#just to make this clear this reader has three grandpas

[revelboo]

I would love know how soundwave reacts to rumble, frenzy and their darling having a sparkling

Sure 🤣

Sparked

Rumble x Reader, Frenzy x Reader

• Biting into the inside of your cheek as Rumble and Frenzy both hold out their arms as if they’re assistants on a game show drawing attention to a brand new car, you strike a pose to show off the sash they’d made you. ‘Sparked?’ Soundwave says, staring down at the three of you and with the visor and mask, you can’t get a read on the big mech. “You’re going to be a grandpa,” you reply, grinning as you pull the sash off over your head and drape it across Rumble to make him clear his vents at you. “Though, apparently he’s the one weird, alien, energy preggers.”

• Scowling at you as you flash him a grin, Rumble growls. Because he’d wanted to keep that embarrassment a secret. He’d thought he’d be a sire, but no. You’d made him a carrier and Frenzy is laughing. Again. Servos curling under into a fist, he considers punching his twin in the face, relenting when you wrap an arm around him. “So, uh, yeah. You’re a grand-sire, boss,” he manages, feeling awkward about it. Almost vulnerable, because he and the other cassettes? None of them are actually Soundwave’s. He’d adopted them. In Ratbat’s case, by force, but he didn’t spark any of them. Does Soundwave even care? Wishes he could tell what the mech was thinking as he stares at them.

• Why isn’t he saying anything? Just staring down at them all. Maybe he doesn’t approve of you? Stiffening, Frenzy’s chin lifts. Because you’re amazing. Fragging fantastic. “You’ve got a human, too,” he growls, shrugging off your hand when you reach for him. “Is ours not good enough?” Like nothing they do is good enough? Does Soundwave think he doesn’t see those resigned looks they get? The disappointment when they fail a task? ‘Frenzy,’ you protest.

• You get it, though. Know all about being a disappointment. About a parent having nothing good to say, because no matter how hard you try, it’s not enough. But can’t he at least pretend? Just fucking phone it in and say he’s happy for them? Because they look up to him, need his approval. And he just mass shifts so suddenly, you reel back and he’s reaching, arms wrapping around all of you to drag you into his frame. Hugging you all.

• Hanging onto Soundwave, Rumble feels the bigger mech bump his helm against him. Hugging him and how long has he wanted this? He’d have settled for a pat on the helm, a simple ‘good job.’ But this? Hooking his arm around you, he feels Frenzy do the same from the other side, hanging onto you. Hanging onto the mech that found two angry cassettes struggling in Kaon, had the patience to not give up on them when it would have been easier to. “You’ve done good. Both of you,” Soundwave rumbles and Rumble’s mouth falls open, horrified that he’s about to lose it because that’s all he’s wanted for so long.

Found these on Etsy to add to my bag

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Sage Island Resident Reader Headcanons pt. 2:

Pt. 1 Pt.3

A wild family affair

After coming home from grocery shopping, you returned to hear the worst thing in your life

Your grandma screaming

You always knew this would happen. She’s a sweet old lady next to that school. Of course something would come down the mountain and try to eat her.

You ran to the shed and grabbed a shovel. You burst in and screamed for the monster to get off your grandmother.

Only to see the face of a short boy with magenta highlights, half-naked, and on top of your grandma

👒: I’m calling the cops.

🦇: Wait! Wait! Wait!

And so you ended in the living room with your grandma and a boy(?) called Lilia.

👒: So he’s not a child?

🦇: Oh no, I’m as old as can be. In fact, I’m about 700.

You choke on your water and look at your grandma.

👒: Does he know you’re 52?

👵: Uh..yeah…

The room was awkwardly silent for a while, before you decided to speak.

👒: I just wanna know, how did he go from broom victim to lover?

🦇: What can I say? I like a woman with a fierce personality.

👵: And I like a man who knows how to have fun.

👒: Grandma, Grandpa is still alive.

In the physical sense he was dead. Body’s been in the ground for a while. But in the spiritual sense, he was alive because he was a ghost who sticks around your parent’s house.

👵: Alive spiritually, not physically.

🦇: And as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.

👒: Besides, what happened to fuck the NRC students?

👵: Technically, he’s a caregiver who went to school to support his son and just so happens to participate in school. He’s not really a student in the same way the others are.

👒: This is going to end horribly

And so you got used to having your new step-grandfather around your grandma’s house.

It was a strange feeling and so in the dead of night when Lilia and your grandma were asleep, you snuck into NRC.

You had managed to get as far as entering the Diasomnia portal but, the surroundings were less than welcoming.

You walked up to the black doors with grey cardigan and banged on the doors hoping someone would answer.

Eventually after 20 minutes someone did answer. A very tired and partially angry, tall, boy with horns opened the door and stared at you.

🐉: Aren’t you the girl whose grandma hit me with a broom?

👒: Yes, anyway, do you know a man named Lilia Vanrouge?

🐉: Yes…why?

👒: Please tell him to stop his whoredom towards my grandma. I don’t want my grandpa haunting my grandma’s house and creating an eternal love triangle.

🐉:….um…ok…

You turn around feeling proud of yet another conflict avoided.

That was until later that evening when you heard a knock on the door and saw the boy with horns and his friends from earlier walk inside and sit at the dinner table.

🦇: Ah, so you decided to join us for dinner instead of heading into town?

👒: I had no idea there was an “us”until now.

👵: Y/N meet Lilia’s kids, Sebek, Silver, and Malleus.

You awkwardly wave at the three boys and give and glance at Malleus.

🗡️: We’ve heard a lot about you from Lilia.

⚡️: Pleased to meet the daughter of Lilia’s lover! I’m sure we’ll get along great!

You look up at the ceiling and internally scream.

👒: Nice to meet you too. So who cooked-what’s for dinner?

👵: My famous roasted herb chicken with some vegetables from the garden. My darling Lilia made dessert.

Malleus, Sebek, you, and Silver stiffened and share a quick nervous glance at each other.

🗡️: Really? What did you make?

🦇: Chocolate-covered strawberries.

You let out a sigh of relief. No one could possibly mess up something as simple as chocolate-covered strawberries.

You were horribly wrong.

After feasting on food and talking with Sebek, Silver, and Malleus, the dessert was placed on the table.

You grabbed a strawberry a bit into it, only to realize it’s completely frozen. You use a small warming smell, then bite into your dessert which tasted good.

🦇: Whoops! I must’ve left them in the freezer for too long!

👵: It’s ok, Lilia! You abilities to make food improved a little.

🦇: I left some normal strawberries in the bowl in case anyone wanted plain ones.

Malleus, Sebek, you and Silver grab a plain strawberry, and look confused as you all taste nothing.

👒: Hm…that’s weird. There’s no taste.

🗡️: I seem to remember strawberries being sweeter.

🐉: Lilia, where did you get these?

🦇: The garden. There was a separate bush of strawberries and I decided to pick them. Don’t tell me it was something weird like a poisonous plant?

You spit out the “strawberry” and drink some water. Meanwhile, Sebek, Silver, and Malleus accepted their fates.

👵: Oh your four are fine! Lilia accidentally picked berries from the mock strawberry bush. They look like strawberries but are watery and taste like crap.

You sigh and lay your head on the table, laughing.

Soon, one by one, everyone starts laughing with you, bringing dinner to a happy conclusion.

👒: Bye, Grandpa Lilia! Don’t be afraid to come back, Malleus! My grandma won’t hit you and your friends over the head with a broom anymore.

The door closed as the four males traveled up the mountain. As you cleaned up the dinner table with your grandma, your phone rang.

👒: Hey, mama. How are you doing?

👩: Well, as per usual. So, how was dinner with the new neighbor and his family?

👒: Huh?

👩: You know that old single dad and his three children. Your grandma told me how much of a sweetheart he is, and how she just had to have him over for dinner. Ah, it’s so exciting to have people populating that side of the island again. His sons could even help some of the elderly and poorer neighbors!

You look at your grandma and give her a disgusted look with a shaking head combo.

She presses a finger to her lips, and you roll your eyes.

👒: Oh, him…his family is fine. They just left a while ago. His sons were my age. Anyway, I’ve got to help granny clean up the kitchen. I’ll text you tomorrow!

👩: Oh, my daughter is making new friends! Your dad is going to be so excited! Bye, honey!

Your mother excitedly hangs up the phone and you sigh.

👵: Have a chocolate covered mock strawberry.

You silently take a strawberry and eat it, not daring to say anything.

“The only thing that could make this worse is if my biological grandfather appeared” You thought, shaking your head.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

My hands are tied, I have to ask for more Ghost family! It's a need not a want

What do we think about Simon and the 141 being on leave after a particularly long mission and Tommy is in football (us soccer ) and has a match and made little crayon invitations for the each member if the team, inviting him to his game

And maybe they go get dinner afterwords? And celebrate? Win or lose?

His Whole World

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, emotional softness, child/family content, swearing (from the adults), suggestive content and soft smut (MDNI 18+), mild language, hurt/comfort themes, domestic sweetness

Author's Note: You asked for more Ghost Family—and I gladly deliver. I hope you enjoy this little life of theirs!

Summary: While on leave, Simon and the 141 attend Tommy’s football match after receiving adorable crayon-drawn invitations. What follows is a celebration full of laughter, love, and a quiet night where Simon gets to hold his whole world in his hands.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It started with a stack of brightly colored paper, three boxes of crayons, and Tommy sitting at the kitchen table with his tongue poked out in concentration.

You'd glanced over while washing dishes, catching him drawing lopsided smiley faces and scribbling stick figures in what he insisted were team uniforms. Little soccer balls dotted each corner, and each card was signed in big, clumsy letters:

To: Uncle Soap

To: Uncle Gaz

To: Grandpa Price

“Baby,” you smiled, drying your hands. “What are those?”

He held up a green one proudly, a sun in the corner with a crooked rainbow above it. “I’m inviting Daddy’s friends to my match! ‘Cause they said they’d come next time!”

You blinked back emotion. “They’ll love that.”

When Simon walked in and saw the mess of crayons and construction paper, he tilted his head.

“What’s all this, little lad?”

Tommy beamed. “Invitations!”

“For what?”

“My game! You said they’d wanna come!”

Simon froze in the doorway. And then—very slowly—he crouched next to his son, picked up one of the drawings and stared at it like it was the Mona Lisa.

“They’ll be there, kiddo. Promise.”

—

A Few Days Before the Match

The restaurant was the definition of comfort—old booths, framed kids’ drawings on the walls, crayons and coloring menus already on the table. You, Simon, and Tommy were squeezed into one side of the booth while Soap, Gaz, and Price took the opposite. It had been laughter and casual teasing all night.

But Tommy had been fidgety the entire meal, a little bundle of nerves and excitement, bouncing in his seat and clutching his backpack like it was a top secret mission.

When dessert arrived, he couldn’t wait anymore.

“I have something!” he blurted, sliding out of the booth and tugging open the zipper of his backpack with both hands.

Soap raised a brow. “This ain’t a bomb, is it?”

Tommy giggled. “Nooo, silly.”

He handed out folded papers one by one—wrinkled, smudged with crayon, each one unique.

“To Uncle Johnny. To Uncle Kyle. To Grandpa Price.”

They each unfolded theirs carefully, expressions going soft.

Soap snorted a laugh. “That’s me? You drew me with… is that a cape?”

“You’re my superhero,” Tommy explained proudly.

Gaz blinked a few times. “Is this for your football match?”

Tommy nodded eagerly. “You said if I invited you, maybe you could come. So I made invites! I drawed them all by myself!”

Price cleared his throat, already reading aloud. “‘Please come watch me score lots of goals. There will be juice after. Love, Tommy.’”

“Juice and football?” Soap grinned. “It’s a date.”

Gaz leaned across the table. “Front row. We’ll make signs.”

Tommy gasped. “Really?!”

“Absolutely,” Price added. “We’ll be the loudest ones there.”

Simon hadn’t said a word, just watching with his jaw set tight, a hand resting protectively on his son’s back.

When Tommy crawled back into the booth beside him and leaned into his side, Simon bent low, pressing a kiss to his curls.

“Told you they’d say yes,” he murmured.

—

Game Day

The field was damp from last night’s rain, the grass lush and springy underfoot. Kids ran wild in miniature uniforms, knee-high socks pulled to their thighs, shin guards crooked. You’d found a good spot on the bleachers while Simon paced just behind them, arm crossed, leg bouncing.

He was nervous.

“He’ll do great,” you said, rubbing his arm.

“I know,” Simon murmured. “Just—first time he’s ever played with a crowd.”

“He’s not just playing for a crowd.” You smiled. “He’s playing for his dad.”

He didn’t answer. Just kissed the top of your head and scanned the field until he found Tommy—a tiny blur of navy blue and white, blonde curls under a too-big headband, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

And then the shouting started.

“GO ON, TOMMY BOY!”

Soap.

“LET’S SEE THAT RILEY FOOTWORK!”

Gaz.

“DO US PROUD, LAD.”

Price, calm and commanding even from a lawn chair.

The three of them had shown up in matching 141 hoodies, faces painted with small stripes in Tommy’s team colors, holding signs that were very obviously made by Soap’s chaotic hand: “RILEY FOR MVP!” “BABY GHOST DOMINATES!”

Simon looked like he was about to cry. Or fight someone. Maybe both.

Tommy turned to look for you—and when he spotted his dad and the team waving wildly from the stands, he lit up.

He gave the smallest salute.

And then he ran.

The game was chaos in the best way. Kids missing the ball, bumping into each other, falling down and crying before getting up again like it never happened. But Tommy—Tommy scored. Twice.

You swore the sound Simon made wasn’t human.

Soap was on his feet, swinging Gaz in a circle. Price looked smug like he knew all along that the kid was destined for greatness.

And Tommy? He ran right to the fence after the whistle blew and threw himself into Simon’s arms.

“DID YOU SEE?!”

Simon lifted him like he weighed nothing. “Saw everything, champ. You were brilliant.”

His voice was hoarse. Raw. So proud.

And you—watching your husband hold your son like he was holding the whole damn sky—felt your heart swell.

—

After the Match

You all piled into a local family diner—sticky booths, cracked menus, a jukebox in the corner. Simon sat with Tommy tucked under one arm, still in his uniform, now eating a celebratory sundae with a plastic gold medal around his neck.

“Best player award,” Tommy announced to the table, lifting it up for all to see.

Soap clapped so hard it startled a waiter. “That’s our lad!”

Gaz leaned in close. “You want us to tell the base commander to get you a real one next time?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Can you do that?!”

“Absolutely,” Price said. “We’ll frame it for you.”

The food was greasy and perfect—burgers, fries, and milkshakes all around. Simon barely touched his own plate, too busy watching his son laugh.

You caught his hand under the table. He laced his fingers with yours instantly.

“He’s happy,” you whispered.

“So am I.”

—

Later That Night

Back at the house, Tommy crashed the second his head hit the pillow—sunburnt cheeks, messy curls, medal still clutched in his hand.

Simon kissed his forehead and closed the door quietly behind him.

You found each other in the hallway, drawn together like magnets.

“He was amazing,” you whispered, arms slipping around his waist.

“He was perfect,” Simon murmured, pressing you back against the wall, hands slipping beneath your shirt. “You should’ve seen yourself cheering for him. Christ.”

“I did. You cried.”

“I didn’t—” he huffed, nose brushing yours. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

You laughed softly, fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. “Come to bed.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

—

You lay beneath him, skin bare, breath stolen by the slow rhythm of his hips and the heat of his mouth on your neck.

Simon moved with reverence—like prayer. Every inch of him pressed close. Nothing frantic, nothing rough. Just desperate closeness.

“Missed this,” he whispered against your collarbone. “You. Home.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered, breathless as his hand slid over your hip, his lips ghosting over your breast.

The only sounds were the quiet creak of the bed and the way you gasped his name when he filled you again—slow, deep, a rhythm just for you.

You arched under him, clutching his shoulders, letting yourself fall apart in the safety of his arms. He followed not long after—buried deep, voice catching as he groaned your name into your mouth.

After, you stayed tangled together, hearts thudding in time, sweat cooling against your skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For all of it. Him. You. This life. I never thought I’d have it.”

You cupped his face. “You earned it.”

Simon kissed you slow, like he could bottle this moment forever.

And maybe—just maybe—he could.

—

The Next Morning

You woke to the smell of pancakes and the sound of tiny feet thumping down the hall.

Simon’s voice drifted in from the kitchen.

“Alright, champ—one more flip, then you do the syrup.”

You padded out, still in one of Simon’s shirts, hair messy.

Tommy looked up from the stool he was perched on, beaming. “Mummy! We made breakfast!”

Simon looked up and smiled, eyes soft.

“Family tradition,” he said, setting a plate in front of you.

Tommy hopped off the stool, ran over, and threw himself into your lap.

You looked at them both—Simon, shirtless in flannel pants, Tommy in his dinosaur pajamas—and felt that ache again. The one that came from too much love in one room.

He was your little shadow.

And Simon?

Simon was finally standing in the light.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[chaoticallywriting]

Animals ⋋Chapter Two⋌

A/N: Soooooooooo I've had this written out since before I posted the prologue but it needed to be edited and also touched up! I was super busy and also the lack of sun is totally taking a toll on my mental health. Due to this being late I decided to just post it now instead of waiting for this Saturday, that being said chapter three will not be out by this Saturday. I only have 1.5k done of the next chapter so it'll HOPEFULLY be done by next Saturday. As always, thank you to @blitzs-largest-horsiest-dildo for editing this <3

Pairing: Silco x Reader (eventual/slow burn), Viktor x reader (past/ex's)

Summary: Heartbroken and disgraced from your lifelong dream coming to a halt and the only person you've ever loved abandoning your scientific pursuit. You decide to turn towards a newfound Kingpin in the city you once called your home in hopes of making your dreams come true.

CW: None that I can think??

WC: 3.8k

Before // After // AO3

Silco's office is small, there's filing cabinets tucked into a corner by the door and across the room is a desk. Said desk trumps even Babette's in terms of craftsmanship, looking like something a rich topsider might own. Behind that there's a swivel chair and then a chair in front of the desk and well, that's it. It looks far more like a storage closet turned office than an actual office, especially for some 'terrifying' drug lord.

"Quaint," you breathed. You don't know why that's the first thing you think to say, nor why you didn't hold back. The adrenaline from your little fit is beginning to wane and now you're left in an enclosed space with someone everyone seems terrified of. And you've just called his office quaint. "Not what I expected but it's cozy."

'Stop talking, for all that is good, shut the fuck up!' You internally scream at yourself. This is some newfound kingpin, some guy who survived getting half his face sliced up and lived to tell the tale. Part of growing up in the Lanes means knowing when to shut up. Piltover must have made you soft, so incredibly stupid too. Maybe this whole plan was stupid.

"What were you expecting?" He enters your vision (you had your back to this man, Piltover has made you soft) as he walks over to his desk. The way he walks is different too, there's a slight sway to his step, not like the inebriated idiots in alleyways but. . . Well you don't know how to describe it. It's arrogant, slightly cocky and graceful? There's an assuredness in the way he moves, like he's playing some game he knows he'll always win.

Silco pulls open a desk drawer, long and thin fingers dipping into it and procuring an expensive looking cigar. It's paper has a slight gold lining at the tip that he easily slices off before flicking open a silver lighter. It's hard, you find yourself getting distracted by him. By the way he flicks the lighter on and how that brief flicker of a flame matches that unnerving eye which doesn't blink when his green one does.

He raises a brow and you notice a few lines between them, his brows you mean. Between his brows and on his forehead, he must be in his thirties, late thirties to be specific. Early forties max. People down here age faster than topsiders. While you've seen top-siders in their fifties or sixties with barely a gray hair in sight, people down here barely make it to such an age. The stress, the constant work, lack of sleep or food or warmth gives way to grays and wrinkles before you've even reached your mid thirties. You either die from exhaustion, the gray or a knife in the back.

"Something grand, maybe some kind of vast view of the Lanes. A bar cart, most important people seem to have those. . . " You walk closer, eyes trailing the wood paneled walls. "Just not something that looks like a grandpa may be found fumbling with basic book keeping."

His movements halt, eyes on you as the cigar slowly swirls smoke from it's tip. The room begins to smell of tobacco and your heart pounds at the intensity of his gaze. So you clear your throat and dump the papers you've been gripping onto his desk. They're crinkled up and so you begin to smooth them, hands flat as you press down and slowly swipe away any ridges you find.

He flicks the lighter closed, or at least it sounds like it. You've moved your gaze to your papers as you find it near impossible to keep staring at him. "So you made such a scene out there just so you could insult my new place?"

"No!" You blurt out, eyes finally tearing away from the relatively smoothed papers. He's still staring at you. "No I. . . I wanna make the Lanes a better place, and I have these ideas and- Well everyone's going around saying how you used to be like that. I-" You lick your cracked lips, gods your throat is drying up. "I have nothing left but this dream that I've had since I was a kid. I have the research, I have the ideas. I know these things will help I just need money and materials and the power to implement these things."

Silco drops the lighter back into the desk drawer before sliding it closed. With his hand now free he plucks one of your papers off the table as he takes a long drag of his cigar. Honestly? You don't know what he's looking at.

You just randomly grabbed papers back with the guard and you were so focused on not saying stupid things that you didn't inspect them while brushing them out. With the grace of a freshly caught fish you begin to pull out more papers along with your worn, leather bound journals. Everything is strewn across the desk and soon your trying to organize it so it's less chaotic.

Your hands shake a bit as you half haphazardly dump things into specific piles. A shoddy attempt at making a system of the inner workings of not only your mind but Viktors as well. His hand writing is on a majority of these pages, along with your own. His delicate and graceful drawings of different designs and ideas fill the corners of pages. But your knuckles are scabbed over from repeatedly being pushed onto the pavement and your cheek is still healing.

He's here in this moment, even as you run from him he's here in more ways than one. Seeing his penmanship makes your heart clench as you remember him hunched over your tiny dining room table, pen in hand. You'd hand him a cup of his favorite tea and his free hand would reach out to slide across your ba-

"What is this?" Silco's voice cuts through your memories, sucking you back into the moment as your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You only hope he doesn't somehow know what you were just thinking of. You mentally pray that he's not some kind of mind reader. Silco is holding an intricate drawing of the inner workings for an aeroponic farming system. Definitely something that would be confusing for someone not well versed on the subject. It's still a relatively new practice in a nation or two, experimentation is proving it to be fruitful and worth the initial effort.

"A farming system, it's called aeroponics and you see-" You slowly reach out and take the drawing from him so you can point at the inside portion of the paper. The tower has been split in two to show what the inside looks like, various holes strategically staggered and a simple water flow system. "You use coconut husks to put your seeds in and then since they're so small you can put them in these holes."

You rest against the desk, one foot firmly pressed against the ground, the other bent over the wooden surface. Your upper body is turned toward Silco so he can see what you're holding. "By pumping water through this pipe it then trickles back down and waters each husk. It takes significantly less water and space than actual farming. If you use one of the abandoned buildings at the pier it has the perfect amount of sunlight for this. With the space you save with these towers, depending on the placement you could end up feeding roughly. . . three hundred people with this? If you invest in sun lamps as well then you can also grow year round."

He lets you ramble on as you show him more papers regarding the farming system and the lamps. How different techniques can clean the water carried throughout the Undercity (but you'd have to throw out any vegetation grown from that) or how this system in general helps decrease pollution in the air. There's charts, graphs, papers, all of which you've nicked from the library at the academy. And surprisingly he never interrupts you, only continues to fill the room with more smoke as his cigar gets smaller and smaller.

"And that?" He waves his cigar towards your bag which had been dropped onto his desk at some point. You turn and spot the metal model which must have rolled out during your panic to organize things. His voice is in your head, accent thickened with exhaustion as he had clumsily dropped the model into your hands. The tiny lab had smelt of the soldering iron and one of those protective masks had been pressed against the top of his head, pushing back his thick chestnut hair.

You thickly swallow before plucking it from the mess of papers. "My pride and joy," you mumble. "A water purifier for our ocean. They would be built to float on the surface and inside would be this- " You pull one of the notebooks and hold it with your free hand. You never let go of the model as you flip open the journal and turn to a page filled with your messy writing and half assed drawings. "It's a filtration system made out of genetically modified algae, which I have the beginnings of in my other notebook. That being said that's not my specialty and I need a biochemists help. Which is also why I'm here."

"So you need money, materials, power and a biochemist? This is a lot to demand of someone you've just met." He rounds the table and gracefully sits behind the desk. By now his cigar sits in an ashtray, lit end stubbed against it. "Why should I help you with this?"

You don't know. Yes if it works out this design could be patented and sold to other nations but there isn't a guarantee that other places need this like yours does. The aeroponics won't really make money, just help lessen the cost of food and offer everyone a chance of an actual meal. Not the moldy scraps that are tossed to them from Piltovers waste baskets.

With him sitting down you push yourself further onto the desk, your other leg now dangling in the air so you can lean a little closer to him. He briefly stiffens, just for a millisecond. If you weren't someone who needed to focus in on the tiniest of details for your work you would have missed it.

"Because you know what it's like down here, what all this could do for the city…" You worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Think of the next generation, we're already seeing a lessened infant mortality rate due to the ventilation system that has helped dispel the gray. Who knows what that means for the overall health of the kids who have never felt that smog clog their lungs. With this-" You press your journal in front of him, dropping the model on top of the page showcasing the filtration system. "We can take bettering our city to the next step. Without the help of those topside dimwits who only help to make themselves look good."

He picks up the model, rubbing it between his index and thumb and you find yourself using all your will power not to snatch it from his grasp. This could be it, you could have it all. You just need to be quiet and not do anything stupid and impulsive. Unfortunately impulsivity seems to have taken over your very mind as of late. You weren't always so destructive and angry and tear filled. It's easy to blame it on Viktor, so you do. Everything is his fault now.

"We could have used a mind like yours back in the day." He must notice how you fixate on the model because he carefully sets it back down before sliding the journal towards you. "It's true, I know a fellow scientist who specializes more in biochemistry than with engineering and agriculture. I also am getting a decent influx of money from Shimmer and yes I have power and materials."

"So?" you impatiently blurt out.

"I have a lab Singed is currently working out of nearby, we can get you the materials for your project. If I give you this chance I want frequent updates and a guard will be monitoring you. I don't give money to strangers without ensuring they won't run off."

Perhaps the monitoring should scare you but you find yourself to overjoyed to think of being watched over. Quite honestly you are asking lot from a stranger, back at the academy it took multiple professors to sign off on your research to be given a small grant (the smallest they offered).

"I-" you place a hand flat against your stomach, the worn fabric of your vest smooth against your healing palm. The excitement bubbling within you feels like you may just float away. Tears gather at the edges of your eyes and you rapidly blink them away.

Rather ungracefully, you slide off the desk and turn to him so that you can look into his eyes. Your hands begin to gather all the papers strewn about so that you can easily clutch them. He doesn't show how he's feeling, he's just watching you.

"Thank you, I know you have so much on your plate but I promise I will do everything in my power to improve this city."

You mean it. You hope he knows you mean it. "I'll stop taking up your time but um-"

"I'll have someone take you to the lab tomorrow morning, seven am sharp."

Your address is written on a spare piece of paper in a messy scrawl of hurried writing and soon you're being ushered out. Before the door closes you look over your shoulder, hand keeping the door slightly propped open as you give him your name. In your haste to gain his sympathy to your cause you completely forgot to introduce yourself. He only nods before the guard closes the door.

As you walk out of the Last Drop your eyes catch on the greasy haired teenager from earlier and your overjoyed expression turns to one of smugness. His brows raise, mouth dropping open before one of his colleagues shout at him to hurry up.

That evening you gorge yourself on celebratory take out from a different food stall and lay out something to wear over your metal shower rod. It's just a simple pair of brown corduroy pants that are so long on you that you have to tie them around your waist with a leather cord. A simple over sized white button up and a matching brown vest. . . It's as you gather these items that are you are struck with the realization that all of these articles once belonged to Viktor.

It was common place to steal his clothes and wear them, they were nice enough for the academy and comfortable. It's why the pants are so long and the shirt is slightly bigger, men's sizing does tend to run wider than women's anyways. Your eyes trace the intricate stitching of the vest before you thickly swallow. You were never one to care about fashion, it was more about practicality. Yes you bought a few vests and have maybe one skirt or a pair of pants that are your own but, you cared more about your project and Viktor.

With him gone it will be easier to focus. You doubt you'll find yourself falling for your new partner anyways. It's not like it's some common thing, besides you had begun dating Viktor before leaving for Piltover in the first place. All that matters now is your work, nothing more and nothing less. With an affirmative nod at your thinking you shut off the bathroom light and crawl into your rather uncomfortable bed.

At seven am you speed down your apartments stairs, vest unbuttoned and sleeves unrolled with boots half tied. You barely remembered to lock your door behind you in your hurried state. You find a woman leaning against the food stall situated right by the door to your building with a take out box and chopsticks in hand. The first things you noticed about her were her sheer size and the gleaming gold of her left arm. She had some sort of metal prosthetic in place of said arm and seemed to be struggling to use the chopsticks as her metallic fingers fumbled with the wooden utensils.

Her prominent aquiline nose scrunched as the tan woman grunted in annoyance. The second you stepped outside and into her space her eyes snapped to you and she shoved the barely eaten box into a nearby trashcan. "C'mon, I got shit to do."

Her voice is gravelly and low, perhaps from frequent smoking? It's a common thing in this city. Just from a glance she doesn't seem the type to yell, the baritone of her voice gives off enough intimidation on its own.

You bend to tuck your laces into your boots before jogging to catch up with her. Not only was she broad shouldered with a muscular arm but she was tall too, much taller than you. She didn't stop to confirm who you were or ask how your day was, she just stomped through the streets like she owned them. Growing up in the Undercity taught you not to mess with people like her and so you keep your mouth shut and try your best to match her pace.

Her speed walking was an almost jog for you and your bag continuously bumped against your back with each step deeper into the Lanes. Your fingers fumbled to tightly roll your sleeves whilst keeping up but you only managed to achieve rolling one of them by the time you arrived at a sketchy looking building.

Technically the entire Undercity is sketchy but this specific building oozed bad news. It's the kind that makes the hair on your arms stand on end and a chill run down your spine. The towering woman reached for the door with her robotic hand and pulled it- no yanked it open. A slew of expletives echoed through the alley as the door slammed against the building, hinges squeaking. Dust from the buildings brick wall sprinkled down the alley like snow.

After taking several deep breathes she stomped inside to a stairwell. She didn't hesitate to go down the stairs to a basement where a metal door was ajar. The stairwell was clean and the landing in the basement was too, from the crack through the door you saw some kind of green hue that began to fill the stairwell once the woman pushed open the door. This time she used her regular hand.

Inside was an expansive room full of metal shelves and tables. At the very back wall is where you find the green hue. There are multiple glass bio reactor's full of different sized creatures, mostly large creatures. All floating in some green liquid and connected to various metal tubes. Your stomach twists at the sight and suddenly you think of Babette and all her warnings.

But this is science and it's what you need. You signed up for this knowing these were unsavory people and you can't back out because you're being confronted with that reality. So instead you take a deep breath to try and dispel your nerves. The metal shelves are lined with different materials and glass jars full of liquids you can't outright identify. That feeling from before, that offness, only sticks to you like glue.

The woman, whose name you never caught, simply turns to you and gestures to the off putting lab. "Welcome to paradise, Piltie-"

"I'm not from Piltover," you interrupt her with a defiant tilt of your chin. Eyes stare into her gray ones, chapped lips pressed into a thin line. "I just spent a few years at the academy."

Her nose scrunches, lips curling with distaste. You somehow made things worse, dammit. "Ain't any better being some kind of sympathizer. Don't slack off or Silco will know."

She storms out before you can conjure up a reply of some kind. As the door slams shut behind her you are suddenly aware of how alone you are in this creepy place. To the right is two doors, both shut and despite your naturally curious mind, you find yourself deciding to avoid opening either. Curiosity is needed to be a scientist, but knowing when to leave something the fuck alone is also needed to survive down here.

You drop your bag on a nearby table and pull out all your papers and journals. The model stays safely tucked in an inner pocket, away from prying eyes and thieving fingers. The first hour in the lab is spent with you organizing your things and exploring the different shelves and drawers. You manage to find a soldering iron and other much needed materials for your work.

