#it was so easy and natural and all we do is make jokes and laugh constantly

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16

In Gaius Tower.

Merlin: (enters)

Gaius: Oh, Merlin, glad you're here.

Merlin: Sorry I was moving all my things to my new chambers. Do you need me to help you with something?

Gaius: (sighs, turning very serious) Merlin, my boy, we must talk.

Merlin: But I didn't do anything this time 🥺.

Gaius: No, it's not about you. Well, yes. But it's not because of something you've done... I think.

Merlin: (very confused) I don't think I follow...

Gaius: You are aware that the prince is... very fond of you, right?

Merlin: Oh yeah, sure.

Gaius: I mean he likes you, Merlin.

Merlin: I know, I like him too.

Gaius: (surprised) Really?! 😲

Merlin: Of course, we are friends. How can we not like each other?

Gaius: No, I don't mean in that way, Merlin.

Merlin: Well, I guess he likes me as his servant too.

Gaius: (explodes) Oh, for Gods' sake! I'm talking about romantic love! Of sexual attraction! That's what I'm talking about!

Merlin: …

Merlin: (burst out laughing) Ha! 🤣 Good one, Gaius.

Gaius: I'm not joking.

Merlin: (sarcastic) Yeah, sure.

Gaius: Merlin, Arthur has been obsessed with you ever since you got here.

Merlin: What on earth gave you that idea?

Gaius: He almost lost his mind when you were stabbed!

Merlin: So? He cares about his subjects. That's not strange.

Gaius: He had a man imprisoned for you.

Merlin: Lancelot, yes, and only because he wanted to teach me a lesson for risking my life 'unnecessarily' again. Very childish of him if you ask me.

Gaius: And when you invited a man to sleep in your room-

Merlin: Why does everyone say that like it's a bad thing?

Gaius: -He had you immediately move into the chambers next to his.

Merlin: He still doesn't trust Lancelot and he wanted me to be more comfortable, that's all.

Gaius: He gave you a flower! Tell me, how can that NOT be romantic?

Merlin: Oh, I suppose that could be misinterpreted. Even Lancelot interpreted it that way.

Gaius: Because it can only be interpreted one way!

Merlin: But I swear it has an explanation.

Gaius: I'm dying to hear it.

Merlin: You see, do you remember when Arthur came here to leave me a message for you when the plague happened?

Gaius: The message he never left you in the end because you were too busy talking about your favorite flower? Yes, I remember.

Merlin: I told him that my favorite flowers were forget-me-nots because it's not easy to find purple flowers and purple is my favorite color.

Gaius: A color that curiously only royalty can afford because it's very expensive to make, yes.

Merlin: Exactly! That's why I like forget-me-nots. They are easy to find in nature and they are free. And I told Arthur that: "There aren't many flowers that are purple."

Gaius: And in response he got you a purple lily.

Merlin: Yeah, you see?

Gaius: ...

Gaius: Are you supposed to be refuting me? Because it seems like you're agreeing with me.

Merlin: Gaius, don't you see? The idiot gave me the purple lily just to prove a point.

Gaius: Which is...?

Merlin: That there are other purple flowers besides forget-me-nots. He even wrote me a note telling me just that. That I simply didn't know how to search well.

Gaius: Merlin, do you know what the purple lily means in the language of flowers?

Merlin: "Passionate love." Why?

Gaius: 😒

Merlin: It's a coincidence, nothing more.

Gaius: Okay, let's talk about facts instead. Naturally purple lilies are very rare and difficult to find, to the point that even if someone from royalty wants some, it is more cost-effective for them to paint the lilies purple and, as you well know, purple dye is very expensive.

Merlin: (surprised) Really? I didn't know you could paint flowers. So my lily is painted?

Gaius: No, that's the thing. The prince, who we know has no shortage of money, despite being easily able to have a lily painted purple, decided to find you a naturally purple one and give it to you as a gift.

Merlin: (very impressed) Wow…

Gaius: Do you see it now?

Merlin: Yes… It's incredible that he would go so far just to prove a point.

Gaius: (drops his things) I give up. (leaves)

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: (In his desk, writing in a parchment sheet, thinking) If Lancelot is here, the griffin will attack soon. (writes that down) What's next? The sidhes, I think. Then the black knight and the questing beast-No, the unicorn was before the questing beast. (Adds note next to 'Unicorn') Important: Don't kill the unicorn.... When was the battle of Ealdor? Was it before or after the unicorn? (thinks hard but can't remember) Well it happened around then. Hmmm... (adds note next to 'Black knight') Don't drink Gaius' drug.

Gaius: (knocks the door from outside)

Arthur: (hides the parchment) Come in.

Gaius: (enters and bows) Your highness.

Arthur: Oh, Gaius. What brings you here?

Gaius: I would like to talk to you... about Merlin.

Arthur: (stands up abruptly, worried) What happened? Is he hurt?

Gaius: No! It's nothing like that, sire.

Arthur: (sighs relieved) So? What is it?

Gaius: First, I want your highness to know that I really appreciate that you care for my ward so dearly. You didn't only give him the position of your personal manservant, you protected him and offer him your friendship even when there was no need and I will always be grateful for that.

Arthur: You don't have to thank me for that, Gaius. As you said, Merlin is very dear to me. I won't let anything happen to him. (thinking) What did that dollophead do this time?

Gaius: (uncomfortable) Right... however, despite my eternal gratitude, I must ask you... more discretion from your part, sire.

Arthur: (surprised and confused) Me?

Gaius: Some actions you have made regarding Merlin have caused... some worrying rumors to be made, sire.

Arthur: Like what?

Gaius: There are a lot, sire. But the most common one, I think, is that you took Merlin as your lover because Merlin is , pardon my words, a seductive greedy whore, sire.

Arthur: (scandalised, shouts) WHAT?!

Gaius: I know, very bold of them to accuse the prince of Camelot of sleeping with-

Arthur: They are calling Merlin a whore?!😡

Gaius: Uhm, yes, a greedy whore, but what I'm trying to get at is-

Arthur: This can't be. I'm going to fix it. Thank you, Gaius. (leaves)

Gaius: Wait! What are you going to do? 😨(goes after him, frantic) Sire? Sire!

Time skip. Arthur reunited with all the servants at his service (which means some servants like Gwen are not there) in the hallway.

Arthur: (with a branding iron in hand, threatening) This is used to mark the cattle but also to mark the gossipers. I do not tolerate gossipers, especially the slandares.

Servants: (scared as fuck, trembling in place)😨😱

Arthur: Rumors are forbidden in this castle. Even more if they involve royalty and those closest to them. I won't ask who did it. I don't care. I'm just warning you that if I hear anything remotely similar again (points the branding iron to them) all of you will pay the consequences. So if you don't want to be marked as cattle (walks and points the servants one by one) you better start controlling yours and everyone's tongues. Do I make myself clear?

Servant 1: (pales when he's pointed at and faints)

Arthur: (looks down as he falls, expressionless) You are fired. Let him know that when he wakes.

Other servants: (terrafied, with a high pitched voice) Yes, sire!🥺

Arthur: (leaves)

Gaius: (in a corner, just as terrafied) What the fu-😨

Time skip. Arthur and Merlin in Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (putting Arthur his shirt on) Arthur, is there an important event today? Is someone important coming?

Arthur: No, why?

Merlin: Well, everyone seems in such a hurry lately. Every time I run into another servant they run away.

Arthur: Really?

Merlin: (nods, putting Arthur his jacket on) They always apologise though, before leaving. (thoughtful) It's weird. Maybe I did something to upset them?

Arthur: (dismissively) Sometimes there's just too much work in the castle. Don't overthink it.

Gaius: (enters suddenly, almost a wild expression in his face)

Merlin: (surprised) Gaius!

Arthur: (concerned) Gaius, is something wrong? You never enter without knocking.

Gaius: (turns to Merlin, very serious) Merlin, I need some errands urgently. (extends his hand with a peace of paper)

Merlin: Oh, in a minute. I need to-

Gaius: Now, Merlin. People's lifes are depending on it.

Arthur: Go, Merlin. I can handle the rest.

Merlin: (nods and takes the paper, very worried at the sudden emergency) I'll be back as soon as I can. (leaves quickly)

Gaius: (closes the door and turns to Arthur, sternly) This has to stop.

Arthur: (confused) What exactly?

Gaius: Your feelings for Merlin!

Arthur: Oh, that.

Gaius: Yes! I know you fancy him. Don't you dare deny it! 😡

Arthur: I'm not denying it.

Gaius: Please, Arthur! Everyone who has eyes can see-Wait you are not denying it? 😲

Arthur: I'm not.

Gaius: Oh... Okay

Arthur: And I don't just fancy him, I'm in love with him.

Gaius: (taken aback) I... didn't expect this much honesty... give me a minute.

Arthur: (nods in understanding and points to a chair) Do you want to take a seat?

Gaius: Yes, thank you. (takes a seat)

Arthur: I can bring you water if you like.

Gaius: No, it's fine. (sighs and looks at Arthur) How?

Arthur: (shrugs) How does everyone fall in love? It just happens.

Gaius: You've just known each other for less than a month.

Arthur: It's true, but I feel like I've known him for a lifetime. (thinking) 10 years to be exact. (says) I can assure you, Gaius, my intentions are nothing but honorable.

Gaius: I know you wouldn't force Merlin into anything he doesn't want to. That's not the problem.

Arthur: Then What is it?

Gaius: Sire-

Arthur: Arthur. Call me Arthur.

Gaius: The problem, Arthur, is that you are being too intense with your love. You even threatened those poor servants!

Arthur: They were insulting Merlin! 😠

Gaius: That's what I'm talking about! If you are not doing extensive searches just to bring him a flower, you are challenging anyone who has done the slightest offense to him. You were always very correct and careful with your image. Why can't you keep up appearances when it comes to Merlin too?

Arthur: Because I don't want to hide and repress what I feel! (thinks) Not anymore. (Says) And I'm not going to let anyone hurt him. (Thinks) Not again. I won't leave him alone again. I won't fail him again.

Gaius: I know you have the best intentions, but whether you like it or not, you are also harming Merlin with your actions. Your father doesn't have the best image of him at the moment.

Arthur: (worried) And Merlin? Does it bother him that-

Gaius: No, surprisingly, he isn't aware of your feelings yet. I even tried to tell him and he just thought I was joking. I don't know if he's very innocent or just too dense.

Arthur: (laughs, but then blushes a little and asks with a shy smile) But did he like the flower?

Gaius: Oh, for Gods' sake! Yes, he loved that flower and he loves everything you do for him. He may not be aware of your affections, but he's not exactly rejecting them. (Sighs) And that's what worries me the most.

Arthur: What?

Gaius: You are the prince and he is a servant and also a man.

Arthur: I don't care about that.

Gaius: But your father does and the entire court too. At some point you are going to have to marry a noble woman who can give you heirs. No matter how sincere your love for Merlin is, that is something you will not be able to change. You're going to break his heart even if you don't want to.

Arthur: I won't-

Gaius: Don't make me promises. You don't need my approval and whether I agree with this or not doesn't really matter. I'm only going to ask you two things. One, modesty. I think you can manage to woo and protect Merlin without being so brazen.

Arthur: Alright.

Gaius: Two, make things clear to Merlin before you start anything, because he won't believe you're in love with him until he hears it from your own mouth.

Arthur: I do plan to tell him when the time is right, Gaius. Don't worry.

Gaius: And Arthur... (stands up, suddenly threatening) Merlin is not just my ward, he's my boy. You may be The prince, but if you dare to hurt him-

Arthur: (firmly) I won't. I rather die before harming him in any way.

Gaius: (thinking) Yes, you say that now, but just because you don't know. (Sighs and says) Good. Now, if you excuse me, I must wait for Merlin in my chambers to prepare medicine for the imaginary patients I invented. (bows) Your Highness (leaves)

...

Scene where arthur is listing the 'events that are about to unfold' on a piece a patchment ☑︎

Credits to my best friend Rosangela, who helped me with some dialogues and situations, no only in this part, but several ones. Love you so much! ❤️

[funficwriter]

Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

[freak-accident419]

Good Tidings

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Josh barely have any time to yourselves due time traveling nonstop, trying to save the fate of humanity. However, being at the Futturman’s Christmas dinner party granted you two a fair amount of time.

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader (no genitals specified, it’s just vague penetration), cockwarming, lots of fluff, takes place during Future Man S1E6 “A Blowjob Before Dying”, too much shitty sex jokes n puns (im sorry) (not), giddy+silly+sweet love making, you think you are sooo fucking funny, more goofy than serious/lustful, you two are very much in love, more plot (high ass dialogue) than porn tbh

(A/n: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! Hope you enjoy this muahahaha and thank you all for your recent support! First smut written on this account, so be gentle with me please !)

-

You, Tiger, Wolf, and Josh were at the Futturman household, schedule disrupted due to the reluctance of Josh’s parents. They insisted that you all join them for their small Christmas dinner party. You were all sat down at the dining table, as well as the neighbors, Josh’s Uncle Barry, and Diane’s friend, Wanda (who was especially invited to perhaps keep Barry at bay).

While Tiger was mostly impatient and displeased with every mindless convo and laughter, talk revolved around several topics like DNA kits or Wolf’s strangely fascinating culinary.

You sat beside your boyfriend, Josh, slightly nervous about the time you were wasting. Ever since you’ve been dragged into the whole ‘Biotic Wars is real’ and ‘kill or be killed’ shit, you and Josh have been dealing with the worst, unimaginable shit ever. With the two of your adrenaline wearing off, you gradually processed everything that’s happened the past few days since you were never given a break. Hence the hand holding under the table as you two would seek comfort from one another.

But you attempted to distract yourself from the deaths you’ve witnessed and the near-death experiences you’ve had to your best ability by indulging in every conversation.

“Gabe, honey, tell them about—about the recent fishing trip we went on,” Josh’s mother, Diane encouraged to her husband with her sweet, achingly kind voice. You had so much respect for Josh’s parents, so it was pretty easy for you all to hit it off well. They loved you. In fact, they were heavily relieved that Josh had finally found someone, let alone someone as amazing as you.

Gabe let out a hearty chuckle as he prepared himself to tell the table his story.

“So, a couple of days ago, Diane and I went on a small fishing trip. And I remembered an old trick back in the day that attracted a lot of trout,” he explained as you picked up your glass of wine, sipping some generously. Diane smiled at him with a nod as he continued. “One of the very efficient ways to go about fish bait is blowing worms.”

You choke on your wine, holding in a laugh, coughing a bit instead as Josh looks at you with a knowing smile. “I’m sorry, what?” You asked, trying not to grin too widely. Did you hear that right?

“Blowing worms,” Gabe repeated, getting a confined chuckle out of you and Josh. “You inflate the worms with air, which makes them float instead of having your bait be at the very bottom. It’s perfect, especially near the winter time. Worked like a charm.”

“Ohh,” you gasp in wonder. You chuckle to yourself before you spontaneously say, “Yeah, actually, I think I did do that a few times. Blew a-a worm.”

You looked at Josh, thinking you were being hilarious, but he looked at you with surprised eyes and parted lips of shock that slowly transitioned into a smile.

“Really?” Josh’s father expressed with intrigue. “I didn’t even know you fish. You have someone teach you that method, or—”

“Oh, no, Mr. Futturman, I,” you speak as you occasionally switch from looking at him to Josh. “I think it’s a very popular method. It’s a pretty natural instinct, you know? Blowing worms, that is.”

“Wow, really? Always thought it was an old-fashioned sort of thing.”

“Nah, far from old-fashioned, it’s almost contemptuous!”

You did pretty well at suppressing your laughter, because you sounded really earnest. Josh covered his mouth, amused by your subtle humor.

“Joshy, we didn’t know that Y/n likes fishing. We could’ve taken them on our trip. In fact, we could’ve all went,” Diane suggests as she looked at Josh and then you.

It was like everyone at the table was blind to your immature, yet humorous implication. Except, of course, your boyfriend.

“Oh, no worries, Mrs. Futturman,” you insisted kindly. “I don’t usually fish. Plus, blowing worms can be very exhausting.”

“Y/n—” Josh reacted, but interrupted himself with a suppressed laugh.

“You think so?” Mr. Futturman raised an eyebrow. “I just stick a syringe in them, inflate it, and bam, it’s all thick and ready to g—”

You and Josh burst out laughing, holding onto the table and each other. You swore there were slight tears coming out of your eyes as both of your faces were red. You felt overjoyed to feel happiness and delight for the first time ever since your involvement in the mission. And you felt even more glad that it was your boyfriend that you fooled around with.

“Sorry, sorry,” Josh says after his laughter died down as the entire table was confused. “I just—We just thought about a, um, moment when—Um… Actually, Y/n and I did go fishing once. Isn’t that—isn’t that right?”

You nod and go along with it, detaining your giggles.

“Well, anyways, we actually did that method, and yeah, you’re right, it works like a charm!” He exclaimed with joy as his parents smile at him with approval and pride.

“Bet the worm was pretty small, huh?” Tiger jumped in wittily, however, in a coldly nonchalant manner.

“And pathetic!” Wolf blurted.

“Hey, even if that might’ve been true—might’ve—it-it probably had a personality, you know?” He reckoned with a shrug, making you laugh again.

***

“You are—are fucking terrible, you know that?” Josh quickly muttered under his breath as you two continued to kiss each other deeply on his bed. “Those were my parents.”

“C’mon, baby, admit it, it was comedy gold,” you giggle, pressing your lips to his once more by tugging his black, skinny necktie towards you as you remained sitting on his lap.

The dinner party was still going on downstairs. After a long time of looking at each other longingly at the table, you two decided to excuse yourselves in order to “prepare gifts for Josh’s coworkers that he forgotten to wrap” in his room.

When you guys rushed in his room, you couldn’t take your hands off each other, immediately making out once the door was locked. However, you then had to close all his blinds before you met him back on the bed. This wasn’t new to you, none of it was. The soft, warm orange that his room’s light emitted strangely comforted you, as well as being back on his soft, spacey mattress.

Was it a good idea to leave Tiger and Wolf alone with Josh’s family and company? Probably not. But you’ve taught them enough shit. They tolerate Josh’s parents, so why not a few other guests as well? And you’ll only be gone for no longer than five minutes, you’d hoped.

You bring your hands to his pants, attempting to unbuckle his belt. “Shit—What the—What the fuck is this?” You grumble, Josh laughing at you as you struggle.

“I think it’s—” He giggled, bringing his own hands to his belt, trying to remove it, pulling. “I think it’s stuck.”

“What the shit?” You wheeze. “Fuckin’—Fuckin’ cock block!” You continue to mess with the belt, trying your best to unbuckle it.

“Wait, you—you’re almost there, you—”

“Oh my god! Holy shit! I got it!” You let out a surprised gasp, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants right after.

“Oh shit! Flawless victory!” He exclaimed, making you stop in your tracks, looking back up at him.

“You did not just quote Mortal Kombat because I successfully unbuckled your belt,” you raise an eyebrow, nevertheless amused by his dorkiness.

“Maybe,” he answered smugly.

“You’re lucky I am in love with you, otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have let that slide,” you chuckle.

“Oh, come on. You’d love my video game references either way,” he insisted.

“I’m serious, Josh, the amount of things I’ve let slide because I love you is kind of crazy. Let me just say, I am so glad I met you after the ‘apple juice’ incident that Ray told me about.”

“Ray told you about that?”

“He told me a lot of things. Mostly the embarrassing things. I think he wanted to freak me out, you know? Always thought I was too good for you.”

You pulled his pants off, throwing it carelessly down on the floor. Your lips attached once more as he snickered as you then cupped his face with your warm hands. You look at your lover, his big, brown, desperate eyes looking at you with utmost adoration. “Well, jokes on him, he was entirely wrong. You are so good to me, you know that?”

He smiles at you softly, and you could sense how flustered he felt to hear that (the blushing patently gave it away). “You’re the one who’s been on my side since forever. Even when you got involved in all this shit that you didn’t even have to be in. You-You could’ve called me crazy, and-and broken up with me, but you believed me and stayed by my side, even knowing that things were gonna get dirty. And they did, get really dirty.” Rest in peace Janis and Carl? Or, rather, die, you evil perf-cocks? Eh, doesn’t fucking matter. “You’re so good for me, sometimes I can’t believe you’re even real.”

You giggle sweetly as you give him another kiss, a quiet smack caused by your lips deftly leaving his own to speak. “Well, I’m here and I’m real, and I’ll always be there for you, baby,” you reassure. You were perfect for him. Indefinitely.

He smiled blissfully. “I love you so much.”

You two made out passionately until you were laying under him, the lower halves of your bodies bare as you discarded the necessary clothes.

“Do you think your parents and everyone else knew about the worm thing or are they just that… I don’t know… clueless?” You asked endearingly under your breath as your fingers entangle in his soft, brown hair.

“Hmm. Possibly,” he reckons, raising his eyebrows as he thought about it. “That was still kind of evil of you, though.”

“Me, personally, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Blowing worms?”

“C’mon, your father set himself up for that.”

“Tiger called it small,” he muttered lamentably. “And Wolf said it was pathetic.”

“Jeez, whatever happened to personality?” You chuckle softly.

He sighed. “They still sort of called me out.”

“Shut up. It’s average, to say the least. Doesn’t matter either way, you’re enough.”

“But—”

“Josh, if it bothers you this much, then just prove them wrong right now,” you reply with a laugh.

“As in—?”

“Josh, c’mon, we don’t have time anyways. They’re expecting us any minute because of that shitty made-up story excuse. I love foreplay, dude, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t acknowledge the time at all. Quickies are definitely not our cup of tea. Y—” Your breath hitched as you felt his tip prod at your sensitive entrance. He gave you a soft, comforting kiss on the nose. You looked into each other’s eyes deeply, then your lips crashed into each other’s as the two of you stifled your moans once Josh finally thrusted in.

“Y-You know you’re p-perfect just the—mm—way you are, right?” You ask gently, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He smiled at this, kissing your lips once more, beginning to move. Your heart fluttered each second you felt him thrust in and out, slightly and satisfyingly stretching you. His hips moved quite skillfully, but also slightly clumsily, which was nonetheless admirable.

Your usual soft moans and gasps would be replaced by stifled grunts and sighs, due to the company downstairs. As much as you wanted the whole world to know that Josh Futturman was yours and only yours, you also had dignity—plus, it was his goddamn parents downstairs.

You giggled as you felt his nose against yours each rough kiss. “Y-You know, however, I think the only complaint I have about you is the fact that you hate Super Mario Bros.” You point out with a chuckle.

“Y/n, in my—agh—defense, it literally makes no sense. Like, why would there be pipes that are—”

“Okay, why rely solely on logic and rationality, hm, Futturman? I thought video games were all about escape. It’s all just harmless fun.”

“Yeah, well, I’m much more into games with thought-out plots and challenges,” he remarked, making you roll your eyes playfully. “Anyways, it pretty much just got ruined for me even more when Tracy at the video game store talked about Luigi having a very hairy, Italian cock.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Baby, I love you. However, your goddamn dick is currently inside of me. Please do not talk about Luigi’s theoretic hairy penis.”

“Noted,” he assents, going back to kissing you passionately, while moving slowly inside of you, yet deeper with each thrust. You let out a quiet, pleasured gasp as you felt him fill you perfectly, his hands lovingly gripping your waist to keep you still.

Your eyes closed as you indulged in the feeling of his gentle thrusts, him peppering kisses on your neck, softly chuckling under his breath. He guessed he was still in disbelief that he had someone as amazing as you.

“I… I still can’t believe someone as perfect as you would ever go out with a loser like me,” he scoffed, pressing more kisses against your neck and jaw.

“Hey, seriously?” You frown, holding his face in your hands once more, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are… a lot of things, Josh. But a loser isn’t one of them. Okay? You are so kind and funny and caring and thoughtful a-and—m-mm—amazing i-in general.”

