappeared. He’d pulled off beside a barely visible hiking trail and jumped off his bike. You had followed suit and watched as Bucky pulled a blanket from inside the storage compartment on the bike. You hiked your eyebrows questioningly, but only got a grin in response. 

That’s how you had found yourself lounging on a blanket in the middle of a field with Bucky on the hottest day of the year. You’d chatted and laughed for hours until the sun had slowly faded from the sky. Out that far, the light pollution of the cities couldn’t touch the stars. You had gazed upwards, trying to draw the constellations as you remembered them.

You weren’t any good at astrology or astronomy, but the stories behind the figures in the sky captivated you nonetheless.

You laughed again and turned to face him as well. “And why’d you have to implicate me, huh?” 

“Figured it’d be more fun that way,” he had answered slyly. 

You had wound your arm up and smacked him on the stomach, your hand bouncing off of the toned muscles. He’d caught your wrist on the next swing and held it up and away from his body. You’d tried to tug it away, but his metal fingers held fast and didn’t let you go. You rolled over toward him and began trying to use your body as leverage, but you had only succeeded in pulling yourself closer to him.

You huffed and blew the piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes away and looked up at him. He’d had a look in his eyes that he hadn’t directed at you before, but you’d seen glimpses of it when he’d find someone to bring back for the night.

You can’t help but think that that moment had been the turning point in your friendship with Bucky, the moment he thought about asking you to be friends-with-benefits. Of course you’d found him handsome long before then, but that was a moment that really cemented your attraction to him. 

You didn’t have romantic feelings at the time, but you should have known they were inevitable.

Part 6

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch@stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[creative-crybaby]

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate. 

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact. 

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either. 

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback. 

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case. 

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks. 

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously. 

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears. 

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead. 

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him. 

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away. 

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice. 

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch. 

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball. 

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact. 

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you. 

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list. 

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one. 

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him. 

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like. 

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.” 

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn. 

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom. 

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home. 

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more. 

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why. 

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights. 

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment. 

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions. 

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body. 

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself. 

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent. 

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done. 

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack. 

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again. 

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback. 

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before. 

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes. 

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you. 

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion. 

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with. 

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more. 

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house. 

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch. 

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.) 

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home. 

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him. 

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day. 

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book. 

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak. 

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous. 

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly. 

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze. 

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving. 

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you. 

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression. 

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette. 

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought. 

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation. 

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants. 

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation. 

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise. 

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer. 

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality. 

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot. 

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it. 

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought. 

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you. 

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you. 

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift. 

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting. 

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision. 

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice. 

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home. 

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either. 

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts. 

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently. 

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge. 

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him. 

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees. 

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight. 

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go. 

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you. 

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you. 

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch. 

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window. 

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning. 

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake. 

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare. 

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan. 

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now? 

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks. 

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end. 

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy. 

He loves it. 

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly. 

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth. 

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[turquoizxe]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’ 

Rating ― Mature (16+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy;  can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.” 

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone. 

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.”

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

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