The biochemist Silco mentioned doesn't come around until your second hour. At this point you've turned a nearby chalk board into a space full of various equations you had last been working on at the academy. Some of your progress has faded from the recesses of your mind, something that happens when time is spent away from something and evidence of it is gone. As you're lost in solving a difficult equation, chalk in one hand and the other hand placed on your hip, a voice rings out from the other side of the room.

"You must be the woman Silco mentioned."

The chalk drops from your hand as you clumsily spin around, long laces from your untied shoes causing you to stumble into the chalk board behind you. Your hands grip the wooden edges of the board as you come face to face with a disfigured man.

Half his face is bandaged and a bandanna is covering him from the nose to his collarbones. He has bandages peaking out from black robes that are tightly wrapped around his skin and you wonder how he's alive. His bald head gleams under the dim lighting of the lab as he walks over to your chalk board. You gulp.

You definitely do not need to worry about gaining feelings for this man.

"Yes, and you must Singed." You quickly dust your hand off on your pants before extending it and offering him your name. He leaves your hand untouched as his eyes glance over the chalk board before looking over at the table full of your work.

Singed heaves a tired sigh as he looks at all your research from afar before walking over to a free table. He places beakers from nearby shelves onto it along with burners and various other supplies. "Do not try to go into either of those rooms, the upstairs of this building or touch those bio reactors. If you do any of these things I will not help you and I will let Silco know you're worthless."

Your eyes drift to the set of doors nearby before slowly nodding. Something tells you that you don't want to know whats in there so instead of arguing you pick up your fallen piece of chalk and begin explaining everything to your new partner.

Taglist : @soniiyi @galactic-magick @adsky4 @alexandra-001 @drpepper280 @mac-and-cheese21 @watasinekoru @anthy-j-ander @fudosl (if your name is struck through than it would not let me tag you! You may need to check your settings)

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision. despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 9k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i don't even know what to say. i normally don't talk a lot and i'm mostly very unserious, but this is the last chapter of the farmouse and honestly, i'm super emotional about it. i'm really grateful for those of you who took the time to read and support this fic, every kind word has meant everything to me. i wrote this fic during a tough time when i needed warmth and joy, so i hope that this fic was able to bring even just a little bit of that for you while reading. (the writing of this chapter was quite literally delayed because my three year relationship ended midway through lol) this was also my first piece of writing in years and it's safe to say that i was able to fall in love with writing again because of this fic, so it'll always hold a special place in my heart. thank you times a hundred again <3 

part ten: the midsummer festivalㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ   previous. epilogue. masterlist

  xxiv. the midsummer festival

squeezing through bodies in the stands, it took all of your focus to not drop the popcorn and drinks wedged in your arms. you should have asked someone to come with you, but you were in such a rush, not wanting to miss a thing. finally, you made it to your seat, plopping yourself in between jiwon and yoongi, and your eyes remained fixed on the lawn the entire time.

  amber valley had the most beautiful days you’d ever laid eyes on and today was no exception. you weren’t sure if it was because of the natural charm in the sleepy town or a biased sense of nostalgia towards the countryside that you carried. the midsummer festival was held at the peak of the season, where humidity was as thick as honey and not a single cloud escaped being casted away from the cerulean of the sky. you had no choice but to throw on a tank top and shorts because anything else would feel like suffocation.

  “i didn’t miss anything, did i?” you didn’t mean to scream, but there was no other way for your voice to beat the crowd amongst yourselves.

  jiwon shook her head, her hair splaying from underneath the baseball hat that she so obviously stole from her brother. “no!”

  the show-jumping competition was one of the newest additions to the fair and it proved to be one of the most popular. not only did the majority of the town come out to observe, but the fair also drew in an impressive number of visitors from elsewhere - some of which attended the fair specifically to watch the show-jumping. 

  “LETS GO KOOKIE!” screamed hoseok at the top of his lungs, holding up a customized poster board with a printed picture of jungkook and leo, depicting the words ‘go jungkook!’

  yoongi groaned, “can you sit down? they haven’t even finished setting up for the jump-off yet.”

  at this point in the competition, it was down to jungkook and another competitor, a man a few years younger named yesung. up until now, they both achieved the same score after the round performance and both cleared nearly perfect showings. the jump-off was a shortened course with tighter turns and higher jumps, intended to break the tie and determine the winner.

  the crowd began cheering when jungkook and yesung reappeared, standing and waiting for instructions. you found jungkook adorable in his outfit, a dark green show jacket and breeches that emphasized his leg muscles. you had to catch yourself from staring too hard at his thighs because it seemed like yoongi caught you, waving a hand in front of your face with a snicker. you only glared at him.

  it was mayor kim with the microphone, explaining the rules to the crowd. “and, to decide the order for performance, we have conducted a random draw. as a result, we will see. . .choi yesung go first!” he proclaimed, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd.

  from where you stood, you noticed jungkook naturally relax his shoulders. for that, you also breathed out a sigh of relief. he stepped away to where leo was, making way for yesung to complete his round.

  when it was time to begin, everyone rose to their feet. from what you saw and heard of yesung, he was also a well-seasoned equestrian. he wasn’t as decorated as jungkook, but he had the advantage of winning the last show-jumping competition in the spring. you didn’t realize jungkook was out for vengeance, but he was indeed looking to reclaim his name.

  every fraction of a second mattered in the jump-off round and so, your eyes were glued. the pressure was on and you watched yesung charge ahead. he decided to take some risky turns, likely to shave off time. the first one was executed perfectly and you nearly jumped at the second, challenging turn. it was not calculated well, as it resulted in a rail down at the penultimate fence.

  “oh shit!” one of the boys yelped, watching the unfortunate accident. 

  yeung finished the course at a respectable, but flawed time. it was shame, since his speed and ability could have easily secured a victory. he knew it, too, judging by the disappointment in his eyes. you almost felt bad for him, if it wasn’t jungkook off to the side and gearing up for his turn.

  now, it was jiwon screaming as loud as she could. “YOU CAN DO IT!” she screeched, cheering for her brother and you joined in. 

  already mounted on leo, jungkook looked up, right at your section. he gave a small wave and you all went wild - even mrs. oh, who brought her own sign to cheer him on. you guys weren’t the only ones, though, as it seemed that jungkook was a favourite amongst fans.

  “jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook,” chanted the boys and you weren’t sure who started it, but you also began chanting, too.

  he readied himself and at the sound of the horn, blasted off. the tensions were thicker, with the stakes at hand and the pressure on a seasoned competitor looking to re-establish himself. you couldn’t imagine the weight of the crowd under the beating of the july sun, considering the heat made you already down your water bottle by the first hour of the competition and were in half the clothing jungkook was in. between you and jiwon was a shared usb handheld fan, as the two of you silently took turns holding it - eyes too glued to the show and shouting jungkook’s name.

  he was fast and sharp, yet every movement of his was so well thought out. at full force was a risky approach, but was so far bearing perfect results. you felt your heartbeat getting louder and louder, making your head pound with adrenaline. the last few seconds, the world became quiet and all you could focus on was jungkook. then, the eruption snapped you back into reality.

  “LET’S GOOO!”

  if someone was somehow not on their feet watching the final round of the show, they certainly were now, as jungkook zoomed to the end with no flaws and an incredible time. even you had to blink a few times, trying to see the time recorded clearly and realize your eyes were not deceiving you.

  “there’s no way that’s not a record!” you heard jimin exclaim and you didn’t doubt him.

  there was a hushed murmur over the crowd, as mayor kim stepped to the podium once more. tapping the microphone a few times, you and the rest of the crowd winced at the feedback that came with it. then, mayor kim spoke.

  “ladies and gentlemen. . .” he begun, loud and clear.

  jungkook was still catching his breath to the side, having yet to even take off his helmet. all eyes were peeled on mayor kim, as he took an extra pause for dramatics. if you weren’t also about to jump right out from your skin, you’d roll your eyes.

  “. . we have a winner AND a record setting time. jeon jungkook, young man, please join me on this stage.”

  no longer holding your breath, you roared along with your friends and the earth practically rumbled. jungkook’s smile was as bright as the day, as he whooped in response and raised his fist in the air. you were filled with nothing but joy. 

  before he stepped up onto the stage, jungkook displayed his integrity by walking towards yesung and enthusiastically shake the other man’s hand. yesung didn’t look too upset, more bewildered at the quality of performance that his opponent put on. they exchanged words, smiles reaching their eyes.

  “that’s my brother!” screamed jiwon, as if no one knew the obvious.

  jungkook then took mayor kim’s hand in one and attempted to balance his new, golden trophy with the other arm. in a split second, your friends, jiwon, and the oh family began filing out of the stands and you could hear hoseok yelling for you to follow. you widened your eyes, shuffling out of your seat as quickly as possible.

  of course, jiwon was the fastest and made it to the lawn first. she squealed, as jungkook embraced her in a hug and spun her around. the cheers didn’t falter and only grew when namjoon and taehyung momentarily put jungkook on their shoulders.

  you trailed behind everyone, nearly stumbling on your way down. you couldn’t see much, tiptoeing as far as you could. the chatter was still loud, but then the small crowd parted as you heard jungkook call out. it was your name. he was calling for you to come to the front.

  “oooooh,” someone said, but you ignored it.

  there was no doubt in your mind that your cheeks were a cherry red, but you refused to look anyone in the eye - even jungkook. you and your friends gathered around the podium with jungkook, as the event photographer asked you to move closer for a picture. everyone made way for you, as jungkook gestured for you to be the one on his right side, while jiwon and mrs. oh were on his left. 

  “congratulations,” you finally said, straining for your voice to be heard over the cheers. you still did not meet his eyes, finding yourself in a kind of shyness that was unknown to your normally headstrong personality.

  that was something that came natural to jungkook, having an innate ability to bring out parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. before moving back to amber valley, you walked around with your chin up, thinking that you knew everything you needed to know. 

  now, at 25 years old, you knew harvesting soybeans and playing cards at the local pub with your new friends. you knew the smell of the ocean in the sweltering summer and you knew riding horses in sunflower fields at sundown. looking at jungkook, you knew what it was like to be slowly, but surely, swept off your feet. the realization creeped up on you, a sneaky little thing.

  namjoon was the one holding onto leo, as your group huddled together for the picture. you instinctively hugged into jungkook’s touch, holding them in front of the camera.

  jungkook spoke, right into your ear. “i’m so glad i was able to have this moment with you.”

  that made you finally look up at his eyes and in that moment, a flash went off. this is when you also snapped out of your daze and despite his stare unwavering, you turned back to the photographer.

  “oh, maybe we should take another -” you started, knowing that neither you or jungkook were looking in the camera, but he waved you off.

  “no, no! this picture came out perfect,” the photographer winked at you and asked for everyone to disperse, before you could argue. something told you that you were going to see a picture of you and jungkook gazing into each other’s eyes on the front cover of the local newspaper.

  he proceeded to take a few more solo pictures of jungkook with leo, followed by some shots with the mayor. jungkook was supposed to be kept busy, but he continued sneaking glances your way.

  it was mrs. oh who gently tapped your shoulder. “now’s the time, honey. come to the store quick before he notices.”

  beside her, sangwoo rolled his eyes. “he’s going to notice, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her.”

  regardless, you scrambled to follow behind mrs. oh. you weaved through the crowd, who all wanted to take a look at their champion in disbelief of the amazing time jungkook scored. the show began relatively early in the day, too, so the streets were only now becoming more and more full with the midsummer festival in full swing.

  the roads were blocked off for pedestrian access only, as the fair was one of the busiest times of the year for amber valley. today was a day that drew crowds from outside of town, as the festival was an adored regional celebration and served as a tourist destination. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were told that the midsummer festival attracted the highest visitors of any other day in the year for the town.

  carnival games, market booths and amusement rides were already set up since the morning and it was already getting tiresome to navigate through the festival goers. but, of course, you were trailing behind the force that was mrs. oh, who made way with ease with her commanding voice. 

  “time to get to work,” she sighed, pulling out a key from her pocket upon reaching the general store.

  you said, “it’s a shame you can’t enjoy the festivities, mrs. oh.”

  “oh, i don’t mind. i’ve lived in this town all my life, i’ve been here, there and everywhere when it comes to the fair,” she mused, unlocking the front door for the two of you. “business is business, the traffic the store will get is more important.”

  a cool blanket enveloped your skin once you stepped in and you were never more grateful for the invention of air conditioning in your life. she was right, though, as you noticed some people nearby the store and already eyeing it.

  “most businesses are closed today, but not us!” mrs. oh smiled, as she turned the sign by the window from ‘closed’ to ‘open.’

  this is how you knew how much jungkook truly meant to mrs. oh. “jungkook is real lucky for you to open late just to watch him,” you said, examining the front counter and spotting a pair of jungkook’s work gloves.

  “the store opens late every time he has a competition. sangwoo adores him and that young man and jiwon are family to us,” mrs. oh mused, seemingly lost in thought, before blinking back into the moment. “ah, don’t mind me. i almost forgot why you’re here, sweetie - the flowers are in the back room!”

  you thanked mrs. oh, following the direction that she pointed towards. jimin called you corny for getting jungkook flowers for your first official date, but you thought it was fitting, given the competition. it was even better with the results of the show and you could only hope that jungkook liked the ones you picked out. you figured that men deserve to get a nice bouquet of flowers at least once, too. 

  the bundle of fresh sunflowers were actually your favourites, but that wasn’t important. you grabbed them from the backroom fridge, wrapped in cellophane and yellow paper. this was when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and your eyes widened, hoping it wasn’t jungkook just yet.

  unfortunately, your hopes disappeared, but the text still put a smile on your face - just because it was him at the end of the day.

  are you at the store? i saw you and mrs. oh lol i can be there in a few minutes. 

  you replied yes and came out to wait. the store already had its first customers within a few minutes of opening and mrs. oh was ringing them out. she met your eyes and winked, mouthing some encouraging words to you. 

  with the same smile on your lips, you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her. 

  although you would have loved to loiter inside the store for the air conditioning, you were already bashful enough from everyone watching you and jungkook at the show and you would have rather met jungkook away from mrs. oh’s nosiness. she was lovely, but she appeared to be one of your and jungkook’s biggest fans and you didn’t want to act awkward, knowing that you were being watched.

  the bouquet was hidden behind your back, as you patiently waited outdoors. you didn’t know what to expect out of your day, but the longer you waited for jungkook, you grew more and more nervous. it was odd, knowing that the anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach was because of your childhood best friend. 

  the thoughts were promptly swept away when you caught sight of jungkook approaching you. he changed clothes from his riding gear, sans his favourite dirty boots that remained on his feet, and was now wearing a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans. you always had to take a moment to admire the definition of his muscles and his sharp gaze that left you breathless, but you were distracted this time by the bundle of golden flowers in his grasp.

  jungkook looked a little bit concerned at your expression, as you were stifling a laugh. you almost felt bad, but the sight was too funny for you to ignore.

  “hey - uh, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

  you revealed the identical bouquet from behind your laugh and he, too, looked dumbfounded. the wrapping and greenery differed from one another, but it was clear that the two of you picked your flowers from the same field by your houses. it was the same field the two of you rode on the past summer and played in as kids.

  “congratulations again for first place,” was all you could manage to say, offering your flowers towards him.

  jungkook finally broke out into a chuckle, shaking his head. “thank you. congratulations, for uh. . “

  “for what? being jeon jungkook’s date to the fair?” you chided, as you took his flowers in your hands.

  “shut up. am i not original or something?” jungkook asked. “like, come on, we got each other the same thing. i’m already failing at this date thing, aren’t i?” he joked.

  you rolled your eyes and flicked his arms. “it’s been, like, five seconds.”

  “ow!”

  “we’re not just on a date today, jungkook. we’re on a mission to win some prizes,” you declared. 

  jungkook tilted his head slightly with a smile growing. “oh, are we?” he paused. “then, am i allowed to hold your hand during this mission?”

  the idea startled you, but you didn’t shy away. nodding without a word, this was the signal for jungkook to pick up your free hand and interlock his fingers with yours. somehow, it wasn’t a moment that sent ringing sensations in your ears nor was it one in slow motion. it was familiar, almost, and felt. . . right. it felt natural, like it was coming home after a long day.

  you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “and thank you for the flowers. you remembered my favourite.” you weren’t even sure how he knew, but you knew that jungkook would only give you a gift with a well-thought out meaning behind them. 

  this time, it was jungkook’s cheeks who reddened slightly. he didn’t say anything else, only squeezing your hand and leading the way.

  ***

  jungkook was tired. you were tired of telling him to suck it up. you had gone two summers in a row without winning a single prize and you were determined to walk away from the fair with at least one thing. albeit, at this point, you ran out of tickets to play games and you knew jungkook had extra, since he received some from his parents, but your grandfather also gave him some. he was your last hope, as you begged him to use the last of his tickets to get you something.

  “hoseok hyung told me these games are rigged. can’t we just go do bumper cars, bunny?” jungkook groaned, as the two of you walked away empty handed from balloon darts.

  you pouted. “no. i just want one of those big charmander stuffies, i know you can win them!”

  “why don’t you play the games?”

  “because i’m bad at them, how do you think i lost all of my tickets so quickly?” you responded, crossing your arms over your chest.

  jungkook grumbled more complaints under his breath, while you forcibly dragged him towards the ring toss booth.

  “hey kids! giving the ‘ol ring toss a try?” beamed the booth attendant, who was the same every year.

  you weren’t entirely sure what his name was, but you and jungkook collectively agreed on calling him “carnival man” and he recognized the two of you each time the festival was in town. though you were about four feet of fury at the time, you had quiet rage against carnival man. you were convinced he cheated you out of getting the xl sized penguin prize last year and you wanted revenge. 

  “kookie will do it!” you exclaimed, smugly pushing your best friend forward.

  “yeah, whatever, kookie will do it,” jungkook rolled his eyes and handed over a single ticket to carnival man.

  carnival man happily took the ticket from jungkook. “it’s nice to see you kids again. you’re always together, huh?”

  “unfortunately,” the two of you said in unison, only for you two to shoot each other identical daggers.

  at this, carnival man guffawed in amusement and gave jungkook his sets of rings. 

  here, jungkook did not win. in fact, he didn’t win you a single thing that summer and you didn’t speak to him for the following day because of it. only a day, though, since carnival man was right - the two of you were always together. you eventually gave in after the first day of silent treatment and showed up to jungkook’s house with your horse, marshmallow, and convinced him to join you by the sunflower fields. he had scoffed, called you stupid, and then without missing a beat, came outside to accompany you.

  ***

  “kookie! and. . .bunny? is that you?”

  carnival man was a lot older than you remembered, but you weren’t sure if it was just the tricks of time playing a game on you. it seemed like everything was so much more youthful and bright in your childhood memories. however, the brightness in carnival man’s smile didn’t falter and it only widened upon laying eyes on you and jungkook. then, his eyes trailed over to your clasped hands together and it widened even more.

  “you remember me?” you gaped, as carnival man took your hand and shook it vigorously. 

  “of course i do! well, i remember the two of you, specifically,” he exclaimed. “i see jungkook here, but i’ll always remember how you two kids came around together every summer! you’re all grown up now!”

  although lines of age creased his smile and streaks of grey contrasted against his black hair, seeing carnival man again made you feel like you were ten years old all over again. the fair seemed so much more larger than life and this moment was one of those moments that reminded you of why you loved summer so much.

  jungkook smiled, “it’s nice to see you, mr. lee.” he appeared to be a bit shy, as the older man was fixated on the sight of you two holding hands.

  it occurred to you that carnival man was never his real name and meeting him as mr. lee felt like a call to the reality in which you were now a grown up. you realized that jungkook continued to see mr. lee at the fair over the years without you and didn’t feel the same rush of nostalgia.

  the only reason why jungkook couldn’t also shake mr. lee’s hand was the abundance of prizes nestled into his arms. the two of you left your sunflower bouquets at the general store - luckily, it was now busy with tourists wanting water bottles or sunscreen and the two of you avoided any gushing or questioning from mrs. oh - and thank god you did because you did not expect to be carrying around so many things. a mini teddy bear, a sheet of temporary tattoos, a t-shirt, some gift cards, and a larger kuromi plush toy that was double the size of your head.

  thankfully, jungkook held onto everything without complaint and remarked that you had no business carrying anything so long as he was there. the funny part was that you two had barely visited all of the games and the only reason why you’d won so many prizes was because you two were competing at each one.

  “and you know i refuse to lose,” jungkook said at the first game, which was a basketball shootout. 

  with the same competitive spirit, the two of you both did very well at each game and walked away with a prize from almost every one. it also probably helped that you were now adults with disposable income and could pay to participate in as many games as you wanted. jungkook had announced that he was ready to make up for his past failrures, never forgetting the summer that resulted in your silent treatment because of his inability to win you a prize. you didn't think that meant struggling to carry around your prizes within the first hour.

  now, mr. lee began setting up the ring toss for the two of you. “so, you moved back to amber valley, young lady?”

  “yes, sir. i’m running the family farm now,” you replied.

  “congratulations, bunny. that’s some hard, honest work, my best wishes to you!” mr. lee said. “you know, i always thought you two had quite a special bond, even at a young age.”

  jungkook avoided eye contact. “mr. lee, you’re kind,” he chuckled, nervously. 

  “i mean it! it fills my heart with joy to see you two here after all these years.” there was twinkle in mr. lee’s eyes as he spoke. “for some people, their universes are stitched together with unseen threads that will always lead them back to where they belong.”

  it was your turn to squeeze jungkook’s hand and neither of you said anything more, only exchanging a look.

  ***

  jungkook wouldn’t stop pouting and you weren’t sure what to do about it. it really wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help the fact that, like most young girls, you got your growth spurt earlier than your male friend. you were a few inches taller than jungkook at this point and he was deflated to learn that you were tall enough for the rollercoaster, while he had yet to measure up.

  “sorry kid. maybe next year,” the ride attendant gave jungkook a small smile.

  you were disappointed, as well, as you and jungkook had waited nearly thirty minutes in line. all for jungkook to not be able to ride the coaster. you turned to him, who sighed.

  he said, “it’s okay, bunny. you can go on without me.”

  a part of you did want to get on the ride, especially after waiting for quite some time, but you didn’t hesitate to shake your head. 

  “no. i won’t go on without you,” you stressed, to which jungkook looked at you in shock. 

  he shook his head. “no, it’s okay. just go, we waited for so long.”

  “i said i’m not going,” you said, standing your ground.

  instead, you walked off from the front of the line, ignoring jungkook calling your name until he ran up to catch up to you. 

  “hey! what are you doing?”

  “i said i’d go with you. if you’re not there, there’s no point,” you shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “we’ll go next time. hey, wanna go see carnival man and do ring toss?”

  you didn’t wait for an answer, as you made a beeline for the ring toss booth. jungkook jogged up to you and you noticed that he was trying to hide the smile on his face.

  ***

  “jungkook. . .this is the kid’s roller coaster.”

  everyone else in the line was about half jungkook’s size, unless they were one of the parents giving the two of you a dirty look for getting on the kid’s coaster. there was no explicit rule that adults couldn’t ride the rollercoaster, but it was a very popular ride and jungkook had the privilege of cutting the line, as the two of you were given a free “fast lane��� pass by mayor kim for being local small business owners.  the fast lane pass was costly and the majority of fairgoers opted to wait in the long lines.

  jungkook didn’t seem to care too much, though. “yeah, so what? you picked the giant swing and said the next ride was my choice.”

  “you’re pissing off the kids,” you whispered in a lower voice, as the attendant let out the last party from the rollercoaster. you guys were up next. “i thought you would want to do the drop tower or something.”

  “you promised me that we could go on the ride the last time we were here. remember, when i was too short?” he casually whistled. 

  “jungkook, that was, like, seventeen years ago.”

  he continued, “and i wrote it for our summer bucket list! you may have never seen it, but i was dying to go on this ride.”

  and that was how you found yourself crammed into a kid-sized rollercoaster at the very front with jungkook. with impeccable timing, it looked as though some of the boys were passing by. seokjin caught your eye first and tapped taehyung’s shoulder beside him, who then got namjoon’s attention.

  “oh my god,” you groaned, watching the three of them wave wildly at you and jungkook. 

  on the other hand, jungkook found this hilarious. he waved back and you covered your blushing face with your hands. you were already embarrassed from the cut eye given to you by the parents in line, now this.

  “have fun, lovebirds!” called namjoon, as seokjin and taehyung proceeded to take several pictures of you and jungkook from afar.

  ***

  “my tooth hurts!” you whined, shoving your cotton candy into jungkook’s hands.

  at seven years old, it was on the later side for you to lose your first tooth. you’d been wiggling it for weeks, but cried when jimin offered to rip it out of your mouth for you. this happened just a few moments ago, before jungkook yelled at him to go back to his mommy. 

  jungkook didn’t seem bothered and was actually pleased to double fist two sticks of cotton candy. “thanks bunny!” he ignored your complaints and happily continued snacking away.

  this was the first year that you and jungkook were permitted to roam around without adult supervision - kind of. as long as you were in vicinity of ten year old hoseok, who was sitting on a bench and playing on his gameboy advance, the two of you were free to play together.

  “this isn’t fair, i’m not allowed to eat anything,” you huffed. your grandfather warned you that any sort of sweet will just hurt and you were better off enjoying other parts of the festival.

  “don’t tell my parents, they said i could only have one cotton candy,” jungkook said, as he observed your sad appearance. “why do you look like that?”

  “like what?”

  “you look sad. it’s ugly on you,” jungkook mindlessly commented and you flicked his arm. “ow!”

  you glared at him. “don’t call me ugly!”

  “i said looking sad is ugly on you. so, don’t be sad,” jungkook replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  when your expression didn’t change, jungkook sighed and looked over to where hoseok was sitting. the older boy’s eyes were glued to his screen and was now joined by jimin, who was cheering him on in whatever game he was playing. then, jungkook turned back to you.

  “what?” you asked.

  “wanna go watch the magician show?” he asked, grinning. “so you can stop being sad.”

  your eyes widened, as you took your turn to look over your shoulder at hoseok. “your mom said to stay nearby! what if we get in trouble?”

  “i dare you to come with me to the magician show,” jungkook countered, knowing that was the secret word that made you do just about anything. you hated the idea of losing dares to jungkook and had yet to do so.

  you knew you were going to get an earful if you left hoseok’s sight, who was supposed to be watching over you. then, you remembered that, earlier that day, hoseok refused to let you play a level of mega man on his gameboy and decided you didn’t care if you got him in trouble.

  “okay! let’s go!” your features suddenly brightened and you let jungkook take you by the wrist - not the hand because, ew, it was jungkook - towards the other end of the fairgrounds. 

  the cotton candy had already been consumed and jungkook tossed the paper sticks into the nearest trash can, as the two of you quietly giggled about your mischievous sneak-away. 

  ***

  unlike jungkook, jiwon had no trouble tracking down her sibling at any given moment, even with the large crowds gathered for the festival. she also didn’t seem to care that her brother was in the middle of a date, as you were the one to first notice that she was dragging sangwoo by the wrist in your direction. 

  “is something wrong, jiwon?” jungkook asked and there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice at the appearance of the younger girl. the two of you were engaged in somewhat of a flirtatious conversation and jiwon’s premise immediately killed jungook’s mood.

  “hi y/n!” she greeted and then she turned to jungkook wearing a sickly sweet smile. “oppa, may i have ten bucks?”

  “i gave you twenty bucks this morning,” he raised an eyebrow at her. 

  meanwhile, sangwoo was in awe of the amount of prizes in jungkook’s arms. “woah! you guys won all of those?” at this point, there was an addition of a frisbee and a stuffed octopus. 

  “i won most of them,” both you and jungkook said at the same time, resulting in a shared glare. 

  jiwon cleared her throat. “so. can i have ten bucks, please? we wanna get cotton candy!”

  “what did you do with the first twenty bucks?”

  “we went on the teacup ride! oh, and we got rice cakes and funnel cake and actual cake,” jiwon explained and went a little too fast, so you didn’t doubt that the kids did, in fact, consume all that sugar.

  it seemed like jungkook also didn’t doubt it and while you knew he wanted to scold her, you were taken aback to find him letting go of your hand to reach for his wallet in his back pocket. he sighed and, as he was still carrying all of your prizes, merely held it out for jiwon to fish a twenty out of. 

  “only because today is the festival,” he warned and muttered a second part under his breath, “and only so you can leave us alone.”

  you also had the same feeling that jiwon and sangwoo were not going anywhere without their ultimate goal, especially since the former seemed to have the same persistence that her brother had.

  “thank you, i love you!” jiwon declared, handing the wallet back to her brother and planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. “thank you, thank you! we’ll leave you alone now!”

  the pair scurried off together, as sangwoo also yelled out his thanks. they ran through the crowd together, giggling amongst themselves. when jungkook took your hand again, you were still lost in thought, watching the two purchase cotton candy from far away. sangwoo handed the first stick to jiwon and the two talked with one another, cheerily enjoying their treat.

  “don’t get me wrong, making sure jiwon is eating healthy is important to me, but today’s the fair. it’s special for her and sangwoo like it was for us, might as well let her off the hook for today.” he noticed you watching them and followed your stare. “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

  “they are. how long have they been that close?”

  “since they were born, basically. they’re always with each other,” jungkook shook his head.

  “do you think jiwon has a little crush?” you wondered aloud, as jiwon shoved sangwoo playfully for whatever joke he might have had made. 

  jungkook asked, “did you?”

  he was referring to the two of you as kids, as it was clear that your shared wistful stares at jiwon and sangwoo were a product of looking back at your own childhoods. two best friends that stood by each other’s sides at all times and grew up together. you had to admit, you saw your and jungkook’s reflections when you looked at jiwon and sangwoo. 

  upon hearing the question, you rolled your eyes. “you wish, jeon jungkook.”

  but, you weren’t entirely sure. adults joked that you and jungkook would grow up to marry each other, just from watching you two play chess or ride horses together. there was a magnetic force that naturally stuck the two of you together, from day one. you cared deeply for jungkook before you could have a comprehensive understanding of what it was like to have love for someone beyond your family.

  “pretty sure i had a crush on you. that’s probably why i was devastated when you stopped coming to the valley,” he casually mentioned, but you turned to him in surprise.

  “were you really?”

  “yeah. you were my closest friend.”

  “i’m sorry,” you said. “you were mine, too. i just thought you would forget about me, i guess. then, i don’t know - “

  jungkook cut in, “- we grew up. that’s what happened, it’s okay.”

  that was the reality of life. it was sad to look back on, but it was overshadowed by the incredible forces that brought you and jungkook back together. never, in a million years, would you have ever imagined standing in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again. 

  “ever since i came back, you became my closest friend again. even with all the weird stuff going on between us,” you admitted the last part with the roll of your eyes.

  although you were just teasing, jungkook’s expression turned serious. “hey, i am sorry about that. but, honestly. . . “ he sighed. “like you said, we became close friends again. and so fast, too.”

  “it got confusing, didn’t it?” you asked, looking at your feet. “when things seemed like it could be more, i kept trying to convince myself that, you know, this is just how we are. we’re friends, this is how we act and nothing more.”

  “you read my mind. you really did,” jungkook said, looking at you with a surprised expression. “i think i always knew, though. from the moment i saw you again.”

  you thought back to the first time you met jungkook again. you remembered how soft his hands were and how he managed to make you smile on one of the worst days of your life. that was just jungkook, though, and his way of bringing sunlight into your life, even when it was raining. 

  “i. . .i think i knew, too. but, i thought you just saw me as the little girl who used to play with you in your backyard.”

  he shook his head. “i thought you had so much on your plate. and, well, i’ll admit, i’ve had trouble even considering a love life since becoming jiwon’s guardian. she’s always come first in my life before anything else.”

  “i don’t blame you, i can’t imagine what the past few years have been like for you,” you said. “but, you were a tad bit stupid. let’s be real.”

  jungkook snorted. “yeah, i know i was stupid. believe me, the last thing i wanted to do was fully push you away. my childhood best friend came back into my life and i had to confront that she was now a strong, beautiful and incredibly intelligent woman that i had feelings for.”

  this was the first time that things were finally being said aloud and it was as if a thousand pounds was being lifted off of your shoulders. you were light, you were flying. 