“I—Fuck. I—I don’t deserve you,” he panted.

“J-Jesus Christ, sh-shut your fuckin’ rathole. Yes you do, baby. You deserve me as much as I deserve you.”

It was becoming harder to focus on your words as you continued to feel an increased sensation and pleasure as his thrusts quicken and falter. You let out a small gasp as you tense things up by wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him in even deeper. You two had been speaking and giggling to each other constantly that you didn’t even notice the lewd, wet, slapping against the skin that came from each heavy thrust. Josh grabbed one of your hands, interlocking your fingers tightly on the mattress beside your head.

“J-Josh, I—” You begin breathlessly.

“I know, me too,” he grunts as soft, inaudible whimpers and whines leave his lips while the movement of his hips stuttered. His rhythm was becoming unsteady, but it was also increasing in speed. “I—Y/n, f-fuck, I’m c—”

“Sh-shit, baby, I—” You pant as you felt closer and closer over the edge, every mere feeling increasing your stimulation. You bring your hand to cover your mouth and suppress any loud moans as you finally released, the knot in your stomach undoing itself as you sigh afterwards once your hand left your mouth. Josh came exactly right after you as his hips jolted for the final time, spilling his warm, white seed inside of you, burying his face in your neck to muffle a high-pitched grunt and acute whines.

You two were breathing heavily, kissing each other’s lips softly and lovingly after you both came down from your high. You two never moved from your position, still fragile and sore. Josh caressed the side of your waist under your shirt, his head resting in your neck as you moved your hand to play with his hair, holding him in your arms.

“This is probably the only time we’ll have together alone before we have to continue with the damn mission,” you figured, tangling his strands of hair in between your fingers.

“It’s bullshit,” he mumbles, his thumb continuing to rub your waist.

“Enjoy the moment while we can?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed dejectedly.

A beat.

“Hm,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, I just… I like it whenever you’re inside of me,” you comment softly. This was probably the most affectionately vulnerable and honest you have been with him. Your tone lacked any intention for humor or lust; you were genuine.

He lifted his head up from your neck. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know. It just feels right. You know, as if you were, like, made for me exactly,” you whispered lovesickly, looking down at his sweet, plump lips to his profound, gorgeous brown eyes. “I wanna stay like this a little longer. You’re so perfect for me. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied with a smile, kissing your lips soothingly.

Then suddenly,

“Futturman! L/n! Get out of there, we gotta go now! Operation Cameronium!” Tiger called from the other side of the door. “Goddamnit. The fucking—tiny man—baby thing—is, just, really starting to piss me off. Let’s go!”

You and Josh looked at each other for a while in silence before bursting out into laughter.

“We-we better go before she considers murdering little baby Wallace,” you suggest with a soft smile.

“Yeah… Wait. Do you really think—”

“No…” You answer before he could finish his sentence. “I know she seems all stoic on the outside, but I feel like the past few days, she changed a bit. Empathy-wise. Slightly, at the very least.” Josh nods.

“I’m really gonna miss this,” he sighs.

“Me too. But don’t worry, once we fix everything, we have all the time in the world together,” you assert.

“Okay,” he smiles sweetly, kissing your lips before slowly pulling out of you, leaving you to feel empty and slightly bummed.

The two of you, with your clothes back on and hair quickly fixed, you waltzed downstairs with no problem. Your hands had been interlocked, faces a bit flushed as you smile to yourselves.

“You two sure look happy,” Diane expresses joyfully. “You really got into the Christmas spirit, wrapping all those gifts upstairs, huh?”

You giggled under your breath. “Oh, yeah, definitely, Mrs. Futturman. Uh, very much so. I really love Christmas, you know? The gift wrapping Joshy and I did upstairs and, you know, all the Christmas traditions. ‘Specially, ‘specially the yule log.” You look at Josh with a knowing grin as he just listened in, suspecting nothing at all. “Really makes you feel warm inside, am I right?”

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

The Strongest Cullen

Based on this request:  I loved your Jasper headcanon! Could you write a fic with it? Like Jasper meets his mate, but she’s human and he’s scared he’ll hurt her because of his strong blood lust. After they get to know each other, the reader tells Jasper what she thinks(your headcanon) and that she knows he his stronger than he thinks and that he won’t hurt her.

Here you are! I apologize for the wait! Familiar characters are NEVER mine!

Fandom: Twilight

Warnings: Mentions of vampire diet(I mean, it's Twilight), Jasper is an anxious boy. Fluff!

Pairings/Characters: Jasper Hale x fem!reader, mentions of other Cullens, specifically Emmett.

Carlisle frowned at the look on his adopted son's face. While Jasper was always tense around humans at school, he had never come home looking so morose. "Jasper?" The blond looked at Carlisle and sighed. "My mate…is human." It didn't take long for Carlisle to catch the drift. "And you're worried you'll harm them?" Jasper nodded which caused Carlisle to ask about the bloodlust around the mate.

       "I don't-I don't feel the need to drain her. Really, I hardly feel the bloodlust around her, but what happens if an accident happens to someone else while I'm around her? I'm the weakest link, we all know that, especially after what happened with Bella. If someone else is bleeding around us, I can't guarantee she won't be hurt as well."

       Carlisle smiled a little and patted his son on the shoulder. "Jasper, I really don't think that will happen. If you don't feel the bloodlust with her, it's possible that she will actually be able to calm you. Maybe you should give her a chance. You know mates, true mates, are a rare find. You should give it a chance if that's what your heart is telling you no matter what anyone else says." Carlisle left Jasper to think on what he'd said.

*time skip*

       Jasper couldn't fight his smile as you laughed after beating Emmett at Mario Kart…again. "I told you, Big Bear, you cannot beat me," you said with a giggle. Emmett pouted playfully and you leaned back into Jasper. A smile made its way to Jasper's face. He was more than happy that he gave loving you a chance. Still, he worried that something would happen to you. You were, by nature, fragile compared to him.

       "What's on your mind, handsome?" you asked, carding your fingers through his hair. Jasper sighed before standing and reaching his hand out to you. You didn't hesitate even a moment in taking his hand. Jasper led you up to his room and closed the door. For a moment, Jasper said nothing. He had no idea how to approach this with you.

       "Jasper? Are you okay?" you asked, looking up at him with such concern, the vampire melted. "There's something I need to tell you," he whispered. You sat down on the bed that Jasper, unbeknownst to you, had purchased simply so you would have somewhere to nap when you visited.

       "Okay. You're scaring me a little so just…get it over with." Jasper chuckled a little to himself. If you were scared now, he could only imagine how scared you'd be after he told you. "I-that is-my family and I…we're not exactly normal." You snorted a little. "No shit. What's normal about being so damn beautiful it should be illegal? Or never, and I do mean NEVER eating even though your mom cooks like a gourmet chef? Or the fact that none of you look like you get any sleep? Or the fact that I'm always so calm around you?"

       Jasper heard his family laughing downstairs and sighed. "Beautiful, you are not making this easy," he joked. You gave him a smile and took his hand. "I'm sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood a little. Whatever it is you have to tell me, I'm ready to listen."

       "We're vampires." The words just came out, as easy as breathing. You blinked at him for a moment and for that moment, Jasper couldn't feel any emotion coming from you at all. It frightened him, honestly. But then as suddenly as it happened, you were back. "Vampires? O-Oh okay. Well that explains…a lot actually." Jasper couldn’t feel any fear from you. Just curiosity.

“I can feel that you have questions. Ask,” he stated. He wanted to get this over with, just in case you chose to break his heart. You pondered for a minute as Edward’s laughter drifted up to Jasper. Clearly the mind reader had heard something funny in your thoughts. “So you’ve got some vampiric powers or whatever, right?” Jasper nodded and a slight frown made your brows furrow. “Does that mean Emmett’s been letting me win Mario Kart?!” 

Jasper stared for what felt like an eternity. Then, before he could stop himself, he began laughing. Really laughing for the first time in a very long time. “Really?” he asked between laughs, “I tell you to ask questions and that’s what comes to your mind?” You shrugged a little. “Look, I expect to cream your brother at video games fair and square.”

“You, Darling, are something else.” You beamed and gently tugged at his hand so he would sit down next to you. “Got you to laugh, didn’t I? Jasper, if you thought I was going to run, then you clearly don’t know me at all. We’ve been together for what, eleven months now? If you were going to hurt me, you would have already.” Jasper’s smile dropped almost instantly, but he replied, “There’s more. Some vampires have…gifts.”

“Since you’re telling me this, I assume you’re one of those vampires?” He nodded. “I am. I’m an empath. I can sense and influence anything anyone is feeling. Sometimes it even happens by accident. Edward’s a telepath.” It was in that moment your face finally showed fear, but that conflicted with what Jasper was feeling from you. 

“Y-You mean Edward can read minds? Like every mind?” Jasper confirmed, but mentioned that Bella was the exception. “Oh that’s…not good.” Jasper arched a brow and smirked a little. “Don’t look at me like that. You are insanely good-looking and there may have been a few…not so innocent thoughts a time or two.” Jasper shook his head fondly and chuckled. “Really though, why are you telling me this now? Has something happened?” Jasper denied it, but replied, “It’s only a matter of time though. I-I’m not as…strong as the rest of my family when it comes to our diet.”

“Your diet?” you asked, squeezing Jasper’s cold hand a little tighter. “We feed on animals. It sustains us, but not as well as human blood. I’m newest to the diet besides Bella and have struggled the most. I’m a weak link.” Your confusion grew in an instant. “Why do you say that? Do you think you’re dangerous to me? Do you want MY blood?” Jasper immediately denied your thoughts. “No. I just need to warn you. Accidents have happened around me. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” He then proceeded to tell you what happened with Bella and you asked a few questions.

Once you’d gotten your answers, you sat in silence for a little while. Jasper felt your emotions, confusion, curiosity, love, devotion. No fear, uncertainty, or disgust. That was a good sign. “What are you thinking, Darling?” he asked after a few minutes. “I don’t think you’re weak, Jasper.” His eyes widen. Had you not heard what he said? “What?”

“Think about it,” you told him, “You’re an empath. You said yourself that animal blood doesn’t satisfy as well as human blood.” At his nod, you continued, “Well then, it stands to reason that, when Bella gave herself that paper cut, you were all feeling some form of thirst, right?” Again, Jasper agreed. You nodded like you’d just solved a great mystery.

“There you go! You weren’t just feeling your own thirst, Jas. You were feeling Alice, Emmett, Rosie’s…everyone else’s as well. The thirst of seven vampires hitting you all at once. No wonder you snapped. You are absolutely not weak, Jasper Hale. In fact, I think you’re the strongest person I have ever known.”

Your impassioned words left Jasper speechless. His eyes filled with tears that would never fall. “I don’t deserve you. You are too good for me. You understand so much more than I thought you would. You’re compassionate and brilliant and I think I…love you, Y/N,” he admitted when he felt like he could finally speak again. You beamed at him. “Nonsense. You deserve all the love I have to give. And I love you too, Jasper. Fangs and all.” He rolled his eyes as you giggled.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Twilight Tags: @awesomebooklover17

[whiskeynwriting]

Eyes On Me

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) 

Flirting, pining, size difference, mentions and descriptions of injury, mentions of battle, dirty talk, praise, dry humping, unprotected vaginal sex

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Summary: Ghost gets a life-threatening injury, and it’s your job to make sure he returns to full-health. 

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A/N: I rarely do summaries on one-shots, but since I’m introducing a character I figured I would (: I loooove this character, and I’m really hoping to write more one-shots with her and Ghost in the future!

Part Two: Lucky

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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Working on them was easy, they took everything you gave them like champs. Splints, stitches, cleanings, anything they had, you took care of. They’d bite their tongues, ball up their fists if they had to, but for the most part, that was it. Vargas wouldn’t whine, but Gaz would. Price was nearly silent and in all honesty, Soap whimpered like a baby. But Ghost, he didn’t ever make a sound. 

It wasn’t always like this, you weren’t always 141’s go-to medic. Before, you were here for everyone. Whoever needed you, that’s who you tended to. You got so good at it that at one point, you’d been promoted to a rescue mission position. Daily helicopter rides became your usual. Freezing temperatures and smoke-filled air met your exterior shell on a weekly basis. You’ve even been dropped into open fields full of bullets and bloody cries. The training you received was minimal, but enough for you to take it and run. You had talent, that talent growing into expertise. You knew how to defend yourself, your reflexes were good. You could shoot a gun and if need be, hold your own. That’s what got you to 141. 

They impressed you, they still do. The team worked like a well oiled machine. And when you first saw them, you immediately questioned him. 

“What’s with the mask?” You’d asked him, straight to his face. He tilted his head. “Is it still Halloween?” 

The boys laughed, but Ghost didn’t. His fingers curled, and he sucked in a breath. You were brand new; not a good way to start off with him. Hey, it’s not your fault he took it the wrong way. You love Halloween. Sometimes you even find the scary things sexy. 

Eventually you learned the real reasoning behind his mask, behind the skeleton head that hid his face. Honestly, you were intrigued by it, his anonymity. But sometimes, it got in the way. 

“Blood type?” You’d asked, going through each soldier’s file as you became acquainted, some months ago now. 

“Unknown.” Your colleague responded. 

“What? What do you mean?”

“We have little to no information on Ghost’s background.” 

“What if he starts to bleed out? Or needs a blood transfusion?” 

“Guess I’ll die.” Came his gruff response. 

Spinning around in your small and circular wheeled chair, you saw his bulky body taking up the majority on the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest while leaning against the frame. 

Why is she so interested in me? He’d wondered, suspicious of you. What he should’ve been asking himself is, why am I so interested in her? 

He’d seen you work on his team, you were efficient and clean. He’d even go so far as to call you fearless. And surprisingly, he finds himself liking that. You were a bit of a brat, but at the heart of your teasing jokes, there was a sense of playful familiarity. And overall, having you around was good for his men. He didn’t know how vital you were to his team, though, until you had to be flown in to rescue him. 

Pressing into his wound, you didn’t even feel him flinch. The gauze was soaked in the red stain seeping from the cut in his skin, and you were running out of supplies - you were running out of time. And apparently, your frantic nature showed. 

“Hey,” You direct your sternest voice at him. “Ghost - Simon, eyes on me.” 

He’s spiraling; body feeling light and his consciousness leaving you quickly. His eyelids are fluttering. 

“You worried about me, love?” He was out of it, losing blood and flirting while in his hazy state. It was the first time he’d ever been nice to you. 

But really, he wasn’t just being nice because his body was going into shock and losing his grip on reality. He was talking to you this way because he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to after this. 

Giggling, you shook your head, happy that he was now responding to you. “Nah, big boy like you?” Patting his shoulder, you said, “You’ll be just fine.”

Even if he didn’t show it, Simon was worried, too. 

“But I bet you wish you’d told me your blood type now.” 

He wasn’t happy. Simon didn’t ever seem that happy, but right now, he definitely wasn’t happy. All he’s ever known is a military lifestyle, training and being out in the field. Having his team’s back, contributing to the work effort, that’s what he was best at. And now, he can’t do any of that. At least, not for the next couple weeks. 

“I’m not a child.”

“Never said you were.” Rolling your eyes, you openly sass him. “It’s just a blanket.” 

It was the first day of him being in your mini infirmary, just the two took up the room. Each of the boys came in to give him a pat on the shoulder, make sure he was doing alright. But in all honesty, Ghost hated this kind of attention. Being coddled and cared for. He could take care of himself. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” He grunts, looking away almost childishly. 

“Suit yourself. I’m gonna go get some pizza.” 

At this, he perks up a bit, groaning. “Can you bring me back a box?” Mumbling, he’s still looking away.

Before you leave, you turn back around with a grin. “Sure thing, big boy.” 

Once you’re finally gone, he sighs, his emotions contradicting each other inside. Frustration doesn’t even come close to what he’s feeling. He never gets injured in the field. Is he losing his touch? Surely not, he’s still in his glory years. For him, it’s embarrassing to be seen like this, not just in front of the boys but in front of you, though he’d never admit it. You make him feel nervous inside, like he has to heighten the man he already knows himself to be. He has to be tougher around you; he can’t show any weakness. The only problem with that, was that he did have a weakness, a major one. That gaping hole in his chest. 

“Alright,” Coming back with two boxes of pizza, you set them on your desk, moving them to the side. “Let’s clean you up.” 

“I can do it myself.” 

“Okay, look.” Wiping your hands off of your pants, you turn to face him. “This is my job. Would you get angry at Soap for clearing a room before you? Or Price for conducting an infiltration route?” 

This makes him stop, closing his mouth for a moment, although you can’t see it. 

“I’m part of your team, you have to acknowledge that. Your job is to kill bad guys, and my job,” Taking a few steps toward him, you point to his chest. “Is to fix the mess the bad guys make.” 

Ghost shifts his shoulders, looking away from you for just a second. And after a moment, his eyes return to yours, and he nods. 

Reaching down, he cracks the knuckles on his hands, and it takes everything in you not to break his eye contact. Every movement of his muscles makes you sweat, the ripples of them more than a beautiful sight. He’s impressive. All he has on right now are a pair of shorts and a bandage wrapped around his upper chest. Other than that, he’s bare. You can see the muscles in his abdomen, the impressive form and firmness of them, the bulges of his biceps and the chorded muscle in his forearms. His legs are thick, huge, sturdy enough to hold his entire weight along with two other men, if need be. Again, impressive.

Satisfied with his nonverbal response, you turn to grab the essentials. Pulling over a small, wheeled tray, you begin your work. Ghost sits up off the back of the bed for you, allowing you to remove the bandages around his chest. He maneuvers himself to sit cross-legged while you do it, his head tilted down to watch you work.

Truthfully, Simon thought you were attractive the moment he saw you. And then you made fun of him. But when he balled up his fists, when he inhaled that sharp breath as a reaction, it wasn’t because he was mad at you. It was because right then and there, he was attracted to you. 

“You ever been stabbed like this before?” 

He doesn’t answer for a minute, not really wanting to admit it. But then he shakes his head. “No.” 

This tells you something, it tells you that you’re tending to the worst injury he’s ever had. And you’re shocked by his answer, you would’ve assumed he’s had worse. But a stab to the chest that just barely misses the heart? Yeah, that’s pretty bad. 

He doesn’t budge when you apply the antiseptic, allowing you to work in peace. Once you’ve cleaned the wound, he’s surprised to feel your hands. His eyes widen while keeping his gaze on you, watching as your fingertips explore him. They move across his chest, just barely gliding over his skin. 

“Doesn’t look too bad.” You murmur to him, eyes trained on his chest. 

Ghost is undeniably the fittest out of the entire team. He’s huge, and not just in height. You haven’t seen his naked torso since the day he was stabbed, and when you were tending to him then, you definitely weren’t thinking about how attracted you were to him. You were working to save his life. But now, you have time to let your thoughts wander, to let yourself experience what he feels like. 

Trailing down a bit, your fingers graze over his abdominal muscles, your tongue briefly sliding across your lower lip. His muscles are firm, smooth, and warm. Your touch makes him feel uncertain; he doesn’t know what you’re doing, but it’s making him nervous. Well, not nervous, necessarily but… excited. 

“What happened to you being nice to me, huh?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him. And the smile you offer is pretty. “Thought you’d be my best friend after I saved your life.”

This makes him laugh, a small grunt coming out toward the end from his injury. You’re right, he should be nicer to you considering the circumstance. He should also be nicer to you because, well… he fancies you. 

“I’m sorry.” He finally acknowledges, albeit quietly. “I know I’ve been acting… standoffish.” 

“It’s okay,” Shrugging, you reach for the clean bandages. “I get it, you’re embarrassed.” 

Sighing, he looks down at your nimble hands again. “Yeah.” 

“Let’s get your blood pressure before you eat.” You then tell him, changing the topic while retrieving your tools. “Then I’ll leave you alone,” Glancing up at him, you grin. “I promise.” 

Right now, he doesn’t want you to leave him alone. You’re nice company. 

Attaching the cuff over his bicep is a feat in and of itself. His muscles stretch the fabric, but it ends up securing around him adequately. You then take your stethoscope, applying it to his inner elbow while you begin pumping the meter. Glancing up at the machine, you focus on the readings, and absentmindedly, your hand wanders. While continuing to record his data, your free hand slides down his arm and into his palm as you steady yourself beside him. 

Widening those pretty brown eyes, he releases a breath, now looking further down. He’s surprised, but honestly, it feels nice. Makes him relax. And while staring at your smaller hand now resting in his, he inhales deeply, curling his fingers slightly around your hand. This makes your head snap to the side, having not fully realized what you’d done. But Ghost doesn’t move when you look at him; he does stare at you though, right into your eyes. And while keeping your gaze, he lightly squeezes your hand. He really is sorry. He’s grateful.

The days following the first are actually pretty nice. With your main focus on Ghost, the rest of the crew seem to leave you alone for the time being. 

“You’ve been a big help lately.”

“What?” Comes that thick, English accent. “I’ve done nothing but sit on my ass.”

“Yeah, but it keeps them,” Pointing out into the training yard, you finish, “Off my ass.” 

Turning, he stretches, watching his team run around and lift weights on the field behind him, only a window separating them. 

“It’s like I told you, sweetheart.” His head then moves, returning his gaze to you. “You’re the finest thing they’ve seen in months.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You tease. “What about you?” 

Since he’s been nicer, you’ve been spending more time at his side. You didn’t need to sleep here, he was fine by himself, but after that first night, you did. You couldn’t help yourself. Thinking about him all alone in the infirmary while you lay cozied up in bed made you sad. You didn’t want him to get lonely. So, you slept on the small loveseat in the corner, the one the boys usually sit on to smoke. And your sleepovers were starting to make you close, that sweet little nickname being evidence of that.

“What about me?” Under his mask, his face heats up. He knows what you’re asking.  

“Am I the finest thing you’ve seen in months?”

Under that skull-painted cover, he grins, giving you a single nod. “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, Ghost,” Walking over to him, you lean into his bicep, clutching it. “I knew you’d eventually fall in love with me.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbles with an amused tone, “A pretty big pain in my ass.”

After he says this, you laugh, pushing yourself off of him. 

“Bones?” Your comm link buzzes slightly, a bit of static coming through. 

Pressing your button, you tilt your head to the side. “What’s up?” 

“Searg. is calling a meeting.”

“Time?”

“Eighteen hundred.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” 

“Bones?”

Once your conversation has ended, another one promptly begins. Lifting your head to face him, you raise a brow. “Yeah?” 

Ghost tilts his head to the side slightly, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Never heard anyone call you that.”

“Yeah, well you’re not on my med. team.” 

“Well, you’re on my team, aren’t you?”

Giving him a thoughtful pout, you eventually answer with, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

“Then we should know your cover.” His voice is stern and gritty, deep and rumbling. It’s like how he talks out in the field. 

“Well, now you do.” Giving him a quick wink, you turn away, intent on doing some paperwork before your meeting. 

“What’s the meaning of it?” When you don’t immediately answer, he calls for you. “Bones?”

Something about him using your code name makes you grin. 

“I’m known for breaking them.” Turning, you face him once again, a smile plastered across your smooth lips. 

“Known for breaking bones?” He clarifies, sounding skeptical. 

“Yep.”

“Huh,” He scoffs, “That’s not exactly something to boast about, is it?” 

“Well, it wouldn’t be if they were mine.” 

Oh, now he gets it. 

“I did a lot more than sew up wounds before I came here.” With a heavy sigh, you reminisce on your time in the field. But you made a choice to be here. “I used to break them, now I heal them.” 

He never knew. And honestly, this new information only makes him more attracted to you. A badass soldier with a gentle touch? Sounds like his kind of woman. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You emphasize, “I’ve got some paperwork to do.” 

“Fine.” He returns flatly, and you giggle. He really sounds upset about that abrupt ending. 