  “but,” he continued. “i also had to confront that you were still my closest friend, the person who i can turn to when things go wrong. you were my friend who i laughed with and shared things with and i couldn’t lose that. i have the guys, but no one compares to how in sync we are.”

  “i know what you mean. we complement each other in this crazy way. . .” you trailed off. 

  mr. lee spoke about destinies stitched together and things meant to be. holding jungkook’s hand felt meant to be in a way that it was just natural. so did laughing with him and making him dinner and letting him do things for you, simply because he didn’t want you to do it by yourself.

  jungkook said, “do you see why i was afraid of this?” he gestured to the two of you holding hands. “if i fuck this up with you, i’ll lose both my girlfriend and my best friend. if i fuck this up with you, i’ll have let you down during a time where you just moved to a whole new town for a job with all these expectations that everyone has for you.”

  “you don’t have to be afraid of those things,” you murmured, gently placing your free hand on his arm.

  “i’m not. not anymore, when the what ifs and the idea of missing out on something good with you is even scarier.”

  suddenly, you took a look around your surroundings. it obviously wasn’t planned, but the two of you were having quite the intimate conversation just across from the face painting booth and the craft stalls. you tugged jungkook into a random corner, where there was a lone chair in between walls.

  “can you put the prizes down for a second?” you asked.

  jungkook was confused. “huh?”

  “can you put the prizes down so i can kiss you?” you commanded, giving him a pointed look. 

  then, he chuckled and without hesitation, placed your various trinkets down on the chair. you rolled your eyes with a smile and jungkook hooked a thumb on one of the belt loops of your jean shorts, using it to pull you closer. he leaned in, placing his other hand at the small of your back.

  jungkook, too, smiled into the kiss and like everything else, it felt natural. it felt like home. you melted into his arms as you always do, softly kissing back. 

  although you could have stood there forever with him, lost in his touch, you had to pull away. “you scared of that?” you raised an eyebrow.

  “shut up man,” jungkook said, but stole a quick peck from you before he let you go from his embrace.

  you thought you would never stand in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again. the world worked in mysterious ways and you were proven wrong. more so, you weren’t just standing with jungkook. you were a woman standing in the middle of the town that built your hopes and dreams. you were standing in middle of the fair that never shook off its magic, even years later. you were standing with the man who made you realize that home wasn’t just a place.

  ***

  it was safe to say that you freaked out when jungkook showed you what he stole from his dad’s tool box. you were so scared that jungkook had to beg you to not snitch on him and even threatened that he would tell your grandfather that you’d been making him help you complete your chores in the chicken coop. 

  “it’s just a pocket knife, bunny.”

  “it’s sharp! you could hurt yourself!” you hissed, stepping a few feet away from him like he had mad cow disease.

  jungkook sighed and ignored you, walking over to where your sitting spot was. this year, the midsummer festival fell on what was easily the hottest day of the summer. the heat wave was unlike any other you’d experienced so far and you were surprised that the fair was still going on. the two of you had completed just under ten minutes at the bouncy castle before you insisted you needed a break.

  the two of you had found a random tree to sit under, as you split an ice cream float to beat the heat. this is when jungkook said he had “something cool” to show you.

  you had no choice but to leave your grumbles under your breath, finding your place beside jungkook since the ice cream float was in his hand. “you’re hogging it all,” you complained and he handed it over to you.

  “are you done freaking out?” he asked.

  “what are you even gonna do with that?”

  it was as if jungkook was waiting for you to ask the question. “this.” he clicked it open and turned behind him, to the lower part of the tree of which you were leaning on. 

  your eyes were wide, as jungkook began scratching away at the wood. the first letter you could make out was “J” and you nervously looked around your surroundings. it didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention to the two of you, occupied with the festivities or trying to not pass out from the sun. 

  jungkook completed a “K” and moved on to slowly carving out your initials. “so we remember today!”

  “it’s gonna be there forever,” you sputtered. “my grandpa says that trees last forever if no one cuts them down. . .so, since our names are there, we’ll be best friends forever!”

  a toothy grin stretched across jungkook’s face. “yeah! we are. we’re going to be best friends forever.”

  ***

  considering jungkook’s victory earlier in the day, several people stopped to congratulate him throughout the afternoon. he was hard to miss and he was also just a generally well-known person around town.

  that was precisely why you were scared shitless that someone was going to recognize either of you committing vandalism. 

  “you’re covering me, right?”

  “i am, but can you hurry up?” you demanded through gritted teeth, trying to look over your shoulder to see if anyone was looking your way without looking suspicious.

  from the unassuming eye, it looked like you and jungkook were merely engaged in conversation. . .but facing the tree. you were sat cross-legged, turned to the tree as if it was another person talking amongst yourselves. instead, you were trying to cover jungkook carving into the wood.

  you shook your head. “i can’t believe our names are still on this.”

  “we did say it would be forever,” jungkook reminded you and if he wasn’t holding a pocket knife in his hands, you would’ve shoved him over.

  you always remembered that your and jungkook’s names lived on the bark of a random tree in town. there was no way you could forget the scolding the two of you received for defacing town property. 

  “what if they notice? we’re adults now, we could get charged for this,” you said.

  “then we say it was always like this,” jungkook concluded and caught your eye. “what? what are they gonna do, tell my mom and your grandpa?” 

  at that, you did let out a laugh. “i can’t imagine what they’re thinking, watching us from up there.”

  then, jungkook clicked his pocket knife close and scooted over on the grass, as he’d been blocking his work from your view the entire time. he made the initials deeper into the wood, ensuring that it wasn’t going anywhere, and added a heart around the letters. once depicting you and jungkook as friends “4ever,” it was now framed by the heart and shifted its meaning altogether. 

  “they likely made a bet about us getting together and the winner is probably rejoicing,” you suspected and jungkook nodded in agreement, snickering under his breath. 

  your hands grazed over the carved design and you thought back to the moment where the two of you first sat under the same tree. 

  jungkook said, “pretty good first date, huh? scammed some booths out of their prizes, pissed off the entirety of amber valley elementary and we vandalized town property.” he looked pleased with himself leaning against the tree and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

  with your legs stretched out and the crime completed, you were able to relax underneath the protection of the leafy branches. “mhm, definitely a first date that i’ll never forget,” you laughed, placing your head on jungkook’s chest. 

  the two of you bought an ice cream float for old times sake and jungkook brought it closer to you, so that you wouldn’t have to move. it seemed to be a constant - jungkook doing things for you just because. just because he didn’t want you to do it yourself. just because he wanted to do something for you.

  “i have arms, you know,” you joked, but took a sip regardless. 

  he responded, unfazed, “i know.” 

  the smile the two of you shared confirmed your thoughts. whether you were kids and jungkook walked you home every time just because or you were adults and jungkook wanted to spend his whole day fixing your windows just because. that was just how he was always going to be for you.

  “well, do you know that a first date implies that there’s going to be a second date?” you decided to be bold for once, as all your anxieties evaporated when you accepted that jungkook was both your best friend and a person you held feelings for - a coexistence that you realized was possible and even exciting.

  jungkook scoffed. “second date? did you not see the tree, you’re stuck with me forever.” his joke resulted in you playfully hitting his chest. 

  “did you just curse me with some witchcraft on this tree or something?”

  “rock hard, huh?” he asked, ignoring your accusation and was referring to you hitting his chest. “trust me, i know.” jungkook flexed his arm muscles and although he was kidding around, it was quite impressive and distracting.

  “i’m totally objectifying you right now, by the way. i can admit that now, right?” you smirked. “‘cause i’ve been checking you out for months.”

  at that, jungkook genuinely appeared to be a bit sheepish, his ears first turning pink like they always do. “drink your float, man,” he insisted, using it as a tool to shut you up. you nearly choked from holding in your laugh as you took another sip, which made him laugh, too.

  you sat up slightly, but still mostly laying your body weight on your jungkook, only to crane your neck to see the letters carved onto the tree. the carving waited for you two for years to return. a part of you couldn’t believe that it was jungkook you were stealing kisses and blushing from. 

  “but, for real,” jungkook spoke, now also looking at his handy work. “a second date is nothing when the tree says you’re stuck with me. that means you’re my girl.”

  he held your chin with his free hand so that you could look into his eyes as he declared the last part. jungkook’s gaze was warm and you now understood what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. it was always one of those things that you read about in books and couldn’t comprehend. you understood the moon and stars and you understood economics and science. this moment with jungkook was a pair of fresh eyes that opened your heart to a feeling of completeness that felt like it had always been there. 

  “wow, you’re not even going to ask me? this is the worst confession ever,” you managed to tease, your smile failing to fight the happiness spreading throughout your body. 

  jungkook retorted, “i saw it in your eyes, you were about to ask me first. i had to beat you to the punch, you know i hate letting you win things.”

  “i think i won either way here,” you beamed, placing your head back onto jungkook’s chest. you could feel his heart beating loudly, but he didn’t seem to mind and planted a kiss on your forehead. jungkook wanted you to know how much this moment meant to him, too. 

  your first summer back in amber valley was nothing you expected. your grandfather’s last wishes for you were for you to discover nature and what it meant to make real connections with people. it was a head first journey that you embarked on, all by yourself. yet, months later, you found yourself surrounded by a family you found yourself and the beauty of a town that you thought was forever going to only live in your memories and dreams. you found belonging. 

  jungkook taught you that home wasn’t a place. home was the sunday market with friends. home was doing things you would have never imagined yourself doing, like salsa dancing and paddle boarding. home lived in watching your hard work bloom into something greater than yourself, with each harvest and each morning you spent feeding your animals. home was even a person - a horse-riding man who was unselfish at his core and loved breakfast for dinner. 

  you dreaded the end of the night, as it seemed like the midsummer festival was a blissful magic that you never wanted to end. you could have lived in this moment forever. 

  “goodnight, bunny. i’ll see you tomorrow,” jungkook said, as the two of you stood at the doorstep of the farmhouse. he leaned down and met you in a soft kiss, where he murmured a thank you against your lips for the perfect day you shared.

  there, you realized that the magic didn’t have to end. there was always a tomorrow to look forward to when everyday was a new day to fall more and more in love with your best friend. the magic in the air didn’t even have to end when the last of the summer heat turned into the first chill of autumn, amidst the shifting hues of the leaves. the magic kept you warm throughout the winter and blossomed in the springtime. 

  for the first time in your life, you no longer had to walk away from jungkook come the rain of september. when you were younger, it seemed like the magic of amber valley only existed in the warmer months. summer was a special place in your heart and the memories of your youth, but home was something that stood by you through the changing seasons.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @shellyyy177 @myseokjinji @teddybeartaetae @jalexad @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822 @seokout @taiwan0618 @firelcrds @xwniazx

[yourmidnightlover]

getting it over with - ch 1

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: after relentless teasing and being the butt of too many jokes, you ask bucky to help you become more experienced in… a particular area of your life

warning: precious bucky, virgin shaming?, virgin reader, slight male!oc x reader, sexual harrassment, illuding to sex, talk of sex

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i am working on part 2 in my other series, timeless. i've been debating two different ways i could take it and it's been an internal battle trying to figure that out. that being said, i can't help myself and started writing this and so here it is! this will likely be a simple mini series with smut in the later parts, probably the next one tbh. anywho... enjoy!

another night with the girls, and yet another night of beng singled out and ridiculed over a miniscule part of your life. 

you were a well accomplished woman and yet all of your hard work has consistently been overlooked in nearly every conversation because of your extracurricular activities. or, well, more like your lack of extracurricular activities. 

you had been working with the avengers for five years now as their pr manager, living there for a little over three after finding it was easier to represent and present the team in a brighter light when you knew more about them. it was after you moved in that you got much closer to james ‘bucky’ barnes, who you’ve coined the nickname of ‘jamie’ for. your friends also began to question why you hadn’t, in their terms, “banged,” one of the avengers you happened to live with.

truth be told, you did enjoy spending time with them, especially bucky. but, that would be crossing a line. you were practically employed by them. well, technically you were employed by tony, but that didn’t change the fact that they were your clients. it was just particularly easy to find the good in the people who constantly saved the world. well, that, and you were supposed to make them look good anyway. 

the most difficult one to paint in the golden light was definitely bucky. you were great at getting the media to lean into his humanity and reminding them of how he had been tortured into what he became. you’ve imagined him to the public as “sargeant bucky barnes,” giving him back the title he earned rather than the name he was branded. he was still wary of venturing into the eye of the public, but everytime he did there were less people yelling at him and more people giving pitying looks and whispers. sure, he would rather not be recognized at all, but whispering was a hell of a long way from harassment. 

bucky was grateful for everything you’d done for him. truth be told, you were grateful for everything they had done for you anyway. hell they had repeatedly saved all of humanity, helping their reputation was the least you could do for them. 

but regardless of how well of a job you’ve done making the avengers’ reputation way lighter, somehow the only thing your old friends could talk about is how you’re somehow still a virgin.

“god, i can’t believe you’re still a virgin sometimes. especially being surrounded by hunks like him,” stephanie spoke up as she flipped her bleached hair behind her shoulder. “i would’ve tried my luck long before i cleared their name, girl. i mean, that sergeant guy has the prettiest blue eyes, and have you never wondered what he could do with that metal hand of his?” 

you rolled your eyes, “he’s more than a pretty face, steph. he’s actually really sweet, too. his humor’s a bit old, kinda like a grandpa.”

“well, if he’s a grandpa then i’d gladly be his sugar baby,” she squeaked as she sipped on her vodka cranberry. 

“can we not talk about him like that?” your face furrowed in embarrassment and you only hoped that she would take your blushing as remnants of the alcohol running through your body.

“why?” she scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “do you want him or something?” she paused, seeingly waiting for your response. clearly, your silence was answer enough. “oh my god you like him, don’t you?” 

“no, no, it’s not like that,” you shook your head as you downed the rest of your drink. “i just spend a lot of time with him because of the job, y’know?” 

“why don’t you just get him to pop your precious cherry?” she ventured as she stood from her stool. 

boy, had you wished for that. mostly in your wildest dreams, but part of you hoped it could maybe happen. but then, you would wake up and were reminded of your place in the world. besides, jamie was over 100 years old. there’s no way he’d want someone who didn’t know what they were doing in the bedroom. 

“or,” steph interrupted your thoughts. “we can get out there and find you a different guy to pop your cherry,” she finished with a wink as she grabbed your hands, pulling you from your seat and to the dance floor. 

you managed to sneak a glance at the clock before the crowd surrounding you made it more difficult, reading the time being 11 pm. you told the guys you’d be back before 1, so that gave you enough time to please stephanie and then politely excuse yourself. 

surprisingly, you had begun to enjoy yourself. the music wasn’t so bad with the surge of confidence the alcohol running through your veins gave you. after a few too many drinks, you were in your own world. finally unbothered by the nagging thoughts of your friends and the weight of your job on your shoulders. 

you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder before turning to see a sweet smile. he had big, brown eyes and shaggy hair, broad shoulders, none that compared to the men you lived with, but they were nice nonetheless. 

“hi,” he said even sweeter than his smile, keeping his hands to himself politely. “i-i’m noah.”

“well, hello, noah,” you smiled as you stepped closer to him, uncharacteristically throwing your arms around his neck as you continued to sway to the music. “y/n.”

“i-uh-you-you’re gorgeous,” he stuttered as his hands modestly found your waist.

“you really think so?” you said teasingly before leaning up to his ear. “i think you are super cute, yourself.” 

at this point, you had nearly forgotten all about stephanie’s presence at all. maybe she had already left with another guy, herself? who knows. right now, all you knew was that you didn’t know brown eyes could be so pretty. mayb you didn’t want to wait anymore. maybe you didn’t want to be the old virgin in your friend group anymore. maybe noah could change that.

“you’re unreal,” he chuckled as he continued to sway with you for the next song until you began to kiss on his neck. 

“you taste so sweet,” you commented in his ear before kissing right below it. he pulled back, giving you a sweet smile before connecting your lips together. 

“you taste sweeter, believe me,” he huffed out a breath as you reconnected your lips with his. 

“i think i want you, noah,” you whispered against his lips so softly he wasn’t sure he even heard you. “pretty please?” 

“ye-yea, sure,” he guided you out of the bar, you needing nearly all of his support to even walk out of the threshold of the door. 

“think ‘m sleepy, noah,” you mumbled against his neck as the cold air hit your face, as if it had began to sober you up.

“you just said you wanted me…?” he perplexed as he pulled you aside into the ally to gather yourself. 

“‘m sorry, noah,” you shrugged as the cold air hit you again. “‘s cold outside, can i go back in?” you turned to walk back inside when he grabbed your arm, probably a bit more harsh than he intended to. 

“what the fuck?” he sounded disappointed. “i complimented you, i let you make the first move, and now you just wanna back out?” he pulled you closer to his body. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“i-i dunno, i just got confused i think?” you stumbled as you tried to back away once more. “it’s too cold out here, noah.” 

“maybe this’ll warm you up,” he grabbed your pliable face and brought you back in for a kiss before you tried to push him away again.

“y/n?” you heard a raspy voice call out. “what the fuck?” you turned to see your jamie confused.

“jamie!” you tred to wiggle out of noah’s grasp once more, a disgruntled look on your face as you did so. “jamie…” you were now limply wrestling out of noah’s grasp as he scoffed at the situation in front of him. 

“what?” he said in disbelief. “you wanna lead me on and leave with this guy?”

“noah-”

“i think you need to back of the lady, alright, man?” bucky spoke up as he stepped closer towards you. “she’s clearly a bit drunk, just let me take her home and we’ll be on our way. no harm, right?” he tried to reason with the douchebag. 

“no harm?” he grasped your arm tighter before he continued, making you wince slightly. “so this bitch is able to fucking lead me on and then leave me high and dry and there’s ‘no harm’?”

“okay, i’ve tried to be nice about this,” without a second of hesitation, he had noah’s arms behind his back, not enough to seriously injure him, but just enough to harm him enough to not tempt him to do any more harm. “you will apologize to miss y/n for talking to her the way you did, you will walk away, and you won’t do anything like that to any woman in the near future, understood?” noah nodded. “am i understood?!” 

“yes, yes!” bucky nudged him further in your direction as you were leaning your back against the brick wall for stability. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“for…?” bucky taunted.

“i’m sorry for talking to you the way i did.”

“good boy,” bucky teased as he released the man, letting him run away and not sparing him another glance before he made his way closer to you. 

“‘m sorry, jamie,” you stumbled forward and threw your arms around him. you had never been so openly affectionate, especially with bucky since you knew his aversions. since you were so drunk, you simply didn’t register the unspoken boundaries you had unintentionally set in place for yourself. “didn’t wanna make him mad. jus’ changed my mind s’all,” you buried your face in his neck. 

“you have a right to change your mind, doll,” he soothed as he gently rubbed your back, leading you to steve’s car he borrowed. 

“y/n?” you snapped your head to look at bucky as he spoke. “i don’t want you to be so late again, doll. it’s almost 2 am. had me worried sick about ya,” his hand danced on your knee, you assumed to comfort you after the events of the night.

“i didn’t know,” you shook your head. “i swear, i just lost track of time. s’not like me to do this. i just got so mad and wanted to get it over with, y’know?”

“get what over with?”

“you won’t laugh at me?” you grabbed his hand that was resting on your knee and turned in your seat to face your body towards him. “never, doll,” he chuckled at your serious tone.

“i’m tired of bein’ a virgin,” you said with a sense of disappointment. “don’ want people makin’ fun of me anymore.”

“that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, doll,” he shook his head as he put the car in park before running to your side of the car and helping you out. “some people want to save that moment, i get it.”

“no,” you groaned as you leaned into him. “i don’t wanna save it. i was just scared at first, and then i didn’t want to, and now it’s too late because nobody wants to be with a virgin.”

“that’s not true, y/n,” he shook his ehad as he pressed your shared floor on the elevator. 

“would you wanna have sex with me?” you wondered aloud as bucky began coughing loudly. “don’t be mean,” you huffed and crossed your arms, figuring he was trying to hide his laugh. “steph said i should get you to ‘pop my cherry’ but i knew you would’t wan-”

“hey, that’s not what i meant,” he stopped your train of thought. 

“so you do wanna ‘pop my cherry’?” you awed at the man as the elevator doors opened. 

“i wan’ you to stop referencing it as ‘popping your cherry’,” he grimaced as he said it himself. 

“you wanna have sex with me? bang? do the deed? take my virginity? make love?”

“stop it,” he groaned as you giggled, leaning into his chest even more. “i wanna have this conversation when your sober, if you even remember it.”

“i’ll remember, my sweet jamie,” you held onto his arm as he walked you to your room, helping you get into bed before going into your bathroom and returning with your bin of skincare. “this is why you’re my sweet jamie,” if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. 

he began using your makeup wipes to remove the remnants of makeup that had survived the night, followed by micellar water to remove the excess remover from your face. you knew he had seen you do your skincare routine after having so many late movie nights with one another, but it was still flattering that he had remembered it all so well. he finished applying your toners, serums, and finally your moisturizer with gentle hands, his metal one providing a nice cold surface that woke your skin up a bit more. it wasn’t until you reached up to grab his flesh hand that he noticed the bruises lacing your arms. 

“god,” he sighed as he looked down at his lap. “i’m so sorry i was too late, doll.”

“you weren’t too late,” you shook your head at his negativity. “you were perfectly on time. you saved me. i don’t-i don’t know what would’ve happened had you not shown up. i-”

“i don’t wanna think about what could’ve happened, please,” he shook his head as he held onto your bruised wrist softly, tenderly rubbing his cool metal hand over the damaged skin before pressing a kiss to it. 

“will you stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, as if you were scared he would say no. as if he would ever tell you no. 

“only if you’re sure,” you nodded eagerly with a grin before he crawled into bed with you. 

bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest, breathing in his scent as his soothing heartbeat calmed you down after the nights antics. 

“i’ll remember tomorrow, jamie.”

CHAPTER 2

[doiliedaze]

Apple of my Eye: part one

Butch Farm hand! Abby x Farmer! reader

Warnings: none in this part, however this series will have mentions and discussion of SA so if that makes you uncomfortable please don’t read

Genre: fluff, subtle foreshadowing of angst

A/N: Like I’ve stated in the warning this story will contain mentions and discussions of SA that the reader experienced and how it has effected her life so if that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you please don’t read. I make up my stories bit by bit so as of right now there shouldn’t be any other warnings. Both reader and Abby are southern. I’ve never written someone as butch so please be nice as I want this to reflect a femme4butch relationship (because I desperately want it). I hope you all can enjoy.

1, 2 , 3

───────┈ · ·

The sun stretches into the room as the curtains lay still. The breeze outside wispy and sharp, pushing summer leaves in its wake. Pumpkin my cat mewls at me as she stretches. Her orange fur soft and short.

“Good morning” I say as I nuzzle into her fur. Pumpkin has been my closet companion since I left Atlanta. We found each other when we both needed it most. She was so small then, scared too. Pumpkin thought the whole world was out to get her and so did I.

Texas was our do-over in more ways than one. This land isn’t new to me and I’m not new to it but owning it is. This property was my grandpas, my pops and now mine. He was over running it and sprung it on me. My momma said, “opportunities don’t knock twice so decide if your door needs to open.” I know it’s mumbo jumbo but she has her point, this all fell in my lap when I needed it who’s to say I’d get a chance at solitude again. Speaking of solitude who’s taking me out of mine?

I haven’t even had a chance to take my bonnet off yet or change into some decent clothes before there was a rapping on my front door. Hurriedly I reach for my pink robe and shot gun. Peeping through the window I got a glimpse of a very tired looking woman.

She’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Her hair was long, braided back. The golden locks compliment her pale skin. “Who are you?” I say through the door. “The farm hand your father hired.” The drawl on her voice damn near made me melt and place the gun to the side.

I open the door but don’t take off the chains, “you gonna let me in little missy?”

“Yes sorry!” I take off the chains and fully open the door.

My pops mentioned that he was gonna hire a farm hand till I was more comfortable on the farm by myself but he never mentioned how beautiful she was gonna be!

“Abigail Anderson ma’am, but you can call me Abby.” She says softly like she’s afraid to raise her voice. “Hello Abby…well you know who I am so let’s sort out house rules I supposed.”

House rules:

Always knock

Be mindful of the other

Feed Pumpkin if you see her bowl is empty at 8 am and/or 8 pm

These three rules have kept us at bay for the last three months. I love new people truly just not when I find them attractive, so I haven’t given myself a chance to know her and been quite the cold roommate. Our farm is quite expansive. We home cows, sheeps, goats and horses. However we don’t sell them so we are a dairy farm!

Abby has a liking to the cows. I often catch her feeding them honeydew or reading to them, even falling asleep in the fields. It was one of those days.

I feel my heart thump as I approach her sleeping figure. Her hat tilted over her face, her button nose peeking out. Hair spilling from a loose ponytail. Her shirt open showing off her toned chest and wife pleasure. Boots thrown to the side I assume so she could be more comfortable.

“Hey roomie” she says slow and quiet. “Sorry!” I say realizing I was staring. “Y’know you’ve probably said two words to me and I think both have been sorry.” She chuckles.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper

“What for?” Clearing her throat as she fixes her hat, “do you even know what your sorry for mhm?”

“Sorry for saying sorry.”

The only sound after that was the winding breaking our tension. Until she pat the spot next to her. Nervously I sat down.

“Why don’t you like me? Have I offended you or-”

“Please stop I don’t dislike you and I’m sorry to cut you off but I truly don’t dislike you I’m just nervous. Not just with you I mean with people. Like have you seen me bring a friend up here? Nope! Well I cut mine off but that’s neither here nor there, I feel like I’m sharing too much now so to make sure I answered your question I don’t dislike you, you make me nervous but people make me nervous.” I can feel heat settle into my cheeks and embarrassment weigh on me. I hate when I start to just ramble I probably sound so stupid to her…

Her blue eyes study my dark brown ones before saying “I get anxious too.”

I nod, wanting this moment to end. I meant it when I said I cut my friends off. I couldn’t handle people especially in a bustling city anymore.

“How about we finish our chores and have dinner on the porch and talk?” She said moving her face into my wandering gaze.

“Sorry I mean yes we can…sorry for-” her squeezing my hand was enough to shut me up.

The day seemed to fly by even when we cooked together. We sat on the porch swing, facing the moonlight. For comfort I wrap myself in the fuzzy knitted blanket my grandma made for me when I was a little girl. I wonder if she’s brought anything like that with her?

“Abigail…Abby may I go first?” I clear my voice as I speak and twiddle with my fork. She gives me a silent yes with that damned gaze of hers.

“Where did you live before you lived here?” Her freckled hand slightly tightened around her fork but she kept a calm expression. “Seattle, Washington…it was beautiful especially when it rained. Which was always so I guess it was always beautiful. The rains actually not as bad as everyone thinks. It’s like a constant drizzle.”

I take leisure sips and bites as I listen. Her eyes lighting up as she tells me a bit about what she’d do over especially with her big friend group.

“So how are you adjusting here then? Seattle is different from Texas.”

“I was born here I just moved up there for personal reasons for a while is all.” I nod sensing a weight to what she was trying not to say.

“So why are you taking over the farm? Your father mentioned you use to live in Atlanta most people wouldn’t make that switch.”

I laugh lightly…my dad would gossip about me to a stranger.

“Well my dad was ready to just say fuck it and let the farm get bought out but I couldn’t let that happen. My sister lives in Chicago and she is married with children so she wouldn’t shift her life understandably so. I was ready to change…I always am so I took it. I mean I helped when I was a little girl and it’s been mostly the same!”

I rocked myself a bit faster on the porch swing and she matched my tempo.

“I am not a cat person.” She says trying to break the silence I think I created. “Do you hate Pumpkin?” I gasp causing her to snort a little and shake her head.

“Never been much of a cat person. Use to have dog named Alice.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Everyday…” she says looking at me a little.

I scoot a little closer, “we can get a dog. Not to replace her or anything but I’d like you to be as comfortable as possible so if you want a dog we can get a dog.”

“You don’t think it’ll be too much?” She turns to me, “we are on a farm I think a dog is fitting.” I laugh.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and conversation I only remembered having. I forgot how nice it was to talk to someone. Abby is a total enigma; she is sweet and inviting but she’s also closed off. I guess we’re similar in that way.

We wrapped ourselves into the blanket until sunrise, me falling asleep first. I could tell she was watching over me. She’s so warm, and smells like cider. Her musk lulling me to sleep almost as quickly as her voice is.

She’s caught my eye and I’ve caught hers let’s see who’ll make the first move.

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A/N: im quite nervous about how you guys will like this one but I hope you guys will like it because it’s near and dead to my heart. I’m tryna write a slow burn and I hope it’s working lol. I want to start a tag list so comment if you want to be on it!! I’m in love the idea of butch Abby so I can’t wait to really write out her character and I am inspired by @bambiesfics so I’ll be making a moodboard for certain fics and I definitely am making one for this one!!

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout

(Dividers- @dollywons)

[amandav09]

You say you’re pregnant at 141 (GhostxReader)

Do not worry, I continue my Oneshot on xPrincesse reader, but for now I make other stories at the same time

Warming : None

Word count : 3,5k

Gif not mine - I speak bad English and I am dislexyque, so sorry for the inconvenience

The Task Force has always been a family. Ghost found his place in the field of brothers-in-arms and a father figure.

You arrived after the team was formed. But it did not take long to integrate, especially with Simon with whom you had ended up as a couple for 5 years.

You were the sunshine of the band, but yet it was Ghost who had the biggest smile when he learned that you were carrying his child.

Now we had to tell the others.

You had the idea to make a game to tell them, Simon was not motivated and would simply send them a message, but fortunately, you intervened before.

So here you are, at a little party for the success of a complicated mission, just between members of the 141

You’re in line with the other three men

Price was at the end, a sheet pressing on the wall in front of him.

Gaz held a leaf in his back, and Soap did the same.

The goal was simple, you had to write a sentence on the sheet on the back of Soap, the boy had to write what he understood on the sheet in front of him, and so on until Price wrote the beginning sentence.

The first word was not complicated, everyone found the "I’m" not without difficulty.

The first letter of the word "Pregnant" was well written.

Soap managed to write "Pregn" before frowning. The others were only at the "e" that Johnny turned like a rocket

Price and Gaz heard only a sob before hearing the sound of the impact of one skin against another.

Simon had caught his friend before he could say too much. The Scotsman had tears in his eyes while Simon had one hand on his mouth and the other around his waist to prevent him from jumping on you with joy.

Gaz didn’t have time to turn around as he heard you right behind him.

"It’s not over, Soap has already found the phrase."

He sighed and refocused on his sheet.

"How did this jerk find out before me?" He moans, making you laugh

You said that again.

Gaz continued to write, struggle to write «Pregnant»

"Oh fuck!" He had the same reaction as Soap, turning around "Really?" He had stars in his eyes.

«Yes» You answer with a smile

Simon cleared his throat, Johnny still in a submission grip. And Gaz understood the message, the game was not over, so he had to remain silent

He stood beside the two men, a silly smile on his face.

It was the captain’s turn.

"Come on, grandpa, it’s easy" you teased him, leaving a clue

As an answer, just growl.

"My back is crumbling, I can’t feel what you’re writing me."

You press a little harder behind his back to make him feel better what you were writing.

He remained closed his eyes and rewritten what he felt, following the movements of your pen with his hand.

"You have the phrase captain," said Simon softly, letting go of his colleague.

Price opened his eyes and read what he had written, despite the sloppy writing, he wasted no time in understanding the meaning.

His breathing gets blocked and he turns to you "You’re pregnant."

You nods, smile on your face

"Oh, my God, "he prays to you quickly in his arms, without worrying about Soap’s disappointed moan that was waiting to take you in his arms for a while.

When Price let you go, he quickly shot Simon in a dead woman, without worrying about the boy’s protests.

As you watched Simon respond to the hug little by little, you did not notice the two individuals quickly approaching you to take you in their arms.

"We’ll be tontons" chantetonna Gaz

"Unfortunately for our child," mumbles Ghost back from taking Price

John turned his head towards you.

"Did you say grandpa for my age or to give me a clue?"

A teasing smile appears on your lips.

"Both"

[mrs-johansson]

Strangers in the night - Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Part 19:

“Hey, guys,” heard Scarlett’s voice at the front door. I smoothed out my dress and my hair before waking out of the kitchen. “What a beautiful house,” I’m guessing that was her mom. “Right? She has great taste,” oh she’s hyping me up.