“Think you’re gonna be okay by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Won’t be a problem.” He grunts, shimmying to lay back down. “I’ll just sleep.” 

Throughout your hours spent together, you’ve discovered that he’s quite the fan of naps. He takes one every day around three in the afternoon, and you wonder if he’s finally enjoying his rest. It doesn’t help that you often have to leave him while he’s sleeping, though. You’ve liked being by his side lately, it’s comforting. His presence has begun to grow quite kind, and even in the quiet times, it’s nice. But you still have meetings and other duties to tend to. Which include the one you’d been called to. 

Ghost’s gentle snore is what prompts you to look up, your eyes searching for his own. But they’re closed, one arm propped behind his head with his other hand laying over his stomach. He’s fully laying on the bed, the blanket only covering up to his waist. He’s still shirtless, and right now, he looks practically naked. Aside from the mask. Eyes trailing up his form, you take in the steady rise and fall of his chest, the light-colored hairs scattering his pectorals, and even further down, leading from his belly button to the hem of his pants. It makes you sigh, he looks peaceful. You’ve never seen him so relaxed. 

You don’t like the thought of him waking up to a room empty of you, so to make up for it, you head to the cafeteria. As quietly as you can, you return with a large pizza, one with his favorite toppings on it. Steak, mushrooms, onions, and two kinds of cheese, specifically provolone and American - strange and lengthy details, but ones you memorized, nonetheless. And after you set the box down, taking in another look of him, you turn to leave. 

Eventually, the smell wakes him up. How could it not? It’s his absolute favorite thing to eat. But he has to be careful, he needs to keep himself in shape over these couple of weeks, or he’ll need more training than originally planned. Sighing, he props himself up, the realization now setting in. 

She did this for me. 

He knows it was you and not the boys because of the little note on top of the box. 

Ghost, 

I’m at a meeting until six tonight, I’m sorry I probably won’t be around when you wake up. Here’s some pizza to make up for it. Hopefully you still love me <3

Bones

He rolls his eyes at that last part, a smile pulling on the edges of his lips. You can be so sarcastic sometimes. But he likes it. You make him laugh. 

While you’re gone, Simon thinks about the way you take care of him. You’re so gentle with him when changing his bandages and cleaning his wound. Your smaller hands touch him so softly that it makes him feel things for you. He wonders, is he just interested in you because you’re the only woman around? Or is he interested in you because you’re funny? Because you’re nice? It’s because you’re such a tender caretaker and you remind him of all the love he never got in life. 

Looking back at the note, he reads it again. It sounds like you’d regretted leaving him, even for something as important as a medical staff meeting. Maybe you’ve been enjoying his company, too. 

When night rolls around, you snuggle up on the couch, pulling the blanket you’d grabbed from your cot over your shoulders. Ghost just stares at you, one leg laying flat on his bed with the other up, the sole of his foot planted on the mattress. 

“How the hell do you fit on that?”

Shrugging, you answer with, “It’s easy to fit in places when you’re not an enormous tank.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“You should,” Smirking, you can just barely see his eyes in the darkness. Those nearly black orbs find your own, and it makes your chest tighten. “I like the way you’re built.” 

He chuckles, amused. “Yeah?” And then he reaches for a pack of cigarettes next to his bed, lifting the edge of his mask. “Why’s that, love?” That word makes the skin on your face burn. 

You get a small flash of his face when he lights the end of his cig with a match, and you notice something you’ve never seen before. 

“What’s that scar from?” It just comes out on its own. He knows you’re talking about the one on his jaw. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He points out, taking a puff. And for some reason, you find that so hot. 

“I’ll answer it if you answer mine.” 

Sometimes, you aggravate him. Sighing, he speaks through the darkness, telling you, “Fine.” 

A sly grin crosses your face on the other side of the room, and you wonder if he can see it. He can. 

“I like men with muscles.” And he likes that answer. “Makes me feel like they can take care of me.” 

He exhales calmly into the nighttime air between the two of you, pressing his lips to the cigarette and then inhaling once again. Ghost knows he could take care of you. 

And then he thinks about his own response, settling with, “It came from a knife.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “You gotta tell me more than that.” 

Flicking the ashes of his cigarette into a tray, he lays back a little on the bed. “It was a mission in the Middle East. Bloody heat was killing me, I had to lift my mask up.” 

Oh, wow. Honestly, you were just kidding. You never thought he’d actually tell you anything more. But you take this chance and run with it, listening intently so you don’t miss a single piece of his story. 

“We were ambushed,” He continues, shaking his head. “Price never saw it coming.”

Truly, you can’t even imagine. Sure, you had your time in the field, but it was nothing compared to what he’s gone through. 

“We took them out, but not before one of them got to me with a knife. Sliced up my jaw.” Ghost exhales a puff of smoke, watching it billow into the air. Then he gently shakes his head. “Didn’t let him get any further ‘n that.” 

By the end of the story, his voice has grown flat. Maybe he doesn’t like thinking about his scars. Maybe it’s why he keeps the mask on. 

“Could I… could I see?”

“My scar?” Comes his instant response. “What for?” 

“I dunno,” Shrugging in the dimly lit light, you glance down at the floor. A timid gesture that he again sees. 

After a moment of silence, he figures, what the hell? Having you be close to his face didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. Besides, he likes getting a good look at you. Finishing off his cigarette and rubbing the butt of it down into the tray beside him, he says, “Why not?” 

Looking up, you shake your head. “It’s okay, I don't have to. I don’t even know why I asked.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Come over here, doll.” 

Almost giddily, you do, shoving your blanket to the side and popping up onto your feet. He chuckles deeply upon seeing your reaction, watching you scamper over to him. 

“You’re excited about this, huh?”

Shrugging, you grin, standing right next to his bed. “Maybe.”

You don’t give a single shit about his scar. You want to see him. Being close to Ghost gives you a good feeling. 

Leaning over, you turn on your desk lamp, illuminating this corner of the room. And when you come back to him, you’re met with the incredible sight of his eyes. They’re dark brown in shade, but in the dim light, they're a dazzling pool of honey. But what really catches your eye is the lower half of his face. His mask is still pulled up, revealing his mouth, chin, and jaw. 

“Can I touch?” You then ask, keeping your voice quiet. 

He eyes you up and down while your gaze is fixated on his mouth. His lips curl, and he nods. “Sure.” 

Lifting your hands, they fall to either side of his face. When you make contact with him, he closes his eyes, exhaling a slow breath, accepting your touch. He can’t remember the last time he let someone do this. 

“Hm…” You don’t mean to, but you hum, fingers trailing along his jawline and chin. He has stubble here, just barely. It seems like when he’s crept away to the showers at night, he’s shaved. 

Ghost’s eyes trail across your face, feeling your breath on his skin. You’re closer than you ever have been before, and it makes the muscles in his chest tighten, makes his pulse quicken. Licking his lower lip, he whispers, “How’s that feel?” 

“Good.” You respond, nodding, your eyes not once leaving his mouth. “I like it.”

“Why’d you want to feel it?” He then wonders aloud, and he wishes you would look up at him. He wants to look into your sweet eyes. “Haven’t you seen enough scars in your lifetime?” 

“I don’t really care about scars.”

What the hell?

Scrunching his brow, he then asks, “Then why the hell did you want to see mine?”

Now, you do look up into his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you work up the nerve to say what’s floating through your mind. “Because it’s on you.”  

Immediately, he swallows. His gaze falls to your mouth for the first time since you’ve been this close, flickering back and forth from your eyes to your now slightly parted lips. And all at once, he sits up a bit straighter, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you in.

As if you’re expecting it, you melt into him, letting him press you to his body. The fingertips on his jaw slide along his cheeks as you move to fully hold his face in your hands, Ghost’s lips easily meeting your own. One large arm slides around your back, hand securing to your waist as he pulls you further into him. 

Heartbeat pounding in your veins, you gasp quietly against him, molding your mouth to his as you return his enthusiasm. Your hands hold onto him tightly, sliding down to the back of his neck. But then he stops, releasing a rough sigh and opening his eyes to look at you. 

“Come here,” He whispers hurriedly, his other hand reaching out and tugging on you. 

“Ghost, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” His lips are moving over your jaw, his hands still pulling on you. 

“You’re healing.” 

Scoffing, he leans over the side of the bed, hands securing themselves to your lower back and upper thigh. He then hauls you forward, leaning down so he can hoist you up onto his lap.

“Oh!” 

“I go back into the field next week.” He grunts out, now looking up at you. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

“Ghost, I -”

“You know my name?” He asks, his rough, baritone voice demanding your attention. 

And suddenly, you feel extremely fucking small. Your legs slide forward and down, straddling him. Quietly, you squeak out, “Yes.” 

“Say it.” 

Leaning forward, you embrace the excitement of being on top of him. Your hands return to hold his face, and he lets you. Bringing yourself in close, you look into his eyes. 

“Simon.” 

“That’s right.” Comes his breathy exhale, leaning in to close the small gap between the two of you. 

And then Simon’s hand is on the back of your head, pushing you further into him. His other lands on your hip, fingers curling around your flesh. He smells like cigarettes and cologne, tastes like mint and tobacco. And you overtly, eagerly, wholeheartedly, welcome him. 

“Closer to me,” Simon grumbles, the hand on your hip curling around your lower back. He pulls you until you’re flush against his chest, your breasts pushing up against his clean bandages. 

“Simon,” 

He groans into your mouth when you use his name, repeatedly moving his lips over your own. Your legs press tightly to the outsides of his thighs, holding him close to your body. And when he feels your hips shift against him, when he hears your soft, delicate moan, he decides to slide his tongue into your mouth. He licks inside, rubbing the wet muscle over your own. Moaning wantonly, it echoes into his throat, the hand on your head sliding down to hold your jaw open. The way he moves against your mouth is almost overwhelming, full of passion and lust and a particular sense of need. 

“You wanna take this off for me?” His accent is making you melt. “Can you do that for me, love?” 

Tugging impatiently on your shirt, those frosty eyes look into your own with a look of utter desperation. But also control. Ghost was always in control. 

Nodding, you reach down, finding the edges of your longsleeve shirt and slipping it up and over your head. 

“Oh…” He moans - Ghost fucking moans. His head immediately dips down to the luscious space between your breasts, mouth finding your skin. 

“Oh,” It comes as a complete surprise, him surging down to kiss you here. “Simon…”

Fuck, you’ve wanted to do this since you met him. You both have. 

His mouth drags along the curves of your chest, and you’re surprised when they’re followed by tender kisses. And then his hands drop, groping your ass. 

“I want you.” He growls against your breasts, nipping at the soft slopes of them. “What do you want, love?” 

“I want you, Simon.” Nodding quickly, your hands slide back up to his face. In your hurried state you accidentally move the fabric of his mask just a bit, and his hands come flying up to your forearms as soon as it happens. 

“Don’t take it off.” It’s a firm boundary, a stern warning. His head lifts, too, eyes staring menacingly into you. 

“I wouldn’t, I won’t.” He looks at you almost skeptically. “I respect your privacy.” 

When he doesn’t budge, you wiggle on top of him. “Please. Simon, I wouldn’t ever do that to you.” 

Slowly, his hands leave your forearms, loosening their grasp. He’s deciding to trust you. 

One of those meaty hands falls to your chest, still holding your gaze while he cups you. The other rises to your neck, fingers curling around the back to pull you in again. This time, though, he doesn’t return to your lips. This time, he goes to your neck. Rolling your head to the side, you let him, feeling Simon’s teeth scrape along your skin. He’s feeling every inch of you that he can, hands falling to your ass when he feels you move over him. With a firm grasp, he urges you forward and back, grinding your covered crotch over his own. And while he’s busy exploring you, you take this opportunity to explore him. 

Delicately, your fingertips slide down his face, down the chorded muscles along his neck, landing on his sculpted shoulders and then moving to his biceps. When you squeeze the thick meat of his arms, he groans, smirking mischievously against you. With your nails scraping lightly over his taut skin, they quickly find his back, gently scratching him. His muscles are flexing, damn near all of them. He’s so worked up with you like this on top of him. And he’s still moving you, shoving your hips over his crotch and manhandling you in the softest way he knows how. He’s strong, but he’s gentle with you. 

The length of him is palpable beneath his thin shorts, settling right into your covered folds. And it makes you moan, makes your breaths pick up and your center pulse. The air is thick with arousal, the room lit dimly in the soft, yellow hue of your small lamp. His breaths are hot, fanning across your face in humid and heavy wafts. But then he stops, taking a breath. And for some reason, your sass decides to fill this brief, empty space. 

“So,” Sighing, you’re also working to catch your breath. “Does this mean you think I’m pretty?” 

He chuckles, that beautiful smile making itself known. “Does this mean you like my muscles?”

“I love your muscles.” Wiggling even closer to him, you grin, sucking in a tight and excited breath. Your one hand then slides down his chest, his abs, curling around to hold his hip, your thumb just barely brushing his pelvis. 

“Yeah? Even when you’re sewing ‘em up?” He asks, that deliciously rich accent making you flutter inside. 

“You can’t do that again.” Shaking your head, your hands move to hold his face. It’s a tender act. “You can’t scare us like that again.” 

That night, you swear you started to see the light fade out of his eyes, and that, well… that was a first for you. You saved Simon’s life. 

“You care about me, eh?” He replies in the cockiest voice.

“Your team cares about you.” Eyes flickering down to the bandages on his chest, you then say, “And yeah, maybe I do, too.” 

Simon’s body flexes beneath you, hips rutting up into your own. And now, it’s his turn to hold your face in his hands. He lifts your jaw, making you look at him. 

“Hey, don’t worry about that now.” 

“Are you okay?” Eyes darting back up to his, they’re filled with concern from the memories of that day. “With me sitting like this on you?” 

He gives you a cocky grin. “I’m just fine, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me. I’m a big boy, remember?” 

This makes you smirk, one hand finding its way to his pelvis with much more confidence than before. “Is that right?” 

“That’s right.” He nods, keeping that gorgeous grin. “Think you wanna take it?”

Breathing out a small laugh, you give your head a single shake. “I never knew you wanted to fuck me so bad.” 

“You never noticed the things I’ve said to you?”

“No, I noticed. I just thought… maybe it was harmless flirting.” 

At this, his head tilts, eyes boring into your kind orbs. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me harmless in my entire life.” 

“Yeah, you’re one scary motherfucker.” Leaning in to kiss him, he accepts it with a heated moan. “And I find that sexy as hell.” 

“Well, you said you like fixing bones.” He’s feeling desperate for you at this point; it’s like you won’t stop teasing him “Hop on this one, then.”

“Oh my god, you really are like every other fucking guy.” But you’re already reaching for the bottom of your sports bra, slipping it off your torso in one go. 

“God damn.” Large hands instantly return to your breasts, cupping and weighing your tits in his palms. His chest dips dramatically from releasing such a heavy breath, leaning in to kiss one of your delicate peaks. It’s firm and wet, the repeated press of his lips. And it wouldn’t be so overwhelming if he wasn’t practically making out with your tits.

Seeing your naked form for the first time sets his own alight. He always knew you were a sexy little thing, and now, he’s got first hand proof. Your curves look delicious, and if he weren’t in a tiny medical bed, he’d lay you down to lick them. 

“You want me?” He doesn’t expect this sort of response, his surprise going tenfold when he feels you reach down between your bodies. 

“Oh,” He releases a tight breath, feeling you run a finger over his erection. 

Staring into your eyes, he gives you an almost predatory gaze. “You know I do.”

Easily, you slide your shorts and panties to the side, revealing your delicate sex to him, though he can only barely see it. And then you’re reaching down, fingers curling over the band of his shorts to pull him out. When you do, he releases a sound you’ve never heard from him before, his jaw hanging low. He’s long and firm, crimson at the head and already leaking. The pulsations rocking through his cock are, at this point, an almost painful sensation; and when you look down, you grin. Letting the length of him rest on his lower abdomen, you move yourself so you can slide your glistening lips over him.

Simon hisses at the contact, strong hands cementing themselves to your hips. But he doesn’t stop you from moving. If anything, he only encourages you to. 

“You get off on this?” He suddenly asks, the feeling of your slippery center sliding against him making his head spin and his insides tense. “Fucking your superior?”

“Baby,” You laugh, shaking your head while continuing to move over him. “I’m on the med. team, you’re not my superior.” Taking a breath, you reach out, grabbing his jaw and lowering your voice to speak. “But you did get one thing right. I do want to fuck you.” 

Before he can say anything, you’re lifting yourself, his throbbing tip prodding at your entrance. You hold his gaze, an unexpected moan drifting from your lips when you finally begin to feel him. 

“Fuck,” He grits out, fingers digging into your sides and urging you down. “Come on, precious. You can take it.” 

Sliding down only a few mere inches, you wince. Holding onto his shoulders, your fingernails dig into his skin, scratching harshly at the firm muscles all along him. He’s bigger than you’d imagined him to be. His girth is wider than you’ve ever had, and when you reach down to feel him you quickly discover he also isn’t lacking in length. 

His military voice then comes out, that stern, commanding tone. “Focus - hey, eyes on me.” Irises snapping up to his, you do as you’re told. “That’s a good girl.” Jesus Christ, you didn’t expect a single ounce of praise to come from him.

Simon’s dominant hand then slides down, the pad of his thumb finding the reddened nub at the peak of your sex. Your hips jolt when he presses the thick digit against you, but with his free hand on your back, he brings you in. He applies pressure, prompting you to lean on him, his mouth seeking out your nipples once again. Slipping his tongue out and over your skin, it forces you to whine, feeling your hips rock involuntarily against him. With the stimulation coming from his thumb and tongue, you find yourself relaxing, resting on the weight of him. 

“Feels good, yeah?” 

Your fingers find the back of his head, your own dropping back. “Yes…” 

It’s overwhelming and sexy as all fucking hell. Simon can see the marks he’s left on your neck, shoulder and chest, and he grins, knowing they’ll be there in the morning even if he won’t be able to see them. He doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb, keeping the same amount of pressure as he swirls little circles over your sensitive clit. His mouth is sucking on you, too, his tongue running over your nipples in wet and passionate swipes. And altogether, it works like a charm, lubing you up enough for him to slide entirely inside. 

“Simon.” 

“You’ve got it, yeah… there we go…” The only hand that moves is the one that was touching your clit, fingers now attaching themselves to your hip once you’re entirely seated on him. 

“Fuck me,” You’re clinging to his shoulders, both arms wrapping around his neck. He’s removed himself from your tits, resting his face in the slope of your shoulder, just beside your throat. 

He’s searing hot and filling you completely, his tip seated deep in your guts as you pulse around him violently. And Simon’s aware of his size, so he waits for you to make the first move. And he snuggles into you while he does, resting in this brief lull. 

Feeling another person surrounding his body like this brings out a sensation from the depths of his heart, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in genuine years, decades, even. He feels like he can relax in your embrace, like he can let go with you. 

“Oh, god.” Head dropping back, you shift slightly, beginning to move. 

“Yes,” He encourages you, reaching up to hold your neck. “That’s it.” And then he pulls, bringing you down to him. Your lips meet in a small clash, tongues colliding as soon as you make contact. 

This entire event awakens something inside of you. It’s like he’s consuming you, taking over your body and every part of your mind. And you’ve felt like this for weeks, months; you’ve ached for him. At night you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, and during the day, you’ve dreamt about him. It was so hard to be in his presence, knowing you couldn’t have him, that he probably didn’t even want you in the first place. But he does; he wants you just as badly as you want him. 

Simon sways his body with you, leaning back against the head of the bed. He uses this slight change in position as leverage to shove his hips up into you, giving you small and shallow thrusts. But he lets you do most of the work, grinning while admiring the way in which you find your pace. 

“You’re a tight thing, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, eyes lowering to stare at the space where you’re repeatedly connecting. And then they furrow, mouth dropping open when he finally witnesses you lifting and lowering your hips. “And look how well you’re taking me…” 

“You’re… so fucking big.” Lowering your head, you then offer a half smirk, shaking your head at him. “Guess you really do have reason to be cocky, huh?” 

“Damn right, and I’m glad you know it.” 

“Jesus - fuck!” The first word is said through a scoff, the second through a high yelp. 

“You feel like makin’ fun of me again?” Simon then challenges, having lifted his feet and planted them directly on the edge of the bed. He uses this leverage to punch himself up into you, huffing out a sharp breath when he feels you fall onto his chest.

“Fuck, baby - I’m sorry.” You immediately lift yourself up, looking down at his bandages. “Are you alright?”

The fact that you’ve so easily been able to call him baby makes Simon smile, his teeth even showing for the first time that you’ve ever seen.

“You need to stop asking me that.” He says in that deeply, gritty tone. And then he shoves you forward again, knees high in the air as he lets you rest over his chest. 

Your arms slide around his neck, clinging to him as he begins to shove himself up into you. Sucking in a deep breath, he grunts out beside your face, his arms wrapping around your naked torso. He’s starting to feel sweaty, sticky, his skin warm and glistening. And at this point he’s bouncing you on his cock, your ass slapping down onto his pelvis with every move. He let you have your fun; now, he’s fucking you. 

“Oh my fucking god,” You’re trying desperately to keep up to move yourself back against him, but he doesn’t allow it. He’s punching the breath from your lungs, one hand sliding up your back to hold your head. 

He lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you alright?”

“S-Shut up, Ghost.” Comes your stuttered response, now gasping from how deep he’s hitting.

“Uh-uh,” He tuts, “Say my name, sweetheart. Sounds so good comin’ outta that pretty little mouth.”

This makes you laugh, a small hiccup of a sound due to his intense movements beneath you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, wanna hear you say it when we fuck.” 

“Oh, so this is going to happen again?” You tease, feeling his groans vibrate through his chest. Jesus, he’s so sturdy. 

Leaning forward, he grabs a fistful of your ass, growling into your ear, “I damn sure want it to.” 

You take advantage of his closeness, turning your head to capture his lips. “You’re so fucking deep.” 

“Yeah? You want me to stop?” He whispers in return against your lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

At this point, he’s panting beneath you, sliding down a little further on the bed. You move with him, still holding onto his firm body with a wild desperation. And he keeps your lips on him, shoving his tongue inside your mouth while keeping his brutal pace.

If you were dripping before it’s nothing compared to now. You’re leaking down his shaft, the creaminess of your arousal coating him entirely. And he can feel it; it’s making his eyes roll back into his head. 

“You’re gonna make me cum, squeezin’ around me like that.” 

One of your hands lowers, moving down to hold onto his bicep, and then his forearm. Turning your head to the side, you smile, ignoring his comment while you breathe out lightly, “I love your tattoos, baby.”

“You just love praisin’ me, don’t you?” In two seconds, that tattooed forearm rises, hand grabbing your face. “Bring those pretty eyes back to me.” And when you look into those endlessly deep eyes of his, he grits out sternly, “Eyes. On. Me.” 

“Simon,” It’s a small whine, one uttered when you feel him strike gold inside. “Please make me cum.” Your head drops to his shoulder, and what he does neck surprises you. He kisses your fucking cheek.

“I can do that for you.” 

As if things couldn’t become more intense, he takes it up a notch, ramming into you and forcing your face into the crook of his neck. His hand on the back of your head holds you there, and when you bite into his neck, he groans into the nighttime air. 

“Yesss, baby, don’t stop. Oh my god, please don’t stop.” He’s so big beneath you, his muscles bulging against your naked chest. And he revels in the feeling of your soft tits pressing against him, your beautiful body bouncing as it gets fucked by him. 

“Fuck me,” Comes his gasped out curse, muttering, “Such a good pussy.” 

“Fu-uck,” 

He’s pounding against that delicate spot that’s making you go dumb, your arms and thighs beginning to shake around him.

“G-Ghost, I’m…” 

“Say my name, say it again.” His voice is deep and thick, stuttering a bit. “One more time for me.” His thighs are flexing beneath your ass, one arm wrapped around your back and the other gripping the flesh on your hip.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling shoving its way through your body, coursing through your veins. The excitement of it all is something you haven’t felt in too long of a time, if ever before. Swallowing, you gather yourself enough to do as he says, once again, uttering his name. 