They all walked in, her three brothers and two sisters with their parents. “Hi,” I said nervously with a smile. Scarlett swiftly moved to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. Her mom was the first to come up to me and she had a smile on her face which seemed genuine and kind. “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend, Y/n, but you probably know her already,” said Scarlett. “Of course we do. It’s so nice to meet you, darling. I’m Melanie,” I held out my hand but she moved to hug me. “Oh yeah, that’s better,” I chuckled as I hugged her back. Scar’s hand still lingered on my lower back making it really hard to focus on her MOTHER. “Y/n!” Rose came running from the living room then she realized her family was there. And she still came to me, holding her hands up. I picked her up and she looked at her relatives. “Hi,” she said with a big smile. “Everything okay in the living room?” I asked and she nodded. “I just want more juice.” “How about after dinner? You can have more of that tomato bread,” I brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Okay,” she sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder.

Scarlett’s dad was the next person who introduced himself and damn he was tall. “Hello, I’m Karsten,” he held out his hand. “Y/n, nice to meet you,” I said and shook his hand. “Hi, Grandpa!” Rose excitedly greeted the man before they high-fived.

I met each of her siblings, and I wouldn’t have thought Hunter and Scarlett would look so much alike. “Shall we go to the table?” Asked Scarlett and they all agreed. She settled them in and I left to the kitchen with Rose still on my side. “Don’t you want to be with them?” I sat her on the counter just until I got the drink out of the fridge. “No. I want to stay with you.” “Go in there, I’ll bring the food out,” Scarlett walked in. “You can’t leave me with them, I just met them,” I spread my arms. “And they already think you’re the nicest person,” she left a kiss on my cheek. “Mama?” Spoke Rose. “Yes, baby?” Scarlett opened the fridge. “Y/n is my mama too?” My mouth fell open and I glanced at Scarlett. We shared a look before she stood by my side. “Uhm…” She started. “Would you like… that?” Scarlett cleared her throat, nervous even to look at me. “Yes!” She clapped her hands and I swear I had tears in my eyes. “Okay, okay… Why don’t you see what Uncle Hunter is doing?” She took her off the counter and she happily walked out.

“I’m sorry, this was so sudden…” Scarlett started to apologize but I didn’t let her finish instead I wrapped her in the biggest hug. “Oh okay…” She chuckled, hugging me back. “She is the cutest kid, you don’t have to be sorry about anything,” I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek. “I’m so happy she feels happy with you. I still have to talk with Romain though. And thank you for being her new mommy I guess,” she pulled back taking hold of my hands, kissing my knuckles. “It’s the biggest honor.”

We brought in the appetizer and some wine, put Rose into her chair and we started chatting. “I already said to Scarlett, you have a very lovely home Y/n,” said Melanie, and I smiled. “Thank you. One of my architect friends designed everything. “It’s pretty great work,” Karsten looked around. “Thanks,” I said.

The prosciutto quickly disappeared and a bottle of wine was shared between most of us.

I brought out the main dish and everyone was happy to see beef roast with crispy baked potatoes and some different veggies. “Wow this looks amazing,” Scarlett mumbled to herself and I smiled at the sparkling look in her eyes. I got some on Rose’s plate and cut up the meat and the potatoes. “Thank you,” she said as soon as I put the plate in front of her. “You’re welcome.”

“So how did you two meet? Scarlett only told us about a mystery woman,” Hunter smiled at his sister. “We accidentally bumped into each other around November last year,” Scarlett said. “I still think it wasn’t an accident on Scarlett’s side though,” I shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Okay… That’s… Alright, it wasn’t a full accident,” I turned my head toward her and honestly I was shocked that she admitted it. “But we talked for a couple of months after that and then I finally asked her out,” smiled my amazingly beautiful girlfriend.

They asked me all sorts of questions and I was happy to answer all of them. I had nothing to hide from her family and I wanted them to know that I love Scarlett with all my heart. And also Rose.

Later in the night after they left and we put Rose to bed, we cleaned up the kitchen. “How do you think it went?” I asked Scarlett as she put the clean plates away. “Couldn’t have gone better. They love you for sure,” she said and I smiled. “That’s great.”

I finished everything and I got the bottle of wine that was half empty. Poured into two glasses and sat on the counter. Scarlett wiped her hands and took one of the glasses and stood between my legs. Her left hand rested on my thigh, caressing the exposed skin. “Dinner was nice, if you get bored of this acting thing you could be a chef,” she said and took a sip of her wine. I chuckled at her words and shook my head. “Hopefully I don’t get bored of this.” “Yeah, I kinda hope that too,” she shrugged and downed the whole glass of liquor. “Wow, wine is not for thirst you know,” I said and she put the glass down, her hands going straight to my waist. She pulled me closer, my legs sneaking around her waist. “You look good,” she leaned close, her eyes looking between mine and my lips. “I taste good too,” I gave a kiss just on the edge of her mouth. Her pupils were wide and the way her jaw clenched just drove me crazy. Scarlett never held back the lust she felt and not gonna lie that was incredibly hot. My hands trailed up her arms right to her neck. I put my glass down from my other hand and started to slowly massage the back of her neck. “I hope you’ll be like this even when we’re 50,” Scarlett murmured, the tension just growing and growing. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I finally pulled her into a kiss, deepening it immediately.

Scarlett squeezed my waist, the fabric of my dress tightening around me as she fisted it. The kiss soon becomes sloppy and desperate. She pulled the dress up to the top of my thighs and I swiftly pushed myself up and she rolled up the dress from under me. I pulled away and Scarlett was desperate to remove my dress, throwing it to the floor.

Scarlett’s eyes fell to my breast and before I could think she started kissing all over my chest. A quiet sigh fell from my lips and I tilted my head back so she could have more access. “I love you so much,” she mumbled against my skin and soon started sucking on my pulse. My breath hitched as I tried to speak but I forced it out tho. “I love you too.”

I looked down at her breathlessly as her eyes met mine just before she took a tit into her warm mouth. I gasped and my hands moved on their own accord, slipping fingers through her hair as she sucked and lightly trailed her teeth over my right tit before moving onto the left. I was trying my best to be as quiet as possible but it was very fucking hard.

I grabbed her left hand and pushed it between my legs, hoping she would get the message.

And thank god she did, because her fingers found the hem of my underwear and literally ripped it off, throwing it to the dress. I groaned and threw my head back. “Be quiet.” She demanded and I just leaned my forehead against her shoulder, whimpering under her touch.

She swiftly laid me down on the counter, pulling me to the edge of it by my thighs. Planted kisses along my thigh before her tongue licks a long stripe over my slit. I grabbed onto the edge of the marble counter, gripping it till my knuckles turned white.

Her eyes remain on me as she explores every inch of me with her tongue. I threw my head back when she sucked on my clit a bit before pulling away.

I looked down and met Scarlett's lust-blown eyes as she sticks her ring and middle fingers into her mouth to coat them in saliva before slowly easing them into me. My back arched against the counter, feeling my muscles tightening. “Fucking hell,” I groaned. She lowered herself to take my clit back between her lips, sucking as she stimulated with curling her fingers.

And then it hit me. I felt like I’m gonna break the counter from how hard I was holding on to it. My thighs naturally tried to close up but Scarlett forced them apart, the muscles flexing on her biceps. “Come, baby, come” she whined and that’s all I needed to push me over the edge. My body was shaking while Scarlett lapped up every drop. I swear to go I don’t ever want anyone else to do this to me if it’s not her. She gives me earth-shattering orgasms and I fucking love them.

I breathed heavily, trying to find a normal rhythm. “You okay?” Scarlett’s soft hands slid up my thighs and stopped on my hips. “Honestly?” I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes. “I feel like I'm in heaven.”

***

The next day Scarlett insisted on cooking and my parents and Léa were happy to finally meet her. Mostly my dad though.

They asked kind of the same questions from her and I just basically fell more and more in love with her. She was literally perfect, yes she was stubborn and sometimes thinking that she’s the only one who’s right but we can look past that.

Everyone went amazing and I was just happy that they know how joyful my life is because of her and Rose. My mother was surprised that Rose and I got along so well but I guess it didn’t help how much she pressured me into having kids soon.

Later that night we were laying in bed, watching Dateline as usual. “So our 6 months is gonna be this Saturday and I thought I could post then. What do you think of these?” I showed her two pictures and she nodded. “Nice.” “You sure you’re okay with this?” I asked, leaning against her front and she wrapped an arm around me. “Yes, and I’m gonna say yes every time you ask.” “Okay, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable with all this social media think. Besides, after that I’m still only going to post your pinky or something, but like… you know if there’s like a picture that I think everyone needs to see, I don’t know… us at a premier or something. We need to think about these. You don’t have social media, so I’d like to hear your thoughts.” “Whatever you want,” she said and I looked up at her. “Scar, I’m serious.” “So am I. As long as I don’t have to do all this technical stuff, I’m great,” she gave a kiss on my forehead and went back to watching the show. “Well yeah, you’re not the best at that,” I mumbled with a smirk, and the next thing I knew she punched my side, making me jump a little. “You know I’m right.” “I guess you could say that.”

***

Liked by chrisevans and 10 356 289 others

y/n_cole: my love, you’re all I’ve wished for in this life❤️ everything is better with you. everything is better since you. i will never forget the moment I realized i love you and I’m the happiest that our paths crossed in this crazy world. I love you endlessly✨ 6 months and counting🤍

chrisevans I’m the happiest for you two❤️

y/n_cole way too obsessed with the idea😆

florencepugh biggest power couple in Hollywood hands down💁‍♀️

y/n_cole speaking facts there!

sarcjo_for_life deep down we all knew Scarlett was fruity… I’m just happy Y/n is her girl🔥

[agardenofbasil]

Dear Basil I was going to try and leave a sensible paean with quotes of what I love in LFTS etc, (just discovered this absolute gem of a story and have been reading non-stop. Sincere apologies to my boss😎) and I got as far as the newest update from there on to internal screaming. Everything, just hauntingly, horrendously beautiful, entirely too amazing and incomprehensibly and atrociously well written. Your fantastic grasp of fleeting angsty sensation balanced with the sweet slow burn between these two just makes a reader’s heart beats violently in the best way.

And imagine my squeal of joy discovering that you also dig Lewy! Especially his oh so lovely dynamic with Gavi! Truth be told I have been reading Lewy/Gavi age gap fics for a long time😂 Just adore how they seem to have a special connection with each other and Lewy's eyes always shinning brightly smilling at Gavi. I was wondering if you could be interested in writing a kinda slow burn Lewy/Gavi fic in future as well? Wow please forgive my dragging on. Wishing you all the best!

Hello friend! Thank you for stopping by!

First, thank you for sending me such nice words! And never apologize to your boss, we love writing/reading fic on the company dollar! I actually just updated Longing for the Shore a few hours ago, so I hope you like the newest chapter too!

I'm really happy that you enjoy the angst! I know plot wise, not much happens in the story that's relatively different from "real life," but the fact that the descriptions and emotions are what you like best makes me so thrilled. In a way, I think we're all working to earn that happy ending, heh. :)

I love Lewy, both as a footballer and a character. Because yes, he's "old" but holy shit. 20 goals!? In 25(?) matches? That's crazy. And 9 in the UCL. That's a pretty good record for a man that's 36 years old. And he holds himself to a really high standard too. And I adore that he's a dancer (and not just a TikTok dancer... I implore everyone to go see his wedding anniversary dance with his wife. While it's pretty clear that Anna is the more experienced dancer, Grandpa has moves.)

Lewy and Gavi definitely have a good connection on the pitch and in the game, and they're always eager to celebrate each other. As a fictional pairing, I adore Lewavi fics and you're not alone in enjoying the age gap. I love a good age gap, especially when the younger person has agency. Age gap fics get a lot of heat, but I think if you're gonna put any two characters in that dynamic, Lewy and Gavi are great because they respect and care for each other so much in real life. So that translates very easily onto fic.

As for your question! I actually have a small Lewavi fic published, aha. Don't tell anyone though! 😂 I couldn't help but write about that VAR incident and "Lewy's big feet." Hmm, to write something longer for them... I had one or two ideas brewing. I definitely would be interested to write about them in the future, but at the moment, I have two to three other projects planned/outlined. I'd probably want to finish those first before tackling another major idea.

I'm honored you thought of me, though! I do think that a slow burn Lewavi fic is what's missing from the sampling that's on Ao3 at the moment. Perhaps you should write it! 👀 I'd happily read it! And please, you're allowed to chat away, that's what I am here for. I always appreciate talking to readers! I hope you have a great day and rest well! 🍃

[ghost-runner]

“Useless” and “Troubled” until the End: Pt. 1

Sully Family x “Useless” Fourth Child male reader

Summary: Y/N is the fourth child of the Sully family after Lo’ak and before Tuk, however, things don’t always seem to be great about being a Sully child when you are forgotten about a lot of the time. It doesn’t help when you also don’t get the normal training or bonds your siblings did so you tend to get into trouble a lot for trying to prove yourself doing the things your siblings can do.

Warnings: Gore, blood, cursing, family arguments….

Note: I’m not too well versed in the language of the Na’vi so I’m not going to try doing it, just in case I end up completely butchering it without meaning to.

— Y/N POV

I knew better than to be out by myself at these hours against my father’s orders. Even after already being grounded once for disobeying dad’s orders a few days ago for secretly following my brothers on a hunt, I don’t care if I get into more trouble for being out here right now. I’m the “black sheep” of the Sully family as some Sky-people would say from what I know of my dad’s home planet of Earth. I never had much training from my parents as I grew up so this caused me to learn from my siblings and train myself in secret behind everyone’s back. This has strained my relationship with my parents and it doesn’t help that dad has been harsh on Neteyam, Lo’ak, and I with raising us, further straining said relationship with him and mom.

Clearing my head, I let out a deep breath as I enjoy the very early morning Pandora air. I love how it’s always peaceful which is my favorite time of day to be by myself and where I can enjoy being me. Although, I’m not here to just enjoy the peace and quiet…i’m here to prove myself. I silently watch as a Thanator passes through the Pandora jungle brush while I slowly follow it from the treetops above the ground. The carnivorous beast stops for a moment as I ready my bow from my back and grab three arrows before readying them on the bow’s bowstring. The beast then jumps at a direhorse, killing it and began eating some of the meat from the direhorse. I readied the three arrow shot before I let the arrows fly. I grinned as they all met their target. The first two arrows went into the beasts legs, throwing it off balance before the third arrows pierced the side of the beast’s hide, throwing it to the ground on its side as it let out a roar of pain. I smile at the sight of my self-training paying off after needing to teach myself my skill set. I put my bow away onto my back as I approached the Thanator before drawing a knife I made years ago when I was 10 years old.

(The knife)

I came face to face with the beast and gave it a sign of respect before I grabbed its head to keep it still as I stabbed the Thonator in the top of the skull. I then used my knife to cut chunks of meat from the body of the dead carnivorous beast for food for my family and I also pulled out a few of the creature’s teeth to put on some bracelets I’m making for my siblings and parents. I love my family, even if they may not give me much attention. I only now realized that my family probably doesn’t even know that I’m out on my own without supervision or someone to watch my back. I sigh at the fact I’m so used to being in the background, I’m used to my family forgetting about me, not asking about me, or worrying about me too much unless I’m actually noticed. I’m usually the one babysitting Tuk while everyone else is busy, I sigh at knowing I’m just the one to be held back and not prepared. I quickly grab hold on the necklace my grandmother gave to me in secret that once belonged to my grandfather before he passed away and let a few tears roll down my face. Whenever I wear it, I always feel the presence of someone watching over me wherever I am which I like to believe is Grandpa watching over me with a smile on his face.

I wipe my face of my tears and shake my head to clear my mind as I finish up with the beast, leaving me with three full bags of meat and a pouch full of Thanator teeth. I’m happy with my work and I then whistle for my Ikran, Ro’nea or “Ghost” as I sometimes call her due to her fully pale white color. When I was young, Dad told me about things from when he was on Earth, these white things called “ghosts” were one of my favorite things he told me about and that’s where I gave her the nickname from. Ro’nea finds me and lands next to me as I attach the bags of meat to the harness I made for her. I rub her head and look at her left eye which still bears a red patchy scar going across it. I still remember the day when we crash landed after we bonded, resulting in that very scar on her eye and leaving me with a scar going from my right ear across my cheek to the side of my mouth. I still remember that day also because I had to tame my Ikran myself because my parents were too busy to help me at the time and I didn’t bond with her until only a few weeks ago which is why Ro’nea and I crash landed in the first place. I sigh when I realize that my family just doesn’t seem to care much for me. I get onto Ro’nea and we begin our journey home.

When I got back to the family Hometree, I saw my parents, Jake Sully and Neytiri; my brothers, Lo’ak and Neteyam; my sisters, Tuk and Kiri; were all still asleep. I looked out at the horizon and saw that the sun was halfway of coming up. I got to work on cooking breakfast for everyone using the meat I gathered earlier and put together a decent looking meal to me at least. I finished the preparations on the meals for everyone when I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me from everything in the last few hours. I’d rather get some sleep over facing the family questioning me about what I was doing up early and alone when I’m supposedly “inexperienced” and “incapable”. I went back outside the Hometree and I began to climb up the trunk to where I have a small area carved out that is a perfect secluded area for me to sleep. I got comfy in my spot and I drifted off to sleep. However, I failed to realize I still had drops of blood on my face and blood spots on my arms and torso from cutting the meat off the Thanator.

— 3rd Person POV

A few minutes after Y/N fell asleep, the rest of his family stirred awake from their night of sleep. Kiri and Neteyam were the first ones to wake up to the smelly aura of food in the home. After getting up from bed and reaching the table, the two oldest children were shocked at the spread of food of meat, fruit, soup, and drinks that were prepared to perfection in front of them. The noise of a crackle made them turn to outside where a small fire pit was smoldering after being used by Y/N to cook the meat. Out of the corner of their eyes, they spotted Y/N’s bloodied knife on a table to their left next to Y/N’s bow and the pouch of teeth. Lo’ak and Tuk were the next of the Sully family to wake up to the sweet smell of food, the two now excited to eat something delicious and yummy. Once they saw the food, the two looked to the oldest children to ask if they made the food.

Lo’ak: Morning Kiri. Morning, Nete. Who prepared breakfast?

Kiri and Neteyam both look at each other.

Kiri: I don’t know, however, I saw something over there.

Kiri gestures over to where the table with the bloody knife is. Lo’ak went over and spotted it immediately before grabbing it and inspecting it. He has never saw the knife before today and was amazed at the craftsmanship of said blade.

Lo’ak; Who’s knife is this? It’s still covered in blood.

Neteyam: I’ve only seen that blade one other time. I think it’s Y/N’s knife. So it was him that made breakfast. But…what was he doing up so early and why is his knife bloody? He knows he needs someone with him as he’s inexperienced and he doesn’t even have an Ikran yet!

Tuk: Where is Y/N?

The four siblings looked around the Hometree and didn’t find him. They looked towards their parents who were just waking up from their deep sleep. Jake was rubbing his eyes as he opened them and was greeted by the smell of food. Neytiri got up slowly and stretched her back before blinking a few times to clear her eyes.

Jake: What’s that smell? Who cooked breakfast?

Neytiri: -sniffs the aroma in the air- It smells like smoked Thanator meat, Yovo fruit, Fungus Soup, and milk. (I’m not sure what they have to drink in the Avatar universe so I’m going with milk as it seems like something they’d have.) Who made it?

Neteyam: We believe Y/N prepared it. However, there is something we need to talk about. Lo’ak, show Mom and Dad what we found.

Lo’ak turned around to reveal the bloodied knife was certainly a surprise to Jake and Neytiri. They quickly got up and rushed over to Lo’ak who still had the bloody knife in hand.

Jake: What the hell happened?! Is anyone hurt?!

Neytiri quickly checked all present children with zero results of finding injuries.

Kiri: Dad! Mom! We’re all fine. But that blade…That’s Y/N’s knife.

Jake and Neytiri both freeze at this revelation.

Neytiri: It’s Y/N’s!?! Where is he?!?

Neteyam says that he doesn’t know where the middle child of the Sully family is at. Both parents look at each other worriedly and ran out of the Hometree to find their missing son. Once outside, the children followed to find their brother. The family searches around when Tuk notices a small nook in the upper parts of the Hometree above them with what looked like a Na’vi tail poking out and she shows Kiri what she saw. Kiri sees what Tuk saw and climbed up to see what it was. She reached Y/N’s small carved out nook and frowned at the sight in front of her. It was her youngest brother alone in the nook as he was curled up in a ball and shaking. The fresh blood on his body that surprised Kiri a lot.

Kiri: I found him! He’s up here!

Y/N slowly stirs tiredly before rubbing his eye and blindly the sleepiness from his eyes only to be met with his older sister looking at him worriedly. He got up in shock which resulted in him banging his head on the roof of his small nook area.

Y/N: Ow.

Kiri: Y/N… Is everything all right?

Y/N: Yeah.. why do you ask?

Kiri: Well, Dad and Mom want to have a talk with you. I think it’s pretty serious considering we found your knife covered in blood and you still have blood on your body….

Y/N: Shit… I thought I washed it all off. -sighs- Let’s go see what they have in store for me.

The two siblings climb down from Y/N’s little nook in the upper branches and he is face to face with his mother and father. Jake is royally pissed at his son for disobeying orders for a second time while Neytiri is looking at her third oldest child with worry about what happened earlier in the morning. Jake turns around to the rest of Y/N’s siblings and tells them to go eat.

— Y/N POV

My siblings turned around to head back inside our home before Dad turned back to me with anger written all over his face. I honestly couldn’t give two shits about what he thinks when I barely get the time of day from him without needing to disobey his stupid orders to get his attention.

Jake: You got anything to say for yourself, soldier?

Y/N: What is there for me to say? I went out against your orders because I’m apparently “not experienced enough” to hunt or do anything besides help Kiri and watch Tuk when I need to. Apparently, I need to prove myself to you.

Jake: Watch your tone with me, Y/N! I am your father!!Why did you disobey direct orders?!

Y/N: Since have you even cared about how I feel with that shit?!? I’m practically fucking useless because of the limitations I’ve had throughout my life!! I have had zero training at all with hunting or being resourceful, the only experience I have that is being even remotely useful is helping as being a healer with Kiri when we go to learn from our grandmother! I’ve had to train myself how to handle my own shit which still is not good and is not enough around here at all!!!

I’m practically shaking with anger from my small outburst as my tail curled up im anger. Dad is taken aback at my outburst with how I felt. He then sighed at the sign that I had inherited his hot-headed temper and stubbornness as well at the fact that he knows I’m right. He hasn’t been there for me when I needed him most.

Jake: -sighs- I know, Y/N. But your time will come, I promise. In the mean time, you’re double-grounded because of your disobedience.

I roll my eyes angrily in annoyance at my father’s words of being grounded again even after already being grounded once and turn away from my parents as some tears form in my eyes. Mom hadn’t said a single word the whole time that Dad and I were arguing. She turned to Dad and squeezed his hand to signal to let her take over now and Jake nods to her. Mom then walks over to me as I now have a few tears going down my cheeks as she kneels down to my height. She pulls me into a hug as she shushed me to calm me down and whispers calming words into my ear. I let my tears fall for a few seconds before I turn around and hug her back as I silently lets the waterworks flow down. Dad looked absolutely heartbroken at the sight of me like this. He knows he messed up badly with how he brought me up, but he also knows that I am stronger than I look and better than what I let on. Mom is speechless at how broken I am from feeling practically useless.

Neytiri: Y/N, we love you and your brothers and sisters more than anything in life itself. We never meant for you to feel like this. We’re sorry.

Y/N: I-I know, Mom. I k-know.

Neytiri: Come on. Let’s just go eat the amazing breakfast you prepared.

Y/N: Alright, I just w-want to have a word with D-dad before I go in.

Neytiri: Of course, my son.

Mom let go of me and went inside our home before I look back up to Dad after I quickly composed myself.

Y/N: Dad.

Jake: Yes, son?

Y/N: You do know that I love you regardless of whatever happens, right?

Jake: I do, Y/N. I want you to know that no matter what I still love you too. I know I don’t say it enough.

Y/N: But…..you need to think about how you treat your children. You treat Neteyam, Lo’ak, and I like we’re soldiers in a military squad. I can’t do anything like in a squad and I don’t deserve the stupid treatment you give me. The same goes for the shitty way you go with Neteyam and Lo’ak. This is a family, not a squad. And you’re our father, not our drill instructor. This will end up with consequences that you won’t want to happen if it continues. You could end up driving one of us away from the family.

Dad gives me a look of shock and a bit of fear from what I just said to him. I know how much he cares about all of us and he doesn’t want to lose any of us. I really didn’t want to have to say something like that, but things have gotten to the breaking point that I just let it slip without any thought. I just stare at my father while he sees that I’m serious about what I said and I walk past him without a second thought back into our home. I walk towards the table where the rest of my family is sitting down and talking about whatever when I feel something grab my leg making me look down. I look down and see Tuk giving me a hug around my right leg.

Tuk: Thank you for the breakfast, Y/N.

I laugh at her cuteness and rub her head.

Y/N: Of course, Tuk.

She pulls away from my leg and opens her arms which makes me laugh. I nod to what she wants me to do. and get down on one knee to give her a full hug. I continue to hug her as i pick her up and jokingly spin around with Tuk still in my in my arms as she giggles at my antics. This is one of her favorite things to do with me. I always treasure the bond I share with my youngest sibling, Tuk. She’s a ray of sunshine in my dark times while I’m her rock in her troublesome times. I put her down with both of us laughing and she runs back to the table of food. I get up from my knee and see the rest of my family smiling at me. I smile back at them and go to sit at the table with them. I grab the lone empty seat that was between Kiri and Neteyam and grabbed a plate of meat and fruit as well as a bowl of the soup. My three older siblings give me different looks written on their faces because they heard what I said to Dad, with Lo’ak looking at me with face of surprise at what I said to Dad, Kiri giving me a look saying “I’m here for you if you need someone to talk with, little brother.” and Neteyam gave me a look of understanding as he understood how I felt from Dad being harsh on us. I shrug it off as I know things will probably just stay the same and I’m at my point where I just don’t give a single fuck about it anymore. I start to eat some Yovo fruit as I quietly look around at the family talking with one another without anyone paying me any mind while we all are and talked.

I roll my eyes at the usual occurrence that I’ve become accustomed to and shake my head dismissively with my ears going flat against my head. I stop eating as I lost my appetite at the shitshow that happened last between me and Dad before I get up and leave the table without anyone noticing. I head to the hammocks that all of the family members sleep in before I climb into the one that’s mine and pull out a small journal out of my pillow where I hide said journal. I found this old journal while I was out scavenging alone one day and stumbled upon an old Sky-people base that had not been raided. Anyways, I open my journal and grab the pencil I keep with it before I start writing into my journal. I write down how well my training is going to myself and what I can improve on. I fail to notice Lo’ak look over to see me in my hammock when he was going to ask me how I learned to expertly make the food when he saw I was no longer at the table.

— 3RD PERSON POV

Neteyam went to ask Lo’ak something when he saw his younger brother looking away from the table. Neteyam then looks over to where Lo’ak is looking to see Y/N writing in a small journal before the alone Na’vi boy closed the journal and put it back into his pillow. Y/N then fluffed the pillow before rolling over and trying to go to back to sleep due to being very tired and overwhelmed from what happened earlier. The two Na’vi boys at the table just frown at the sight of their brother looking sad and miserable. Kiri had tried asking Neteyam about something when she saw her brother looking away from the table. Kiri then saw her younger brother in his hammock. She frowns at the sight and just looks down at the table sadly at the sight of her brother being broken. Jake and Neytiri silently watched the whole thing that happened with their son going to his hammock. Jake knows that he fucked up big time with Y/N while Neytiri just wondered where they went wrong with their son.

To be continued…

This is my first time posting onto Tumblr so I hope people enjoyed this small post I created with the thought I came up with for it. I plan on making more parts, but this is part one. Like I said, I hope whoever read this enjoyed the post.

[animethic]

Hi, welcome to tumblr ✨

Can I rq a oneshot for yandere Jotaro x reader x yandere Kakyoin? (or just Jotaro x reader or Kakyoin x reader if you more comfortable with that)

Afab reader please (but you can choose neutral reader if you want)

Hey thanks for the welcome and thanks for requesting sorry for the wait, hope this is okay for you!

Disclaimer: I don't condone any of the toxic or abusive behaviours mentioned in this fic.

Word count 1.77k

CW: Yandere themes, Obsessiveness, Manipulation, Toxic Relationships, Isolation, Cursing, Threats of violence (Towards reader) Kissing (Nothing suggestive), Slight Objectification/infantilization. Poly Relationship, Female Reader. 18+ only content

Yandere! Jotaro x  Fem!reader x Yandere! Kakyoin

You woke up in a sweat, lying between your two “boyfriends” on the large bed that the three of you shared in Jotaro’s room. Your head was laying on Jotaro’s broad chest while Kakyoin had his arm wrapped around your waist in a suffocating embrace. Both of them seemed to be in a deep sleep and you decided that now was the time to put your escape plan into action.

Slowly you removed the red head’s arm from your waist and shimmied yourself off the bed slowly so as to not wake the two sleeping men, luckily for you they were both heavy sleepers so it wasn’t a difficult task. Creeping over to the bedside table where your phone sat, you quickly unlocked it shooting (F/N) a quick text, Plan is on, meet you at the school in twenty minutes. Their reply was almost instantaneous. Alright, see you then. “Wow, they must have been really worried about me to stay up this late” you thought.

The relationship between you and the two men wasn’t always toxic. They used to be perfectly loving boyfriends who treated you like royalty. You were taken out on adventurous dates, brought thoughtful gifts and showered with love and attention. Although admittedly, it took Jotaro a bit more time to break down his walls and be comfortable with this he eventually warmed up and became just as loving as Kakyoin. 

Lately though they had both changed. You didn't go out on dates anymore, opting to stay at Jotaro’s house where they both claimed “It would be more fun anyway”. Which turned into excuses as to why you shouldn’t leave the house altogether, and soon without even realising, you had moved in with them full time. “Yare yare (Y/N) what’s the point in leaving for groceries when we can just bring you anything you need?” Jotaro said as if you had asked a ridiculous question. You didn’t question him, too afraid of his temper to say anything. He has never laid a finger on you before, but you weren’t about to take any chances. Kakyoin wasn’t much better, making you feel guilty for even suggesting to go outside alone.

“Do you not want to be around us (Y/N)? Trying to look for another man to replace us, huh?” He pouted. You didn’t ask to go out again after that.

Truthfully you couldn’t take it anymore. You loved the two men of course and stayed out of loyalty more than anything, but they were extremely suffocating, and you needed to get out. It was taking a toll on your mental health. A few days ago you broke down in a phone call with (F/N) while Kakyoin and Jotaro were out of the house visiting Jotaro’s grandpa Joseph. 

(F/N) was one of the only friends who stuck around during your forced isolation from the outside world. Together you both came up with a plan to escape from the two men in the middle of the night within the next week. It broke your heart to do it this way but you knew breaking up with them directly would be a bad idea so this was the only option you had left.

You creep downstairs into the kitchen trying to be as quiet as possible and grab the keys for the front door off the kitchen counter. Peeping around to see if the coast was clear you make your way over to the front entrance and grab your black winter jacket from beside the door and you’re just about to put it on when you hear a gruff voice come from behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going this late at night?” Jotaro questions.

Your body goes rigid as you turn around to face the man in question looking at the unreadable expression on his face. “I was just going out for some fresh air for a few minutes and then come back to bed, I swear Jojo” you said, holding your hands up defensively in front of you. 

He sighs in annoyance “Yare Yare, you know you’re not supposed to leave the house without at least one of us with you at all times there could be someone dangerous out there”.

“Yes Jotaro I know” It was your turn to sigh now, all hopes of not being caught gone out the window.

Without being told to, you began walking back up the stairs, with Jotaro following close behind. The plan had already failed so you resigned yourself to trying again another time when the chance came. You yelp at the sudden feel of a gentle hand pressing against your lower back to help guide you back upstairs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“N-Nothing Jojo” you squeak out, turning your face away from him in an attempt to hide the fierce blush that coloured your face, you don’t know if you’ll ever get rid of the shyness you feel from his affectionate touches.

You both reach the bedroom to find a worried looking Kakyoin who’s wide awake waiting for your arrival back to bed. The minute he spots the two of you he smiles and opens his arms in invitation for a hug which you immediately accept.

“Where did you head off to beautiful?” Kakyoin asks stroking the back of your hair, “We missed you in bed with us and got a bit of a fright when we woke up and seen you weren’t here with us”

You were about to answer him until Jotaro spoke in your place, “She wanted to go for a walk, said she needed fresh air or something”.

You glared at him for speaking as if you were not there and a remark was about to leave your mouth until again you were interrupted, by Kakyoin this time. “Ah (Y/N) you know we can’t protect you from danger if we’re not out there with you right?, we’d be heartbroken if something happened to you and we couldn’t stop it” He seemed to upset himself with his own words as his grip on you tightened while speaking, nearly leaving you breathless.

Jotaro nodded in agreement and walked over to the bed pulling you into his lap as he sat down. You couldn't help but snuggle into his hold, the lingering scent of cologne making you relax and hum happily. You look up at the stoic man and bring your lips up to meet him in a passionate kiss which he eagerly accepts, moving your lips together in sync he lets out a happy hum. You break away from the kiss and look up to see a slight flush on Jojo’s face 

“Can I have a kiss too sweetheart?” Kakyoin asks from beside you, rubbing his hand lightly down your back.

You nod vigorously, quickly reaching over to your other boyfriend and giving him the same treatment as Jojo. Kakyoin's kisses were softer than Jotaro’s more gentle and romantic. He held your face in his hands as if it were made of glass that could easily shatter.

After stopping the kiss he pulls your head into his shoulder, holding your head there tightly so you are unable to move. You had no choice but to soak in the warmth his body had to offer.

Suddenly your phone goes off with a loud ping, indicating that you had received a text message. Your eyes widened in surprise, shit the plan, you had almost forgotten. “No no no, (F/N) wasn’t supposed to text me, now they’re definitely gonna find out I tried to escape” You panicked inwardly.

You’re about to yank yourself away from Kakyoin’s tight grip on your body and grab your phone before they could see who had messaged you but unfortunately, Jotaro was quicker, he had already snatched your phone from the bedside table before you even had the chance to fully break out of Kakyoin’s hold and was already reading the text message from (F/N).

He analyses the phone for a few seconds before speaking. “Are you okay? You were supposed to meet me at the school gates twenty minutes ago, Did they catch you?” Jotaro quotes from the message trying but failing to contain his anger. He gives you a fierce look and without warning he crushes your phone with his bare hands, shattering it along with your hopes of a successful escape in the near future.

Kakyoin frowns at this, his delicate features turning into an unpleasant look. “Were you trying to leave us (Y/N)?” He said in a disappointed tone. It makes your skin crawl. A disappointed Kakyoin was always a lot harder to deal with than an angry one. He has a way of making you feel guilty where your stomach would crawl in shame, even though the rational part of you knew that it wasn’t right.

You look up and catch Jotaro’s gaze and see a hint of rare emotion in his eyes . He actually looks hurt that you tried to leave them? You let out an involuntary whimper of guilt for hurting both your boyfriends feelings. “I’m sorry Nori, Jojo” You say rushing over to give the taller man a hug. “I swear I was gonna come back, I just wanted to go out for a little bit and see (F/N) I haven’t seen them in weeks”.Jotaro sighs from above you, beginning to rub soothing circles on your back to calm you down. He was incredibly angry that you tried to leave but he couldn't stand to see you upset and never wanted you to be afraid of him like everyone else was.

“Just please don’t do it again (Y/N), we would’ve freaked out if something happened to you next time just talk to us and we’ll be happy to bring you where you want to go” spoke Kakyoin, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, a cheery smile returning to his face.

You nod your head slowly, eyelids beginning to droop in exhaustion as the adrenaline from earlier began to wear off and tiredness set in. Seeing this, Jotaro gently picked you up and placed you in the middle of the bed, joining you on your left side with Kakyoin laying down on your right side, keeping you pressed tightly against the two of them.

“Oh (Y/N)? One more thing before you go to sleep” The redhead spoke seriously next to you.

“What is it?” You mumbled out in your tired state.

“If you ever try to escape us again, we’ll break your legs”

[hhawks]

PINK IN THE NIGHT

✰ starring: tomura shigaraki x fem!reader ✰ synopsis: stardew valley au: your grandfather’s death has left you with the once in a lifetime opportunity to move away to where nature calls you, and there you meet the loving touya, the bubbly himiko, and the whirlwind enigma, tomura. ✰ content: quirkless, stardew valley au! awkward first? love, lots of stardew valley canon compliant stuff (locations, festivals, birthdays etc), non-descript injury, non-descript killing (of monsters Lol), mentions of loneliness/isolation and consequent depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, slight angst, shigaraki likes frogs. if you do not know the stradew valley plot/lore, you won’t be lost i promise. i tried to make it as clear as i could ✰ warnings: switch!tomura, switch!reader, dom/sub dynamics, semi-public sex, blowjobs, face-fucking, unprotected sex, slight size kink, belly bulge, light bondage, ass play, rimming, face-sitting, slight cumplay. alcohol consumption, slight dubcon for it. reader refers to tomura’s hole as a ‘cunt’. just once ✰ word count: 25.9k (i’m about to die) ✰ a/n: oh my god. oh my fucking god. this monster is finally done. i started this literally three months ago (on 19 jan 2022) and i have just been putting it off for fucking weeks. but finally, stardew valley!shigaraki is here. most of this was written at 2am after a whole day of uni work, but i’ve had it edited over n over n beta’d so i hope you guys enjoy it. seriously contemplating never doing a long fic ever again. playlist for this fic dedicated to my baby, heart and soul minty @peppermint-saddies​. thank u for brainrotting this idea with me months ago. 

if you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. i'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place i truly belong.

the bus ride is bumpy. you think the air conditioner’s a little wonky, so you reach up to twist the nozzle and it blasts colder, stronger. there’s idle chatter around you, submerging you but not quite reaching you. it sinks in your bones, now that you’re really here, how much you left behind. maybe it’s for the best. zuzu city was dreary, you could feel it in the everyday, in the air of your stuffy cubicle, of the worn out pavements. maybe it was good for you to leave.

so you settle back into your seat, watching as the world whips by. you’d forgone the earphones in favour of the rumbling of the engine. there’s somebody behind you on the phone, muttering about how tiring his trip was and how glad he was to finally get back home. “though the town never has cases like these,” he laments. “these out of town consultations may be tiring, but they’re good for the bank, you know?” you hear a soft muffled response, a girl maybe. 

the town. that’s where you were going, isn’t it? maybe he was one of the villagers grandpa had talked about in his letter. you doubt it, since grandpa hadn’t been back here in years, maybe decades. you try to sneakily catch a glance of this guy, twisting your back under the guise of cracking it, and you manage to spot his auburn hair and thick frame glasses. he catches your gaze before you can turn back, and smiles. you smile back, and that’s the end of that.

the rest of the ride breezes by, the soft hum of the engine and the occasional bumps along the road that jerk you awake. finally the valley comes into view, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to stretch out your legs after this endless journey. the breeze is to die for, the smell of pine refreshing. you feel it in your bones, the overwhelming relief you feel that finally, you’re here. 

it’d been the figment of your imagination, a dream, something that you reached out for but could never really touch in the months leading up to this moment, since you quit working at joja headquarters after reading grandpa’s letter. but now, as you stand on earthy oranges and greens, as two figures approach you with gentle smiles on their faces, it’s all come to fruition. the man on the back of the bus bustles off, waving a small ‘hello’ to the two people who’d come to greet you at the bus stop. 

“hey farmer,” one of them smiles. the skin around her warm green eyes crinkles like leaves curling over a flame, and she feels so genuine. “how was the ride?” 

“cramped,” you laugh, lugging your suitcase behind you. you realised how few things you had to your name when you were packing for this move. your entire life fitted into suitcases, zipped and ready. “but the view was beautiful.” 

“right?” she chortles, slapping the older man next to her on the back. “that’s what i always tell demetrius, but he’s always so engrossed in soil samples and things like that. just sit back and look at how pretty everything is, without the need to study it.” she notices your face still at the name demetrius, and she laughs. “sorry, forgot. demetrius is my husband. i’m robin!” she sticks out her hand, and you take it graciously. 

“the mayor?” you try, and she grins. 

“should be. instead that’ll be this old geezer.” she gestures to the man next to her, who takes off his brown cap and nods. “this is mayor lewis.”

“it’s my pleasure,” he smiles, and then elbows robin in the side. “whaddya mean ‘should be’?”

“nothin’!” robin giggles, her laughter tinkling against the soft rustling of the trees. you smile, this picture painted of two genuinely happy people about to lead you to what you’ll come to  call home eventually. “anywho, come with us. we’ll take you to the old cabin your grandpa lived in.”

robin leads you with a hand on the small of your back, hoisting your duffel on her shoulders. you take a moment to wonder what she does; the toned sinew trailing up her arms, her built figure. her palms are warm.

it isn’t a far walk to the overgrown field of trees and weeds, a small cabin coming into view. robin’s talking about how she’s given it a new paint job, and you notice the way the fresh coat of reds and browns contrasts the overgrown vines that climb through the field, the scattered logs and boulders. there’s a pile of firewood lying next to your door, a brand new mailbox that robin slaps with a hearty laugh, and a wooden bin next to that.

“sight for sore eyes,” mayor lewis breathes. “the farm’s gone pretty much untouched since your grandpa left the town, god bless his soul. you’ve got your work cut out for you, huh?”

you look around. the rich earth, the tall, girthy trees that seem to stretch up to the sky. the weeds, the grass, the patches of green where fruits and vegetables lay, ripe for the picking. it’s all beautiful. all potential in your grand scheme of things. “looks like it,” you laugh softly, arm reaching back to scratch at your neck. “it’s a beautiful place.”

“i’ve got clint— our blacksmith, yer should meet him sometime— to make you a couple of tools so you can start making the land yer own,” robin gestures up the steps to the house, bustling the door open. “and i took the liberty of furnishin’; whaddya think?”

the sight that greets you is one that softens your doubtful heart. robin’s made a home out of this cabin; a small bed takes up the corner of the room, and lining the walls is a beautiful green wallpaper, trees and leaves lining the print. there’s a tv with a stand in the opposite corner, one that robin shows you how to use (“you switch the channels like that— yeah, just like that! you got it.”) and a bunch of potted plants to ‘spruce up the barrenness’ of the cabin. “it’s wonderful, robin. thank you.”

she grins widely, and you think to yourself that you’re gonna enjoy the time you spend around her in the valley. “it’s nothin, lil missy. and if you ever want an upgrade— i can add a kitchen! and a fireplace!— you know where to find me.” 

“i, uh, don’t, actually.” you giggle. “i guess i’ll have to take a walk around the valley and learn where all of you live.”

mayor lewis nods, leaning back against the wall. “that sounds like a good idea,” he quips. “but i think right now it’s best to rest up. it’s getting late, and i’m sure you’re exhausted from the bus ride. how about we take a little trip to the saloon for dinner?”

and that’s how you end up sitting around new faces and lovely people; an artist named leah, the saloon owner gus, a lovely bartender emily. they all surround you, berating you with questions. “you used to work for joja?” leah crinkles her nose, and you think she’s very cute. “was it hell?”

“pretty much,” you laugh over a big glass of beer that gus insisted into your hands. “i hated every day i worked there. i’m glad i left.” 

there’s soft laughter and the blur of music from the jukebox as the night passes you by, the drinks heavy and the conversation light. you smile; you think you haven’t smiled this much (and this genuinely) in a long, long time. there’s a group of kids in the next room, and you hear them playing pool and their own hearty laughter drifting out. 

“the teenagers,” gus introduces them when they walk out. “they’re always together, especially the boys. touya and tomura.” 

you look up at them, and one of them’s looking back at you. silently, hands shoved into the front pockets of his hoodie. his silver-blue hair pokes out from behind his hood, shoulder length and you think it looks so soft. 

“you’re the new farmer!” the girl cuts into your reverie, bounding towards you. her hands slam down on the table and drink sloshes out onto the wood, but you barely notice it over her intruding conversation, messy blonde hair and sweet voice. her eyes are narrow yet somehow still feel welcome, glittering gold. “dad won’t quit talking about you. always wonderin’ when you’re coming in. you’re good for the business, i s’pose.” she sticks her hand out. “‘m himiko! i’m sure we’ll get to know each other loads more.”

you smile, and give her your name. she says it, once, twice, and then turns back to the boys behind her. “touya,” she points at the white haired boy, tall and lanky with a soft grin on his face. his forearms, though mostly covered by his denim jacket, trail black and red ink down to his hands, swirling in intricate patterns. you can’t help but wonder where his tattoos stop and his skin begins. 

and then himiko directs your attention to the other boy, his face pale and skin scattered with scars, rough patches of flesh climbing down into the neck of his hoodie. but what you can’t take your eyes off are his eyes; vermillion, deep set eyes, tight rings of bruising purple coiled under his waterline. more than seeing, they seem to look— 

have i met you before?

“and tomura!”

you greet them softly, your mind still elsewhere. you’re intrigued, curious. 

“hi,” tomura barely manages before he’s ushering the other two out the door. “can we get going? mom’s gonna take the piss out of me for being late home again.”

“whatever,” touya reaches closer to you, shaking your hand. “sorry ‘bout him. he’s not the nicest guy in the village.” tomura smacks him, and you giggle a little. “you should hang out with us some time! we could use the company.”

“i’d love to,” you smile. “and i should get going too, actually. it’s been a long day.” 

there’s a shift, and everyone’s getting up. you help emily bring the mugs and glasses to the counter of the saloon, and bid her a hearty goodbye. leah’s there, waiting by the door for you to traipse outside with her. “we both live on the outskirts of town,” she brings up as you two walk in step. “i’d love to show you around the forest, if you’d like.”

you nod. “that would be great,” you muse, looking up to the sky. the grey clouds have parted just so slightly for the stars to twinkle through, the half moon’s silver gaze following the two of you walking the path down out of town. you chatter about your past lives in the city, and learn that she left to escape the city life too. 

“it was always a drear, you know what i mean?” her long hair flits in the wind, the gentle breeze whistling between you two. “and after i broke up with my partner there was really nothing left for me in that city.” she looks up, and you follow her gaze to watch the stars guide you. “how about you? i mean,” she snorts. “you already talked all about it in the saloon, i don’t know why i asked—”

you laugh with her, hands just slightly brushing, the skin of your knuckles meeting hers. “i mean, you’re right. that’s pretty much all i had to say.” 

you bid her goodbye when you reach her cottage, catching a glint of her smile as she slides into her home and the windows start to glow with orange honey. you stay there a beat longer, admiring the melodic rush of the riverside, and you’re almost tempted to walk forward, to peer over the edge and watch yourself ripple in the reflection. but it’s late, and you still have to traverse through the foliage to get back to your cottage. you step over what feels like the fiftieth rock or weed or rock-weed hybrid and finally, fall through the wooden door into your cottage.

the moon lulls you to sleep, and you dream of haunting eyes and silver-blue hair.

SPRING, YEAR ONE.

a gift, for you to get started!

you look into the box, and the packets of parsnip seeds look back at you. you’re not sure when mayor lewis arrived to place this in your cottage, but you don’t have time to think too much about it. the sun is beginning to rise, and you have your work cut out for you.

there’s not much time before you’re due to meet the rest of the town, so you spend your first few hours planting the bunch of seeds mayor lewis supplied you with— fifteen, if you counted correctly. you sow them into the soil and water them generously. this farmer thing isn’t too hard. 

that’s what you think until you begin clearing out the weeds, your hands becoming familiar with wrapping around the roots and tugging them right out of the soil. you collect the wood and the stones in chests robin had made for you, seemingless endless space in such a small place. the morning rolls away, and you find yourself sweltering under the afternoon sun before long. 

a jingle welcomes you as you push open the door to pierre’s general store, a little chilly from the heat outside. there’s someone at the counter whose head snaps up at the sound of your entering, thick frame glasses perched at the end of his nose. “if it isn’t the talk of pelican town,” he smiles graciously. “i’m pierre! you must be the new farmer.”

“that’s me,” you laugh heartily. “robin told me you’re the one i should be getting all my seeds from?”

pierre beams. you think you haven’t seen a man his age smile that wide in— ever, actually. “she said that? none of that stinkin’ joja business?”

the word leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “no, fortunately,” you smile. “i think i’ll be a regular customer here.”

you don’t leave until pierre shows you around the shop, the seasonal seed packets that he stocks, the wheat and flour and basic cooking things you hadn’t even thought about until he brought them up. “oh and,” he turns back to you after he talks your ear off about how joja had given him a run for his money with their mass produced seeds and processed foods. “i also buy produce. so if you’ve got only you need a quick buck for, you know where to find me.”

“got it,” you say, heaving the mound of seeds onto the cashier desk for him to ring up. “anything else i should know?”

he hums. “the villagers put up ‘help wanted’ notices on the bulletin board outside. i know most of them pay a pretty penny for things you can find ‘round the valley, like leeks ‘n’ stuff. need a bag?” you shake your head, opening your own satchel to stuff the potato seeds and cauliflower and what not. “you’re all good to go, then! thanks for stopping by!”

“‘course,” you smile back. “i, uh, i’ll see you around then.”

you turn to leave, and right as your hand finds the door handle, you hear your name. “farmer! jeez, dad, you coulda’ told me she was here.”

“miko—” 

but it’s cut off as she bounds up to you, clapping her hand on your shoulder. himiko looks spritely and lovely, you think, her hair done up in two symmetrical buns, her mouth split into a grin from ear to ear. “i was just ‘bouta walk on over to tomu’s. wanna come with?”

tomu. tomura. scarlet eyes glare into yours every time you blink, burned into the back of your eyelids. “i— i don’t know him all that well—”

himiko laughs, hearty and loud. “who cares? just come, you said you wanted to explore the valley, didn’t you?”

she’s right. it’d be good to know where everyone lived. plus, you knew tomura was robin’s son, so finding him would be finding her. so you nod, heave your backpack over both shoulders and link arms with himiko. you watch with mirthful eyes as she sing-songs “bye!” to pierre, who waves her off with a small smile on his face. you wonder how your dad is, if he would ever miss the way you turn back to wave goodbye before leaving the house. he’d sent you money before your move to the valley, detailing how he’d come to visit and “take a stroll through those old pathways your grandfather raised me on”. 

these are the roads that your father once stood, and your grandfather before him. worn and soil eroded, but the patches of greenery sprout ever lively. you reach down to pick a dandelion, murmuring to himiko as you tuck it in her buns. 

“thanks,” she mumbles back, a small blush heating her cheeks. “the valley is really pretty this time of spring.” 

she’s right. the air isn’t too hot, and the breeze that trickles through your sleeves and along your skin is comfortable. not too biting. the clouds loll lazily through the sky, beaming white and yellow where it covers the sun. the trek to the mountains is quick, but himiko talks at a mile a minute, telling you stories of her online classes, her pet guinea pig david, and the band touya and tomura were planning to form. 

“and like, they asked me to be their drummer,” she skips ahead of you, walking backwards. her hands fly, and you chuckle just watching her. “which of course i said yes, because i love them you know, but i don’t even know how to play the drums.” she mimics the movements in the air. “i could just— it can’t be that hard, can it?”

“himi—” you call out to her, arm reaching out to pull her slightly out of the way of demetrius walking out, nose buried in his notes. his head snaps up and he takes a sharp turn to avoid himiko, who lets out a small squeak.

“oh, shit, sorry mr. demetrius,” himiko bows her head over and over. “wasn’t watchin’ where i was goin’.”

“are you ever, himi?” he chuckles. “nice seeing you both. you here to see tomura?”

“as always, sir!” himiko beams. “and what are you studyin’ today?”

demetrius flashes his notes quickly. you catch the words fruits and bats and mushrooms but that’s all. “i was actually on the way to the river, but i wanted to ask you about your farm,” he turns to you. “i’m sure you’ve seen the cave west of your cabin. do you mind if i take a look at it? i’ve been looking at the soil samples in the various caves in the valley.”

you wave a hand dismissively. “of course, do whatever you need, sir.” 

he nods, and bids you both farewell, trekking up to the rushing river north of the carpenter’s shop. “c’mon,” himiko pushes open the heavy set doors, the light tinkle of the bells attached to the door handle alerting robin of your entrance. 

“hey!” she smiles at the two of you. “farmer, welcome to my humble abode. i see you finally found it.”

you laugh. “only with himiko’s help.” 

robin continues about her newest endeavours into woodworking, the new supply of cherry hardwood she’s planning to whirl into a set of new beds and end tables. “and of course, if you need anything built—”

“she knows, mom,” the three of you turn to the source of the voice; and at the top of the stairs, tucking his silver-blue hair behind his ear stands the shadows tacked to the end of your days, those scarlet eyes you keep seeing. “you woke me up just talking about that new hardwood you got yesterday.”

robin huffs. “good morning to you too, tomu.” he nods at us before trudging down the hallway, and himiko bounds after him, planting her hands on his shoulders and wishing him a good morning. there’s a beat of silence between you and robin, before she starts, “i’m so sorry about him.”

“don’t be!” you reassure her. “he sure is a… character.”

“he’s a handful,” she sighs, dropping her elbows on the counter. “he used to be such a cheerful kid. always smiling. can you imagine that?” an airy laugh escapes her, followed by a deep sigh, dipped in nostalgia.

you try to. imagine a little baby tomura, tufts of light hair strewn every which way, toddling around blubbering nonsense with his mouth tipped upwards in a gummy smile. it proves only marginally possible, and your cheeks warm at the thought. “i’m sure he was cute,” you manage, looking wistfully at the hallway he and himiko disappeared down. 

“he was,” robin smiles. “took after his father a lot more than he did me. still, he’s nothing like him now.”

you wonder what his father looks like; a lot of fathers coming up in conversation today. “what’s tomura like now then?”

“quiet,” robin says, bracing her hands on the edge of the counter. “he spends most of his time in his bedroom downstairs. he hates the summer, loves the winter. things like that.”

there’s laughter coming from the hallway, distinctly himiko’s. does he laugh? does he even smile? you wonder if the skin around his eye crinkles when he’s happy. robin busies herself with an incoming call, picking it up with a cheery, “hello!” and you take that as your cue to leave. you pad softly down the hallway where the two of them disappeared, and you see them in the kitchen, chattering and laughing. 

he does laugh. he does smile. you see it as himiko says something, the words barely audible to you, but you catch caves, and touya, and rock crabs. just a gentle tug of the lips upwards, just a small huff of breath. but it’s enough.

enough for what?

when you return to the farmhouse, it’s quiet. you forwent the usual dinner at the saloon, making some excuse; i’m tired, you lied, reluctance painting your lips in a way that it could be seen as remorse. i think i’m going to have an early night. 

but you don’t. in fact, you don’t sleep at all. you curl up along the side of the rushing river, watching the reflection ripple against the jade green water. 

you’ve never lived alone. not till now. always surrounded by family, your parents and your siblings. no one ever told you how jarring it would be to come back to a quiet cabin every night. no one told you just how lonely it feels. yeah, it’s liberating, it’s relieving not to have to owe anybody your existence.

but as you look upon the water, the dusty moonlight glistening in the ripples, you think about how much you wish for someone. someone? you frown at yourself. who’s someone? and for what? your hand reaches out to swipe at the water in front of you, disturbing the swirling mirror of your thoughts and reflection. 

you’ve never needed anyone, much less had any want for them. hadn’t it been your dream to come out to a place where nobody knew you, nobody owed you anything and vice versa? to feel the thrum of life in your fingertips with every waking moment? stardew valley was blood that coursed through every villager’s veins, a constant reminder that all life is precious, that every day you spent alive was one you were meant to enjoy.

so why are you letting yourself weep? why are you crying for nobody but the forest to hear, hushed by the coursing river and the cloudless sky?

loneliness is a plague, you decide. 

i don’t want to be lonely anymore.

the rest of spring passes quickly. you try to make a home out of the cottage, sprucing it out with a couple of paintings and plants from the festivals. on rainy days, you pull on your bright yellow boots your dad gave you as a going away present, to shield you from the mud and gross stuff, he had said with a sheepish grin. 

marnie brought a little cat to your doorstep, grey and striped and looking up at you curiously. “i found it sitting at the entrance of your farm! must be a stray… this poor thing.” you crouched by his side, lending a hand cautiously to cradle his face, and he nuzzled against your palm. 

you had no choice but to take it in. 

you’ve come to treat the valley like home; seeing the villagers on their daily walks, on the way to their jobs or just down the road to the saloon, you greet them with a hearty hello! and maybe even a gift or two.

it’s lewis’ birthday first, and then vincent’s, and then haley’s. you try your best with the pink cake emily hinted at as a gift for haley, and you stagger all the way to the house with it wobbling in your arms. her eyes light up, lipsticked mouth dropping open in surprise. “you remembered my birthday!” she squeals, graciously accepting it into her own hands, her eyes turning into crescents as she grins at you above the cake. “oh my god, this is my favourite. how did you know?”

you just shrug, and shoot a small smile at emily in the corner. 

but what spans most of your days is the curious cave in the north of the valley, right past the carpenter shop. you received a letter from joja (sealed in a nauseous blue envelope, reeking of ingenuity and lifelessness) detailing their excavation and the opening of what they call “the mines”. you wonder past it several times in your exploration of the valley, never braving to go in. 

“it’s terrifying,” you complain to himiko. “it’s cold and dirty and i hear all these strange noises coming out of the hole with the ladder in it–” you pause, leaning over the felt of the pool table, aiming cautiously. “i don’t have anything to protect myself.” 

the stick collides with the ball, collides with the striped yellow ball that bounces off the wall of the table, and just barely makes it into the opposite pocket. himiko groans. “what is that, your third consecutive?”

“and that old guy, marlow? marlon? gave me some— some rusty old sword like that’s gonna do anything,” you aim again, squinting and lowering your gaze to the green striped ball. “i swear to god, it’s like they want me to die in those mines.”

“we can go down there with you if you want,” touya offers from the couch across from you, leaning back against tomura’s side. he’s sipping a can of joja cola that you bought him as a reward for beating you at pool. “i know tomu’s always wanted to check it out.”

“so do i!” himiko cuts in before tomura has the chance to protest. “i went down one level. it was so cool.”

“cool if you wanna die,” you mumble. the white collides with green, the rhythmic knack of the balls tense as you watch the green ball roll into the pocket. himiko groans again. “but if you guys want to, i can bring you.”

“bring us?” tomura grumbles. “you’re not our mom.”

“i’m the one with the sword, sweetheart,” you smile. you find yourself enjoying the way tomura’s cheeks redden whenever you call him that, the small, don’t call me that barely audible on his tongue. 

out of the three of them, he’s been the hardest to warm up to. you took himi’s, touya’s, and robin’s advice on gifts, striking up small conversations whenever you frequent the carpenter’s shop. he was a little hostile at first, a small frown wrinkling his pale forehead, and a soft, “i don’t really know you,” before walking away. robin would reassure you, that’s how he is before he warms up to you! frankly, he terrified you. ruffled silver blue hair and vermillion eyes burned themselves into your pupils every time you looked at him, like he commanded your attention when you stepped into the same room. he always wore the same kind of hoodie, just in varying shades of dark, unassuming colours. you’d never felt your fingertips tingle with the anticipation of seeing someone, of talking to someone, of simply being around them. it terrifies you.

but deep in your heart, burrowing itself under the covers of veins and arteries, he fascinated you. you’d walked through the valley, finding him in crevices of the town people never really bother to look. sneaking a cigarette. leaning over the bridge to look over into the rushing water. one time, when the rain was pouring and the sky turned grey, you watched him crouching by a bush, in comically big black rainboots, holding his hand out to a frog. 

he looked up. caught your eye. something youthful, mirthful stirred in the vermilion of his eyes. “they’re cold,” he shrugged. 

you could barely hide your smile. 

the night ends when you get your eight ball into the corner pocket, leaving himiko’s solid balls scattered amongst the felt. she whines. “i didn’t even get to win once,” she pouts. “rematch.”

“get good,” touya chuckles, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “and let the poor girl sleep. i’m sure she’s got an early start tomorrow.”

“it’s parsnip harvest tomorrow.” you blink, your eyes dry. “i’ll be up at 6, probably, yanking that shit out of the ground.”

“it’s so interesting,” tomura starts. “that you literally farm, and the rest of us a bunch of nobodies.”

you frown. “don’t say that,” his eyes meet yours, a look of question. “you’re not nobody.”

“compared to you?”

“we all have our paths,” touya interjects. “i don’t think i’m a nobody.”

“well— you’re not, i’m just sayin’, compared to her—”

“touya’s right,” you say. “we all just do different things.”

there’s a tense silence. touya looks at you, and you look at tomura, who looks at his shoes. you don’t realise how tense your shoulders are until you drop them. “well, i’m off,” you say, grabbing your jacket by the coat hanger. “if you want to go cave exploring, you know where to find me.”

“i’m sorry i called you guys nobodies.” tomura mumbles. “i didn’t— i wasn’t thinking—”

you don’t stay to hear the rest of that conversation. you peer at the three of them out of the corner of your eye as you yank the saloon door open and a gust of air ushers you out. the skies are grey, the breeze warming your cheeks. you huddle into your jacket and walk, your boots crunching against the loose sand of the gravel pavements, the smell of spring slowly fading into the spice of summer. 

the creak of the floorboards as you climb the steps to your farmhouse are interrupted by the jagged sound of footsteps bounding towards you, getting louder with each footfall. you turn around the same time he reaches you, and the both of you gasp and jump back a step. 

“shit,” tomura grins. “did i scare you?”

you huff a small laugh. “yeah, a little. didn’t expect you to be— right… there.”

“sorry,” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. you watch him curiously, the way his hair is tucked behind his ear, the way his sleeves reach down to cover his palms. “i, uh,” he starts, blinking awkwardly. “cave exploring. tomorrow?”

something in your heart blooms. you’re not sure what it is. “you wanna come cave exploring with me?”

he rolls his eyes. “that’s what i just said.” 

the night is quiet. you can hear the occasional cricket in the distance, the whispering winds rustling between the two of you. he’s just a little taller than you are, craning your neck up just a tiny bit to see the reddening chill of his nose. you smile to yourself. “yeah,” you say finally. “tomorrow.”

there’s a shadow of a smile that graces his lips when you say that, almost like he’s… excited. he straightens, clearing his throat, mouthing opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words to. so you say it for him. “you know,” you shift your weight to your other foot, coming down the steps of your cabin. “you didn’t have to come all the way down here to ask me. you could’ve just shown up there and tagged along.” 

“i wanted to—” he starts, and then stops himself. spends a second thinking of what to say. “wanted to make sure you got home okay too.” 

sweet. so, so sweet. “oh,” your cheeks warm. it’s because of the night wind, you promise yourself. “well, i’m okay.”

“good.” there’s a beat of silence, and then he turns to look around your farm. “you know, i could never imagine myself living on a farm. could you picture it? ridiculous.”

you roll your eyes. “don’t knock it till you try it,” he’s looking over your crops wistfully, full of thought. “it’s not the life i thought it’d be.”

“really?” he doesn’t turn to look at you. “what’s it like, then?”

you sigh, kicking out your legs and dropping to sit on the patio. “fulfilling,” is the first word you find that rings true. “like i can wake up every day and feel like i’m meant to do something that day.”

that makes him turn around. look at you with curious scarlet. he seems to glow in the moonlight, his hair billowing in the soft breeze, haloed by the silvery gaze of the stars. you could look at him forever, trace the shape of his body, the small scars on his face. “how did you find that?” his voice is quiet as he asks. like he’s sincere. like he wants to know.

what has life made of you? “i don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “back at joja i went to work for nothing. just a simple, contractual obligation i had to the company. but here,” you breathe in the earthy smell of your growing parsnips, of the rich bark, of the hours of meticulous work that found fruition by the movements of your hands. “it feels like i’m making something every day. and it feels good.”

tomura’s quiet for a moment. turns back to gaze at the splintering moon. “i wish i could feel like that one day.” the end of his sentence sounds unfinished, like he wants to say more. his jaw clenches, and your heart softens. what has life done to you? 

moonlight settles in the pastures of grass between you. you feel something in your fingertips, beyond the buzz of the chill, beyond the whistling wind. you feel the need to reach out for him, stroke your fingers through his hair, listen to what he has to say. maybe, you think, too many people have heard him, but not enough have listened. i feel like i know you, you want to say. even though we’ve never met.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice, small and tinny cuts through the night air. “don’t be late.”

you scoff. “i’m the one up at 6 every morning. what time do you get up?”

tomura smiles. “don’t be late,” he says again, shoving his hands back into his pockets, starting his trek towards the backwoods. “11 o’ clock sharp.”