Immediately after, he’s cumming, hips breaking their pace and length throbbing inside you. His forceful shoves against your g-spot make you crumble above him, onto him, your body shaking. The way you’re holding onto him makes him feel like he can do anything, makes him think you feel safe with him. And you do. The world could be crumbling and still, you’d cling to him, knowing he’d hold you in his arms. 

Quivering limbs press against him, your body going a bit numb from the intensity of it all. Your center pulses around his girth, squeezing him tightly while you wash him in your arousal. You can feel his, too, the milky ropes shooting into you, and you revel in the fact that your body has made his feel this good. He’s breathing harshly beside you, pectorals flexing against your naked chest. You’ve never heard him groan so forcefully, not even when he’s out working. And that makes you smile, knowing you bring those noises out of him. A blissful smile crosses your face, body rolling in waves as you experience your own high above him. 

“Fuck me,” His accent is thick, coating the shell of your ear. He’s petting at your hair, body beginning to slump down on the mattress beneath him. “You okay there, princess?”

You’re quiet, still trying desperately to find your breath. Swallowing, you nod, turning your head to kiss his throat, breathing heavily against him. And while his body relaxes, he holds yours above him, urging you to do the same. 

“Maybe I should get hurt a little more often,” He looks over, pointer finger curling under your chin, gently lifting you to look at him. “If it means seein’ you.” 

Part Two

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Evasively Yours

EVASIVELY YOURS | Azriel x Female!Illyrian!Reader (Part 2 of NEVER YOURS)

SUMMARY: The fallout after Azriel found out you were his mate, and that you kept it from him.

WARNINGS: Angst angst angst. I think I have found my true calling as an angst writer. Swearing. Rhys is the big brother we deserve. Azriel is a bit of an asshole and Mor is a gem.

WORDS: 2.6K

You wished you could stay at the mountain camps forever. The males were training the females as required, with you watching over their teaching techniques and helping the girls out when they needed it. You didn’t mind helping the females – some of them even seemed to be relieved in receiving your assistance. The females were all younger, with the oldest being twenty, and the youngest thirteen. You understood why the older females weren’t training – the backwards ways of the Illyrian people had been ingrained within them for too long.

You extended your stay from two days to three, to four, and on the fifth day, you could tell that you were not going to be welcome much longer. So you packed up, threatened Devlon a little bit, promised to be back to see how the females were faring, and left.

Up in the air, the wind pushed against your wings, almost as if it were telling you not to return to Velaris. Because in the city of starlight awaited the shadowsinger who seemed to want nothing to do with you. Which hurt. So much so, it hurt. There were many ways you could attempt to describe the shredding of your soul, but none of those descriptions would do the pain you felt justice. It was unbearable to think about… so you didn’t.

You arrived in Velaris just before sunset and landed out the front of the River House, leaves and plants rustling at the force of your landing and the final sweep of your wings. Those plants, those flowers and bushes – Elain had planted those. Part of you wanted to rip them out from the roots and burn them, watch as the flames consumed that part of her – but the other part, the more logical side told you not to. This was not Elain’s fault. It was yours.

You entered the River House with a slight droop to your wings as Azriel clouded your mind. You tried to push him away but – how many times had you walked in here for a family dinner, betting on who would start a fight that night? How many times had you walked into this house together, him bumping your shoulder playfully as he chuckled at a joke you told? How many times had you both shushed each other, trying not to laugh too loudly as Nyx slept soundly upstairs? By the Mother, everything seemed to remind you of him now that he wasn’t yours.

Not that he’d ever been yours. That was just wishful thinking on your part.

You turned through the hallways, so consumed by your thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone was in front of you until you bumped into them.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” you apologised, steading them.

You instantly let go as if you’d been burned when you realised it was Elain who stood before you. A bubbling anger rose inside of you, threatening to overcome your logical thinking, but you pushed it down. None of this was Elain’s fault. The only person to blame was you.

“You’re back,” Elain stated with a small smile. “How was your mission?”

Ugh. If only Elain was rude, and didn’t care about you. It would make your life so much simpler if she was easy to hate. But you didn’t hate her. She had always been kind to you, always caring and thoughtful. She was gentle by nature.

You shrugged. “It went… well. I, uh… I have to update Rhys about it.”

“Of course,” Elain acknowledged, a smile still plastered on her pretty face.

You gave her a slightly strained smile and continued on through the house, all the way to Rhys’s office. You knocked this time, and Rhys responded, telling you to come in. You entered and walked up to his desk, the High Lord raising his head to survey you.

“Did it really take five days for you to figure out how to get Devlon to train the females properly?” Rhys questioned as he stood up from his desk.

“He has agreed to train the female properly,” you began, “and I stayed back to make sure he did as he said he would.”

Rhys studied you for a moment before leaning against his desk, arms crossed and eyeing you closely. You stood tall, not allowing him to see the sea of anguish within you, the ocean that churned with your heartache. You couldn’t let anyone ever see this part of you, the part that had once been full of hope and light, but was now shrouded in misery and darkness. And not the darkness you were used to. No, the darkness you were used to was calm and soothing, protective and familiar. This darkness was never ending, tormenting, and devastating.

“You don’t have to keep everything to yourself, you know,” Rhys murmured. “I’m here for you – not as your High Lord, but as your friend. As your brother.”

Your heart swelled at his words and before you could stop it, the tears came tumbling down. Rhys was there instantly, holding you tight as you cried into his shoulder, sobbing and allowing five days’ worth of torture and grief to tumble out in the form of your cries. You held Rhys tight to you, as if he was a lifeline, knowing that if you let go right now you’d be lost in your sea of sorrow forever.

Rhys stroked your hair softly and you tried to get deep breaths into your lungs in an attempt to calm down. You’d cried in front of Rhys before, but you never liked it. Of course, people rarely liked to cry, but it made you feel weak, like all the males who told you that your emotions would get the best of you were right. Because when you were crying, those emotions really did take over. You didn’t feel anything except sorrow and pain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rhys inquired.

You looked up at him, at your High Lord, and nearly shook your head. But… he couldn’t look inside your head, lest he see the depths of your suffering. So you took a deep breath, and hiccupped, “Azriel is my mate.” Rhys cocked his head, his only indication of surprise, and you continued, “He – I… he kissed Elain, because I hadn’t told him. I don’t think he knew, and… and he followed me to Windhaven, and then I accidentally told him and now… now he hates me.”

Rhys’s lips twisted. “Why do you think he hates you?”

“You should have heard the way he spoke to me,” you whispered weakly. “He – he’s never spoken to me like that. And he just… left.”

Rhys hummed lowly in thought, and even rubbed his chin. You wiped the tears from your cheeks and sniffed, pulling away from Rhys’s warm embrace. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You wanted solitude, and peace. Peace from your mind, and the thoughts that raged through it like a wildfire, only to be drowned out by the waves of misery that chased you.

“I’m going to go now,” you uttered, rubbing your arms.

Rhys was silent for a moment, before he admitted, “We all guessed, you know.” You looked up at him, and he clarified, “That the two of you were mates.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter anymore. See you, Rhys.”

You left him in his office, and he did not follow. Maybe he knew you were at your breaking point, and that if you had to say one more word about it you might quite literally explode. You exited the River House, shutting the door behind you quietly and took off, your wings lifting you into the air with a single swoop. You glided across the city of starlight and all the way to the House of Wind, where you prayed to the Mother that Azriel would not be. You landed on the balcony, already feeling exhaustion cloud you and your thoughts. Maybe you could sleep peacefully for years and years and never have to face this problem.

Your footsteps echoed on the marble floors of the mountain palace as you made your way to your room, trying to ignore the thoughts that hounded you. You reached your hallway, intending to have a very long bath before getting into bed, when you stopped in your tracks. Azriel stood at the other end of the hall, also seemingly halted.

Now that you could see him, the only thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You just wanted to figure things out, to fix the fracturing of your heart and soul.

“Az–”

But he turned away and into his own room, closing the door with a loud slam, with enough force that you flinched. So maybe he couldn’t be reasoned with. Maybe that was it, maybe him closing the door meant he was closing the door on any possibility that you could work through it.

Because if Azriel couldn’t work through it, then no one could.

So you entered your own room, closing your door with much less force, and stood in the middle of your room. It used to be familiar and comforting, but now… it just reminded you of Azriel. Over there, by the window, the two of you would sit and read when you had a free moment. On the bed, the two of you would lay together after a particularly bad nightmare, comforting each other simply with your presence. 

You left the room and entered your adjoining bathroom, twisting the faucet handle, allowing hot, steaming water to fill the bathtub. You slid out of your leathers and stepped into the tub, hissing slightly at the heat, before lowering yourself down, and resting against the lip and tipping your head back. When the water reached the top, you turned it off and soaked, feeling the water settle around you as you stilled. You grabbed your soap, smelling of lavender and vanilla, and scrubbed yourself down, trying to wash away the grime of the Illyrian camps, as well as the pain of the rejection of the bond.

Because that’s what it was. You could deny it no longer – Azriel wanted nothing to do with you, it was clear as day. He had rejected the bond, and you felt it in your chest, felt the string that bound your two souls weakening. The pain was still there, the anguish and aching, but the bond felt… less. It was as if a veil had come down, shrouding the bond and concealing it from view. You knew it was still there, you could feel it faintly, but… it was as if something was cutting away at it, as if the bond was wilting away. Maybe when it finally did, you’d no longer feel the torment that threatened to overwhelm you.

Something caught your eye as you tried to relax. A shadow, small and harmless, sat in the corner of the room. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the candles were causing the strange silhouette. But you did know better.

“And what do you want?” you hissed.

The shadow recoiled and disappeared, leaving you alone.

You stayed in the bath until the water was cold and urged you to get out. You dried yourself off, the cotton towel soft against your skin, and you opened your drawer in search of sleepwear. You pulled on a pair of comfy pants, and opened the top drawer, freezing as you saw an oversized shirt tucked away, the ebony shade of the item almost hiding it from view. You hesitantly reached out for the fabric, and against your better judgement, picked it up, allowing the cloth to slide between your fingers. You inhaled the scent – night-chilled wind and cedar, with a hint of your own scent – and your hands fisted around it.

You should get rid of it. You doubted Azriel would want it, now that it gave off your smell of lavender and vanilla, so maybe you could burn it. Maybe it would be therapeutic, in a way.

A knock at your door dragged you from your thoughts, and you let out a, “just a minute!” before stuffing the shirt back in your drawer and grabbing another, shrugging in on and not bothering to do up the buttons in the slats, instead letting the clothing hang from your frame as you opened the door.

Mor stood at the door, eyes searching yours in concern. You moved aside to let her in and you shut the door behind her. Her stare never left you, and after a moment she sighed and walked over, motioning for you to turn around. You did as she ordered, allowing her deft fingers to do up the slats of your nightclothes.

“Thanks,” you mumbled once she had finished.

She only hummed in response, care and compassion clear in her warm brown eyes as she studied you. She opened up her arms and you sighed, falling into them. Mor held you tightly, her arms protecting you from the world and all its sorrow. You rested your head against her shoulder as she held you close, and you allowed a single tear to escape. 

“Now, now,” Mor murmured, rubbing your arms. “Starfall is in a few days. Do you have something to wear?”

You smiled at the blonde in thanks as she changed the subject, most likely sensing that you did not want to talk about it. Not now, and maybe not ever. Maybe if you pushed it all down far enough, it would disappear.

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you have something for me.”

“You know me so well,” Mor grinned.

You smiled at your friend and she smiled back, but you could still see concern in her eyes. You could tell her that Azriel rejected the bond, but she’d probably already guessed. Besides, you didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted to get lost in talk of dresses and parties and shoes and other useless things, if only to distract yourself from the drowning of your soul.

You felt bad for Lucien. You’d never really thought about how Elain’s rejection of the mating bond had felt for him. You didn’t realise it would be like this, like your soul was screaming and wailing until it could no longer, only to start back up again as soon as it could. You didn’t know it would feel like a stabbing pain in your chest, like someone had jammed a knife up your ribs and into your heart, and was slowly twisting with every minute that passed.

And of course, both of your mates ended up together. Of course the two beings who rejected the bond were together. Because that was what usually happened, right? When a person rejected the bond, it was because they wanted someone else. Had Elain decided, all those years ago when Azriel had first visited the Archeron Estate, that she wanted him? Was that another reason why she rejected Lucien?

It would do you no good to ponder it. So you sat with Mor and gossiped and chatted away until the sun rose, talking of nothing important.

TAGLIST (all users that could not be tagged are in bold) :

@sv0430 @bsenpai @mich0731 @nobody00sthings @vickykazuya @abrunettefangirlnerd @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @elizabethrosecresswell @my-otrand @fuckthatfeeling @im-bili @littlebookbengal @feyretopia @satellitesunshine @marina468 @fartimagines @fussel9913 @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @fan-of-many-bands @azriel-luvr @xreaderbooksreads @twsssmlmaa @ilov3sharks @mllemarianne @gamarancianne @holywolfsstuff @shadowsinger-654 @lovra974 @cullenswife @megudragon @fieldofdaisiies @psychobookoholic​

i’m sorry if i forgot anyone, i tried to get them all down <3 Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in part three!!

[spidybaby]

Hi♥️

Can we get a Gold Digger Part III?

Gold Digger | Part III

Summary: Feeling fearful and insecure about the future after a downfall is what kept you away.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: I've been trying to finish this for a long time. Not able to find the inspiration. Buuuuut, after the Euros match, I totally find the guts to open my drafts and finish what I've been procrastinating. Hope you still find this interesting and read it. Love you all 💛 sorry about the time.

Part one | Part two

London - Seventeen months later

"I think you're ready to go back. The question here is if you feel ready"

"I am. I think I've been ready for a while now."

"And what's stopping you?"

"What if we don't work out?"

"Time is unpredictable."

"What if he realized that I'm not what he wants anymore?"

"You know that is not the case. You told me that."

"I'm scared."

"It's okay, it's going to be fine."

Paris - Eighteen months later

14:35 p.m.

"So, can we say you find the one?" Julien, your friend asks you. "Because I think you have."

"Yes, I found the one."

He clapped happily, popping the champagne he had for this special moment.

You were looking for an apartment. Returning to Paris after more months of being out, he helped you look for the perfect place to return to your parisian life.

"I want to make a toast, for the girl I love the most, and the one I know is ready to shine in all the meaning of the word."

"Je t'aime." You smile, giving him a hug. He was a big part of your return to France.

After graduating, you got an opportunity to go to London with the company that you always wanted to work for.

They were expanding their business and chose París to begin. Since you knew the language and had your whole education there, they naturally asked you to take over the company.

"Let's get this paperwork done with and you and I are going on a furniture hunt." You say, grabbing your pen, walking to the entrance while drinking your champagne.

Paris - Kylian therapist office

"Did you bring the letter I asked you to write?"

"Oui, I wrote my heart out."

"Okay, know follow my instructions. Go home, have a shower, have a nice dinner and some wine if you want to extra relax. You told me you have a fireplace so, turn it on and burn the letter."

"Don't you want to read it?"

"No, I'm not, but you can do a last reading before the burning. This will end a cicle, this means you understand that it happened."

"It happened." He nods.

Parc des princes

- 5:30 p.m. -

"Kyky" neymar shouts from the inside of the stadium. "Want to come with us tonight? Bruna and I are doing a special dinner with friends."

"I can go a little after dinner, I have to do something first."

"Do you have a date? Hmm?" Ney poke his stomach, making Kylian laugh and smack his hand away.

"No, just something I have to do tonight. But for that pasta Bruna makes I'm definitely having a cheat day." He laughs, giving Ney a hug while they exit to the field.

The training goes fine. He let his frustration on the field, turning it into magic while he moves the ball with his feet.

"I miss Sergio. I feel like a part of me is gone, " hakimi says, faking crying and making everyone laugh.

"You miss Sergio more than your ex." Neymar shouts from the other side of the field.

"That's it, Junior."

Kylian laughs at the two guys running around, having fun.

Fun is something he ultimately didn't have. The transfer market is happening. After the higher-ups decided to announce to the world that he didn't want to stay till the end of his contract. The whole internet was a mess.

His parents had long talks with him about his career. Telling him what to do. He's young, too young to be this worried about life.

But he knows that without the help of his parents, he wouldn't be where he is right now.

"Ethan, don't sleep. That ball was an easy catch."

"Who's the boss here? Luis or you?"

"Just do what I say." He says, hitting his head in a joking manner. "Do you want to come with me to Ney tonight?"

"Nah, mom wants to go get this couch she's been obsessed with for the last month. The store lady told her that they only had one in existence and she wants it."

"Okay." He says, continuing with the training.

- On the other side of France -

"I want another couch, like one for the bedroom. I saw a beautiful one on pinterest."

"Do you have an idea if there's a store that sells this here?" He asks, looking at the pictures.

"Yes, I actually called like an hour ago, and they told me they will have one in existence. But they're unpacking it, so it's going to be in exhibition in like an hour. Let's go."

Julien shrugs, grabbing his coat and walking behind you to the elevator. "The PSG has a game this Sunday."

"Nice." You say, ignoring his intentions. "I need a charger."

"Don't give me that attitude." He hits you with the newspaper on his hand. "You know why I say this."

"I know, but like I said. Everything has a time, and I need to find my time to do what I need to do."

"Okay, no biggie."

You call an Uber to take you both to the mall. The store is located in this mall that's a little far from your house.

When you arrived you both check stores and pick some things to decorate. Julien knows the vibe you want for this apartment.

"Hey, I'm going to check the couch to see if it's worth the price." You pat his shoulder. He was trying to find the perfect "dinner plates."

You check some emails while you walk there, not paying attention to anything else. Once you arrive, the lady who spoke with you told you the couch was just about to be ready.

Letting you walk to the store, you check other furniture that might be a good competition for this one.

You wanted something that you could relax without replacing the bed, but you also don't want to do work on the bed.

An "L" shaped couch picked your attention. It was in a dark brown color. The couch was beautiful, pretty similar to something that has your mind burning.

"Mademoiselle, we have the couch ready if you want to see it."

"Merci, I want to ask, do this couch come in a cream color?"

While the lady shows the colors of the couch you were eying while you two walk over to the pinterest couch.

You turn your back to the other one. Even when you don't want to accept it. It reminds you of the one you had on the room you shared with him.

"I think I want the other one more."

"We have it in three colors. Shall we go to see the other options? We have them on our second floor."

"Oui." You nod smiling.

While you walk upstairs, there are two people walking in the store, two faces you know more than enough.

"Ethan, can you please put the phone down? I want your help."

"Fine, but after this you're taking me to eat."

Fayza laughs. "It would have been cheaper to come alone, I see."

"Having a daughter was also an option." He laughs, his mother hitting him on the back of the head.

They were scolted to the couch, and Fayza immediately loved it. Picturing it in the perfect space in her house.

While they get checked out, you were trying to decide between a light brown or a cream dirty white color.

"Okay, this one would be."

"Amazing, if you follow me back to the first floor to get everything settle, your address, the payment."

You texted Julien, finding he was waiting for you at this restaurant. Asking him to send you a picture of the menu so you can pick while paying.

You lift your head back to the room, finding a face looking at you curious. The way Ethan eyes light up when he confirms it's you.

- Kylian's House -

The music in the room is calm, a nice jazz to relax his muscles. The outfit is ready to go out. But he has to burn his past to prepare to start a new present.

But he can't let go of the envelope. He's holding it tight, holding it like his life dependent on it. Maybe because what's written on it made his life take a turn.

He sighs, leaving the letter on the couch. He was feeling ready when he spoke with his therapist, but now that he actually has to do it, it is like a burning sensation.

Does this mean he has to burn the feelings he has for you?

After all, it's been more than a year, and you haven't come back to him. He was working hard.

But his year wasn't the best, the club fighting with him, the press fighting with him and even Paris people mad at him.

All he wanted to do was go back to when you would be there for him after the long training hours, after the comments, after the thick and the thin.

But he can't, and he regrets it all the time.

- Neymar's house -

"Vamos Kyky, good thing you came, Bruna was asking about you"

"I bring her something."

"She's going to love it. Let's go inside."

The majority of the team was there. They were celebrating the news of Neymar and Bruna.

He was happy, even though Neymar and him had some shady times, he was friendly after all, for the sake of the team.

"Hakimi, stop with the potatoes, Luis is going to kill you, man."

"Shut it Mbappe, you were eating chocolate last week, and nobody told you shit."

They all laugh. He loves these times because that distracts him. That makes him feel less alone at home. Where no one was waiting, where no one was thinking about him.

The time with his teammates was good. He drank some cocktails. He was going to regret it tomorrow, but he needed them.

"How are the kids?" He asks Achraf, they were walking to their cars.

"They're with their mom. They are so big, I had to buy them everything again because they grew out of the clothes."

"In Spain?"

"Yes, I can't wait to see them, Hiba is bringing them here and they're staying a few days."

He's happy for his friend, after everything for him his kids were the most important thing.

"Dude, I really miss Verrati."

"I can't believe he's gone, he would have chug that bottle down and be fine tomorrow."

"I want to ask you something, Kicks." Achraf sighs. "How are you? I know you have been down, you know I'm here."

Was he okay? Was he bad? Was he sad? Or angry?

He's feeling everything and nothing at the same time. It's like this for time to time. Sometimes he's fine, happy. But then everything in him feels down, feels blue.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. It's just I guess the season."

"You know I'm here. Right?" Achraf repeats.

"I do, and I'm thankful for that."

- The furniture store - Hours prior

"When did you come back?" Ethan throws himself at you, who with open arms receives the hug. "This is such a surprise."

"Hello, roots."

"Mom, look who's here." He says, letting you go.

Fayza turns at the call of her name, her eyes illuminating at the sight of you. She can't deny how much she misses you.

"Ma belle." Same as Ethan, she hugs you tightly.

"Hello to you two, I've missed you so much."

"When did you come back?" Ethan repeats.

"I been here for a few days now." You confess. "I'm going to be working here."

"So you're back for good?"

"Yes, roots. I am." You hug him back again. "I'm so happy to find you, I missed you a lot."

"We missed you too. You look so good. I was so happy when you told me about your job opportunity."

Fayza and you were close. She went to your graduation, gave you a gift for your birthday, and texted you on Christmas day, on the new year. She was like a mother to you.

"I wanted to be stable here with everything before telling you."

"Oh I'm so happy you're here." Ethan jumps a little. "Even Melissa is going to be so happy."

You wanted them back, wanted your little family bond back, but first got to get the boy back.

"I hope to see you guys again, maybe for a coffee or a chocolate."

"Wait, let's go to dinner." Ethan suggests.

Thankfully, Fayza notices the way you don't want to disappoint Ethan. "Maybe later, we have to go home because you haven't done your homework."

"Oh no, roots go home and finish that homework." You joke, pinching him on the ribs. "We can meet some other time for chocolate or a coffee."

Your conversation was interrupted by the worker who handed Fayza her card. The other worker is waiting for you to complete the sale.

"You guys have the same number? If you do I'll text you and we can meet up, okay?"

They both agree with the plan, saying their goodbye, and with another round of hugs, they left the store.

It's undeniable that the Paris Saint German sucks. They have some good moments, and they have some bad. But the bad ones have lately been much more than the good ones.

The last matches were bad, barely even working as a team. It was like if eleven players were there doing their own thing. No union, nothing.

Some people will say "oh but then won the last two," but with the lack of technique they have, it was a big surprise.

The Clermont team was doing so much better. Leaving zero chances for the team. And it was obvious that they were lacking something because it was almost the end and no goals.

Twitter was crazy about the fact that "The Kylian Mbappe" didn't scored against Clermont.