“when did we agree to that?”

“we just did.”

you groan. “you’re terrible.”

he laughs. disappears into the night. you try to pretend that the warmth in your cheeks is purely coincidental. 

when morning comes, it brings with it peace. quiet, rushing water from the river where you see leah sketching at the wooden pier, and marnie’s lovely animals greet you good morning. when morning comes, it brings with it the cool spring breeze, weaving through your hair as you wrap your fingers around each stem of parsnip and yanking it out of the earth. this time around you’d used the fertiliser pierre gave you for free to try, and the parsnips look spritely, full figured. you wash one off before trying a piece, and to your surprise, it’s good.

you work with a hum on your tongue, fingertips buzzing with anticipation. as your watch hands tick closer and closer to eleven, your chest begins to twist, just a little. is it just going to be the two of you? you’d never been down the first floor of the mines; has he? tomura’s name, face, voice plagues your mind as you make work of your farm. i feel like i know you, you remember the way you felt last night, the strange familiarity in the singing night and the grey-navy skies, the silvery halo of his hair.

eleven comes quicker than you would have liked it to. you hitch a backpack over your shoulder and jam your thumb under the strap, making sure you have everything you need. your pick, your sword, food and water (enough for both of you, and touya and himiko if they end up showing). the trek down the backwoods and east to the mountains is lovely, sunny yet not warm, a couple of squirrels looking curiously at you as you walk past. you don’t know whether you want himi and touya to be there. mind reeling a mile a second, you huff; would it be better to be alone? you can think of a million things that would go wrong if it’s just the two of you, and somehow the worst one that sticks out to you is the awkward silence neither of you have the capacity to fill.

you want to hear him speak, hear him laugh, see his lips twist upwards. you wonder what his lips feel like; they’re full, a little chapped, and you imagine feeling them up the column of your throat. his hands look so bony, lanky, just like the rest of him, like each ridge of his knuckle juts out. you want to hold it, run your thumb over each mountain and valley. 

just to know what he would feel like. 

touya and himiko are there when you come into the eyeline of the mines. thank god, you think subconsciously, though a part of you resents the high pitch of himi’s voice and touya’s nonchalant retelling of his morning. “tomura said he’d be here in a minute,” he glances at you. his eyes are so blue, you realise, just looking at him, a small, comfortable smile fit on his lips. you could swim in them, the ultramarine telling stories you’d never dare to ask about. you want to pipe up, ask about his tattoos when himiko waves excitedly, and the both of you turn to catch sight of tomura trudging towards you in his familiar hoodie. 

“dude,” touya starts. “you literally live next to the mines, and you’re the last one here.” 

“shut it,” he huffs, tucking his hair behind his ear. “i couldn’t sleep last night.” last night. tomura’s gaze drifts to yours for just a second, before he looks back to touya and himiko. “you all ready?”

touya extends a hand to you. “shall we, farmer?” he cocks his head to the side, and you smile as you take it. his palm is warm, fingers long and wrap around yours as he guides you to the front of the group, facing the entrance of the mines. the opening is a little bigger than you are, so you walk in just fine, but touya and tomura have to duck to fit into the entrance. the soil crunches under your boots, and you take a deep breath of the musty, earthy smell. 

“i hate it already,” you mumble. “himi, you’ve been down there before right?”

she hums, nodding her head. “‘s full of rocks and ores and stuff,” she peers over the hole where the ladder leads down, squinting. “last i remember, there were these green blobs. like slimes.”

your eyebrow jump, and touya speaks your thoughts for you. “slimes?” his tone is incredulous, but not disbelieving. 

“slimes.” tomura chimes in. “i’ve seen ‘em too.”

“they really want us to die down there, huh,” you huff a small laugh, before slinging your bag behind you. “alright. c’mon.”

you’re the first one down the ladder. as soon as your foot makes first contact with the damp earth of the lower level, your breath hitches in your throat. the walls, lined with the occasional torch, barely light the space, dim orange flickering. himiko’s description of “full of rocks” was halfway accurate; the pathways are carved in such a way that you can tell someone’s been here before, a clear trek from the ladder up to the ladder down. you unsheathe your pick and swing it at a rock at your feet, and it breaks apart into shards, rocks and ore alike splintering onto the dirt. 

“are any of these valuable?” himiko pipes up, and you look back at them to see touya climbing down the ladder slowly, himiko and tomura already preening amongst the cold, wet earth. 

you shrug. “i know clint uses some of it for his blacksmith stuff,” you continue, the shrill snap of the pick against the rock splitting in your ear. it’s satisfying, watching the rocks tumble apart. “and i have some of his blueprints, so i’ll probably take some back with me.”

“don’t cut yourself,” touya warns. “should’ve gotten you a pair of gloves.”

the worry in his voice makes you smile a little. the four of you make your way slowly down to the next floor, you leading the way. there aren’t any of the so-called slimes on the first level, but you still keep a hand on the hilt of your sword. touya takes over the pickaxe while you do, breaking apart whatever you ask him to, in exchange for “making sure we don’t die,” he agrees with a grin. 

tomura and himiko stick close to you, himi wrapped around your arm as you inch forward. she’s the one who points out the slimes in the distance, memorised them by sound since your vision isn’t completely reliable in this dim lighting. you fend them off with a couple swipes of your sword, and they drop a particularly gross lump of slime that you hesitate to collect, but you pick some up anyway. 

“anyone know what time it is?” you ask as you stop right at a down ladder, swiping your hand across your forehead, the beads of sweat staining your skin. 

silence. “4…” touya starts. “10.”

“did you just guess that?”

“yeah.”

the next couple of floors are easy enough, the slimes barely taking your time of day to slay and move on to the next. together, the four of you make it down floor by floor, your knapsack slung over touya’s shoulder and your pick in tomura’s hands, himiko and you up front paving the way for the boys. they make for cheerful company, you find, even in the dingiest of floors. laughter seems to echo here, bouncing off the rocky walls and making the lights quiver. 

“lemme try,” himi holds her hand out for the sword, hilt worn by your fearful gripping, but still the only chance you all had at protecting yourselves. “i wanna get a couple swings in.” 

you hum. “‘s all yours,” she takes it from your outstretched hand, testing it in her dominant hand; she weighs it, up and down before settling her fingers around the hilt.

“it’s heavy,” she chuckles. “you’ve been handlin’ this all afternoon?”

“you get used to it after a while,” you hunch over, surveying the rocks on the floor, a particularly pretty crystal standing out to you. you pick it up, glowing cerulean and shiny in your palm. tomura stands above you, watching you quietly.

“what’s that?” he murmurs. glancing back up at him, his gaze is so soft, comforting almost. it’s just the two of you in this little space, himiko and touya up ahead carving out the path to the ladder down. 

you get back on your feet, placing your hand on your knee for leverage as you push yourself up. “i’m not sure,” you rub the crystal with the hem of your shirt, cleaning the grime off of the surface. “here. for you.”

tomura looks at your outstretched hand, a reflection of the torch on the wall bouncing off the glinting blue. “me?”

you huff a small air of laughter. “who else would i be talking to, dumbass?”

his face flushes red, pink dusting across the apples of his cheeks. “i hate you.” he takes the crystal in his hand, eyes never leaving it. it fits perfectly in his palm, between his slim fingers as he looks closer to inspect it. “it’s pretty.”

there’s a smile that threatens to tear your face in two, and you turn away from him to hide the corners of your lips upturning. “i think so too,” you mumble, busying yourself with looking at the rocks touya had left scattered on the ground. 

silence, and then you hear, “thank you.”

you get a pair of gloves in the mail the next morning. 

to make sure you don’t cut yourself, the note attached to it reads. thanks for bringing us yesterday. touya.

SUMMER, YEAR ONE

sweet berries and spice come in waves as summer hits. you harvest the last round of parsnips right before the end of spring, tossing them all into the shipping bin to prepare for your next big haul of summer seeds. 

after the first time you went mining, you started to go in there by yourself a lot. you found a rhythm in slaughtering the obstacles you found yourself blocked by, before going back and collecting the resources you needed. it proved to be a fruitful experience when you had nothing to distract you, going down floor by floor quicker than you usually did when you were in the company of another.

but it still felt so much better to have them around you. whether one of them or all three, you always found yourself with a splintering grin on your face and soft eyes as you gifted them something. company proved to be a lot more valuable than anything you could collect from the mines. 

when you reach the fortieth floor you’re taken aback by the change in the surroundings; crystal blue from ceiling to floor, glistening so clear you’re sure if you crouch closer you could see the vague outline of your body in it. it confuses you so much you back yourself into the elevator and walk out, just to walk back in and go back down to the same floor to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

the floor changed, you text himiko. it looks like im standing in the fuckin ice palace.

and ten minutes later himiko’s behind you, oohing and ahhing at the change in decor. “it’s pretty,” she breathes, fingers lightly stroking the frost walls. “have you gone down?”

“no,” you say, hovering above the down ladder. “i hear shit, dude. there’s more stuff down there. blue slimes? little… black dust things…” you trail off. “i guess i don’t really have a choice, do i?”

himiko grins. “nope.”

the two of you go down together.

asking robin to help upgrade your house is one of the best decisions you’d made. a full size kitchen? an actual bedroom? when you walk in you’re floored, pulling your wallet out of your pocket to stuff more cash into robin’s hands. “please,” you heave. “this- robin, no, listen to me, this is more than ten thousand gold. holy shit.”

“no!” she laughs, pushing the gold back into your hands. “i can’t take anymore. i won’t.”

“but— i need to—”

“take care of tomura,” she says. you stop for a moment, a small frown etched in your eyebrows. “i… i don’t think he’s ever had a real friend. i mean,” robin pauses for a second, leaning back against the panels of your home. “touya and himiko, they’re wonderful. tomu loves them—. but there are some days he tells me to tell them he’s sick or out on his motorcycle while he’s just hidin’ in his room. it’s worrying, really.” 

you’re quiet. “he has to have a reason for it,” the silence between the two of you is pungent, but you’re determined to push through it. “he hasn’t always been like that, has he?”

“no! that’s what worries me. what could have happened that changed him?”

you can think of a lot of things. you know robin and tomu’s father were divorced; that was the whole reason why they moved to stardew valley in the first place. you’ve seen him in the rain, standing under the shelter of the train tunnel, smoking a cigarette. you’ve caught him standing by the pier at the beach on gloomy days, just looking out to where the sky meets the sea. in the vermillion of tomura’s eyes you could see an emptiness waiting to be filled. crimson void and expectation. 

it sticks with you even when she leaves. you sit, heavy and alone in your cabin just thinking. take care of tomura. what more could you do for him? it isn’t like he’s super receptive to anything you suggest. he’s still a nightmare to be around, narrow eyes and bitten responses.

and yet you can’t seem to get it our of your head how soft and delicate he was that night he showed up at your farm, asking to meet the next day at the mines. i wish i could feel like that one day. was it stupid, thinking about it? thinking about him? 

he’s your friend, even if you could even call him that. 

you forget about that conversation as the flurry of summer takes over you. melons and blueberries and starfruit populate your farm; it’s busier than it was in spring, and the crops are bountiful and taste sweet. colourful, you think as you round up the first harvest. you keep a few melons and a few starfruit as gifts; you know that penny liked a good melon. 

touya’s birthday comes next. you and himiko spend the morning baking him a large pizza (which his mom jodi hinted to you was his favourite food. pepperoni, she laughs. with extra cheese!). you roll a base big enough both you and himiko’s hands could fit along the diameter, but make sure it’s still going to fit in your oven. there’s cheese in your processor, all thanks to your happy cow (who you named kaminari at himiko’s behest), and you top the pizza off with it. 

“should we do it at his place?” you ask, you mittened hands gently sliding the pizza into the oven. “i think jodi should be okay with it, right?”

himiko hums. “you think shoto’s gonna be home?” you crack a smile at the mention of touya’s younger brother, who you see toddle around the streets of pelican town at intervals. “we should make a small pizza just for him.”

“this one’s huge, he can just share it with us,” you dust your hands off, shoving the mittens on the counter. “i can run over to the house and check with jodi if it’s okay.”

“sounds good,” himiko hums, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of your table. “how long’s the pizza supposed to bake?” 

“about ten to fifteen minutes,” you say, slipping on your shoes. “don’t let it burn. i used my good cheese for that pizza.”

she giggles and gives you a mock salute as you step out the door. you know that touya isnt going to be home; you had tomura take him out to the saloon to distract him (“he’s gonna know i’m distracting him,” tomu complained. “and what am i even supposed to do?” you rolled your eyes. you’re his best friend. figure it out.) and the house should be void of him. you break into a jog, reaching the blue house and rapping your knuckles on the dark oak door. 

“come in!” you hear jodi’s muffled response. your hand finds the metal hand and you twist it, letting yourself in. “so sorry i can’t come to the door,” you hear her disembodied voice drift through the house. “my hands are full.”

“it’s alright, jodi,” you smile, padding softly into the kitchen. you watch her prep her food, hilt of her knife snugly fit in her palm, chopping vegetables in a way you could only dream of doing. “i just came by to ask if it’s alright for us to surprise touya for his birthday here, or would you prefer we do it somewhere else?”

she hums. “that’s totally alright,” she glances back at you, smiling. “do you guys need anything? food?”

“himiko and i baked him a pizza,” you lean against the doorframe. “it’s huge, so we thought we could all share it. the four of us, you and shoto.”

jodi places her knife down gently, heaving the chopped vegetables into the waiting bowls. she sets her knife down, and runs her hands under water. you’ve always admired the way jodi made such a home out of her house. pots and pans line the shelves, ceramic bowls of various shades and patterns stacked atop one another. knick knacks lying around, shoto’s toys covering the couch. it’s a home more than it’s a house. 

(you wonder if you ever get to call your farmhouse home one day.) 

she comes up to you with damp palms, pinching your cheeks. her eyes, soft and brown and aged, sparkle and somehow smile. “that’s too kind of you, sweetheart,” she starts. “i would love to host you guys. what time are you coming over?”

your heart warms. a mother’s love. “soon, i think,” you blink, peering at your watch. “the pizza’ll be done in ten or so minutes, and then we’ll have tomu bring touya back from the saloon. does that sound okay?”

“sounds perfect.” 

the trek back home is a quick one. it’s a sunny, warm day, your sprinkles keeping the farm humid and your crops from dehydrating, and you step over them to get back into your farmhouse, where himiko’s sheathing her hands with the mittens. “hey!” she calls over her shoulder.

“jodi’s all good for us,” you pull out your phone, poised to text tomura. “shall we get them now?”

candles on pizza, blown out with soft cheers and hugs all around. shoto sits in touya’s lap and chatters about his day with ms penny and jas as the six of you eating pizza around the coffee table. it’s a day, just a day under your belt, but your heart feels so warm and full. touya’s face stretches into the widest smile when his gaze crosses yours. 

“thank you,” he mouths. you smile back.

happy birthday, touya.

the elevator of the mine dings. you’re in need of more copper for your kegs, and you had just run out of ore as you were about to make the last one you needed. your pick hitched over your shoulder and your bag slung across your body, you make quick work of the brown earth floors, racking up copper ore faster than you expected. 

monsters here are sparse since it takes a long time for them to repopulate after you wipe them out. your boots squelch noisily against the moist dirt, remnants of grime slime and bugs scattered among the floor. it would be gross to you if you weren’t the one who had slain them that first time.

you climb down ladder by ladder, collecting as much ore as you can find. there’s a strange sound as you reach level 19, but you ignore it. strange sounds are all you hear in these mines, save for the dripping water and the occasional gentle lap of water. you slay a rock crab that hides in the corner, humming. maybe you’ll make crab for dinner tonight. the copper node shatters as your pick makes contact with it, and you pick up the pieces. the down ladder is situated at the far corner of the level, and you make your way to it when you hear the strange sound again.

like a groan. a small hissed out, “fuck.” 

somebody’s down there.

you frown. himiko and tomura and touya would never come down by themselves. you told them not to; it’s not safe without a weapon. but you hastily make your way down the ladder. 

“who’s there?”

tomura. “tomura?” your voice breaks as your feet make contact with the earth.

“oh, thank fuck it’s just you,” you hear him sigh. “i’m here. round the corner.”

you trudge over to him, and you catch him sitting on the ground, leg extended in front of him. he’s still in his signature navy hoodie, and his hair’s tied up into a ponytail, little strands of silver-blue hanging around his pale face. but that’s all secondary to the wound he’s washing with water. it’s gashing, red spilling over into his jeans, soaked and metallic. you’re almost woozy at the sight, crimson-tinted water pooling under his knee. the wound itself isn’t pretty; the cut’s deep, ripping through skin and flesh, pink gaping open. “holy fuck— tomura, what…”

“rock crab,” he explains, voice indifferent, a complete contrast to the wound in his leg. “it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing,” you huff, setting down your pick, heaving your bag off your body. “come here. i’ll—”

“farmer, i’m fine.”

“shut up.” you kneel down next to him, taking out your waterbottle and emptying it onto his wound slowly, making sure the wound is as clean as it can get before you pull out a pack of tissues. “why are you down here on your own anyway? i told you it’s dangerous without a weapon.”

tomura scoffs. “i have a weapon.”

you look up, deadpan. “tomura, that stick is not a weapon.”

he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. he just watches you work, dabbing tissue slowly over the wound to clear the excess water. next you pull out your towel and wrap it around the wound tightly, clearing most of the blood, and applying pressure to stop the bleeding, even if just by a little. “i got bored,” he starts after a while. “and the mines seemed— it seemed okay when you were around.”

“because i have a sword,” you remind him. you unwrap the towel and apply a little bit of antiseptic. “it’s gonna sting a little, okay?”

“i just got bored. i was wondering which parts of the town i hadn’t explored. but the thing about such a small fucking town is that there’s nothing i haven’t already seen.” tomura’s gaze doesn’t leave you, watching your gentle hands work meticulously over his wound. “you really don’t have to. i was just gonna walk home and dress it myself.”

“well i’m here already,” you mumble, wrapping bandages around the wound. “you should still go home right after you can walk and wash it again. the mines isn’t the most hygienic place, but i did what i could. did you cut yourself anywhere else?”

he’s silent. “no.”

“you’re lying, aren’t you?”

he groans, holds out his palm. “i just slipped when the crab cut me. slashed it against the wall. it’s fine.”

“give me that,” you take his hand, a small cut diagonally along his palm. the crimson is so vibrant against his pale skin, leaking in little droplets oozing out of his skin. you wash it with water, before applying more antiseptic. “you’re an idiot.”

“don’t have to tell me twice,” he grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall. his fingers twitch as you wrap the gauze around his palm, pressing the cotton against the cut. 

you hum. “all done,” you let go of his hand, letting it rest against his tummy. “you should get home as soon as you can get up and walk.”

“thanks,” he murmurs. “you should get on with your mining.”

“can’t. you used up all my water.” he rolls his eyes and you snicker, drawing your knees to your chest. “you’re welcome.” 

a beat of silence passes. and then, he breathes. “i’m sorry i came down on my own.” his face is warming, a dusting of pink over his cheeks. “should’ve known better.”

“don’t talk to me like i’m your mom,” you laugh. “i don’t care what you do. as long as you stay safe and well.” 

“oh, so you don’t care about me?”

“did i fucking say that? deaf bitch,” you shove his shoulder, and he chuckles. “you good enough to walk yet?”

he tries his leg, and it twitches. tomura winces, a small knee jerk reaction has him lurching forward. “don’t think so. i think i’ll stay a little while longer.”

you nod. “i’ll stay till you’re alright. wouldn’t be nice of me to leave you all alone in this dark, scary cave would it, sweetheart?” 

he groans. “i keep telling you not to call me that.”

the sound of the water lapping against the stone shore interrupts your thoughts. is this the first time since that night you two have been alone? there’s about a foot of space between the two of you, your pick and bag laying discarded behind you. you sigh, leaning back, letting your hands stretch by your sides. skin makes contact with skin and you pull away just as fast, your fingers brushing his pale knuckles. 

“sorry,” you mumble.

“don’t worry ‘bout it, sweets.”

you look at him. “what did you call me?”

he looks back at you. “sweets.”

a small smile paints your lips. “that’s cute.”

have your eyes always been this pretty?

“you know what,” he relaxes back into the wall behind him. “‘m glad it was you who found me. i’d hate it if it was himi.”

you don’t say anything to that. you don’t know what to say to that. thanks? you’re welcome? “what do you have against himi, man?”

“nothing! just, i’m sure she wouldn’t have had the first aid that you did. 10 gold says she’d meet me here just as bloodied.” he laughs. “not her own blood. she’d go crazy with those critters. remember what she was like when you handed over the sword?”

you snort. of course you do. you had to stop her from killing every monster you came across, even the gentle, non-aggressive ones. himiko’s small but so full of bloodlust and rage, you could still hear her grunts and yells echoing around. “it was useful, she got rid of all of them in half the time i woulda taken.” 

“and touya would never come down here alone. so,” his fingers flex, like he wants to move them but he can’t. “i’m glad it was you.”

silence. he’s looking at you and you’re looking at him and the inches between your faces seem so far apart. is this the time? is this where you end up, amongst moist earth and the humid air, nothing short of grim and bleak? he looks at you like you bring life into the mines, eyes glancing ever so subtly between your eyes and downwards. 

“tomura,” you start. your voice is soft, low, just above a whisper. as if it would hurt you both if you spoke any louder. as if you’re hiding from the world, shielded in this murky abyss. “what are we doing?”

“i don’t know,” he answers. but you don’t stop looking at each other, just willing for the other to give in. kiss me, kiss me. you will him to come closer, just an inch closer. he’s leaning towards you and you to him, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. “is this okay?”

more than okay. but you can find it in yourself to speak or move. all you can do is wait, all you can do is look at him with the most pleading your eyes can convey. and maybe, with one forgotten inch, you will him ever closer to you.

it’s brief. you feel the dizzying contact of skin against skin, breathless and electrifying feeling of his mouth on you. you breathe into him, and your eyes flutter closed as your noses bump against one another’s. it’s clumsy and it’s quick, but your body is so alive it hardly registers the awkward bumbling of your mouths together. you move and it feels seamless, like it isn’t your mind but your muscles that control you now, pressing just a little bit closer, a little bit harder. tomura’s lips are soft, a little chapped, and at first he’s still, frozen where he sits. and then he lets go of the breath that plagues him, and moves.

he chases you for that kiss. every move back you make he’s lurching forward, keep his lips on yours. it’s messy, clumsy, it’s everything you didn’t think it would be, but when you feel the gauzey touch of his bandaged hand on yours, you whimper. a small, throaty sound you can’t control. it’s embarrassing, but he swallows it. he swallows your breath, your composure, licking over your lips and into your mouth. tomura’s crowding into you, needs you like he needs air, and you let him take everything you have.

it’s gnashing teeth and airy gasps, and he pulls, pulls, pulls you towards him, fumbling over the rocky earth between you. “y-your leg,” you manage to pull away just long enough to gasp out, trying your hardest to avoid the bandaged wound, but he’s quicker to pull you down against him.

“i don’t care,” he mumbles before his lips are on yours again, chasing the breath out of your mouth. he’s so demanding; he wants so much, for all of you, and you are nothing if you don’t give it. you give it all up, twist your hands into the fabric of his hoodie and let him take control of you. you let him spit into your mouth, find your cheeks in his palms, cold fingers pressing against your warm skin. it’s just the two of you sitting in this corner of the world kissing like your life depended on it, holding on to each other like the world that you knew burned to ashes around you.

(it was. it is. everything you’ve ever known changed, the moments his skin touched yours.)

and suddenly, you understand. like lovers in a past life. like children waving to strangers. like birds whose feathers barely brush against each other. something ties you to him, in the smell of his hair, in the rough pads of his fingertips. have i met you before?

in your dreams, in your skies, in the pounding of your heart. vermillion eyes and navy hoodies, in a halo of silver blue. you feel so familiar. 

when you part, you look at him and he looks at you. how long has it been since someone has look at you this way? really stopped and not just saw, but looked? with melting mirth and gentle adoration? with parted lips, kissed and bitten swollen? cherry cheeks, pleading to be kissed?

you don’t speak. don’t utter a word as you both get up, feet on solid ground. the world feels different. the world feels full. you walk side by side into the elevator, and don’t look at each other.

are we going to say anything?

your stomach aches. a dull pain that reverberates in the echochamber of your organs, seismic and shattering. it hurts, to breathe and to blink. it hurts to walk by his side and not touch him, the space between you pregnant with silence. 

you walk together in the general direction of the farmhouse. he comes with you, through the backwoods and the north of the farm, just silent as the evening sun settles between the two of you. the valley is strangely quiet, like all has died down just for the two of you to heave, breathe in, sigh out each other. has it all been said? is there anything left to say? you go up the steps to the cabin and he leaves you at the bottom.

you turn to look at him. 

when he looks up, his eyes are puffy.

“tomura,” you start, voice soft. you’re not sure what you want to say, what would be good to say. there’s a million miles between the two of you now, and yet with a single step, you’re in front of him. your tongue betrays you, speaking before you can stop it. “tomura, do you want to come in?”

his leg, you fucking dumbass. you mentally chide yourself, but it’s too late to eat your words now. too late, you think, as you see his eyes glimmer with wanton desire, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. too late, as he takes another step closer to you, a slight limp in his step. too late, as he whispers, “i can’t.”

the silence leaks like a dripping faucet between the two of you. i can’t. i can’t. he can’t, or he doesn’t want to? your mind reels a mile a minute, trying to hide the look of surprise on your face. the sun is dragging her heavy body down beyond the horizon, streaking pink and blue and vermillion eyes that can’t seem to stop looking at you. “you can’t?”

a shaky breath. a mumble, one incoherent, one a soft, whispered, “sorry.” 

tomura reaches up, presses his trembling lips against yours once. a gentle, barely there touch. it’s not a kiss; you breathe against one another, unable to move any further forward or any further back, frozen where you are. it’s oddly sweet, oddly intimate, the skin of your noses touching, lingering. your eyes flutter closed. 

you don’t open them until you hear him leave. 

you don’t see tomura for days after that. 

FALL, YEAR ONE

fall sneaks up on you as your last harvest for summer rolls around, the orangey browns bleeding into the greenery of your farm, slowly turning more and more warm-toned. your hands wrap around the last melon of the season, watching the sway of the leaves as they fall slowly to the ground, permeating the ground with the tangible passage of time. two seasons you’d been here. 

touya and himiko come to your farm to visit every so often, helping you pluck berries from the bushes, water your plants. touya takes an affinity to feeding your animals, making sure their trough is clean and filled with fresh water. 

tomura doesn’t come with them. the first few times, you’d let yourself hope he would, but as summer ticked by, he made no appearance. you didn’t bother looking out for him; the only time you’d try your luck was when you’d frequent robin’s shop to upgrade your barns, and you’d ask. shyly, your voice soft. “is tomura home?”

and she’d look at you the same way she once looked at himiko and touya. “he’s out right now,” she says gently, intonations of her voice suggesting otherwise. “i’ll let him know you were looking for him.”

does it stress you out? a little. you find yourself pacing around the train station, mindlessly plucking weeds or relaxing in the spa, keeping your peripherals out for where he might be. nestled in some nook or cranny of the valley, a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, crimson eyes narrow and tired. but you can’t find him anywhere. it’s really like he disappeared.

you begin to miss the little jokes, the little shoves you’d give him, and the irritated stare he’d return. you start to miss the three of them; tomura, touya, himiko, trudging to your corner of the valley to disturb you, laughter ringing in different pitches around the farm. but you carry on. 

i can’t. can’t what? it was one kiss, that’s all it was. if anything, you’d chide him for being dramatic. but you can’t help the seed of fear that burrows deep in your heart, that maybe you’d asked for too much. that you’d overstepped, that you’d ruined everything good between the two of you.

the taste of his lips lingers on yours, like a burn that etches itself, red and angry under your skin. when you touch your lips you can vaguely remember the feeling of him, his skin brushing lightly against the plains of your cheeks. his hands on the neck of your neck, chilled skin against your flushing figure. him pulling you on top of him, injury be damned. 

you can’t stop thinking about him. the fire and the fight. the silent understanding, the mellow gaze you shared when you parted, like two halves ripped apart once again. is it stupid to think like that? he wasn’t your first kiss. far from your last. tomura was but a dent in your grand scheme of life, and yet here you were, hung up over vermillion eyes and silver-blue hair. 

“what’s going on with you?” you’re plucked out of your thoughts when touya sits down at your table at the saloon, sliding his mug of beer between the two of you. “you look depressed.”

you snort. “thanks.” he watches you closely as you breathe in slowly, straightening your back. “it’s just been a long season. my back hurts from all the harvesting.”

“you’re like that every day. no, this is different.” he raises the mug to his lips, taking a sip. he baulks, swallowing forcefully before coughing. “god, i don’t know how pam does it. this shit is rancid.”

“i would’ve thought it was right up your alley,” you joke, snatching the handle of the mug from him and taking a swig. your eyes widen, choking back the cough that rises in your throat before swallowing. “i take it back.”

he chuckles. “so what’s up with you?”

you raise your hands in faux surrender. “nothin’! i’m perfectly good.” 

but you both know. you don’t have to say it; you both know. tomura hasn’t shown up to anything in weeks, and frankly it’s disorientating. “this isn’t outside of his normal line of behaviour,” touya tries to sell you some compensation, as if it would make you feel any better. “he does this to everyone.”

and you know. you know this isn’t some special treatment he’s giving you; he ignores, avoids, evades. but you thought you could have been. the one he never has to hide from. 

your gaze meets touya’s, and you both share a look of resignation. of understanding. one that’s shared between a brother and his sister, one he’d do anything to protect. touya places his hand on yours. in the silence, it’s clear as day. 

himiko’s birthday is a quiet affair. she doesn’t want much, but you bring her your most bountiful harvest and the biggest chunk of amethyst you’d saved just for her. she squeaks when you hand it over to her, pulling you into the warmest of hugs. 

“thank you, thank you,” she repeats over and over. “you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this. i’m gonna—” she cuts off, jumping up to her feet to stalk over to her dresser, placing the amethyst right in the middle. “like that. so everyone can see it if they so much as peer inside.”

you smile at her. “and the way the sunlight hits it. oh,” you’re mesmerised, streaks of light purple trailing up the walls. “just make sure nothing, y’know. catches fire.”

she laughs. claps her hands on your shoulders and plants a kiss on your forehead. your skin warms, looking up at her with wide eyes. “what was that for?”

“nothin’,” she chirps. “just glad you’re my friend.”

you spend the rest of the day with her, sitting on her floor as she sits above you on her bed, her legs dangling by your sides. it’s weirdly close, weirdly loving in a way that you can’t describe, but you spend the day playing journey of the prairie king, winning round after round with her. touya shows up later with cake, panting slightly.

“my fuckin’ favourite,” she all but yells, taking the cake into her own hands. “my custom shitty strawberry shortcake by touya.”

touya wheezes, rolling his eyes. “i get better every time i try, i promise.” 

“i like it just the way it is!” himiko sets it down on the floor, getting down next to it on her belly. “shall we? farmer, you’ve got the candles right?”

you stick them in, light them one by one, and let out a soft tune that touya joins in with. it’s happy and it’s sweet.

you pretend not to notice the gap touya and himiko leave where tomura usually is. 

WINTER, YEAR ONE.

as winter approaches, you begin to stockpile for the season. leah’s taught you how to make various salads. you have hay to last for months for your animals, and heaters to keep them comfortable. 

“sure does move fast, doesn’t it, farmer?” mayor lewis trudges up to your farmhouse one day at the start of winter. “‘s almost been a whole year since you moved here.”

you shove your hands in your pockets after closing the chest you were digging in, puffing out your chest slightly. “yeah. really flies by.”