But it's not on him. It's on the team. It's on everyone. Even the new coach. Galtier did so much shit that you can't change in a few days.

You turn the tv off, angry at the result. Stupid game, you thought. Even if it was a repetition, you were mad as if it was live.

Your phone vibrates, picking your attention. You opened the notification, and it was Ethan who sent you a reel about cookies in a new pâtisserie in Paris.

You needed to use your new oven to see if it was working properly. Also, you bought this chocolate that was really good with some butter cookies.

So you invite him to come over, wanting to release some stress and feel some normality again.

The match against Newcastle was bad. The team lost 4 to 1, and the team was struggling.

You notice how Kylian was down. He's not in good shape. Not physically but mentally. Something that makes you worry.

His knee was bothering him again. He had to leave the field because of the pain. Thing that worried you even more.

You wanted to pick up the phone and message him, telling him that whatever is crossing his mind is just there, in his mind.

"Y/n?" Julian says, waving his hand in front of your face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

"Notice that." He laughs, he guessed what you were thinking but didn't say it.

"I wonder if he's okay. He looks tired."

"Text him." He shrugs. "I mean, you came back for a reason, do it."

You tap your nail to your phone. You wanted, but what if he has someone else with him already telling him all the things you should be telling him?

"Not yet." You say, getting up and walking to your fridge. "Ice cream?"

- Dressing room - Parc des princes -

"Guys, honestly, we have to keep going. Don't let this bring you down." Luis, tell the team.

The dressing room has this quiet aura. Everybody is thinking of those four goals that nobody stopped, Donaruma feeling bad, the defense guys feeling the same.

And Kylian, even worse. He's thinking of the shots he missed. The moment where he had opportunities and missed them.

His knee hurts. He's tired. He's not focused on the field. He's just not in his prime. That's obvious to everybody.

Especially to the press, printing his mistakes as the first pages, making his missing shots as their conversation on sports programs. Making the Twitter people feel confident about the shit storm they're giving him.

"Kylian, can I have a word with you?"

Luis Enrique and he walked to the corridor. The other team was happy, leaving. Saying their goodbye to the two of them.

"How is your knee?" He asks, he notice the faces he is doing while walking. "You sure you want to play next match? You still have the euros."

"I'm good, I promise sir."

"Promise me something. If you feel like you're overworking your knee, you're telling me. I prefer to sit you for one or two matches instead of you missing the season and euros."

"I promise."

After the talk, Luis advised him to take some recovery therapy. More therapy, he thought.

The drive home was felt long. His chauffeur was quiet, noticing his demeanor. He needs a hot shower and a good night sleep.

He slams the door of his room. Almost ripping this t-shirt, throwing it with all his force to the wall. He wants to scream but won't.

The shower was more than hot. It was burning. But it was all he needed. To feel something again.

He hated to do skin care, thinking all he wanted at night was to sleep, but you taught him to take care of his skin. Creating a night and morning routine.

Even when you're not there, he still did it.

While he stares at his reflection, on the big mirror above his bed, he doesn't know what weights more.

His regret or the ring that sits and collects dust in his nightstand.

That same ring he bought two days before that night.

The same one he was putting on your finger. Now, sure, he will have to throw it away.

Sure, he won't be having nobody next to him to reassure him everything was going to be alright.

Sure, he won't be thinking of raising children with anybody else.

Sure, he won't be thinking about buying a retirement house with a big backyard where to watch his grandkids playing.

Sure, there won't be anybody after you.

Unsure about you being his future.

"I need the last reports of the head office so I can start to organize everything and have it ready for the opening."

You were working on a meeting, having to multi-task and focus your attention between the meeting and what your co-workers were saying with the football game that's happening.

The Rennes game was better. They were winning. This was the last game before the Euros.

You wanted to see Kylian with the team of Les Bleus. They somehow cheer him up. They were like an energy drink for him.

Olivier, Antoine, even the coach. They were all like a family, and they were there for each other, no matter what.

Fayza invited you to the match, she knew you wanted to talk to him but didn't knew how. Ethan and her decided to keep your return a secret, letting you announced it on your own.

She sent you a jersey with his number on it. You try it on, smiling at the reflection. He loved seeing you in jerseys with his number on it.

And you loved to display your support for your boyfriend. Showing up at matches with his number on full display, showing the people you were his. And he was for sure yours.

You opennyour phone, going to instagram to see his page, you feel like a stalker. But it was the only thing you dare to do right now.

You turn the tv on, wanting to see something while working. And the first thing that pop up is a football news channel. They have Kylian picture on display.

"Kylian Mbappe leaves training to go to Bondy. The player suffered a family lost and asked his trainer Deschamps for permission to go back to his hometown to say his goodbyes."

You want to text Ethan, but you don't want to disrupt them. You wanted to know what was happening.

So you have two options. Achraf or Tchaga. Both will eventually tell Kylian you reach and asked about him. Both were only one call away.

You go for the second option. Having a little more trust in this one. You search for his number on your contacts.

The phone rings until you hit the voice-mail. You block your phone again, questioning if you had to try again or maybe just wait and speak with Fayza or Ethan later.

You take the jersey off, changing back into your pajamas, ready to be comfy again.

The vibration of your phone alert you, thinking it was from work you walk slowly to the device. But once you're close, you notice the name in the screen "Tchaga"

"Hello"

"Hey, long time no see, how are you?"

You smile at the greetings. "I'm good, how are you, scissors?"

"Been better, have a cold. But you didn't call me to know that. Tell me, how can I help you?"

"I heard the news about Ky, and I don't want to bother him or his family. But I want to know if I can help."

"I'm actually planning on going to Bondy, would you like to come with me?"

You wanted to scream a yes. But you have to be rational and think if this is something that he would want.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You will never be a bother, not to him or his family. Get ready and pack something to change just in case."

"What? Wait, what if he doesn't want me there?"

"Bébé, he's been in a shit whole without you, so get your pretty as to the closet, change into something, and send me your location. I'll be there in an hour." He says, hanging up the call.

You do as you were told. Sending him your location and the parking code.

Running to the bathroom to have a quick shower and get ready.

After that, you took a black legging, a white blouse with a little London eye on the side. You white sneakers. You add some blush and mascara, just to add something to your face.

You pack the basics and the clothes Tchaga told you to pack. Just to notice you were done in time. Tchaga texted you that he was in the basement waiting for you.

- Bondy - Later that day

Kylian was exhausted. He feels sad and tired. He feels like crying. But won't.

The room feels cold, barely any air. Of maybe it's just him having difficulty breathing. Maybe it's the last few, maybe it's the lost shot, maybe it's the team.

"Kyky"

Ethan was worried about him. He notices everything. How his brother has such prominent bags under his eyes and is losing a little weight.

How he chooses to sleep instead of doing the things he loves. How the whole "mbappe saga" destroyed a little his confidence.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

Kylian scoffs, he can't believe that his little brother is the one worried and not the other way around.

"I'm supposed to be asking you that, Ethan."

"Well, if I'm worried about you, I'm going to ask and help.It's not like it's a crime being down."

"I just want this bad time to end."

"It will, don't worry, Ky, you're so strong."

He smiles, patting his brother on the shoulder. Ethan offers him a cookie. Knowing he likes them.

"Tchaga told me he was coming. He's probably about to be here." He sighs, not sure what else to do. "Let's play some fifa, I have the app on my phone."

He smiles, heartwarming with how much Ethan is doing to make him feel better. "If I win, you do the dishes."

"Deal."

While they got some distraction, you and Tchaga were stuck in traffic. You feel anxious. Maybe it was the drink you got at Starbucks, maybe the fact that after almost two years you and the man you love were reuniting.

"You need to stop with your leg, bébé." Tchaga says, putting his hand on your knee to stop it from moving. "The car is moving with you, and it's making me nauseous."

"Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Okay, I want to know, let's get deep." He laughs, turning the car off and turning to you. "So you left after graduation, not blaming you tho, I would have done the same."

You smile at his rambling. You missed this so much. Maybe not the topic but the talk.

"The thing here is, you're back, but are you back for him? I know you came back to work. You just told me that."

"Get to the point." You laugh.

"My point is, don't rush me. We're not moving." He says sassy. "Are you taking him back? Are you sure you want to go back and take up every challenge you guys may face?"

You don't have to think your answer. You knew what you wanted way before stepping back into French territory.

"I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't sure that I wanted that."

-Bondy - 9:30 p.m. -

"Mom, I'm going back to the house, Tchaga is coming and Ethan is tired. Do you need anything else?"

"No, go and have a good sleep, baby."

He hugs his mom, kissing her cheek and leaving back to her house. Ethan and him walked over there. The night was calm.

"You know what I want?" Ethan asks.

"Yeah?"

"I want some chocolate with butter cookies." He says, caressing his tummy.

He nods, agreeing with how much a good chocolate and some good butter cookies will heal the day.

"Y/n used to make some amazing cookies. Never knew how to make them, but we can try doing them some other day."

Ethan was talking about other things, how he can't wait to see on the match against Netherlands.

When they got closer, he noticed the car of his friend. Tchaga went out, walking up to him and hugging him.

"Hey, Ethan, why don't you help me with something that's on the co-pilot side." He says with a smirk.

The teenager nods, not thinking about anything else walks to the door. He opens it, seeing you. He wanted to scream, but you shush him putting your finger over your lips.

"Hey, get inside, I will take care of this."

Both men nod to his words, walking inside while they talk, Tchaga was telling him about the crazy traffic and how a little trip turned into almost half a day one.

"What are you doing here?" He whispers while Tchaga walks into the house with his brother. "No that you aren't welcome but you surprise me."

"I wanted to make sure you guys are okay."

"Okay, sweet." He laughs, opening the door for you to get out. "I am, but I'm not if he is."

"I've been worried about him, his whole attitude, he not even being on the press conferences of les bleus."

"Yeah, my parents and I are worried. He won't open up to us." He sighs, tired of seeing his brother like this. "I just want him to go back to the happy Kylian."

"Hey, do you think you can give me some time alone with him? I want to talk."

"God, yes, let's go." He slams the door, grabbing your arm and practically running inside. "Stay here, I'm going to ask Tchaga to come see something so we can leave."

You nod, closing the door. He dissappear into the corridor. You open your bag to spray some mint scent into your mouth, take a small mirror to check that you look decent.

You hear two voices coming down. Tchaga and Ethan walked quickly to where you are. Excited about you and Kylian talking again.

"Okay, he's in the kitchen, go." Tchaga push you a little.

They both left the house. You stood there for a little while. Feeling the senses come back to you. You were about to meet up with him.

You walk slowly to the kitchen, hearing some music playing. You can't get cold feet right now. Not after spending hours in the car just to come see him.

His back is facing you. You run his whole figure with your eyes, smiling at the fact that you're matching without planning it.

You nock on the wood door that's at the entrance. He turns without looking, typing something on his phone.

"Hey E, I found a good recipe for those cookies."

"You can't bake even if your life depends on it." You laugh lightly.

He has to blink several times, scared this would be a fever dream and not you in front of him. With your rosey cheeks, you nice smile and the same shinning eyes he loves.

"I can write the recipe for you. That way, it's similar." You speak again. "But if you don't know how to use your oven the I don't think it will work."

He's still speechless, thing that worried you. He does the same thing you just did to him. Scan your whole figure.

"How?"

"I been on Paris for some time now." You confess, "I wanted to call you, I just felt so scared you weren't going to answer."

"Why wouldn't I?"

You shrug, not really feeling like explaining your insecurities to him. "Just, my mind playing games."

He wants to hug you, missing the feeling and warmth only you can give him. He wants to open his arms around you.

Fuck it, he thought.

Opening his arms while walking to you. You drop your bag to the floor, opening your arms to him.

The hug was like a band-aid. It was what your hearts needed. Like when you put something back together and it just fits so good you can't even see the damage.

"I miss you so much." He hides his face into your neck. Kissing it. "Please don't go, I can't take being away from you again."

You kissed his shoulder, feeling the moment you dreamed about it, the whole thing was better than your dreams.

"Can you look at me?"

He broke the hug, hands on your waist so you couldn't run. It's not like you're planning on doing it.

"If we're doing this again, I need you to really fucking trust me." You laugh, maybe out of nerves. "Babe, I would never be with you for your money. I am with you for your heart, for your soul, you're my fucking soul mate and I can't let you go. But if you fucking pull some shit like that I will make sure you are dead."

"I swear on everything I have, I swear on the kids we don't even have yet, that I won't pull nothing like that. Have all my money, have all my properties, what's mine is yours. I was stupid enough not to back you up, and that was the worst thing I ever did."

You shut him up with a kiss. The way his lips are just like you remember, as soft as before, as warm as before.

His hands on your back, pulling you as close as he can. While your hands are on his face. Not wanting to break the kiss.

When the air becomes a necessity, you both can't stop looking at your eyes. The eyes never lie. They tell our secrets. And if anybody sees the way your eyes look at each other, they will see heart shapes on them.

You hear someone clearing their throat. Making you both turn. "Well, hello, I didn't mean to interrupt. But I want to drop this off on the counter."

He let go of his hold, helping his mother with the box she had in her hands. "Oi, that smile was lost until today." She jokes. Making you blush. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Y/n, belle. This is your house. Make yourself conformable."

You nod, wishing her a good night. Once she's out of the kitchen view, you return to the arms of your love.

"By the way, please go to sleep, we have to get Kylian to training tomorrow."

Tou both laugh at her words. Not promising anything. Not after that long.

The game was good, Kylian just scored two goals. He was not only the captain but was the reason they won the game.

The crowd was crazy about it. people were sure he wasn't going scored the two goals that were sending them to the victory.

But oh boy, how wrong they were.

You walk with his mom and Ethan to the outside of the stadium. You were happy for him.

"You know, when he used to say you were his lucky charm, I was like, iugh disgusting. But I think you really are a lucky charm."

You laugh, hitting his arms. "I can go to your matches, maybe I can give you some of my luck."

"No need." Melissa interrupts, smirking. "He has his own lucky charm. Just a little shy to admit it."

"Oh shush." Ethan says, blushing like crazy.

Once you're on the basement of the stadium, where the private parking lot is. You all got into Kylians car.

"Hey, so you do like dudes with a car but without a license." E jokes, remembering the message you sent him.

"Careful kid," you warn jokingly. "You will be walking home if you keep with those unfunny jokes."

The whole trip was Ethan and Melossa fighting about something they saw on tik tok, making jokes about it and Fayza and you being confused.

When the time for Ky comes back home hits, Fayza, Ethan, and Melissa left. Letting him enjoy his night.

"Hey, handsome." You welcome him with a hug. "You did amazing, it was one of the best games you had this season."

"Another way of you telling me my club sucks."

"Shhh, just take the good part." You shush him with a kiss.

"Are we alone?"

You nod, kissing him again. You never had enough when you're with him. It was like a kiss with a candy. You love it and refuse to give in.

He picks you up, making his way upstairs. Almost falling, thing that made you laugh. It was like the beginning. And you loved new beginnings.

- Five months later -

"Ready?" You ask, putting on your seat belt.

He nods, he was feeling anxious about this decision, but you made him understand that it was a necessity.

During the little drive, he told you about some plans Luis has with the team as they were going to the last games of the Ligue 1.

"I never asked you this, but do you ever get free Uber eats?" You ask, confused. He plays for the Uber eats Ligue.

"Why would I get free Uber eats?"

"Uber eats Ligue 1"

"Bébé, just no."

You laugh at his expression, but you had to ask. It was something that had your curiosity.

You park outside the house, Kylian quickly exit the car and run to your side. He was a passenger princess, but he was a gentleman.

"Thanks, Mister Mbappe." You kiss his cheek, taking his hands on yours.

"You're welcome, Miss fiancé."

You knock on the door. You can't help but deep the hold on his hands. It was something that was necessary, you repeat in your head.

The door is open by a woman. She happily lets you inside, offering you something to drink.

"We're okay, thank you."

"He's in the garden. He's reading."

He leads the way to the garden, opening the door and letting you step outside first. The Parisienne air is cold. Good think there's some sun after the cold cloudy winter.

"Père."

Wilfrid smiles, leaving his book on the little table. He was excited about meeting you. He wanted as much as everybody a new beginning.

"Hey, you need to put on a jacket, is cold outside." He warns his son, hugging him. "Hey, Y/n."

"Hi, sir."

"Can I give you a hug?" He asks, hopeful that you will allow him to. "Aftet all, you will be my daughter in law."

You hug him, you left all the pain and resentment in the past, that was hurting you even more.

"Sit, please."

You loved the way his garden looks, wanting to stole some ideas for the new place. "I love the roses."

"They are looking good today. The sun is helping them to look good." He cuts one that's close to the table. Giving it to you. "Tell me. You guys came for a reason."

Kylian looks at you. He wanted you to be the one to talk. He nods his head once you look at him. A sign of support.

"I want to leave all in the past. We want to start a clean new beginning. And we want you on it. You're his father, and we're going to be family. So I. Well, we want you to be there for us."

"I want that, I know I have a long way to you, but please, now that my heart is full with good intentions."

"We know, père." Kylian says. "That's why we wanted to do this."

You feel out of breath. But at the same time, lighter, like taking something off your shoulders. Your life was taking a good turn.

You chatted with his father for a while, sharing some wedding details. Your plan was to have a wedding once the season finishes. So you can have a honeymoon and some free time with him.

You grab the hand of your fiance, the ring he gave you shining. You knew that even if it was hard, you needed to leave the past in the past. Just lean about it.

🪷🪷🪷

🏷: @slayweirdosaway @voguebikini @ironmaiden1313 @magicalfundragon @nightlockcornucopia @christianpulisic10 @bellinghambby22 @noodle81937 @moonlightholland22 @germanapples @paniwiaderko @megannandrewss @unstablefemme @suzysface @nightlockcornucopia @ama1a2 @topguncultleader @lunamelona

[badasgirl]

i’ll always cheer for you

bada lee x fem!reader

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what happens when the basketball team captain and the cheer team co-captain are in love but can’t tell anyone…

genre: fluff, minor angst (my bad), slightly suggestive if you squint (?)

warnings: reader and bada are both lesbians, slightly suggestive with a veryyy tiny makeout scene but nothing too crazy, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

author’s note: this was not proofread nor do i know much about basketball so please be easy on me. anyways, yayyy my first req done, thank you to @badasgirlfriend for being my first request!! this was supposed to be a quick lil imagine but i got a bit carried away 🧎‍♀️…BUT i hope this was good :3 btw reqs are still open!

word count: ~1.8k….

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you and bada lee were captains of your respective sports at your university: cheerleading and basketball, granted you were a co-captain along with another girl named lusher, you were a captain nonetheless. becoming captains by your sophomore year meant you both had insane leadership skills and were talented in your fields. naturally, you both were drawn to each other and became the bestest of friends during your first year of leadership.

however it’s now your senior year and y’all are a little more than friends. last year one night after a game, both the basketball and the cheerleading team went out for expensive bbq to celebrate the win the basketball team brought home. the whole night bada kept clinging to you. she was cooking your meat, making little lettuce wraps for you, and feeding you everything. it got to the point everyone had just assumed you were already dating.

“bro when did you start dating? i cant believe i wasn’t updated.” lusher said in a jokingly hurt voice as she dramatically placed her hand over her heart to feign sadness.

“yeah i thought we were close y/n!” tatter, another cheerleader, said while pretending to cry into her fellow teammate’s, minah’s, shoulder.

you giggled softly while shaking your head at their actions. “guys please! we’re not dating, bada’s just my best friend, right honey?” you said as you turned to look at bada.

bada felt her heart twinge slightly at hearing the words “best friend”, but she quickly nodded in agreement before smiling at you and saying “right honey.”

“me personally y/n, i’d be asking bada what are we!” jj, a fellow basketball team member, joked as she stuffed her face with food.

“best friends…sure” aiki, another basketball player, replied sarcastically before chucking and saying “i don’t call my best friend honey, but yeah! for sure besties!”

everyone at the table laughs at aiki’s and jj’s comments, including you and bada. however, bada knew that night she had to confess to you. she could no longer fight her feelings for you, she wanted to kiss you and hold you close in her arms until you both fell asleep. so, she told you exactly that. you both being lesbians who are in denial of their feelings course led to reciprocated feelings neither knew about. all that mattered now was you were hers and she was yours.

───────────────────────────────────

now back to current time, you’re both seniors and it’s been a little over a year since you and bada began dating. you both became closer than ever. you did everything together, no one could separate y’all from each other. however, no one knew the truth. your relationship was kept a secret because you both decided for the sake of your sports and reputations as captains that no one could know. you both took leading a team so seriously, that neither of you wanted to have anyone think you guys were slacking off due to being in a relationship. so of course this lead to its own issues.

people would ask both of you out on dates constantly (especially you) and although you both would pay zero attention to these people, it bothered the other. bada especially hated it when men would ask you out no matter how many times you told them you were a lesbian. she wanted to scream to the world that she was your girlfriend and everyone else can fuck off, but she couldn’t.

one day it bothered her so much that some man named jongin asked you out to dinner that she couldn’t even bear to look at you because while yes she was jealous other people perceiving her girlfriend, she was even more upset she couldn’t tell these people off for you. she didn’t answer your texts, she didn’t walk you to class like usual, hell she didn’t even wave back when you waved at her in the halls. she had ignored you all day up until she saw you crying and hugging tatter in the hallway near the entrance of the building. bada immediately ran up to both of you and asked why you were crying. tatter shook her head in confusion before explaining that you just began crying once she asked about your day. bada sighed deeply and told tatter to let her handle it. tatter was skeptical at first but eventually agreed as she slowly pulled you off of her. she patted your head before leaving and let you know that she’ll text you later. once it was just you and bada, you hung your head lowly while trying to hide your sniffles. bada placed her hands on your shoulders while leaning down slightly to match your height.

“princess, what’s the matter?” bada asked softly with her voice full of concern. you looked up at her with tears streaming down your face, her heart broke on the spot. bada hated seeing you upset, she only ever wanted you to be happy.

you eventually replied through your sniffles. “why do you hate me now? is it something i did? why are you acting like i don’t exist…” you trailed off beginning to cry harder.

immediately bada’s heart broke again, she hated you being upset, but she hated you being upset because of her even more. she herself began to tear up as she pulled you into her arms and held you tightly. she soothingly rubbed your back, letting you cry into her.

“i’m so so sorry princess, i never meant to upset you. it’s just the thing with jongin bothered me so much and the fact i couldn’t do anything…” bada explained through her own tears now. you looked up at her in understanding before wrapping your arms even tighter around her, clinging to her as if she would disappear.

“i understand baby, but next time please just talk to me. i hate feeling this way, i hate us crying over misunderstandings.” you explained as you began to calm down. you pulled away from bada but then placed her hands in yours.

she looked you in your eyes, nodding in agreement before she replied with “i promise i will. let’s never cry over a MAN again.” she emphasized ‘man’ before laughing attempting to lighten the mood. you began to laugh with her while smiling up at her. god, you were so in love with this girl. nothing will ever stop your love for her.

“we should get going, practice starts soon and you know friday is the game that determines if the team goes to finals or not.” you said seriously as you began to get in your leader mindset. bada agreed with you and you both went off to practice for the very important upcoming game.