“has it been alright?” you think you hear some sort of genuinity in his words, some kind of actual worry. “i see you’ve really made your rounds with the villagers.”

“i’d say it’s been alright,” you mumble. you haven’t been the biggest fan of lewis since the underwear incident, and you had heard from touya that the mayor keeps a solid gold statue of himself in his backyard. paid out of taxpayer money, he chuckled. you decided you didn’t like lewis all that much after that. “cleaning up the community centre’s really kept me busy.”

he hums. “well, i just wanted to inform you of the festival of ice happening the day after tomorrow,” his face burrows deeper into his thick layer of scarf, words muffled slightly. “we all gather for the annual fishing competition. i heard elliot’s participating this year, so willy might finally have some competition.” 

lewis laughs, so you feel the need to follow with your own soft chuckle. “everyone’ll be there,” he continues, and you doubt it. tomura hasn’t shown up for any of the festival events since that day, not even the spirit’s eve festival. (“it’s his favourite festival,” himiko whined. “where the fuck is he?”) “making igloos, snowgoons; it’s a wonderful time in the snow. i hope i’ll see you there.” 

you manage as much of a grin as you can without it looking like a grimace. “i’ll try my best,” you tell him. not that i have anything else to do.

he nods, smiling, before turning back around to walk away. “oh,” he continues. “if you could get that troublesome tomura to come back finally, that would be great.”

you’re standing there in pathetic silence as you watch him walk away. troublesome tomura. you feel your fist clench— as if he knew anything about tomura. as if you knew anything about tomura. the boy is an enigma, you’d decided long, long ago. one untameable, unsolvable. 

you can’t say you haven’t seen him since that night. he’s popped up in the crevices of the valley, but neither of you have the good will or courage to come up to one another. you walk past each other as if you don’t know each other. you ignore his voice. you tune out his footsteps. it’s not often that you see him in your peripherals but it happens enough. 

but it’s still beyond you why. you only followed his lead, only kept your head down because he did first. did you do something wrong? touya and himiko reassure you otherwise, but exchange their own looks of worry when you ask whether he’s met up with them. “no,” touya confesses. “we haven’t had the opportunity too. he’s back to making robin make up excuses for him.”

so it’s not just you. at this point you’re getting frustrated at how he’s handling all of this, rolling your eyes whenever you find yourself wondering how he is. he’s dramatic, that’s what he is. 

but when you get to the cindersap forest the day after the next, he’s there. tomura’s there, bundled up in his black coat and his dark grey hoodie peeking under. his hands are shoved into the pockets of his coat, burrowing his chin into a red and black striped scarf. he’s standing by touya and himiko, and looking at them it feels like nothing has changed. like he hasn’t disappeared for two whole seasons, leaving you in the dust. 

do you go up to him? do you leave him to it, be the first to apologise? you busy yourself with making your rounds around the forest, commenting on penny’s snowgoon, robin’s ice sculptures. you laugh with willy about the ice fishing competition, and how now that you and elliot are playing, his title of undefeated champion might finally be rescinded. you do everything in your power to turn away from eyes you know are looking at you, burning into your back. 

and it’s not until hours later, when the excitement has died down and the children have tired themselves out that tomura comes to you. 

“hi,” you hear, his voice scratchy and mellow. why does your chest ache when you hear it? “you… did well during the fishing competition.”

you snort at that. typical of him to try and make idle conversation when there’s a much bigger conversation to be dealt with. “thanks,” you murmur. “didn’t win though.”

“well,” he shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “it’s hard to beat willy.” 

you’re standing together at the edge of the forest, looking out upon the gray-navy sea. it’s high up, the cliff you stand on, one slip could send you tumbling down the rocky slope of untouched earth and rock, but you sit down anyway, letting your legs hang over the edge. “elliot was close.”

“you were too.” he sits next to you, and you can feel, despite the chill of the winter night creeping down your neck, your chest begins to warm. it’s quiet, the rivulets of time pouring between the two of you. you want to open your mouth. you want to speak, to say something, to ask. where have you been?

“i took a ride out to zuzu city,” he says as if he read your mind, scratching the back of his neck as he starts. “after that night. just to clear my head.” 

you don’t say anything. you’re not sure there is anything to be said. so you root your fingers in the blades of frozen grass and begin to pick at it. ice crumbles in your fingers, melting into little pools of forgotten potential at the warmth of your skin. “and i stayed there for a couple of days.”

so he was out on his motorcycle. you try not to smile at the thought of robin finally telling the truth about tomura’s whereabouts for the first time, and the relief she probably felt. but still, you hang your head and stare out at the white-capped waves, crashing against the shore of the cliff. nothing to be said.

“i…” it’s quiet. his voice is quiet, tentative. “i’ve never been so confused in my life.”

nothing to be said.

“i’ve never,” he pauses and starts repeatedly, like he’s trying to find the right words to console you. like he’s coming up with an excuse on the fly. “i’ve never felt the way i feel about you.”

nothing to be said.

“i’ve never met a person i can be so… comfortable around.” 

please, just stop this. you look at him, glance at him for a split second, and you meet his gaze. you don’t know what you look like but you hope it’s all equal parts discomfort and anger and sadness and relief. you want him to shut up, disappear for another two months. you want him to kiss you again, tangle his hands in your hair and never let go. tomura, just stop. 

“it made me angry.” you haven’t stopped looking at him, and now the two of you are staring into each other, vermillion eyes deep set, tired. “i was so angry.”

“and so you ran?” 

his breath hitches. “yeah. i ran.”

you turn your attention back to the sea, your heels bumping against the rocky edge of the cliff. running away. what an easy way out, you think, from dealing with your problems head-on. but your thought strikes you cold; isn’t that what you did? running from the city to come here, to escape from that which you could never deal with on your own? is it hypocritical of you to tremble with frustration right now, is it ignorant of you to have made up your mind already?

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologise.” 

his fingers wrap around your wrist and tugs, just gently to make you stop. “please.” he begs. “look at me.” 

silence. you don’t move, and tomura’s grip on your wrist doesn’t either. look at me. look at him? what for? for him to make excuse after excuse, bullshit lie after bullshit lie? but eventually you sigh, leaning back just slightly so you can glance at him from the side. 

“i’m sorry. i am. and i know that what i did was selfish, and shitty, and fucked up, and i don’t expect you to forgive me, but i need to say this.” he pauses, clearing his throat. “i… owe a lot to you. and i know that i can’t explain all the shit that i did, but…” 

he’s not usually like this. he isn’t being brash, snarky, clipped tones and sarcasm. he’s different, and it’s unnerving how much you don’t recognise him. what have the seasons done to you?

“i’m not a good person,” his voice is shaking, trembling. “i run away from people who scare me, im not nice to people who love me. i feel anxious around touya and himiko; and i know they only mean well but,” his words jumble together in his mouth, until he stops suddenly, taking a deep breath. he flexes his knuckles in front of him, a fidget you noticed of his. “i don’t like to feel— and it terrified me, how much i felt for you. and so i ran. and i know, i know that doesn’t excuse things, but—”

“where did you go?” 

he stops short, crimson eyes glimmering. “what?”

you try again, your voice a little more solid. “where did you go?” 

the crash of waves below the two of you fill the gap in the conversation. the look of hesitation across tomura’s face, and the eventual resignation. “there’s a cliff in zuzu city that i drive to almost every night,” he begins. “and i’d drive around to the city, and stay there for a day or two.” his eyes flicker up to the sky, watching the clouds graze by, pulling his chapped bottom lip between his teeth. 

“take me there.”

he looks at you, and you’re glimmering. you’re looking at him with hard eyes, your brow furrowed and upset, cheeks flushed. but under your anger there’s a hint of curiosity, hint of relief that swims across the gloss of your eyes. his breath leaves him in a shudder, and you watch the condensation of the cold air flit in a wispy cloud up into the space between you.

“now?”

“yeah.”

stardew valley passes you in a blur of hazy orange glow and twinkling lights. tomura slung his helmet over your head much to your chagrin, murmuring against your protests. “i’ll be fine,” he shrugged. “i’ve ridden without a helmet plenty of times.”

and now the wind is whipping through the sleeves of your shirt, arms wrapped tight around tomura’s torso as you watch the scenery zip by. it’s late at night; the valley is asleep, save for some homely warm glows in the windows of some houses, but for the most part, the journey to zuzu city is desolate. 

you’ve never been on a motorcycle before. it’s surprising how calm you feel, even without the familiar claustrophobia of a car or a bus, little leather strap stretching across your body to keep you from flinging out of your seat. but here, on this bumpy road, hanging on to tomura with your cheek pressed against the thick plastic of the helmet pressing against his back, you feel peaceful.

tomura smells like strawberry gum and laundry detergent. his coat, probably buried at the back of his closet till the seasonal need for it to shelter him away from whipping winds comes around, smells stale, but still the same comfort comes to you. “you okay back there?” he asks, loudly over the screaming wind. 

“‘m fine,” you reply, leaning up to the back of his neck to tell him.

he shivers. blinks for just a beat too long, before letting go of another stuttered breath. your hands are so warm against the thin cotton of his hoodie, fingers hooded by knitted wool, while his hands, white-knuckled, stretching over the handles of his bike, are slowly numbing. what if he shoved them in your mouth, let them warm up a little bit? 

shakes the thought out of his head. concentrates on driving, the rhythmic pattern of your breathing, the feeling of you pressed up against him. tomura looks up at the sky and begins to wonder how he managed to stay so far, for so long. 

dirt kicks up behind you as tomura slows his bike to a stop, kicking the stand to rest it. he slides off the side, holding out his hand for you. you look at his hand, bony and pale, his palm upturned to the sky, and take it. 

the tips of his fingers are cold. you lean into them, the chill of the winter night seeping into your bones through the knits of your sweater. “thanks.” you murmur, sliding off the seat and taking a step forward. your hands remain in each other’s. 

your surroundings are bleak, trees scattered with a grey tone path leading up into a clearing. “do we…” your voice trails off, looking up and around. the greyish sky seems to sigh, wind curling through the leaves. tall, thick trees with dark oak trunks stretch to the clouds, branches raised like they’re praising the moon. “huh,” you let out airily, your attention caught. 

“come on,” he hurries you along, stepping forward on the marked out path. “you wanted to see this, didn’t you?”

this, refers to the clearing. refers to the edge of the dirt track, the edge of a precarious cliff that dangles over the valley. miles and miles of navy void lead to the dazzling view of zuzu city, illuminated glittering golden in the moonlight. you swear the light is swimming, swirling around in mismatched patterns, like stars. you take a tentative step forward, tomura’s fingers tightening around yours, and you breathe in the cold air. you can’t help but look, look, look, watch the world and not be a part of it. the comfort in knowing the world moves on without you, and the terror that it moves on without you. 

“it’s nice,” tomura starts. “just to come here and think.” his fingers are twitching, itching for something to hold in between them. “i spent a lot of time here.” 

the sheen of grey that washes over the both of you makes you glance up, the gaze of the full moon daunting upon you. a deity, the only being privy to the moment between you and tomura. “how did you find this place?” you ask.

“just driving around,” he drops to a squat before lowering himself onto the ground, patting the space next to him. you hesitate for a moment, but he continues anyway. “i noticed the dirt track out by the turning just now. followed it all the way here.” 

you stand, arms folded across your body as you watch the moon. it’s a calm sort of peace that settles between the two of you, and you find yourself moving to sit next to him before you can tell yourself to stop. you leave a foot of space between your bodies, and when you look up at him, he’s looking at you too. 

“when i didn’t wanna talk to touya or himi, i’d tell my mom to make excuses for me,” he starts, and you have to smile just a little, letting out a small i know. that makes him flush, stuttering over his thoughts. “i just- i’ve never really wanted to be around people sometimes. being alone is… comforting. peaceful.”

he catches your unimpressed stare, and his lips tighten. “i know. i know, it was shitty what i did.”

“at least you’re aware.”

“it was just- weird,” he says, pausing slightly. “weird because i’ve never wanted to be around someone before.”

tomura’s life has never been one of much company. you learned a lot from robin; that after she and tomura’s father separated, and they moved to pelican town, it wasn’t a smooth sailing journey to where they are now. “he’s never really gotten used to demetrius,” robin told you. “and he treats maru like a stranger.”

“and i don’t want you to think some cheesy shit like you changed me or whatever,” his hands pick at the rocks, the loose debris of the cliff. “but— i don’t… know. it’s so confusing.”

you find your tongue in the silence. “why did you come back now?” you don’t look at him, eyes trained on the horizon, where the sky meets the ground. “why now?”

he mumbles something, a little under his breath. it’s incomprehensible over the whistle of the wind. 

“what?”

“... ..sed you.”

“tomura, god—”

“i missed you! okay? is that what you wanted to fuckin’ hear? i missed you and your stupid farm and your stupid cat and i wanted to see you again.” 

there he is. you feel yourself breaking, the exterior you put up while he was away, chipping debris by debris until it falls away, tomura sitting on the other side. haloed by the silvery shards of moonlight. you look at him, and laugh.

you can’t help it. you can’t help the soft giggles that erupted from your mouth, ruby eyes turning sharply to glare at you. “oh? is that funny to you? stupid farmer,” he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. his hair, a little closer to white than it is to blue now, is billowing in the wind, long and thunderous. 

you sober up, softening by his side. “you’re a shit guy for running.” 

“i know i am.” he sighs. “i’m sorry i did that.”

you can’t say it’s okay. because it isn’t. it was two whole months you spent wondering what you did wrong, two whole months touya, himiko, and robin had to reassure you he’ll come home soon, he’s okay. it’s two months of safety you couldn’t affirm, two months of nights where all you could do was stare out of your window and wonder when he would come home again. so you don’t say that. 

“will you run again?”

tomura is quiet. his lips are pressed tightly together, eyes scarlet and gaze wavering. “i… no,” he whispers. “i don’t want to anymore. but,” he moves closer to you, looking at you. “i can’t promise that.”

your shoulders relax, despite his hesitance. because the seasons have changed him, the valley has changed him. he’s jaded, he’s all jagged edges and sharp teeth, glaring gazes and vermillion fear. but you lay a gentle hand on his, and he seems to melt, dripping at the seams. like liquid wax, singing the flesh of your skin. the kind that’s sticky, runny, pools where your fingers meet his. 

let me stay by you. let me hold you as you feel, let you feel things for the first time. you can’t find the tongue to say those things, so you keep your hand in his, quiet, still, unmoving. it feels like seconds, aeons before he moves, ever closer to you, until your foreheads knock together. 

“stay,” you whisper. “you don’t have to promise me. just tell me you’ll stay.” and if you lie, that’s okay. 

his breath shudders, scarlet eyes heavy. “i’ll stay,” he murmurs back. “i’m not going to run anymore.”

there’s a crackle, low in the pits of your chest, darkness illuminated by a spark. just a single, lovely spark as his eyes meet yours, candour painting his tongue. there’s a softness in his throat as he breathes, and the words you share are lost between you as he pushes forward ever so slightly, catching his lips to yours. tomura envelopes you, body and soul, a large hand splayed across the little of your back. he’s pulling you, as he does, into his field of gravity, into his body, until there’s not an inch of space that dallies between the two of you. his other hand finds the curve of your cheek, tilting your face up to slot his mouth against yours, noses bumping against each other. you can't help the giggle that bubbles past your lips, swallowed by his mouth, your own hands scooping under his to lay gently on his back. 

it’s calm, electrifying. it’s all the good things tomura has ever known and loved, rolled into one as he heaves you on top of him, a momentary break between kisses as you brush his hair back behind his ear, tangling your fingers in soft strands. “stay,” you say again, the movement of your lips dragging your skin against his. “stay with me.”

and he kisses you again, hands wrapping around you and holding you tight, like he’s sinking his fingers into your skin, marking you, clutching you so you won’t slip away. i won’t, you promise, through the arching of your mouths, the grip on his coat. you’re making all these promises, all these vows to him in your mind. you’re begging him to stay, to feel for you like you feel for him.

and, and, and. “i’ll stay,” he whispers, frantically, his hands scrambling for the hem of your sweater. “i’ll stay, fuck, i will.”

you know these are words coloured in passion, spoken in the heat of the moment. you know he doesn’t really mean them, but for a night, you can pretend he does. you can pretend this is your happily ever after, you can pretend you’ll never have to worry that he’ll leave. because from the way he’s chasing you down, swallowing your spit and your breath, it feels true. it feels honest, and beautiful, and new. tomura kisses and touches and reaches for you, like you’re all the love he’s ever been privy to. and you’re so generous, you’re letting him take, and take, and take, let his hands, cold to the touch and tips icy ruck under your sweater. you gasp into his mouth as his skin makes contact with yours, touches greedy and clumsy but you don’t care, can’t care. you’d give him everything, give him the whole world plattered on your body if you could. 

“‘s so warm,” he murmurs, lips trailing from your lips to your jaw, nudging your face up to plant his lips against the column of your neck. “you’re so warm.”

a little sound escapes you, one between a whine and a moan, and you tangle your fingers tighter into the fabric of his coat. “tomu, tomu,” you hips shift and suddenly— fuck, you feel it. he catches you, catches the hitch in your breath when your hips drag over the strain in his pants. you can feel him, feel the fruition of his desire through the rough denim of his jeans. “you’re- you’re hard.”

“of course i am,” he sneers, lips wrapping around the chilly skin of your shoulders. “look what you fuckin’ do to me.” 

you laugh softly, planting your hands on his shoulders and rolling, up and down against the bulge of his pants. it drags along your own cunt, and the both of you hiss; it’s excruciating, his sharp bones and pale hands against your soft flesh, pulling you closer to him. he rocks you, slowly against his cock, and you stutter through a moan. 

“look how hard you make me,” he whispers, lips brushing against the hood of your ear. “fuckin’— it’s all for you.”

“all for me,” you repeat back to him, a little dazed, a little dreamy. “i wan’— i wanna— see.”

“see?” he pulls away from you for a second, ruby eyes finding yours. your eyes are glazed, just a little, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, and he thinks you’ve never looked cuter. “you wanna see what?”

“you,” you breathe, his hands still guiding you over his cock. it’s infuriating, the friction of his denim-hidden bulge against the cotton of your pants, catching roughly against your clit. it hurts, but you don’t mind it; as much as you can have, as he’ll give you. you’ll take it. “your cock, wanna see your cock.”

tomura curses. scarlet going awry, heaving you off of him for just a minute as he undoes the button of his jeans. “wanna see my cock? you gonna suck me off, pretty girl?”

you whine. “let me, let me,” you paw at his thighs, helping him shimmy them down his jeans. looking up at him, your breath’s caught in your throat; the dusty silver of the moon weaves through his hair, illuminating it a soft blue. and he’s looking at you, really looking at you, burning bright with such want that it makes you shiver. “you’re so pretty,” you drawl, your fingers flexing over his thighs. 

he scoffs, letting your fingers be the ones that peel the elastic of his waistband from his hips. “‘m not pretty.” he huffs, leaning back on his hands as he watches you. “you’re fuckin’— fuck, baby,” a groan claws past his lips as you press kisses up the length of his cloth-covered cock, peeling the cotton back just a tiny bit to reveal the flushed tip of his cock. your mouth waters at the sight of him, pale, skinny but long, tip flushing a deep red. 

you can’t stop looking. it’s almost as pretty as him, delicate veins forking up the underside toward the head. you can’t stop looking, as the tip oozes pearly beads of precum. “fuck,” you murmur, your thighs clenching subconsciously. “tomura, holy fuck.”

his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling roughly at the roots. “don’t just stare at it, suck me off,” he tries to pass it off as an order, a command— but it’s laced with a whine, dripping out of his throat with a lacquer of desperation. 

you smile at him, watery and needy and obedient, dropping your jaw just enough to fit the tip of his cock into your mouth and you moan. at the taste of him, salty and tangy and you lap it up. the weight of his cock, hefty of your tongue, makes you feel whole. you feel him shake, staggered breath exhaled from his mouth, and when you look up, he’s already looking at you. 

“look at you,” he murmurs, full of mirth, full of adoration. his palm comes to curve against the swell of your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “so fuckin’ pretty. god, your mouth is so warm.” tomura holds your face in place as he bucks his hips up into your mouth, a groan falling from his lips, followed by sorry, sorry, fuck it just feels so good. you smile around him, letting him fuck into your mouth with the eagerness and excitement you’d never seen from him. you let him push your head down, nose nestled against the dark curls that line his tummy, sparse and ticklish against your skin. 

if he notices you gag, he doesn’t show it. just tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes, a deep groan slashing through the cold, quiet night. you choke a little, eyes watering as you struggle to breathe, and eventually he allows you solace; letting you pop off his cock with a loud smack and a gasp for air. 

tomura looks at you with love in his eyes. swollen lips, glassy eyes, you’re fucked out, and he hasn’t even fuckin’ touched you yet. “my pretty girl,” he murmurs, drawing his thumb against the seam of your lips. “fuck, did that all for me? took it all so well for me?” 

and you can’t do anything but nod, but whine for him to let you continue, let you suck him off until he’s coating the back of your throat with white hot cum. “you sure?” he asks, gentle mirth under his tone. “only if you want to—”

“i want to,” you cut him off, lowering yourself again to press your cheek against his denim-clad thigh. “you taste so good.” 

tomura flushes, a deep pink scattered across his cheeks that he could have passed off as a chill from the cold night. but instead he pulls you in to kiss you, to taste the lingering saltiness of his precum off your tongue. he kisses you like his life depends on it, clutching the back of your neck to hold you steady against him. 

“go on then,” he whispers. “be a good, good toy for me.”

it’s like a duty, now. you take him into your mouth, the fat tip of it pressing up against the back of your throat. you focus all you can into not choking, not gagging around him, taking as much of him as you can down your throat. and he helps you along, with a gentle hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, his hips snapping forward into your mouth. “that’s it,” he hisses. “that’s my girl.” 

you moan, shuddering around his cock, peering up at him through clumped lashes, and tears brimming along your waterline. crystal tears spill onto your cheeks as you take more and more of him into your mouth, until it’s not by his hand that you’re pressed against his pelvis, but by your own accord. you’re fucking drooling, spit pooling at the base of his cock as you slacken your jaw to accommodate his cock, the tip of it pushing right up against the back of your throat.

“fuck,” tomura curses, hips bucking up. “‘m gonna cum if you keep— fuck, move. move your head, please,” his hands coming round again to cup your cheek, guiding your mouth along the length of his cock. pitchy and whiny; that’s all you can describe his voice at, weakening and loosening around the seams until he’s breaking apart, mewling for you to keep like that, just like that. fuuuck, yes. yes, yes—

when tomura cums, he cums heavy. thick, white, warm cum seeping into your mouth, filling you faster than you can swallow. he groans, slinging his arm across his eyes, panting. 

you pull off of his cock, watching it soften slowly, still oozing pearls of cum. “i—” you start, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re fuckin’ amazing,” he breathes, heaving you onto his lap, and you’re hyperaware of his softening cock right against you right now, but he pays it no mind. “so perfect, baby.”

those words make your heart pound, the inner volition to make him feel good fluttering in your stomach, kerosene coating the lining of your stomach, threatening to start alight. ”did you…was that alright?”

“more than alright,” he murmurs against your skin, nibbling on your shoulder gently. “you did perfect.”

your thighs rub together at the sound of his praise, mewling softly and you tug against the fabric of his hoodie. tomura coos, pulls you closer to him and rocks you back and forth on his lap, letting your breathing return to normal. his fingers skirt down your back, his lips brushing against your ear. “wanna take care of this,” he whispers, and you’re suddenly aware of the uncomfortable wetness between your legs, slick practically pooling in your panties. “let’s go home?”

you want to say no. you want to shake your head, slip your panties to the side and impale yourself on the cock that’s twitching (and beginning to get hard again). but the rational side of you remembers the winter cold, and the full moon hung up high in the middle of the sky, signalling twilight. he tucks himself back into his boxers, and then looks back at you.

“soon,” you whisper, burying your face into his shoulder. “just a few more minutes.”

tomura wraps his arms around your midriff. “okay,” he murmurs. “just a few minutes.”

the ride home is anything but quiet. you try not to distract him as he drives, but you can’t help but press your cheek against his back, his coat now donned over your shoulders when you let slip one small comment about how you were cold. you can feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat through his hoodie, the knobs of his spine curving in and out. 

tomura thinks he’s faint, the image of you with his cock barely fitting in your mouth burned into the back of his eyelids, and every time he closes his eyes, he has to clutch the handles of his motorcycle to regain control. white-knuckled and jaw clenched, he tries to relax. tries to drive through the valley without a rigid posture, but he can’t. not while you’re sitting there in a puddle of your own slick, not while your arms are wrapped around his torso. not while he can feel your cheek, the warmth of your body melting into his through the worn cotton of his hoodie. 

you’re exhausted, your breathing steady as your eyelids droop. but you’re enamoured by the lights, whizzing by you as tomura drives down highways. the streets begin to feel familiar, the same greenery you wake up to every day starting to enter your vision. “you okay?” he calls loudly over the wind.

“all good,” you call back, reaching your neck up to smile against his neck.

he pulls into the bus stop instead of the path leading to the carpenter’s shop, and you look at him a little weird as he plants one foot on the dirt. “shouldn’t you drive back—”

“it’s closer to your house,” he explains, sliding off the seat. “c’mon.”

he offers you his hand again and you take it, but this time you let it fall between you, fingers curling around each other’s. you pull him in the direction of your farmhouse, the valley quiet save for your soft giggles and tomura’s smiles, shaking his head at you. the step below you creaks as you step up towards the door of your cabin. 

“i…” you begin, but can’t find the right words. “i feel like we’ve been here before.”

you have. tomura remembers too, the setting sun in summer, the smell of spice as you bounded up the steps of your farmhouse, tossing your head back to look at him. the aftermath of your first kiss in the cave. the moment he realised he was in deeper than he had ever planned to be.

bitterness is heavy on his tongue. the memory of the way his lips curved around the words, i can’t. can he, now? can he now, two seasons later, as snow threatens to bless you? as you look at him with hopeful yet resigned eyes? isn’t the canyon between expectation and hope a ruthless one? 

“we have.” he finds himself saying. 

i’ll stay. fuck, i will.

“tomura,” you begin. “will you come in?”

tomura has never known love, feeling like he has with you. tomura has never been one to back down from his word. tomura is fire that burns a bright blue, icy where it should be ferocious, and somehow it is more fearful to be unfamiliar than to be dangerous. 

but you are the glow of the sunset, when you close your eyes and the orange permeates through your flesh through a warm radiance. you are gentle love and fierce passion. you are everything he’s ever wanted but never could be.

and here you are, your hand in his, waiting for an answer. 

a new day, a new dawn. 

“yeah,” he whispers, letting his foot step up toward you. “yeah, i’ll come in.”

it begins to snow right as you fall into bed together. the gentle drifting of the winter wind beats against your windows, a soft whistle as a draft blows in. it’s lovely, a cool breeze against the warmth of your radiator, skirting up your legs and his back and the way he presses you into your mattress. 

temptress. you’re a temptress, all whines and mewls and soft pants as he grips your chin in his hand. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he all but groans, fingers drifting back down to your cum covered pussy, slick with spit. “look at me. look at me.” 

vermillion meets your desperate gaze, looking up at him with need painted all over your face. your eyebrows pinched, your mouth agape. “please,” is all you can say. all you can beg, and you don’t even know what for. “please, tomura.”

you’re giving up the reins. you’re powerless for the night, something you’ve never even thought about doing. all your life, it’s been about you, what you could do to make people happy, what you could do to make life livable. you’ve never for a day let yourself rest. you’ve never let yourself go. 

until now. until pale hands are trailing down your body, the plush flesh of your torso, the curve of your hips. until you’re bucking up to meet him, arching to pull his face down to meet yours. all for you, only for you.

and tomura doesn’t know what to do with it. doesn’t know how to hold so much love and adoration even in his big, big palms. he touches you like this is the only chance he’ll ever get (and right now, it feels that way.) he digs his fingers into the pudge of your thighs, he holds you like you’ll crumble to dust. he’s so overwhelmed. all for me? all this, he thinks as he watches you through half lidded eyes, breathing uneven. you’re splayed out on your bed, the iridescent glow of the moon outlining your desire. your pussy lies before him, slick and sticky and waiting to be filled. 

he doesn’t know what to do with himself. has he ever thought, or even dreamt of this? he never expected to be here, kneeling before you, hands privy to the plains and valleys of your body. pastures of unmarked skin, your hands calloused from farm work and your skin covered in sheen of sweat. “tomura,” he hears you call, and he drifts back into this daydream with you. “tomura, what is it?” 

it’s different. he can’t summon that low timbre of his voice, can’t manifest that confidence he had in that clearing. because now he sees, understands just how much you’re willing to give him. and he’s suddenly hit with the revelation; how much he would give to have you, be with you every night.

love is so unfamiliar to him. feeling anything that isn’t annoyance, anger, resentment; he’s never been privy to such a delicate feeling, a gentle hand on his cheek. your hand on his cheek. “tomu,” you whisper. 

crystalline tears. pale cheeks, scarlet eyes. “let me,” he all but begs. “let me have you, please.”

and you can’t help but smile. “you have me,” you promise. “you have me, tomura.” 

the head of his cock catches against the small slit of your cunt, and you both gasp into each other’s mouths, your back arching into his chest. “fuck,” he curses, shifting slightly and he slides home. works his cock into you inch by inch until you’re mewling, grasping for purchase on your sheets, on his shoulders, down his back. “fuck, you’re t-tight.” his voice breaks into a pitchy whine, ripping through his scratched up throat. 

“t-tomura,” you gasp, can’t keep your mouth closed with the force of his hips slamming against your pelvis. “i— s-slow…”

“can’t,” he breathes, pressing his sweat-slick forehead to yours. “s-sorry, fuck, can’t stop,” your bed is creaking with the sheer force of his thrusts, his movements, and you’re powerless to do anythingbut lie there and take it. lie there and let him mould your cunt into the shape of his cock, lie there and let him bully your already-sore pussy. he’s so deep you feel like you can’t breathe, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you take, take, take.

his big, big palm snakes under your body, pulling you, willing you ever closer to him until the air between the two of you is non existent. you’re pressed together, skin to skin to burning skin, and he won’t have it any other way. he’s burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, rutting his hips into yours. it’s clumsy, it’s messy, but it’s still earth shattering to you. he pours every bit of his need, his desire into his touches, love bleeding through his fingertips. “is this okay?” he whispers into your damp skin. “tell me it’s okay.”

“yes, yes,” you barely choke out, each breath of yours fucked out of your throat. “keep— d-don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“i won’t,” he swears. the lewd squelching of your skin slapping, the wet juncture where you two are connected aligns with your laboured breathing, the tiny whines and moans that he forces out of you with every move. 

your legs are shaking. “can you…” your words drift off into a small gasp, and you decide to let touch speak for you. you take his hand from where he’d planted it next to your head. “f-feel,” you command him, guiding his palm to your navel. “‘s you.”

tomura almost cums on the spot. loses all his breath as he presses down on your flesh, feeling the bulge in your tummy as he pushes in and pulls out. “fuck,” he grunts, sudden energy coursing loudly through his ears. “fuck. ‘s me, isn’t it? you feel it deep, sweets?”

sweets. you shudder at the nickname, letting a small whine fall from your wrecked throat. “feel it, feel it,” you nod pathetically, your legs twitching. “feel it in my tummy.” 

you’re gonna be the death of him, he swears. he’s going to die by your hand, by your voice and your words, melancholy and mellow, sweet and generous. laced with the poison of butterflies, wings fluttering in his chest. “g-good,” he stutters over his words, the clench of your gummy walls around his raw dick making him stagger. “good fuckin’ girl.”

you mewl, pulling him closer to you. he falls, falls into your chest, your plush skin under his fingers, pushing and pulling you apart. uncoordinated, but you don’t care. you open your eyes to meet his, and you swear you could see the hearts that form in his pupils. “tomura,” you whisper. “‘m close.”

“me too,” he grunts. “you gonna be good for me? gonna cum?”

you squeak as he speaks, crude and crass language sending heat straight to your abused pussy. “y-yes, gonna, gonna—” your words turn to a mewl as he begins to move, rutting even deeper inside of you. it’s dizzying, exhilarating, the pace and the strength he’s using, his plush cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust. “tomu- ah!”