───────────────────────────────────

it was finally d-day. one of the most important games of the season began as the buzzer rang throughout the court. the basketball team was working so hard to keep the score high, needing to bag the win. the cheer team was working just as hard on the side lines making sure the basketball team could feel enough love and support to have the strength and energy to keep pushing through this game. you, lusher, tatter, minah, and the rest of the cheerleaders were screaming so loud that your throats were feeling raw. seeing bada in her element made you fall for her all over again. bada was flying across the court so naturally and with ease, scoring point after point for her team. she was constantly blocking shots from one of her opponents haechi wang. however, the opposing team was not weak. for every shot bada blocked, one was scored almost immediately after.

it was now the final 30 seconds of the game, the score was 57:57. aiki had the ball as the buzzer went off and she immediately began to dribble it. bada made the sign that she was open to aiki, she knew it had to be her who made this final shot for her team to bring them their victory. aiki saw bada and immediately made the pass. once shs got the ball, she was off. she didn’t want to let her team down, so she knew she had to put in all the effort she could. it was down to 15 seconds on the timer and bada was exactly where she needed to be to make her shot. however, she started to get nervous and overthink. but before her thoughts could take over, bada managed to hear her girlfriend from across the court yell, she heard you yell “LET’S GO BADA LEE YOU GOT THIS!”. nothing else mattered once she heard your voice. she blocked out everything except for your voice and the hoop. bada took her shot and right as the buzzer sounded, the ball went in the hoop. she had gotten a buzzer beater and scored the win for her team. it didn’t even click for her that they had won until she saw you running across the court towards her. bada smiled as you ran into her arms. she lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around her waist.

you were filled with so much happiness and pride you didn’t care anymore. right as you looked into each other’s eyes, you kissed her passionately. bada questioned absolutely nothing as she kissed you right back with just as much passion, borderline making out with you on the court. cheers from the crowd, both basketball teams, and your cheer team could be heard as all attention was now on both of you.

once you pulled away from bada’s lips, you immediately shouted out to everyone “MY GIRLFRIEND IS GOING TO NATIONALS!” bada couldn’t help but smile and giggle at your actions. the world now knew that you were dating. you could hear everyone laugh along in happiness as many people clapped for you.

“what did i sayyyy!” lusher exclaimed to her team as they all smiled and agreed.

“yo hyojin you owe me $10, i told you so” aiki said to her teammate as she held out her palm waiting for her payment.

both you and bada laughed at everyone’s actions. you both held each other close in a current state of bliss. in the end, who gives a fuck if others think you’re slacking off. you both know it’s not true and that’s all that matters.

“hey bada” you whispered to your girlfriend, still holding her close.

“yes my princess?” bada responded, her voice dripping with sweetness.

you smiled brightly as you looked into her eyes and said “just know that no matter what, i’ll always cheer for you.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────

thank you so much for reading ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ - lila

[pariahsparadise]

Can we get an enemies to lovers with JJ Maybank x gn!reader-

JJ and reader just annoy the hell out of each other, but maybe A gets into a fight and B decides to patch them up. They end up confessing to each other. <3

nav. | m.list

a/n: i haven't written in over a year, maybe two. this is completely unedited and also not proofread AT ALL. sorry this is so late and so shitty, anon from april 2023.

pairings: jj maybank x gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

"What are you doing here?"

JJ starts, and is immediately punished by the pang of pain that rushes through his body. He pretends not to notice how your eyes glance over him, analytical, filing away every sign of weakness. He hates being vulnerable, especially when it's in front of you, but he doesn't exactly have a choice.

"Can I come in?" he asks, instead of answering your question. Wordlessly, you step aside, letting him walk past you before closing the door softly.

"Bedroom," you tell him, your tone gentler now. He wishes that's how you always talked to him. "I'll go get the first-aid kit."

JJ nods and finds his way to your bedroom, passing the framed certificates and shelves that adorn the hallway, filled with stacks of trophies and medals that you amassed over the years. Although he usually makes fun of you for being such a nerd all the time, the gold is a stark reminder of how you're actually extremely intelligent. You're worth something. Unlike him.

Maybe his issue with you has always been jealousy. Jealous that you've managed to achieve so much for a Pogue, despite having had the same opportunities as him. But it's more likely that he hates you because you're so icy, rational in your arguments, your words always so polished as they slice into him, cutting him down. He can see the judgement in your eyes when he smokes weed or drinks in front of you, when he cracks a stupid joke about the brunette he had in his bed the other day. He can feel the contempt in the insults you hiss at him when he goes too far and pisses you off completely.

But despite it all, he hates that he still wants to win your approval. That he wishes you would let him make you laugh like John B does, or sling an easy arm around you the way Kiara can.

He sits on your chair when you gesture for him to, placing the medical kit on the table next to it. JJ finally takes the time to focus his eyes on you, glancing over your white night shirt and impossibly short shorts. He feels a pang in his chest. There are dark circles under your eyes, and your hair is all messy. He obviously woke you up from some much-needed sleep. If he plans to win you over, which would already be extremely hard at this point, this would definitely be another set-back. Based on his past experiences, you're not particularly kind when you're sleep-deprived.

Which is why he's surprised when you begin cleaning his bleeding knuckles with the kindest touch in the world. The warm cloth is not nearly as comforting as the feel of your palm on his skin is, and he represses the urge to sigh.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" you ask him, moving on to apply some antiseptic to his cuts.

"Why should I tell you anything?" JJ asks, attacking you unthinkingly, reverting to his natural state of being in conflict with you. You stay uncharacteristically quiet, not responding to his taunt, and after standing still for a second, you go back to cleaning his knuckles.

Fuck. JJ's eyes fall shut, and he groans inwardly. Here you are, having let him into your home and bedroom, cleaning his injuries, and he's still being a dick to you.

"I'm sorry, I-" he suddenly gets cut off by your hands cradling his jaw, lifting his face up. JJ nearly gasps, and flushes out of his embarrassment when he sees your raised eyebrow, knowing you caught his reaction.

"Well, I was just going to apply some cream to the bruises forming here," you say, and you trail your fingers along his jaw, "but if it's such a problem, maybe I-"

"It's not a problem," JJ says, too quickly.

Without another word, and only the sliver of a self-satisfied smile, you treat his jaw and face.

JJ has always known he loves being the center of your attention. He revels in it, the way you glare at him after he provokes you, the way you yell when he steals your book. He loves being the only thing on your mind. But sitting here now, feeling your thumbs smooth along his cheekbones and your soft gaze, he knows there's most definitely a better way to receive it.

"What happened?" you ask again, and this time he tells you. Some tourists had been disrespectful to Kiara's parents at their restaurant, and it escalated to a fist fight between Kiara's dad and JJ and four other guys. The tourists must have had some level of common sense, because they more or less went easier on Kiara's dad, laying harder into JJ to make up for it.

"Assholes," you say when he's finished, barely concealed rage in your eyes as you appraise JJ and the injuries on his body with new context.

"It's fine, really," JJ reassures you, standing up. "Thanks for cleaning me up, but I should be on my way now-"

"Sit the fuck down." you spit at him, and he drops back into the chair with astonishing speed. "Take off your shirt. That fight was practically four-on-one, I'm not going to believe that you walked away with just grazed knuckles and a few bruises to your face."

Hesitantly, JJ removes his shirt. To your credit, you don't audibly react to the massive craters in his skin, colouring him in shades of ugly red and purple. Your eyes widen slightly, and after a few long seconds, you're back to normal and treating him with the same gentleness as before.

"Thank you for this," he says, more earnestly this time. You let out a hum in response, too busy doing your best to alleviate his pain. He goes on, "I mean it. You didn't have to do this, and I appreciate it."

You let out a sigh, raising your eyes to his face, "Of course I had to do this, JJ, it's the decent thing to do. I wasn't going to turn you away in the middle of the night, not in the condition you're in."

"Even if you think I'm some heartless bitch," you add, a moment later.

"I don't think that," JJ says, earning a scoff from you.

"Right," you mutter, straightening up and away from him. You pack the materials back into the kit and shut it with a loud snap, which is when JJ realises that you're done treating him. He puts his shirt back on and gets ready to make his exit when you stop him, again.

"Just sleep here tonight," you tell him, gesturing at your bed.

"What-no. Where will you sleep?"

"The couch." You don't even let him say two words of protest before immediately cutting him off, "Don't be obstinate. It's too uncomfortable there for you, especially considering the state of your torso, it's too late for you to walk back home or call someone to pick you up, so you'll stay here. I'll text John B to pick you up in the morning."

JJ listens to all this, taken aback by the amount of thought you've put into taking care of him. He scans your face, noting with surprise that your cheeks pink slightly when you make eye contact with him.

"What?" you say, a little flustered. He just laughs quietly, "Nothing. Just didn't realise you cared about me so much, 's all."

"Again, not a heartless bitch. Of course I care about you."

And just like that, there's a tectonic shift. The two of you are relatively unchanged, but there's this unspoken understanding that passes between you. It's the reason why you're able to press a soft kiss to an unblemished part of JJ's cheek before you slip out of the room, and why he's able to put his arm around you late one night when the whole group is hanging out at the Chateau.

He can't help but feel that the beating was worth it, really.

[fakeboyfantasies]

Olivia's Modeling Career - Chapter 1

Word Count: 950

Kinks: blackmail, misgendering, humiliation

Ryan was a cool guy. Well - “Ryan” was a cool “guy,” as Jacob saw it. He would never admit it to “his” face, but it was honestly laughable that Ryan considered himself a guy. Jacob didn’t really have anything against the whole trans thing, per se. It was just hard to take seriously with someone like Ryan. He joked about dressing like a “faggot,” but his long hair and painted nails just made it super obvious he was a girl. 

His room looked like a girl’s room, too. This was not a surprise to Jacob. Ryan’s bed was full of stuffed animals, and he had a vanity table with makeup and knickknacks sprawled over the surface. 

“This is my room,” Ryan gushed. “I cleaned up a little before you came, just ignore any mess that I didn’t get.” 

“It’s cool.” Jacob sat on the edge of Ryan’s bed, picking up a stuffed unicorn. “These are cute.”

Ryan laughed a little awkwardly, hiding behind his hair. Such a shy girl. Jacob wondered what she looked like naked. “Ah, yeah. I guess I’m a little old for it, but I like collecting. Um, do you want a drink or something?” Changing the subject. Super cute. 

“I’d love a drink.” 

Ryan nodded, forcing an awkward laugh. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be right back, man. Make yourself at home.” 

Ryan left to go to the kitchen, and Jacob immediately set to investigating. He decided to take a closer look at the vanity and see what was laying there. Nestled between a small clown doll and a jar full of pencils, he noticed a pill bottle. Perfect. He bent down, looking for the name on the bottle. 

Olivia. Such a sweet name. Much cuter than Ryan. Learning her real name completely sapped any pretense of her manhood - boyhood might have been a better word - from his mind. Jacob snickered, quickly moving to make it seem like he was checking out the bookshelf when he heard Olivia coming back. 

She had two beers in hand when she returned, smiling much more naturally now. “Hey! Here you go, man.” She handed him his beer, nervously fidgeting with the tab of her own. “It’s been a while since I had a friend over. Sorry if I’m totally awkward. Nerves, you know?” 

“Don’t be nervous.” Jacob put a hand on her arm. “Hey. You want me to teach you how to shotgun?”

Olivia grinned, clearly ecstatic for her inclusion in the male ritual. God, she was cute. “Fuck yeah!” 

“It’s easy. Here, gimmie that.” Jacob put his own beer down, digging out his keys and taking Olivia’s from her. He held the can sideways, carving a hole into the side with his key. “Okay, put your mouth around that, then tilt the can up and crack the top.” 

Olivia took the can hesitantly, wrapping her lips around it. She followed Jacob’s instructions, starting to chug the beer. Some spilled down her chin, staining her t shirt. Jacob wished she wasn’t wearing her stupid binder, so he could see it cling to her tits. “Fuck!” She pulled away, laughing and hiccuping. “Oh, shit, I got it all over myself.” 

“You totally did.” Jacob laughed, patting her on the back hard enough to make her stumble. “Nice job, Liv.” 

She went pale. “What the fuck? Hey - hey, fuck you! That’s not my name.”

“C’mon. Can’t take a joke?” Jacob goaded. “Then you probably don’t want anyone else to know about it, right?” He took a step closer, looming over her. “You have beer on your shirt, Olivia. I think you might want to take it off.”

She shook her head, looking terrified. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends. So it’s okay to take your shirt off.” Jacob pulled up the hem of her shirt. Olivia kept her arms pinned to her sides, but didn’t grab his hands to stop him. She was shaking. “I’m not asking, Olivia. God, it really would be fucking horrible for everyone to know that name, wouldn’t it?” 

Face burning red, she silently lifted her arms. Jacob took full advantage, grabbing her binder hem too and yanking them both upwards, over her head. 

Olivia actually screamed. It was hilarious. She clapped both arms over her chest, mortified. “No!” 

“Delusional bitch.” Jacob slapped her, hard. Her head snapped to the side, and she started sobbing. “Put your hands behind your head.” 

“You don’t have to do this,” she whined. Jacob slapped her other cheek and she gasped in pain, reluctantly peeling her hands away from her tits. 

They were gorgeous tits, too. Nice and perky, with stiff nipples. Was she turned on by this shit? Probably. Jacob found that deep down, most females were sluts. “Cute. Can’t believe you’d hide these.” He groped one, then gave it a hard slap, prompting another sob. “Sit the fuck down. Push your tits together, make it look sexy. And stop fucking crying. I’ll give you a minute to get your shit together.”

Olivia scanned the room, clearly looking for some kind of escape. Seeing none, she grabbed the second beer, opening it and starting to chug. 

Even fucking better. Jacob quickly whipped out his camera, taking a photo while Olivia chugged her beer, eyes squeezed shut. It was hilarious the way she squealed when she opened her eyes to Jacob showing her the topless photo now on his phone. “Delete that!”

“No way.” He grinned. “But don’t worry. No one will see it, as long as you pose for a couple more for me. Okay?” 

Olivia scrubbed at her face, sniffling. “And - and no one sees but you?” 

“No one but me,” he lied. “Now. Push your tits together, bitch.”

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-eight of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I'll show you how it works,” Tim says, smiling a little helplessly at him for no good reason. Kon's just–pretty. And cute. And wearing slightly smudged eyeliner, like he went out of his way to learn how to apply it just for this and didn't quite get enough practice with it during said learning process, which might be a little much to assume but sure is a thought either way. “There'll be placards and stuff that explain how it all goes too. If you don't like it we can leave, obviously, we'll just go to dinner early.” 

“You wanna do dinner too?” Kon asks. 

“My intentions tonight are for this exhibit, dinner, and then another surprise destination,” Tim says. “Do you like Japanese food, because I got us a reservation at a Japanese place I know, but if that's not your thing, there's always other options.”

Tim definitely did not make three back-up reservations in a Bat-panic, because that would be an insane person thing to do and he's operating with fully rational behavior for fully rational reasons here. Obviously. Of course-ly. 

Just like, yeah. There may or may not be back-up reservations. 

Contingency plans are vital, okay? 

“I like Japanese food,” Kon says. “Well–I like sushi and musubi and poke bowls and that kinda thing, at least. So like . . . same diff, right?” 

“Right,” Tim assumes, with still no idea what either musubi or poke bowls are. He'll google it. It'll be fine. If nothing else, Kon can get sushi. He'll buy him one of those huge fancy boats of it if he's gotta. 

. . . actually that's not a bad idea, Kon could probably use the calories. Hm. 

“You planned all that stuff, though?” Kon asks, peering around the gallery as they finally step out into it and frowning in confusion. 

“I promised you I'd take you someplace nice,” Tim says with an easy shrug. “So I found some nice places to take you. That's all.”  

“You only promised me one nice place,” Kon says with a little laugh, shaking his head. “Now it's three?” 

“I'm intending to take you to a lot of nice places, Kon,” Tim says, and feels his chest clench up a little when he sees the way Kon's expression softens at the sound of his name. He needs to be using it more, he thinks to himself. Like–way more. “Or just wherever you wanna go.” 

“Sure,” Kon says, ducking his head, then glances around the gallery again as his frown reasserts itself. “What's everybody doing? They're like–messing with everything.” 

“It's a sensory exhibit,” Tim repeats in clarification. “You're supposed to interact with the exhibits. Touch or listen to or manipulate them. Things like that.” 

Kon . . . blinks, slowly. Then he glances sidelong at Tim, biting his lip. 

He doesn't ask, but the question in his eyes is obvious enough, Tim thinks. 

“It's tactile telekinesis, isn't it?” he says. “So I thought you might be interested in something tactile.” 

“You . . . did?” Kon says, glancing back towards the rest of the room. 

“It at least seemed like a valid theory,” Tim says. Kon had kept touching the cashmere on and off for as long as he’d worn it, and petted the goat, and had apparently been clocking the whole damn mall most of the time they’d been there, and he’d just thought–well–

Kon really does talk about his TTK so much, whether it’s relevant or not. Doing something that might be deliberately relevant to it had just seemed, well . . . natural. 

If nothing else, it might help keep Kon interested in him a little longer. Tim still isn’t sure how long to expect Kon to stay interested, depending, so until he knows one way or the other, he might as well frontload his success here. Or at least try to, anyway. 

Look, he’s going to do his best, alright? His best is just the best he can do. 

“You know, if you wanted me to touch something, you could’ve just volunteered,” Kon jokes, but the way he says it doesn’t actually make Tim want to laugh. It’s actually all he can do not to frown, the way he says it. Just . . . something about it’s a little off, maybe.

“I told you I’d take you on a date,” he says. “Just telling you to feel me up doesn’t seem like putting in much effort there. Definitely not nice levels of effort.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, ducking his head as he glances away again. He’s still holding his hand. Tim wonders what kind of dates Kon’s even been on before–and if he’s ever been the one getting taken on one, too. Especially since as far as he knows Kon’s only dated girls, and there were probably some assumptions set in place there. Like–it seems likely that there would’ve been, at least. Even if just self-imposed ones. 

“Want to try?” Tim offers. “Like I said, if you don’t like it we’ll just go to dinner early.” 

“Um, sure,” Kon says. “We can try it. Um . . .” 

“This way,” Tim says, and leads him towards one of the closer stations in the exhibit. Kon looks a little unsure where to start, so he figures it’ll help if he gives him a little push. Though it’s weird to think of Kon as needing any kind of a push, except maybe a push to actually stay still and listen for ten seconds. Or like . . . anything remotely along those lines. 

The station is a low, hip-height sandbox full of . . . well, sand, unsurprisingly. There's stones and rakes and general Zen garden-style paraphernalia laid out inside it, and patterns and colors already marked and dyed into the sand to be mixed-up and deconstructed at will, though no one seems to have gotten too far into that yet. Kon tilts his head as he looks down at the display, his eyes briefly unfocusing. 

“You're just supposed to play around with it,” Tim says, wondering what that unfocused look on his face is about. “Rearrange the patterns or make new ones, I guess.” 

“Huh,” Kon says. “Okay. Like just however?” 

“I mean, what, are they gonna yell at us for doing it wrong?” Tim asks with a shrug. Kon smirks at him. 

“I could come up with something they'd yell at us for,” he says with a teasing leer. 

Tim suffers. 

“Let's wait a couple stations before we get ourselves kicked out,” he manages, swallowing awkwardly. Kon grins at him, then leans over the sandbox and presses both hands flat against the sand inside and immediately starts rearranging everything with his TTK. Tim is about to reflexively protest him not even pretending to check for any onlookers before realizing that there is literally no possible way that anyone could look at them right now without Kon being able to feel them turning their way, and also the two security cameras that were previously in their range are both cocked askew now.

Okay, so he could be worse at passing for civilian, Tim figures, and just leans over and lets himself admire the wave-like ripples spreading across the sandbox as Kon carefully constructs a swirling rainbow of an ocean with all of the brighter colors and a dark beach stretched out alongside it, accented with little rocks scattered around like shells and driftwood. The wave patterns look surprisingly accurate, but then again, he probably did get a great aerial view of the ocean on the regular back in Hawaii, didn't he. 

Tim takes his phone out and sneaks a quick pic or two of both Kon and the box on old reflex, and Kon laughs at him. 

“You like, babe?” he asks with a teasing smirk. 

“Most things about you, yes,” Tim replies frankly, because he's not Robin right now so he can do that, and Kon laughs again even as he blushes and straightens back up, the sand all brushing itself off his hands. 

“Only most?” he asks. “Guess I gotta step up my game, then.” 

“Find another excuse to wear that crop top and you'll be fine,” Tim advises, and Kon laughs so bright for that it's almost flustering. 

Well, no, it's definitely flustering. Actually it's very, very flustering. 

Adorable bastard. Absolute fucker. Tim should throw him off a bridge, but he'd just fly back up anyway, the asshole. 

Tim wants to kiss him so bad right now. 

Kon's eyes half-unfocus again, and then the sand and rocks and tools all . . . shift. Tim blinks, a little surprised, and then realizes–oh. He's sorting it all back. Like . . . very accurately back, in fact. The colors and patterns are all returning to the exact same designs as they were in when they first stepped over here. Which is probably for the best because again, they’re currently playing civilian, but–

“Holy shit,” Tim says as the patterns all settle back in and his eyebrows shoot up, more than a little incredulous. Okay, well–he's slightly less sure that Kon doesn't have Superman's eidetic memory now. Also, considering how mixed-around all the colors were, he doesn't even know how he did that so effectively. “How the hell did you do that?” 

“Wasn't hard,” Kon replies casually, but he looks smug about it, the–again–adorable bastard. Fucker. “Just undid what everybody already did, yeah?” 

Tim looks at the sand and belatedly notices that yes, in fact, Kon also reverted everything else that'd been done to it back to what was clearly the original design too. He cannot even fathom how Kon could tell how to “undo” any of that. Like–the pattern-recognition, fine, he could've done that himself–Bart could've, if he'd been interested enough to bother–but tracking back a design after undoing the whole thing to begin with and keeping the different colors of sand all correctly separated? Seriously? 

“Jesus,” he says. “That's incredible.” 

“No big,” Kon says, but looks very pleased about the compliment all the same. Tim thinks of about three thousand tactical applications for this skill alone and really wants to know why Kon doesn't brag about this part of TTK more. Or like, ever. It's always punching things and ripping up the street and tearing doors off their hinges and things like that, when he can do things like map an entire building blind and control sand down to the fucking individual grains? 

Tim might need to have a talk with all of their teammates about their actual abilities, actually, seeing all this. Like, some assessment tests might need to happen. Questionnaires. Something. The informal approach was clearly not thorough enough. If nothing else, he's definitely following up with Kon. 

“I honestly did not realize how good you'd be at that,” Tim says, and then has to watch in disbelief as Kon smirks smugly at him while simultaneously–without even looking–builds a little sand castle without even bothering to put his hands in the sand this time. Which he doesn't have to, obviously, because the sand is in the sandbox and it's part of the table which is on the floor he's standing on and Tim objectively understands how TTK works, but that really seems like it'd be much harder to pull off. Just–damn. Damn. 

. . . technically, if Kon can control things as small as a grain of sand, how small can he go? Could he–theoretically, at least–manipulate dust? Air molecules? 

Atoms? 

Because if he could, if things like that counted . . . well, the transitive properties of TTK would be a lot less of a limitation outside of maybe the vacuum of space, wouldn't they. There's always air, after all. And if Kon could manipulate anything on the atomic level . . . 

Jesus. There's a thought. 

As soon as Tim's done being desperately, overwhelmingly turned on and also reformatting several of his supervillainy-connected plans, he's gonna have to start drafting that superpower skills and applications thereof questionnaire. Like. Immediately once he's done, actually. 

Just–again, just Jesus. 

“I mean, it's just a party trick, but it's a fun one, right?” Kon says with another laugh. 

Tim is going to lose his actual fucking mind. 

“You call that a party trick?” he says in disbelief. There is no possible way that any lock could be secure against that. No one could ever hide behind cover. No one could even carry a concealed weapon without him knowing, for fuck's sake! 

. . . Tim is very glad he's been leaving the birdarangs home for his not-dates and current-date with Kon. Very, very glad. 

Jesus, that would've been fun to explain to Bruce. Well I didn't TELL him I was Robin, but I DID encourage him to tactile-telekinetically feel me up in a changing room while I was strapped with Bat-gear, sooooo . . . I mean, you never told me I couldn't do THAT. 

That's exactly how he would've explained it, obviously, but still. Bruce would not have taken it well. 

What a fucking way to come out to Batman, too.

[jacensolodjo]

It is easy to make jokes about the Eastern European and Jewish prerogative about food. It is not so easy when you know both groups have been literally starved to death through no fault of their own.

It is easy for someone to say "why didn't they just leave" but not so easy knowing because these murders by starvation were intentional, the victims were actively prevented from leaving. Which in itself is proof it was intentional for these people to starve to death.

If you want us to believe something like the Holodomor was a natural famine you shouldn't also tell us about internal passports (something many countries have done in order to keep an eye on where their "undesirables" are going) and people being shot for trying to board trains, planes, busses, and carriages. If, instead, it was natural, why stop people from going somewhere that there IS food?

Through the lens of epigenetics we can begin to understand why a third generation American of EE/Jewish descent might have this anxiety about food, about making sure there is enough, that we remember those who are less fortunate, that we appear to subsist entirely on leftovers. Or, indeed, why many with these epigenetic changes tend to trend towards higher percentages of body fat. Our bodies through our genes remember a time nobody could be even a pound overweight and it knows that the body literally eats itself as we starve and the first to go of course is body fat so our bodies, knowing all this, make sure we have extra "God forbid (ptoo ptoo ptoo), just in case".

"They tried to kill us, they failed, let's eat" isn't just a pithy saying. We outlived them even despite being unable to eat. We do not hoard food, we just happen to have a lot of leftovers through this anxiety about food. "Oy, I ate too much" is a blessing. With it, we are aware of how few times our ancestors could say the same. During Pesach (Passover), we have an entire dinner party (complete with perhaps a little too much wine) and recline in style as we eat matzo and remember why it is just so damn flat (we rushed off to escape from Egypt without finishing making our dough. D'oh!). Everything on the seder plate has a meaning, with some items being added or removed based on the traditions of the family or congregation doing the seder. Such as in the past couple years the olive is added to symbolize the hope for peace in Ukraine (or, for some, peace in the Middle East). Or the orange to symbolize the inclusion of the LGBTQ community.

Perhaps it seems paradoxical to eat so much in one sitting instead of saving some for a time where food may be scarce. But it goes hand in hand with "They tried to kill us, they failed". We have survived another day and have enjoyed good food and good company. In spite of everything they did to us. We feast out of spite. Perhaps because of all those times our enemies were eating without a care in the world while our ancestors watched and starved. We have proof of commie buffets while starving Ukrainians watched from the street. We have proof of Jews being teased with food, with Gentiles tossing heels of bread on the ground so they could watch as said Jews fought over it or flinging a sausage and laughing as Jews raced to get it as if they were playing fetch with a dog. Or the innumerable times people were killed for stealing a handful of grain when many times they were the ones who had farmed the grain in the first damn place.

There are many who do not see starvation as a tool of genocide. They don't understand how starvation can break a community. Death by Hunger, the translation of Holodomor, was not about control like people claim (in other words they claim the death was an accident, that the starving was meant to keep people in line. If they had just behaved themselves they wouldn't have died etc.,). It was always and forever about a stronger group ridding the world of another group without getting literal and metaphorical blood on their hands. They could cite plausible deniability. It wasn't their fault, honest, it was just bad luck.

The stereotypical scene of people in lines that stretch multiple city blocks was in fact the norm. And more often than not, only the first few dozen would get anything at all and everyone else would find they had wasted an entire day waiting for food that was never meant to be given to them in the first place. The supply was purposely small. At least for those who were either too low in the Party or not a part of it at all. For Jews, you turned to the black market which was often caught selling spoiled food as well as food that wasn't actually food at all (such as sawdust masquerading as bread). Which happened even with regular stores because as a Jew you could only buy certain things and everyone knew it and still would not sell the genuine article because why should they? It is, after all, going to a Jew. Soviet areas were guilty of doing this to everyone, too.

So if you are visiting an EE and/or Jewish home and they actively push food on you and insist you take leftovers, that is their love language. We want you to have enough because far too many times our people did not. And in Jewish culture, it is a literal mitzvah to provide food to those who cannot procure it themselves either because of money/access, or they are going thru the bereavement process or otherwise incapable of dealing with making sure they have something to eat (such as an illness that prompts them being added to the Mi Shebeirach list which in many congregations is printed and given out to refer to during the Mi Shebeirach prayer during services and may also be paired with the mourner's kaddish list). It is why when you go to a house where the occupants are sitting Shiva, you will often find their kitchen stacked with tupperware of varying sizes and cuisine and you will often be instructed to bring something as well though it isn't a requirement. Generally, your presence is considered the more important aspect of the Jewish bereavement process. (Just do not say you are going to sit Shiva with someone. Rather, you are paying a Shiva call or condolence call. Only the mourners are in fact sitting Shiva. Also important: try the door first before ringing or knocking, as usually that is seen as an interruption to sitting Shiva which is frowned upon. And do not literally call them unless told otherwise for the same reason.)

Food makes or breaks us. Food is not inherently moral or immoral. And yes, perhaps there is always room for dessert. And maybe we do eat too much but that's okay. We have survived to enjoy it, so let us do so. Nu, it is what our ancestors would want.

[intheupside]

What's the secret to Sidney Crosby's success?

Always eat a strawberry PB&J on game day… and have unwavering dedication, unparalleled work ethic, and exceptional talent.

With Sidney Crosby appearing in his 1,200th NHL contest on Saturday in San Jose, I wanted to ask how his game-day routine has evolved in the years since that first one to help keep him playing at such an elite level.

Because as Mike Sullivan said, that’s not an easy thing to do – and it's a testament to Crosby’s drive, his will to win, his desire to be the best, and his willingness to put the time in and make the sacrifices so that he can continue to sustain that type of play.

At first, Crosby laughed good-naturedly – because we all know how superstitious and routine-based the captain is – and half-joked that there might not be much there. Most of it has stayed the same, particularly his on-ice warmup routine heading into puck drop. "Whether it’s preparing for a game or just a typical game day, (my routines) just allow me to feel good about going out there and doing what I need to do," he said.

But there has been a tweak here and there to the captain’s preparations now that he’s 36, particularly when it comes to what he does in the mornings. Unless the Penguins have the day off before a game, the morning skate is always optional – and in recent years, Crosby has chosen to stay off the ice.

“You look to conserve that energy a little bit more,” he said. “As much as I like getting on the ice in the morning, it’s good if you can just take that opportunity to do other things and still get a little bit of sweat – get ready for the night, but still conserve some energy at the same time. It's always a balancing act.”

Instead of skating, Crosby will take his stick and gloves and find a quiet area of the rink to do some solo stickhandling, which helps him loosen up a bit. He’ll also take part in the first soccer game of the day with Bryan Rust, Jake Guentzel, Erik Karlsson, Marcus Pettersson, and Rickard Rakell. Sometimes, Noel Acciari will join them, depending on if they do 3-on-3 or 2-on-2.

“We’re just kicking it around, but it can get pretty intense,” Crosby said before adding with a grin, “Sometimes, I wonder if I expend more energy in soccer than I would in morning skate. It just depends on the day, maybe.”

After grabbing lunch to go, when he gets home in the afternoons, Crosby’s nap has gotten shorter as he’s gotten older. “I used to sleep like, two and a half hours when I was younger. But a little harder to do that now,” he smiled. But Crosby still isn’t a big coffee drinker, since natural adrenaline gets the job done when it comes to waking up. “I feel like I get pretty amped up, so I don't need that. I’ve had some caffeine before, and I don’t think it’s good for me,” Crosby laughed.

When it comes to the food Crosby fuels himself with, on a game day the players have the same menu available to them both at home and on the road for their breakfast, lunch, and pregame meal/snack, so he sticks to his routine for those … down to the strawberry PB&J that HBO filmed him making during their 24/7 Penguins/Capitals Road to the Winter Classic series.

But Crosby doesn’t eat as much steak the night before games compared to his early years in the league, especially on the road. “That changed a little bit. Other than that, as long as it's somewhat healthy, I just try to make sure I get a good meal,” Crosby said.

There’s obviously a lot more that goes on behind the scenes, both inside and outside of a game day, that Crosby does to set himself up for success.

“All the subtle things he does – for me, that's the most impressive aspect of his overall body of work. A lot of it goes unseen,” Sulivan said. “That's why I've always said on so many occasions that it's not by accident this guy's as good as he is. Yeah, he's talented, he's gifted, and all of those things, but he maximizes every opportunity that he has to be at his best. I think that commitment, in my experience of being around the game, has been unmatched by any other player I've seen.”

And that’s because Crosby’s passion for the sport is something else that’s remained the same.

“I love it just as much as I did Game 1,” he said. “It’s a lot of hockey, and just grateful I’ve been able to play this long.”

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose.

At first you saw it as a nightmare, the meeting with John Walker. No matter how many times you told yourself you were fulfilling your duty to the Family, fear, uncertainty and stress were the only things that duty brought you. Yet, given the darkest scenarios swirling in your mind, and memories of the meeting with Brock Rumlow, John seemed like a really decent type. 

He invited you to dinner to one of the most expensive, top rated restaurants in the city. To get in, it was usually necessary to make a reservation several weeks in advance. Suspecting that his highly influential uncle had a hand in the whole venture, you appreciated the effort anyway. You were surprised, however, that John didn't give up, didn’t take the path of least resistance, despite the fact that you hadn't shown any interest so far. 

Without being gross or intrusive, he complimented the red dress you wore; asked about your work and hobbies, didn't mention business. You felt like you were on a real date, moreover, a nice one. Seeing that jumping from Brock to John wasn't going from bad to worse let you feel at ease. For the first time in, it seemed, an eternity.

Despite everything, there was something missing. You had no desire to throw yourself at John, no curiosity about what his lips tasted like. Essentially, you didn't need that in an arranged marriage, but guessed there will be time for everything. With Bucky, though, time was necessary – all you needed was a single look. But he wasn’t an option.

“Wow, that was… beautiful,” John claimed after you laughed at the joke he told. In reality, you were amused by how unfunny and stupid the joke was. Perhaps the consumed alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere also played a part. 

“Well… Thank you,” you said, lifting a glass of wine to your lips. When you emptied it, John immediately came with a refill. “Don't you think we should talk about business?” 

“What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“How would that work,” you suggested with a casual shrug. “You haven't mentioned an agreement yet, so I suspect you haven't prepared one. That's a bit…” You hesitated, wondering briefly if you would offend him with your choice of words. “Strange, considering, you know, the nature of our profession.”

John smiled, then hung his head and shook it. “I guess we'll just have to trust each other. Not to sound like an asshole, but I've heard that Rumlows have backed out. At least for now. If not them, your father's business will be ruined, leaving your Family with nothing. I also know that Stark has started to turn his nose at your partnership. You’re in a bind, Y/N. And I want to do this the easy way. No complex agreement, just some basic arrangements.” He raised his hands up in surrender.

You were struck by how honest and straightforward he was. Fair to both of you. 

“But… Why?” You asked quietly. “Why are you so nice about it?” 

“You don’t know?” He pretended to be surprised. “I've always wanted you, and now I have my chance. I don't want to do it through a system of rules and punishments. Not too bad, right? And taking charge of what your father created will help me strengthen my position.”

There was a moment of silence as John gave you time to process what he just said. Soon, however, he grabbed his glass and raised it for a small toast.

“So, what'll it be? Can I keep trying or are you giving up on me?”

It was clear that he wasn't really offering you a choice – you could only decide how to play it; keep John at a distance, or make it easier for him to approach you, let him court you.

Having clinked glasses, you both drank the wine, but you could barely taste it. Only the bitterness that the future was to bring. At this point you thought you were prepared for a marriage without love or at least friendship, but the closer you got to one, the more panic you felt. Being aware that the whole situation was difficult, you still didn't expect such a burden.

“Don’t worry,” John added, seeing the concern on your face. “Maybe one day you'll love me. Maybe when kids come along.” He shrugged. Your eyes widened, but John didn't mind it. “What? Someone will have to take care of your father's legacy in case we're gone, don't you think?” He smiled sincerely. You wondered if he was already fantasizing about the future with you. 

Destroying the atmosphere with the shock you experienced wasn’t part of your intentions. The only right idea was to kill the negative feelings with a little more alcohol, so you asked John to refill your glass again, and he did so with pleasure. While dipping your lips in the wine, your eyes wandered mindlessly around the room until they landed on a familiar face – the last person you expected to be here.

You choked, and the sticky drink dripped down your chin. A momentary, barely noticeable panic crossed Bucky's face as he watched you carefully from his table – as if he was concerned that you might have choked to death. However, he stayed in place; rushing to help you would have exposed him.

“Oh God, are you all right?” John handed you a napkin right away, which you accepted and wiped your chin with a few delicate taps to avoid washing off your makeup. 

“I’m sorry. Gone down the wrong way,” you struggled for breath. 

“It’s fine. Are you sure you're all right?” 

“I’m okay,” you said, still feeling the aftertaste of wine deep in your throat. “Excuse me for a moment.” Grabbing your purse, you got up from the table.

“Of course.” John also stood up from his seat, watching you walk away towards the toilets.

You put your bag next to the sink and focused on your reflection in the mirror. Tears, which filled your eyes as a result of choking, smudged your mascara, and the wine – just as you suspected – ruined the foundation on your chin. Yet, you weren't bothered by the poor condition of your makeup. Your thoughts revolved solely around the fact that you just saw Bucky. You would’ve been tempted to treat it as a mere coincidence, if not for him staring directly at you. It was probably his intense gaze that drew you in that direction.

The door opened, and at this point you were ready to see anyone; you wouldn't be surprised if your father decided to come back from the dead and show up here. But it was just Bucky. Again.

“What are you doing here?” You grated, crumpling a used piece of paper towel in your hand, with which you had wiped the remnants of mascara from under your eyes. 

“Are you kidding me? The wine almost came shooting out of your nose, I had to check on you.” His forehead furrowed.

“I’m not talking about the toilet! What are you doing in this restaurant?”

Squinting, Bucky thrust his hands in his pockets, and sized you up. 

“So?” You pressed, the tone of your voice impatient. 

“You really think I'd let you come out here alone?” He finally let out. Your battle ready attitude had eased somewhat, but Bucky was surveying you sternly. “You gave me your permission to protect you, remember? So I’m trying to do that.” 

“But John wanted this meeting to be more... private.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “And nobody found that unusual?” He sneered. “You shouldn't drink that much,” he added after a moment, slightly changing the subject. 

Your brows snapped together. “I drink exactly as much as John.”

“Yeah, except John is three times your size,” he said unmoved. “Look, I'm not stopping you from anything. Drink yourself unconscious if you want. I'm just saying you should be careful around guys like John Walker.”

The urge to ask him to elaborate on the thought crossed your mind, but you didn't really have the time. You didn't want to arouse suspicion by spending too long in the toilet.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised with a sigh. “See you later..?”

Bucky's face softened with surprise, his eyebrows rose slightly. There was no trace of the earlier toughness. “Sure.”

The corners of your mouth turned up with all the tenderness you had for him. You grabbed your purse, then left.

When you returned to your table, John greeted you back with a smile – but it wasn't a smile that melted your heart, or one that caused the butterflies in your stomach to go wild. It wasn't Bucky's smile.

When the black SUV pulled over near the Barnes' mansion, you thanked the driver and dismissed him, assuring that you would be fine if you needed to get home. You left the car, reached for your high heels, which you had taken off immediately after being picked up from your date with John, and closed the door behind you. Having spotted Winnifred right away, you made your way to her. She must have been tending the flowers in front of the house up to now, as you could conclude from her gloves and knees, dirty with soil.

“Y/N, how lovely to see you again.” The warm tone of her voice and the friendly look on her face didn't allow you to even consider that she might be insincere. And although you didn't get to know George Barnes personally, you presumed that Bucky and Josephine inherited their gloomy, ironic, a bit dark and sassy way of being from him. “What brings you here, sweetheart?”

“I came to see Bucky.”

Winnifred grinned even wider. “He is at the back of the house. In the garage,” she said after a brief quietness, which she spent observing you. That's probably why you didn’t move a step. “Oh, your fathers would absolutely love it.”

Smiling tentatively, you gave her a questioning, slightly confused look. “They would..?”

“Our oldest was a boy, your parents’...” She motioned at you. “a girl. So when you and Jamie were younger, your dad and my George used to joke all the time about pairing you two so that everything could stay in the family. But it was just a joke,” Winnifred emphasized. 

Was it, though? Given the world your fathers came from, the environment you and Bucky grew up in, and the situation you were currently in, was it just a joke? Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but you began to wonder what would have happened if your father was still alive – would he have let you settle down on your own, without Brock or John's presence, or would he have married you to Bucky? 

He wouldn’t. Because Bucky didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want you. 

There was something else bothering you. You already knew that your families were close, yet you had no memories that would prove it. “Why did you stop being friends? If I may ask…”

“It's no mystery,” Winnifred said lightly, smiling. “You know how your mom is,” she began. You guessed that politeness prevented her from saying directly that your mother tended to be paranoid, but regardless of her choice of words, you nodded. “I think she got scared that our husbands would actually turn words into action. She made it clear that she wanted a lawyer, a doctor or an estate agent for you. But it seems that, despite all the odds, you and Jamie found your way to each other anyway.”

You felt your face turning red along with the heat spreading in your stomach. So you weren’t wrong; it was in your blood – the affection you had for Bucky. No wonder you two clicked the moment your eyes met. However, in this situation, it was like a curse. 

“You have a beautiful garden,” you admitted to break the silence and, above all, your own thoughts. In fact, Mrs. Barnes’ garden looked a little bare, incomplete. The flowers were just beginning to bloom.

“It is promising,” she agreed. “But I’m done for the day, it’s getting late. Why don’t you come in? I’ll make us some tea.” 

“Oh, thank you.” You shook your head. “I was supposed to see Bucky, so… I should go.”

“In this case, I’m not keeping you.” Winnifred beamed at you. 

Keeping in mind the place where you expected to find Bucky, you headed to the back of the mansion. Evening dew had collected on the freshly trimmed lawn; not the most pleasant experience to your bare feet, but you preferred it to uncomfortable high heels, which probably wouldn't have handled this soft ground anyway. There was a peace and solitude that was lacking where you lived – there were no cars, no lights of street lamps, no noise of the city.

The garage was not difficult to locate; especially as there were quiet sounds indicating someone's presence. 

Bucky stood in front of a lifted hood of another vintage car. But instead of focusing on the vehicle, your thoughts wandered uncontrollably to Bucky's broad back as he was leaning forward, probably working on the car’s engine. His muscles were clearly visible under the tight fabric of his t-shirt. You felt your mouth watering.

He raised his head slightly, as if listening for something, then looked over his shoulder. He didn't say a word, but returned the favor by fixing his gaze on you – his eyes darkened with the same rawness as when he saw you in your house that night. Beginning from your bare feet and slowly moving up, he scrutinized your whole body, studying the curves of your thighs, hips and breasts. And you couldn’t blame him since your red dress was even tighter than his t-shirt. 

Letting out a shaky breath, you got rid of the excess air churning in your lungs. “So, you like old cars.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, keeping his eyes on you. After a while, however, he focused on the vehicle. “That one belonged to my old man. I don't want it to rot here.”

Based on how Bucky responded to Brock's mention of his father, you presumed that George Barnes was a sore subject. So you were surprised, maybe even a little touched, that he was now bringing it up himself. You did ask him, but he could brush you off or say nothing.

Driven by some subconscious need to be closer, you took a few mindless steps and stood not far from the vehicle. It was colder inside the garage than outside, so you instinctively folded your arms, trying to keep as much of your own warmth as possible.

“What car is that, exactly?” You asked genuinely curious, eyeing the cream body. 

“Chrysler. From 1970.”

“What about your Mustang?”

Bucky squinted suspiciously, smiling. “The Mustang is a year older…” He answered hesitantly. “You’re into cars, too?” 

“Not, but-” You let out a quiet laugh, knowing how you were about to sound. “This era was the sexiest for cars. And it suits you.” 

His eyebrows rose with astonishment. He shook his head, then got back to the uncovered engine. “This was the most twisted compliment I've ever heard.”

“You’re welcome.” You grinned, fluttering your lashes. 

Having checked out your surroundings, you concluded that the inside of the garage wasn’t interesting enough for you to keep your eyes somewhere. So you dropped them to Bucky's hands. Stained with grease, they appeared to be the hands of a professional; they knew exactly what to do. No accidental, hesitant movements.

“How was it?” He asked. You immediately looked up at his face. “With John.”

“I made a pretty good impression on him, I think. He wants to have babies with me,” you said casually.

Stopping everything he was doing, Bucky tensed at your words, a muscle in his jaw twitched. “And you? Do you want to have babies with him?” 

“Looks like a baby-free deal doesn’t exist, so if I have to…” You shrugged. The alcohol in your system kept you from panicking at the very thought. Or was it Bucky's presence that had that effect on you? After all, you felt safe around him, so no prospect seemed so frightening. “Why don't you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?” The question suddenly left your mouth, because since it popped into your head, you decided to satisfy your own curiosity right away. “You are attractive. Very attractive. Protective, maybe too protective…” You squinted. “But people, especially girls, like it. You can be really funny if you want to, you have money and position. And some pretty cool cars.” 

“What’s with all these compliments?” Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“I get flirty after wine.” You waved your hand dismissively, not intending to continue with this particular topic. “I remember you were, well, a ladies’ man.” You pressed your lips together; you wondered if you should have used that term. It's not that you didn't think it was accurate - you just didn't want to offend Bucky, or upset him.

But he looked at you, smiling with a softness that in no way matched the whole situation. “You remember me?” He repeated. As if it was the most obvious thing, you nodded in response, your forehead furrowed. “I didn’t know you were aware of me.”

“Don't change the subject.”

Bucky sighed heavily, but did not answer straight away. “I liked being around women. Still do. But in a different way. I’ve changed, I guess. Matured, realized a few things. I had a lot of time to think over the last two years.” 

You listened to everything he had just shared and, despite your drunken boldness, you didn't have the courage to bring up his father's death again or to find out more about the lessons he had learned over the mentioned two-year period. You decided to grab onto something else. “In a different way? What do you-”

“That I don’t try to sweep them off their feet, or wrap them around my finger,” he said calmly, but there was something in the way he was talking to you and, for a second, you felt like a scolded child. “I don't hit on them, I don't flirt, I don't try to be charming or funny. If they want to fuck, we fuck. But I'm not looking for an opportunity to take someone to bed.”

Overwhelmed by the information you wanted yourself to hear, you didn't know where to look. “Mhm…” You murmured, trying to appear completely relaxed, maybe even indifferent. On the other hand, you presumed your cheeks that turned pink gave you away. “And you…” You began, partly to talk about something else, partly out of pure curiosity. “Do you remember me? From back then?” 

Bucky loosened up a bit, a smirk crept across his lips. He reached for a piece of cloth slung over his shoulder, and got rid of the grease off his hands by wiping them thoroughly. “Maybe,” he answered, shrugging. It was clear he was teasing you, and you wondered if it was some kind of punishment for bothering him with personal questions. “Watch your fingers,” Bucky warned gently, so you took a step away from the car, then he closed the Chrysler’s hood. “I’ll drive you home, huh?”

When the car finally stopped near the familiar building, you breathed a sigh of relief – you were only a few steps away from a warm shower and a comfy bed.

Before you could touch the handle, Bucky's hand wrapped hastily around your forearm. You turned your gaze to him to see what had come over him, and saw a completely controlled unease painted on his face. 

“You know that car?” 

Having followed his gaze, you spotted a vehicle; you did not recall it belonging to Michael or anyone in the Family. “Not really.”

Bucky reached into the glove compartment above your lap and pulled out a gun. It was only then that you felt a sprouting anxiety; not out of fear for your life, but at the thought that something might happen to Bucky because he'd decided to get you home.

“Come on,” he said, and there was nothing but calmness in his voice. 

You got out of the Mustang and joined Bucky on the other side of the car. 

“Stay behind me, okay?” he instructed, and you didn't protest only because you didn't want to sabotage the possible plan he had formed in his mind. You nodded, and just as he asked you to, you kept two steps behind his back.

You cautiously entered the house, Bucky keeping his gun low but unlocking it earlier, his finger close to the trigger. It was dark inside, except for the warm light pouring out of the living room. It was also where the quiet conversation was coming from; you recognised Michael's voice, and it put you a little bit at ease – you didn't think he was in danger, or that you two were the ones who were threatened. You touched Bucky's arm gently to prevent a potential reaction. 

As you approached the living room, that’s when Bucky really tensed up. Seeing Michael in the company of John Walker wasn't exactly a delight for you either. No one needed to speak; it only took a few glances for the atmosphere to thicken in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N,” Michael’s displeased tone pierced the heavy silence. “What is he doing here?”

“Making sure she gets home safely,” Bucky asserted before you had a chance to think about who Michael actually had in mind. 

“From where?” John interjected; he sounded casual, amused even, but his edgy smile said otherwise. “Should I feel threatened?” His question, thrown around as if playfully, only confirmed your assumption that John was unsure of his position.

“No, of course not,” you protested right away.

Michael could have drilled down. However, you could see that he didn't want to do that – he didn't want to raise doubts about what you were doing with Bucky; to give John a reason to back off. All he cared about was putting an end to the subject as soon as possible and not returning to it – making it seem forgotten at least. “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose. 

“Correct,” Bucky agreed. He held his gaze on Michael for a while longer, then, a brief glance was everything he got for you, and it felt cold – like when he left you in that pub. You watched him walk away, but Michael's grunt brought your attention back.

You didn’t stay with Michael and John. Hiding behind a long, tough day and pouring honey in their ears by telling them you didn't want to disturb an obviously important discussion that your feminine mind wouldn't comprehend, you got away. Still, there was something bothering you. So, not long after the desired refreshment and making sure Michael was alone, you went down to the living room.

Michael peeked at you, looking up from his newspaper, waiting patiently for you to raise the matter on which you had come here. 

You sat down in the armchair next to his, and for some reason, nervousness led you to occupy your hands with the belt of a soft, fluffy robe you wore after the shower. “Why was John here?” 

“To speak about business,” he said immediately, still focusing on the paper. 

“Right, let me put that differently…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Why do you think John was here?”

This time Michael did not answer straight away. Nor did he appear to be thinking about the answer; his eyes roamed over the next lines of text. “I believe he wants to control you. Keep an eye on his investment.” He closed and put the newspaper down on the end table between the chairs, then looked straight at you. “Do you want my advice? You'd better let him,” he said. It wasn’t the content of his words that caused your forehead to crease, but the determination with which he said them. “At least two candidates backed out after Bucky beat Brock. Men are afraid to approach you because you got yourself a guard dog.”

At least two candidates, and you had no idea about that. 

“He didn’t beat Brock because of me,” you protested. 

“But he did it. They don't know the details, they don't need them. All they need is that it happened at a meeting that should have ended with marriage. Instead, it ended with Brock Rumlow's broken nose. Of course,” Michael continued. “There were those who were encouraged by it. Who thought it must be a game worth playing. But I turned them down right away, because only a fool would think he stood any chance with Bucky Barnes,” he almost spat. Then, he took a deep breath to release the tension. “He would be a perfect candidate, you know?” 

Although you had lowered your head somewhere during Michael’s monologue, you now raised your eyes to him. Your heart was racing, gaining a familiar, nearly furious rhythm. 

“The friendship of your families, the power and reputation that the name Barnes holds… And it turns out that Bucky Barnes is the only man in New York who doesn't fight for your hand in marriage.” Michael smiled bitterly. 

You looked away to avoid having to face Michael. You crushed under the weight of the awareness that his words had aroused in you. Experiencing far too many emotions at once – you felt angry, sad, disappointed and even a little betrayed – you were hopeless as never before.

“I know that this is difficult,” Michael spoke again. “However, we can't lose John. We can't be sure there will be more better candidates, and even if there will be, we don't have enough time. I don't know what you got yourself into with Bucky, but he can't protect you until he becomes your husband, which he has no desire to do. So whatever is going on between you two has to stop. Now.”

“What does that mean? I can’t see him anymore?” You asked, your voice weak.

“You don’t have to run for the hills each time you accidentally meet him,” he clarified. “But whether you continue to be friends will depend entirely on your husband.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008

[4am-enha]

hiii I love your writes🫶🫶🫶

Can u write one where Heeseung is carsick during a trip to y/n's house. He has a fever when arriving there and it gets worse( it was more than carsickness) and y/n and the members take care of him ( he has a high fever during 2 nights)

I'm addicted to sick fics if u could write it I'd be so happy ❤️

cabin fever.

note: this idea was adorable, i had to write something for it. thank you and i hope you enjoy! muah xoxo.

description: basically the ask above! y/n and the guys go on a week's holiday at one of y/n's parents vacation homes far in the forest, but their plans become complicated when heeseung falls sick, hours away from home. comforting ot7 sick fic one shot.

genre: comfort, fluff, sprinkle of crack. maybe a little romance?👀

pairing: OT7 best friends enhypen x female y/n

warnings: mentions of illness and fainting, pills, strong language.

wc≈ 3.7k, ot7 one shot.

The trip had finally made its way out of the group chat.

After months of planning and anticipation, the beginning of their getaway together had now arrived. Nobody could wait- excited for the once-in-a-lifetime, unforgettable memories they would soon make together.

Y/N, Jungwon, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki, had all come together to go on a week’s trip away from this all-too-familiar town, and into the countryside. Luckily, Y/N’s parents owned a few vacation homes here and there, making it easy to find a place where the entire group could stay.

The plan was simple; a week away into the forests of the countryside while staying at one of Y/N’s vacation homes together. A chance to reconnect with nature and each other. And, if something did happen to go wrong, there was a small town five minutes or so down the road where they could find everything they could possibly need.

Early this morning, everyone gathered at the two cars that they would be taking to get to the house. After a lot of arguing and rounds of the game ‘rock, paper, scissors’, it was decided who would be in each car. In car one, there was Y/N, Heeseung, and passenger Jungwon up front alongside Jay, who would be the one driving. In car two, there was Jake, Ni-ki, passenger Sunoo, and driver Sunghoon.

There was a lot of pushing and shoving things into the car, but it all fit eventually. Well, after everyone tirelessly convinced Sunoo and Y/N that they did not need multiple bags full of non-essential things each. Everyone had been on the road for a few hours now with a couple of pit stops here and there, but now they were down to just 30 minutes left on the road trip until they would finally arrive at their destination.

Everyone had managed to keep their energy up until now, except for Heeseung. Currently, car one was doing carpool karaoke, but Heeseung was not joining in at all.

Y/N turned to Heeseung, who was sitting beside her with his arms crossed and head slightly tilted back, “Hey why aren’t you singing with us? Do you not like the song?”

“Yeah man, If I gotta sing, you have to as well. Don’t make me do it alone with these weirdos,” Jay joined, looking at Heeseung through the car mirror.

“Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying it Jay,” Jungwon huffed, leaning against the car window and watching the trees blur by quickly as they drove forward along the lengthy straight road.

“Can we just open a window? I’m hella motion sick right now,” Heeseung grumbled in response.

Y/N grabbed the closest water bottle and handed it to Heeseung, “drink some water, it’ll help. We should have had Hee sit up front.”

“That helps?” Jungwon questioned.

“Yeah, I mean that's what my parents told me whenever I asked to sit up front. They said they got motion sick in the back of the car,” Y/N shrugged.

Jay laughed, “Sounds like they were just trying to make up something so they wouldn’t have to sit in the back.”

“Whatever, they wouldn’t do that,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“First stage, denial,” Jay continued to joke.

“Be quiet. Anyway, I wonder how the other guys are doing,” Y/N laid back into her seat again.

Jungwon pulled out his phone, “I’ll text them.”

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Meanwhile, Ni-ki and Jake were doing some intense thumb wrestling matches in the back of the other car, pulling each other around aggressively; the pair of them were very obviously cheating at the game. Sunoo peacefully scrolled through his phone up front, glad to be a little bit away from the mad duo in the back.

“Can you guys quit?” Sunghoon kept his eyes on the road as he scolded them.

“What?” Jake sassed.

“Quit bickering for the love of my sanity. You’re actually now making the car sway,” Sunghoon complained.

“It’s Jake's fat ass tilting the car,” Ni-ki snapped back.

“What ass? He has an ass?” Sunoo added, eyes still on his phone.

Jake threw his arms in the air, “I have an ass it's just not fat alright? AND I’M NOT TILTING THE FUCKING CAR!”

Ni-ki was in a fit of laughter, almost wetting himself right then and there.

Sunghoon shook his head, “seriously guys stop.”

Sunoo turned up the car volume, “Yeah shut up, my song is about to play.”

It was a cutesy song to which Sunoo somehow knew all the dance movements.

“Get Sunoo off of aux RIGHT NOW,” Ni-ki yelled in horror, covering his ears as if it was physically paining him. He reached up into the middle to grab Sunoo’s phone.

Sunoo began screaming, “LET GO OF ME, YOU CAN’T REACH UP HERE!”

Sunghoon suddenly swerved sharply for a half second, making everyone sit back and go silent in fear, “Is that seriously what it takes to get you all to shut the hell up?”

“Wait, Jungwon texted me,” Sunoo opened up his phone again after seeing the notification briefly light up on his screen, “apparently Heeseung is super motion sick or something. He said Heeseung really doesn’t look too great.”

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

Heeseung had been asleep for a while now. The music had been turned down in order to let him rest for the rest of the drive. His head slowly fell softly onto Y/N’s shoulder, still sound asleep.

“Oh my god, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. He’s so warm,” Y/N whispered with a shocked tone to the two that were still awake.

Jungwon looked to the back of the car where Heeseung was with a concerned expression, “I don’t think that’s a normal symptom of motion sickness… maybe he should take some medication.”

“Shit, I left all the first aid and medication with Sunoo in the other car. How much longer until we arrive?”

“It’s just over there, I can see the house. I just need to pull up,” Jay answered.

As Jay pulled up to the vacation home and parked the car, Y/N slowly detached herself from Heeseung- gently propping his head back up to a natural, comfortable position. He was definitely one of the deepest sleepers amongst the friend group.

Everyone exited the car, reuniting with the other half of their friends who were getting out of the other car a few spots behind them. Niki and Jake came out of the car trying to headlock each other, but that wasn’t a surprise to anyone. In fact, you could probably get rich from betting on it.

Sunghoon approached Y/N and the others, looking absolutely drained.

“Oh my, what happened? Are you alright?” Y/N scanned him with worry that another one of her friends might be unwell.

“Now you listen to me Y/N. Don’t you ever leave me with them two ever again,” Sunghoon pointed toward the culprits, Jake and Ni-ki, who had finally let go of each other?

Y/N giggled, “So sorry about that. I forgot how they are when they’re left together for more than five minutes. I’ll rig the game of rock, paper, scissors for the journey home and make sure they’re separate.”

“Thank goodness,” Sunghoon sighed in relief.

Sunoo joined the conversation with wide eyes, “where’s Heeseung? Is he okay?”

“He’s still in the car. I didn’t want to wake him ye-“

Y/N paused when she looked toward the car again, spotting Ni-ki quickly approaching the car door, swinging it open while snickering, and taking goofy 0.5 pictures of Heeseung asleep. Then he started tickling him.

Heeseung woke up and swung at him, in which Ni-ki had only just avoided by luck. Heeseung grumbled grumpily at him, swearing under his breath.

“Caught you slacking,” Ni-ki teased.

“Just you wait,” Heeseung mumbled back while unbuckling his seatbelt. He took barely two steps out of the car and began to stumble over. Luckily, Ni-ki caught him before he made friends with the pebble-infested floor.

Everyone gasped and rushed over to help quickly, “Get him inside, right now.”

︵‿︵‿୨🍵୧‿︵‿︵

A little while later, Jay came rushing back into the house with a doctor from the city down the road. He had left almost immediately to get some help for Heeseung.

The doctor placed his bags beside the couch where Heeseung was lying down, surrounded by everyone who looked worried sick for their dear friend. The doctor then knelt down beside Heeseung and took his temperature. He did some general checking, making sure Heeseung’s vitals were good and everything like that.

“Tsk, he’s got a fever alright,” the doctor examined the thermometer, “he will be okay though. He’s just got an aggressive cold right now. Just make sure to keep breaking any spontaneous fevers that may come back and make him rest a lot. Oh, and give him these,” he handed a bottle of specific medication to Sunoo as he stood up, “just call me if anything worsens, or if anything happens that you’re not sure about.”

“Thank you so much,” Jay guided the doctor to the door and waved him goodbye, thanking him one final time before the doctor left.

Y/N took the medication from Sunoo and took two pills out into the palm of her hand. She sat down beside Heeseung with a glass of water in her other hand, “You gotta take these Hee.”

Heeseung weakly sat up with a little bit of help from Ni-ki. He then leaned toward Y/N with his mouth slightly agape, who then placed each pill carefully into his mouth and helped tip the glass of water into his mouth.

Jake approached with some random bags of frozen things that he found last second and placed them against Heeseung to help him stay cool. Initially, the cold made Heeseung flinch a little, but he accepted it, “really? Frozen cranberries?”

“It’s all there was man,” Jake apologised, making Heeseung chuckle lightly.

Jungwon had run upstairs but shortly returned with as many pillows as his little arms could hold. Ni-ki and Jungwon worked together to make sure Heeseung was as comfortable as lying on a couch could be.

Muffled quarrelling could be heard from the kitchen. It was Jay and Sunghoon.

Jay was trying to make some comforting and healing food for Heeseung with his own cooking knowledge, meanwhile, Sunghoon made laps around the kitchen looking at his phone, and reading out overly fancy complicated remedies and recipes. He may have been trying to be helpful, but Jay had to deny everything he suggested and constantly remind him once again they ‘do not have the ingredients for that shit.’

After everything was more settled, everyone left Heeseung to sleep peacefully on the couch while they went outside the back and started setting up the campfire.

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Hours later, Heeseung awoke to the faint sound of obnoxious laughter and shouting from outside which travelled through the windows of the house.

He sat up, still drenched in sweat that his fever had graciously gifted him. He looked around for a few moments, processing everything. His eyes trailed across the empty glasses on the table beside him and a bowl filled with soup that had gone completely cold. He felt bad- Jay must have left it for him to eat when he woke back up, but he had slept far too long.

The sound of his friends having fun and enjoying themselves made Heeseung jealous. He was envious that everyone except him was getting to have fun and make the memories he so desperately waited for the second the plans were made. He couldn’t stand being so vulnerable, so he got up even if his body wasn’t ready yet.

Heeseung made his way outside the back, and toward the campfire where everyone sat casually talking about anything and everything that came to their heads at the moment.

“It’s your turn- oh, Heeseung’s up,” Jungwon announced upon seeing Heeseung approaching.

“You’re not supposed to be getting up and walking around yet Hee,” Y/N lectured him.

“I’m feeling fine,” Heeseung lied, taking a seat next to Sunoo, “what did I miss?”

Heeseung lasted about fifteen minutes before he began to feel lightheaded again, his body slowly tilting backward involuntarily every now and then. Except suddenly, he couldn't keep himself upright anymore and the next thing he knew, everything went black.

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

When Heeseung awoke again, he was greeted by Y/N leaning over the bed he lay in, caressing his hair, while sitting in a random chair she had pulled up to sit beside him.

“How did I get here?” Heeseung sat up, taking in the room he was unfamiliar with.

“Well luckily for you, it isn’t a hospital room. We’re just in one of the spare bedrooms,” Y/N explained.

“Oh. Did I faint?” Heeseung couldn’t recollect any memory from just before he had passed out until now.

“Yes, you did,” Y/N sighed heavily, “and you gave us all a heart attack. You could have fallen forwards, straight into the fire Heeseung! You could have died, we could have lost you,” Y/N scolded him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean to yell at you as soon as you wake up, but it was really scary. Promise me you won’t get up and do stuff when you’re not actually better,” Y/N calmed down a little.

Heeseung felt incredibly guilty, “I promise. I’m really sorry I put you guys through that.”

“As long as you keep your promise Heeseung. If anything, I’m partly responsible. I shouldn’t have left you unsupervised like that. I’m sorry,” Y/N shook her head in self-shame.

Heeseung reached for Y/N’s hand, holding it gently, “Don’t blame yourself.”

Y/N stuck by Heeseung’s side for the rest of the night, falling asleep upright in her chair, slumped slightly over herself uncomfortably.

︵‿︵‿୨🍵୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Heeseung awoke to Jungwon and Jake by the side of his bed rather than Y/N whom he had seen in that spot last. It took him by surprise, making him jump a little.

“C’mon bro, Jungwon ain’t that ugly,” Jake joked.

Jungwon slapped him on the arm harshly, “I change my mind, I don't need you in here.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Heeseung asked curiously, ignoring them, and wondering where Y/N had disappeared to, and if she had spent the whole night there in the chair that was still placed beside him. He hoped that she had not sacrificed her sleep for him.

“She went grocery shopping about an hour ago. She should be back soon,” Jungwon answered.

“Yeah, and she put us on babysitting duty,” Jake added, throwing a slight verbal dig at Heeseung.

On cue, Y/N returned loudly through the door trying to carry all the shopping bags inside in one trip, “I’m back!”

After some time spent putting away the groceries, Y/N made her way into the main room where Heeseung was already sitting on the couch waiting. Jake and Jungwon had gone outside to join the others on a nature walk. Y/N decided it was probably better not to tag along- she would much rather hear about the chaos of a walk they created when they return, rather than have to be a part of it.

“Good afternoon Hee, how are you holding up this morning?” She sat in the chair opposite him.

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, “Did you stay in that chair all night?”

“Is it a problem?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do that,” Heeseung sighed, feeling guilty again.

“It’s okay. If I would have left, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry I’ve basically ruined the start of this trip,” Heeseung hung his head in disappointment.

Y/N sat up with an angry expression, “Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t ruined a thing.”

Heeseung began to cough a bit concerningly, earning a worried look from Y/N.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” Y/N pointed at her eyes and then back at him as if she were warning him that she was watching him.

She rushed around in the kitchen and returned after a few minutes with two mugs, one in each hand, and a packet of Heeseung’s favourite snack hanging from her mouth held by the clench of her teeth.

“What’s this?” Heeseung took the mug from her carefully.

“I got some of your favourite snacks while I was out shopping,” Y/N pointed to the mug in his hands, “and that’s tea with a spoonful of honey. Trust me, it helps when you’re sick. Drink up!” Y/N took a sip from her own mug, sitting down next to Heeseung now.

Heeseung smiled at her and copied her, taking a sip from his mug; he widened his eyes with the pleasant taste, humming in enjoyment.

“It’s good right?” Y/N watched him eagerly.

He nodded enthusiastically, and they both giggled.

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Later that evening, everyone gathered and agreed to do something in which they could include Heeseung this time so that he didn’t feel left out like he had felt the night before. Plus, the guys really missed him during the day. It just felt so empty when they weren’t all together, all the time.

It was decided that they would all do a movie night. It was a great idea, something everyone could enjoy, and something Heeseung could join without having to get up from the chair or out of the blankets the other guys had earnestly wrapped him up in.

They watched a few movies: comedy, horror, action. For the final movie, they put on a romance movie. It didn’t take long for almost everyone to fall asleep during it. Arguably, it was very late. But Y/N complained that she was the only one interested enough to not get bored and drift off to sleep.

Sunghoon was out like a light in the singular chair on the furthest side of the room. By his feet were Jay, Jake, and Ni-ki who had collectively fallen asleep together all huddled up in a shared blanket on the floor, knackered from the amount of yelling they all did during the horror movie. Light snores could be heard, but it wasn’t clear who was the one producing the snoring. It was probably Jake.

Sunoo and Jungwon shared one side of the couch. Jungwon’s hair was flopped all out of place, twinning with Sunoo’s hair beside him which was doing the exact same thing. They looked like two little pom-poms together.

On the other side of the couch were Heeseung and Y/N. Heeseung was fast asleep and had fallen asleep first out of everyone. It was excused though, because he must have been exhausted from the horrible illness fighting his body right now.

Y/N on the other hand, was wide awake. Her eyes threatened to close a few times here and there at the sight of all her best friends asleep so comfortably, but alas her eyes stayed glued to the TV. She refused to let the movie go to waste.

Beside her, Heeseung began to shuffle around and mumble to himself. From what Y/N could tell, he was still asleep. He must have been dreaming. She found herself staring a little at him, noticing his eyebrows furrowed together as if he were in pain. Before she could even tap him, his eyes fluttered open, meeting hers.

Y/N looked away quickly as if she wasn’t staring, and then looked back at him, “Are you alright?” She whispered, cautious not to wake the others so closely located to her.

“I’m alright, why are you still awake?” Heeseung asked, sitting up properly.

“The movie hasn’t finished,” she pointed to the TV.

Heeseung laughed, “How did we get to romantic movies?”

“It was my idea.”

“I mean,” Heeseung scanned the room of sleeping bodies, “I think I can tell,” he teased.

“Oh, whatever. It’s a good movie,” Y/N scoffed, diverting her attention back toward the TV.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” He whispered after a few minutes.

Y/N shrugged, “It’s not awful, but a little I guess.”

Heeseung grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her towards him, “come closer then.”

“Oh okay,” Y/N felt herself get a little shy at the sudden gesture.

Heeseung adjusted the blanket, snaking his arm around her and pulling her into the blanket with him, and smiled.

Y/N smiled back, “Thanks, Hee.”

Eventually, the pair fell asleep with their heads against one another.

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

“Shut the fuck up you’re so loud.”

“You’re gonna wake them up.”

“Move, I want to take a picture too.”

“Ni-ki stop taking selfies with them, that’s just plain wrong.”

Heeseung’s eyes opened to the sight of the other guys hovering around him with their cameras in his face, giggling mischievously amongst themselves, “What the hell?”

Then it became clear as he felt someone’s arms suddenly move slightly around his waist. It was Y/N. They must have fallen asleep and somehow ended up holding one another on the couch. How it actually happened, he had no recollection of.

And because of Y/N’s reaction when she had finally sat up fully awake and realised- it was clear she probably had no recollection of this either.

“Oh my god that’s embarrassing,” she held her flushed face in her hands.

“Ni-ki I know you ain’t laughing like you weren’t all snuggled up with Sunghoon’s feet last night,” Heeseung teased defensively.

“WHAT THE HELL NO I WASN’T,” Ni-ki yelled back, clearly offended at such an insult.

“Don’t bring me into this,” Sunghoon rubbed the sides of his head, annoyed.

“Anyway,” Heeseung interrupted, “good news. I think I’m healed.”

“You better not be lying,” Jake squinted at him suspiciously, not believing it.

“No deadass, I feel so much better,” Heeseung beamed.

The guys cheered and jumped around in excitement, “We can finally start off this trip properly.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Jay asked amongst the sudden chatter.

Just then, a nasty-sounding cough came from beside Heeseung. It came from Y/N, and everyone looked her way immediately. She looked like she hadn’t even slept, even though she most definitely had.

Heeseung placed his palm against her forehead. It was very warm. She must have caught the sickness from him.

Heeseung laughed in astonishment,

“Actually guys, I think we got some other work to do first.”

🤒 end!! 🤧

note: all feedback is encouraged and any interaction is appreciated! thank you so much for reading! i enjoyed writing this. if there’s mistakes, pretend you ain’t seen NOTHIN. i got lazy with proof reading >< please let me know what you guys thought of this. was it okay?? also kinda unrelated but guess who got txt tickets for december! 😽 (it’s me)