“not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like this,” he pants, hands coming up to plant next to your head. “‘m— fuck, baby, what did i jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“can’t help it!” you cry, bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts. “please, please, cum with me. c-cum, inside, inside.”

he shouldn’t. he knows he shouldn’t. he’s raw, in your unprotected pussy, tearing you apart, in half, into pieces. you’re drunk on him, your mind clearly too fogged up to think properly. but he can’t stop moving, can’t when your warm, gooey pussy keep sucking him back up. he seethes, “say it again. say it again.”

“cum inside,” you whisper, and it’s like a command. it’s ridiculous, just how much your sweet, soft voice compels him to grant your every wish. he cums, cums, cums so heavy, breath stuttering and voice cracking as he rides out his orgasm in you, spilling white and warm in your sticky pussy. “yes, yes,” you chant softly, words almost incoherent to him.

tomura doesn’t stop. can’t stop, not only you’ve come for the second time tonight around his cock. he keeps moving, fucks you to the point of his own stimulation, the slow drag of his raw cock almost painful. but he keeps going, fingertips reaching down to rub at your clit. he makes the mistake of glancing down, catching sight of the place where he disappears inside of you.

fuck. you’re frothing, creaming around the base of his cock, his own cum leaking down out the sides of where you’re stuffed full. he can feel himself twitching, a shuddering breath releasing. “baby, baby.” 

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper. you’re barely audible over the sound of skin hitting skin, and he would have missed it if he wasn’t buried into the side of your neck, ear brushing the dry skin of your lips. “g-gonna, gonna cum—”

you’re so quiet. you’re so heavenly, mewling and whining softly as you cum apart. your eyes flutter closed, eyebrows pinching as you cum, pussy clenching around his half hard cock still inside of you. scarlet eyes watch you as you come undone around him, your body tensing before relaxing, your pretty face desperate. 

“cum so pretty,” he absent-mindedly blurts out. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

you smile at him, eyes dazed and dreamy. “thank you,” you whisper. “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

tomura watches you sleep that night.

you fall asleep before him. it’s not that he can’t sleep; god, he’s exhausted. all he wants to do is wrap himself against your back and fall into dreamland right behind you, but he forces himself to stay awake, just for a little while more. 

he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyes are so delicately closed, the occasional twitch making him rigid, scared that he’s accidentally woken you up. but you don’t stir, just sleep. 

stardew valley is soft and mellow in the wee hours of the night. tomura’s never seen himself in bed before 3, not since he had work to do, or games to play. he watches you sleep, stares at your back. he’s familiar with this sliver of moonlight that creeps in through the crack of your curtains, and lays privy to this moment between two lovers. 

lovers?

are you lovers?

he falls asleep, face settled against your back, the word nestled in his throat.

in the barn. - tomu

the morning is cold. you shove on your clothes and your coat on top of that, looking out the window at the cloudless sky, not even a hint of cotton in its endlessly blue horizon. you see footsteps leading out of the cabin and towards the barns, and you smile to yourself. 

you follow the footsteps, several inches of snow crunching under your boot, and you can hear the satisfied moos and bleats of your animals before you even approach the open door. you keep a small giggle to yourself as you watch tomura, his hair messily tied up into a haphazard bun, in his hoodie and sweatpants laying hay for your animals.

“busy morning?” you lean against the wooden doorframe, watching him. he tosses you a glance over his shoulder, and your chest flutters; soft set vermillion, his rosy cheeks, a blush at the tip of his nose, god your fingers are itching to touch him.

“mornin’, farmer,” he calls, his voice crystal and clear as day. “i just wanted to help you get a headstart on your day.”

whatever response you had, snarky or loving, dies in your throat. “oh,” you mumble, soft keys pressing into the still morning air. “thank you.” you feel your feet moving before you can stop them, and you meet him halfway in the middle of your barn, surrounded by hungry cows and pigs and sheep. “how do you… feel?”

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “i should be asking you that,” he murmurs. “i wasn’t too… rough, was i?”

you shake your head no. “you were perfect.”

he smiles gently. “you were, too.”

a sigh, a breaking boundary as you cross into his space, craning your neck up to press a soft kiss to his lips. he drops the hay in his hand, wrapping his arms around your midriff and pulling you closer to him, forcing you on your tiptoes and he deepens the kiss, pushing, pushing, pushing. 

you whimper into his mouth. “you’re insatiable,” you manage to choke out between kisses, his lips nudging your chin up for access to your neck. 

“can’t help it,” he mocks you from last night, and you roll your eyes, letting your eyelids flutter shut. 

you spend your day together, working on the farm, sneaking kisses here and there. laughing, giggling across fields of barren land, the snow caking most of your farm, making it hard to move. but it’s okay; as he leads you with your hand in his, you’d move across lands and seas, follow him to the ends of the world.

a spark, burning bright in the middle of your body. illuminating all around you. and tomura steps into your light, and stays.

stays, and stays, and stays. 

keeps his promise, and stays. 

tomura’s birthday comes the next day. it’s a little last minute, since he only came back two days before, on the festival of ice. but still, you, touya, and himiko manage to pull together a small celebration with his family.

you and himiko spend the morning baking his cake; a vanilla shortcake, with loads and loads of frosting. you run home to the farmhouse to get some of the strawberries you’d saved just for this, slicing them with the blade against your palm. 

“so what happened?” himiko asks, whisking the bowl of ingredients. she’s fantastical; no matter how vigorous or rough she’s stirring, nothing ever ends up outside the mixing bowl. “you guys just left the festival together. tell me, tell me! did you guys make up? did you guys make out?”

you flush. of course himiko was going to ask you this; you shouldn’t have held onto any expectation that she wouldn’t. “we… talked things out,” yeah, talked to his cock in your mouth.

“yeah, obviously.” she snaps her bubblegum, setting down the mixing bowl. “if you hadn’t he wouldn't be here right now. we wouldn’t be bakin’ a fuckin’ cake.”

you laugh, setting down your knife and picking up the mixing bowl. “this all done?” you ask, and himiko nods. you begin to lay the batter into the lined pan, thumping it so there aren’t any air bubbles. 

“c’mon, spill!” she demands. 

“there’s nothing to spill,” you lie through your teeth. you don’t know if tomura wants anything to be out in the open right now. you don’t know if you want anything to be out in the open right now. “you’ll be the first person to know when there is.”

if himiko can tell you’re lying she doesn’t bring it up. just carries on with the next topic of conversation and whirls the cake into its finished state. you text touya, ready?

tomura’s room smells of vanilla and candle wax as you hold his birthday cake up to him, letting everyone behind you sing. he’s smiling, a real, genuine smile, the apples of his cheeks plumping as a grin breaks out across his face. your heart softens just watching him, and you want to lean forward over the flickering candle flame and kiss him. 

but you can’t; not while everyone’s surrounding you, gentle smiles and words in joy and prosperity. so instead you hum softly with everyone’s tune, and position the cake just right for him to blow out the candles. 

when you look up from the mesmerising waver of the candles to look at him, he’s looking right back at you. thank you, he mouths, amber flickering in his ruby eyes, glistening and so, so beautiful. 

you can’t stop the small smile that paints your lips. you’re welcome.

the chatter slowly dies down as the night falls away. it had been you, himiko, touya, and the rest of tomura’s family all crammed into the small of his bedroom, laughing and sharing cake and drinks. robin and demetrius retired to bed, as did maru, leaving the four of you huddled on tomura’s small bed. 

it’s small talk and gentle laughter, a bottle of wine that touya brought handed from person to person. you don’t drink- not usually, anyway- but you take a small swig every time it comes to you. 

tomura’s hands are situated, carefully and cleverly behind you, the two of you side by side with you backs to the wall, himiko in front of you and touya next to her. cake lays half-eaten in front of you, bits of frosting smeared on the sheets. tomura sneered at it, mumbling about how drying sheets is so troublesome in the winter. but your hands, your fingers gently resting against the back of his palm, settles his mood and evens his breathing. 

you tend to sit back on these conversations, let these childhood friends talk and laugh it out. you enjoy just watching them, mirthful glances back and forth, the occasional question coming to you, like what kind of comics do you read? or do you have enough heating in your cabin?

it’s slow, it’s lovely. you feel the hours tick by as you hear them chatter, eyelids slowly drooping. you hear your name murmured, and you tune in for just a second. “so,” touya starts. “what’s going on with you two?”

you look at them through half-cracked eyelids. “nuffin’,” you mumble. 

tomura looks at you, eyebrows pinched, but says nothing. 

“do you not want them to know?” 

touya and himiko took their leave after several hours, bidding you both goodbye. himiko swooped down to press chaste kisses on your cheeks, and touya wrapped his long, lanky arms around you in a warm hug. “you not gonna go home yet?” he whispered.

“no,” you smiled. “you guys go on first.”

tomura looks at you now, hands clearing the cake off his bed. he grabs a tissue, scoring the frosting off the sheets. 

“hm?” you hum, helping him along.

“you don’t want them to know?” he asks again, eyes soft, but worried. “you said there was nothin’ going on. are you… ashamed of me?”

you look at him, blasphemy pouring through your expression. “what? no!” you rush to cup his cheeks gently in your palms. “i just– i didn’t know if you wanted me to say anything, i just— i’m sorry, we can—”

“baby,” the low timbre of his voice stops you in your tracks, and he can’t help the small smile the breaks out of his lips. “hey. hey. stop rambling.” tomura’s palms come up to envelop yours, nuzzling his face into your palms. “i just got worried.”

“you don’t have to be,” you peer up at him, eyes wide. “if you want to tell them– we can do that, we can—” 

“you’re tipsy, aren’t you?”

you hit his chest. “i barely had anything to drink!”

“lightweight,” he chuckles, swaying you over to his bed. “you talk too much.”

“you’re so fuckin’ mean,” you groan, the both of you collapsing on his tiny bed, and you end up on top of him. your legs straddle his thigh, his arms tight around your midriff. “i don’t like you anymore.”

he laughs. “what are you, five?” he dips his head downwards to press a small kiss to your nose. “need me to take care of you, is that it?”

you shake your head vehemently. “i’ll take care of you,” you puff out your chest, sitting up on his lap. “up, up, c’mere.” he groans as you pull him up by his arms, long and lanky and slightly toned. you take hold of his sweater, instructing him to lift his arms as you pull it off, tossing it behind you. 

“what about you?” he asks, fingers playing with the hem of your own sweater.

but you shake your head. “‘s your birthday,” you remind him. “wanna take care of you first.” your shaky fingers fumble with the buttons of his jeans, and he chuckles, helping you along. 

“you don’t have to,” he says, wearily. “you don’t need to do anything for me—”

“i want to, tomura,” you whimper, pulling his jeans down his thighs. it still makes your nervous, seeing his cock, the pretty length of it, curved slightly to the side. makes your tummy ache, your chest flutter with anticipation. today is no different, as you pull the elastic down to free his cock, half hard and flushing pink. your breath hitches, mouth practically salivating. 

you line the underside of his cock with gentle, featherlight kisses, letting your tongue poke out of your mouth as you lick from the base of his cock to the tip. he groans, back thumping against the wall as he watches you. he’s convinced you are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, your eyes gentle and determined as you swivel your tongue along the small slit. “fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to tug at your hair. you huff, pulling off his cock. 

“no touching,” you chide him. “this is about me and your cock right now.” 

he sneers at you. “what are you gonna do about it?” 

it’s so quick, the way you know your way around tomura’s bedroom, know he has a tie lying in his closet, thrown haphazardly over a hanger because his stepdad told him that was the best way to store ties. you pull it off and bound back to where tomura sits, legs spread, his cock twitching at the sight of you looping the tie around your fingers. “give me your hands,” you instruct him, and to your surprise, he puts up no fight. holds his hands out, base of his palms touching, looking up at you with his mouth slightly agape. your breathing hitches, and your next words are tentative on your tongue. 

“that’s a good boy.”

the way tomura reacts, the slight twitch of his cock, the quiver in his bottom lip, it’s all a newfound revelation for you. you tie his wrists together, making sure it’s not too tight, loose enough that he doesn’t cut off circulation, your fingers trembling. “you like this?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t answer. grits his teeth and glowers at you, but doesn’t answer. you sit back down in front of him, lowering your head to kiss squarely on the slit of his cock, now fully hard and achingly crimson. he whines, pitchy and breathy, head knocking back against the wall, and you love it. revel in it, bathe in the power you now hold over him. “don’t worry,” you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the side of his cock. “i’ll take care of you, okay?” 

you slacken your jaw, taking him into your mouth, the peripherals of your vision catching the way his hands flex, fingers tensing with the need to hold you, but he can’t. his hands, tied and kept away, are absent to keep him steady and upright, and he heaves against the wall. already? already fucked out? you want to tease him, but you decide otherwise, preferring to take more of him down your throat. 

his hips involuntarily buck, and the intrusion of his cockhead hitting against the back of your throat makes you gag a little. “‘m sorry, sorry,” he whimpers breathily. 

“‘s okay,” you smooth your hands over his thighs, milky skin unmarred, unmarked. “why don’t we get you out of your clothes completely, baby?”

it proves a challenge, a small one as he barely moves to help you pull his jeans off, but once you do, you can’t help but look. the pale, pearly skin of his legs, his thighs, his hips; you’d seen it all already, but it felt all so new again. his nipples, pinkish brown and pebbling in the cold, look so pretty against the plains of his torso, miles and miles of iridescent pasture, ridges and valleys as his bones jut out of his flesh. he’s so pretty, so inviting. 

it makes you want to bite him. 

you lie him down, his back comfortable against his sheets, tied hands over his head. “is this okay?” you whisper in his ear, watching the way his skin flushes. 

“yeah,” he whispers back. “please, please touch me.”

and who are you to deny such a request? who are you to not give in, give it all to me now? you smile gently, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and a little chapped. you nudge his chin up so you can wrap your lips along the column of his neck, suckling bruises into the pearly skin. his breath stutters, you can hear the raggedness of his breathing in your ear as you make your way down, slowly, slowly. your fingers come up to his nipples, taking one first, and rubbing it in slow circles. 

“fuck!” he yelps, a stuttered gasp in, a wanton moan out. 

“like that?” you smile up at him, and he can’t help it, his glaring, glowering exterior chipping bit by bit. can’t help the way he nods excitedly, mouth open like he’s about to beg you to do it again, please do it again. 

so you do. circle his nipples, pinching them every so often, revelling in the stagger of his chest, his erratic breathing. tomura looks so pretty with his face flushed, cheeks blossoming patchy pink and red. his eyes are fluttered close, back arching into your touch. “more, more,” he whimpers. 

“patience, baby,” you smooth a clammy hand down his chest. “patience.” 

what a good boy. you lift his hips up a little, situating yourself between his milky thighs, suckling your signature into the skin. he’s covered in a slow-growing litany of purple and blue bruises, ones you know he’ll complain about when you’re done, when he’s attitude comes back. but for now, it’s alright. it’s lovely, even, the way he’s begging you for more.

you place his thighs on his shoulders as you lie on your stomach, raising them little by little until you see his little whole, shuddering, clenching. “did you clean up for me here, baby?” you whisper, nosing against his perineum. “you were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

“shut up,” he lets out between grit teeth, a clenched jaw. 

“i don’t think i will,” you breathe against him, raising his legs even more until it bends, knees pressed to his chest. you run a finger over his hole, gauging his reaction, and he doesn’t disappoint. he bucks himself against you, trying to catch on to anything more than the fleeting touch of your fingertips. 

you let your hands pry apart the fat of his cheeks, allowing yourself more access to his hole, and press the flat of your tongue against him. he moans, airy and pitchy as you coat his tight rim with your spit, before massaging two fingers against the seam. “can you take my fingers?” you ask softly, letting your free hand smooth against the backs of his thighs. 

nod. “yeah, i-i can,” he promises. you look up at him now, and your heart aches. his arms are straining, nails digging into his palm. his soft hair fans out under him, peeking silver and white and little bits of blue against the white sheets of his pillow. marks spell out your love against the milky plains of his skin. you can’t stop yourself from looking, just looking, until he whines.

“please, please keep going,” he begs, so sweetly, honey dripping from his lips. 

so you do. you press your fingers into him, stretching him out before adding your tongue next to them. you eat, you feast upon him, his skin spit slick and precum oozing through the slit of his cock, pooling at the base. you lap at him, taking everything plattered in front of you, the friction of your lips on his tight hole and your nose on his perineum driving him insane. “your cunt,” you breathe in shakily, you can’t even hear the words you’re saying. “you taste so fucking good.”

“gunna—” tomura begins to whimper, thrashing against the sheets. you lock your arms around his thighs, keeping his lower half still as you continue to eat, your tongue massaging the tight walls of his ass. 

“need more,” he begs, and you know what he’s asking for. your fingers, two of them, slide easily into his ass and he mewls, your fingers diving deep and calloused fingertips working against the gummy spot inside of him. “yes— yes, right there!”

“right here?” you murmur, watching his cock as it bobs, balls drawn tight. “gonna cum for me?”

he lets out a guttural moan in response, and you have to continue. have to fuck his hole until he cums untouched, spilling white onto his stomach. it’s almost artistic, the way he cries out for you as he cums, hips bucking violently and his back arching, cumming and cumming and cumming. 

you ride out his orgasm with him, your fingers slowing a stop before pulling out completely. “i didn’t even get to touch your cock,” you giggle, and he glowers at you through the crack in his eyelids. “you came untouched.”

“oh, ha ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “i came like a little schoolboy when i get my ass played with. is that what you’re going to say?”

“not at all,” you reach up, undoing the binding of his wrists together. “i was going to say you look so pretty when you let me take care of you.”

he blushes, cheeks pink and red, before heaving you over him. “tomura!” you squeal. “your— oh my god, your cum’s gonna stain my jeans.”

“i’ll wash them later,” he pulls you on top of him, pressing a kiss to your lips, swallowing your protest. his fingers tangle into the hem of your sweater, pulling it up, over your head. “take em off. now.” 

you sit up, undoing the buttons of your jeans and you both pull them off together, along with your pretty pink panties that tomura looks at for just a beat too long. “those were part of your birthday present,” you kiss his nose, cozying up onto his chest.

“and you didn’t even let me take them off you.” he sounds actually hurt, and you laugh at his forlorn expression.

“you’ll have plenty of other opportunities to take them off of me, okay?” you toe them off, dangling them in front of him. he snatches them out of your hand and tucks them under his pillow before pulling you down to meet him, chest to chest. your tits, soft, pillowy spill over onto the side, and he has to stop himself from twitching back to life. 

“do you want me to take care of this?” he murmurs, dragging a few fingers down your back, dipping between the curves of your ass, and he gasps. “you’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“you don’t have to,” you hum, your eyelids beginning to droop. “i feel fine knowing you feel good.” 

tomura shakes his head. “it’s not fair,” he pulls you up, dragging you forward by your thighs. “that i came and you have to sit there in a puddle of your own fuckin’ slick. c’mon, sit.”

“i’m sleepy,” you whine, your cunt hovering above his mouth. “you don’t– don’t have to.”

but then he’s pulling you down, your cunt straight on his mouth, the schlick of your slick-covered pussy making contact with his tongue. it’s dizzying, the speed at which he’s devouring you, like it’s his only mission to get you to cum— and cum strong— on his tongue. “tomura,” you attempt to say, shaky tones of your voice wavering. “o-oh, shit, oh fuck.”

he just hums. just peers up at you with his eyebrows pinched, your knees digging into the sides of his pillow. you can’t stop looking at him, his mouth firmly planted against the mound of your pussy, sucking and slurping like his life depends on it. his eyes are glazed over, lost in the euphoria of your tangy and sweet taste, the folds of your pussy enough for him to delve into, his tongue teasing the gummy walls. you grip the wood of his headboard with one hand, the other rucking through his hair. 

it’s not a service, not a duty. it’s not an obligation but a desire, wanting to feel your weight on him, wanting to dig his chilly fingertips into the pudge of your thighs and feast, pry you apart on his hands until you’re crumbling. you’re whining, loud and unabashed, as you ride his face. you can’t see it but behind you, his cock jumps with every moan you let out, oozes precum with every downward grind you allow on his face. like two bunnies in heat, you rut against each other, letting your sin and your vice and your love bleed into the air.

his lips wrap around the bud of your clit and you’re gone, mouth hanging open as you whimper a soft, “cumming, cumming,” just loud enough for him to hear. but even if he didn’t,, he could tell by the way your legs go rigid, and your pussy clenches around nothing. you’re limp and lifeless, slumping against him as he pulls you down from your reverie, pressing his lips to yours. you let him stick this tongue in your mouth, the taste of you tangy. he whimpers as you shift, sucking on his tongue, letting it press up against the roof of your mouth, the flat of your tongue.

tomura devours you whole, mind, body, and soul, and offers his to you on a platter. you tangle together in his sheets, inseparable, two bodies, two souls forged into one as you fall asleep in each other’s arms. you become one, never letting him go, never letting the bruises that mark him yours fade for long. 

the snow picks up as you sleep, the homely glow of his desk lamp illuminating the space. tonight, it’s your turn to watch him as he sleeps. you’re lying together, facing one another, but you have to crane your neck up to watch him. he sleeps lightly, you know, so you try not to disturb him as you drag a hand up and down the side of his torso, and then moving to stroke his back. you count the freckles in his skin, the shapes that his moles make. you begin to memorise his body, idiosyncrasies of the man in front of you pushing you further and further into some sort of love for him. 

“i love you,” you whisper. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

with the passing of winter comes the end of the year, and the feast of the winter star comes around. you have leah as your giftee, so you take a trip into the city to get her a printed, binded copy of all the artwork she had shared with you. 

while you’re there, you dip in and out of comic book shops, looking for copies of solarian chronicles he’s been wanting for forever. you buy three volumes, walking out with a soft smile on your face. “thanks so much,” you call over your shoulder before you leave, catching the bus home. 

you also make your version of pumpkin soup with some harvest you had saved, the recipe robin had given you directing you slowly and surely. “you should make this for him,” robin said when she handed it to you, a smirk on her face. “he’ll love it.” you flushed. what was she insinuating? did she know? was she okay with it?

but it didn’t matter for much soon after. the morning comes with the smell of pine and holly in the air, and you all exchange gifts at the tree. as you hand leah her gift, her face lights up with shock and mirth as she flips through the pages. 

“you fuckin’ didn’t,” she gasps, looking at the high resolution prints of all her artwork. “holy shit, no you fuckin’ didn’t.”

“do you like it?” you ask sheepishly.

“do i— you— i love it,” she snaps it closed and throws her arms around you, swallowing you in a tight hug. she smells like the forest, like dew drops in the morning. “thank you. thank you.”

your gifter turns out to be evelyn, the sweet village grandmother. she hobbles up to you slowly, taking your hands and placing a neatly wrapped box in them. “it isn’t much,” she says, smiling up at you. “but i know how much you like those cookies.”

evelyn’s cookies are probably some of the best snacks you had ever tried. the first time she had offered you some they were gone within the day, and the second time, himiko and touya scarfed them down in even shorter. “thank you, evelyn,” you reach down to press a kiss to her cheek. “happy holidays.”

tomura and you had planned for him to come over after the festivities. robin’s fine with it, a knowing smile on her lips, but demetrius is a little more sceptical, something about having to spend the holidays with your family. “why don’t you come over to ours?” he asks you. “we have plenty of food, and we’d love to have you over for dinner.”

“demetrius,” robin smacks him lightly on the arm. “let him go.”

you both offer watery smiles to robin, and leave the feast with your hands barely touching. once you are out of the eyeline of the villagers, tomura wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into his chest, a small squeak of surprise clawing between your lips. “tomu!” you giggle, tripping into him.

“you look so pretty today,” he buries his head into your shoulder, swaying with you. “i wanted to kiss you all morning.”

you heart warms, and you reach up on your tiptoes to kiss him, catching his jaw in your palm. “you don’t look too bad yourself,” you breathe against his lips. 

the kiss is short, brief, but still so full of warmth and electricity. it’s dizzying, how much joy runs through your veins with a simple kiss, but it’s tomura. his hair’s tucked back behind his ear, and he’s brought out his “festive” sweater; a plain, maroon coloured one. “i need more clothes,” he murmured to you one night, going through his closet. “these are all i have.”

but back in the now, you’re tugging him in the direction of your farmhouse, bounding up the steps with him in tow. your hands tangle in each other’s as you collapse on your bed, pulling out the wrapped gifts you had for him. “me first, me first.” you tell him, fishing out the wrapped comic volumes, covered in white and red striped wrapping paper. “here.”

you heave it into his hands, letting him judge the weight of it before he’s tearing it open. his eyes gleam, and you can see the way he perks up, mouth pressed into a tight line to keep from splitting into a wide smile. “baby…” he trails off, eyes not leaving the pristine copies. “oh my god.”

“you like em?” you ask softly, hands fumbling with one another in your lap.

“i do, i love em. how did you— know?”

“you know i listen to you when you talk, right?” you giggle, slinging your arms around his neck. “and you talk about these volumes all the time.”

he flushes. “i do not.”

“do too. and now you have em, so you can stop complaining about how much they cost.”

tomura’s bottom lip quivers and shakes, his scarlet eyes wavering as he heaves you to sit on his lap. “thank you, baby, thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “you’re the best girlfriend ever.”

you both freeze, movement ceasing the moment that word leaves his lips. “girlfriend?” you ask, tentatively. 

and tomura groans, whipping his head back. “i was… i was going to ask you officially after i gave you your gift. fuck, ruined it.” he slaps his hand across his forehead, cursing himself out. but you giggle, prying his hand away. 

“you can just ask me now,” you whisper in his ear. “not that there is any doubt about it.”

but he shakes his head. “your present first,” he reaches into his bag and pulls out something small. it’s wrapped in brown paper, an oblong shape and covered in tape. “don’t you dare say anything about the wrapping.”

you take it in both your hands, giggling quietly. “wasn’t gonna,” you insist, your nimble fingers digging under the tape, tearing the paper. 

your heart aches as you unwrap it. it’s a small porcelain figure, two little frogs under the shelter of a big green leaf. one of them has your yellow rain boots, and the other tomura’s black boots. the paint, the sheen, the gloss, you run your fingers over it  like youre waiting for it to crumble away like an illusion.

but it doesn’t. it’s real, a small little ceramic figure warming in your palm.

“oh my god.” is all you can say. you can’t stop staring at it, can’t stop looking. “oh my god.” 

“i got it done that day i went out into the city with touya,” tomura starts, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve wanted to show it to you since. you can tell how much of a fuckin’ struggle it was.”

your eyes are glassy, and you feel the familiar prickle in your nose that precedes tears. “tomura,” you look up at him, crying. “i love it.”

he smiles. a big, genuine smile that crumbles all doubt and insecurity in your heart, warms it with a gentle ray of sunshine. “i’m glad you do,” he takes your chin in his fingers, tilting your face up to kiss you. it’s soft, sweet, like the gentle fall of snowflakes that patter against your window. tomura’s breaking down, the unfamiliarity of love overwhelms him, but as long as it’s you in front of him, he thinks, he doesn’t mind the feeling of free falling. your lips are warm, intoxicating, honey-sweet, and he just wants to kiss you forever. 

you two part, a string of spit connecting your mouths and you look up at him. his midas touch, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, turning all you see into gold, glimmering, iridescent joy. tomura presses his forehead to yours, and whispers, “happy holidays, baby.” 

taglist: @softmitsuya @severedreamtragedy @keigospup @bratty-wh0re​ ​ @mitstubachi​ @hitoshitoshi​ @ra-dawg13​ @kore-faunaandflaura​ @mikasaismygfx​ @ketia​ @kiyomis-world​ 

[whirlybirbs]

          (   this chapter’s gif by @august-walker​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy! 

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MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

                                        ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh. 

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

[syluszz]

you wanna kiss me so bad, huh?

series: my hero academia / boku no hero academia

pairings: katsuki bakugo x reader

length: 5k words

warnings: swearing, mentions of making out (w/ a minor), breach of privacy??

tags: secret relationship, enemies to lovers, high school AU, reader-insert

summary: the mutual agreement between you and your bf to keep your relationship on the DL is about to be ruined when he makes the stupid mistake to leave his phone on the table for the whole class to see

author’s note: i’m so sorry! i really tried to make it gender neutral, but it was female leaning... i apologize! i’m still pretty new to writing dis homie so please be lenient when it comes to character accuracy lol. i also apologize for the messy, unstructured writing. also thank u to bae @izvkos for proofreading!

Just as you were getting ready to doze off, the school bell rang, startling you and making you jerk up from your comfortable position on the desk with your head in your arms. Some of your classmates got up to stretch, since it was the break time between classes. Unfortunately, it had only been the end of third period and you had a long school day to go through. You let out a low groan of disappointment. I guess I’ll have to keep myself awake just a little bit longer.

To be honest, you didn’t mean to stay up all night... it was just that you couldn’t help binge-watching your favorite show last night. You convinced yourself that you were only going to watch one episode before you went to sleep... then one lead to two... then three... and then before you knew it, the birds started chirping. But, hey! It wasn’t your fault that it was so addicting!

“Oi.”

You look up to see Bakugo peering over you with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face, “Tch, you don’t look so good today. Didn’t get enough sleep? How are you gonna be a pro hero with those bad habits of yours?”

You scoffed, “Oh, fuck off. Sorry I don’t go to sleep at 8 every night… grandpa.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of me all you want, but who’s gonna be laughing when you fail your exams next week. I see you dozing off in class, you act like Aizawa-sensei doesn’t even notice,” Bakugo grunts.

You coo, “Awe, is blasty-boy watching me during class? I didn’t know you were this deeply in love with me! So cute.”

His face went red for a moment before his usual angry expression returned, “I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU DAMMIT! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR STUPID CRAP LIKE THAT!”

“Y/n! Stop teasing Bakugo like that! You know he can’t handle it...” Mina chimed in, joining the fun.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T HANDLE IT?! ” screamed Bakugo.

“Quiet down back there.,” threatened Cementoss as he entered the class to prepare his next lesson.

You and Mina were just laughing at your classmate screaming his head off, it was always an amusing sight if anything. Even though Bakugo denies having a crush on you, it wasn’t true. And you knew that. He had a fat crush on you, but it was more than that! He was your boyfriend.

You guys had kept your relationship on the down-low for about a month now, your relationship only became official about a week ago, but you guys had been going on dates prior. Bakugo wanted to keep your relationship a secret, you know, to protect his ego or whatever since there has always been a rivalry between the two of you and everyone in Class 1-A was painfully aware of it. He was too proud to let anyone know that he fell for someone he once vouched as his enemy.

-

There was always constant bickering between the two of you. Whether it be something minute or something that you would argue over for a couple of days. It’s not like the arguments were unintentional because they were started just to spite the other. Bickering would start about each other’s fighting technique in battle or even accusing the other of stealing their food from the shared fridge in the dorms.

The rest of your class was so sick and tired of the ongoing feud so one day, they set out a plan (led by Kaminari and Kirishima) to lock you two in a room just to sort out your differences. They set a date where they would trick you two into thinking that there was a class activity that everyone had to attend, but it would just be you two to show up and you would smash the beef between you two, and BOOM! Problem solved.

Just as the day came for the plan, something was weirdly off about you two. The morning of, you two both came into class at the same time and it was dead silent between you two. No bickering, no petty comments, and no evil stares. As more and more people were arriving, they would immediately notice the weird tension in the air. It was strangely quiet, not just because you and Bakugo were silent, but because everyone else was too. The thought of you guys not constantly at each other’s necks that morning sort of put off the rest of the class. It felt weird to talk over the dead silence when they were so used to your guys’ voices as ambiance while they were in conversation.

As the day went on, nothing changed and you guys were still silent and ignoring each other. Obviously, everyone was suspicious about what exactly happened between you two to make you ignore one another. There was no way that you guys were angry at each other because when you were, both of you made it clear by arguing and yelling loudly.

However, before anyone had the chance to ask why you guys were so quiet,  Bakugo decided to approach you for the first time between class periods. At this point, the class was back to normal and having regular conversations with one another during break time, but all of their eyes were on you two, and their voices hushed to pay attention to the tense interaction shared between you two.

“Oi. Let’s talk,” said Bakugo bluntly.

You looked up at his crimson red eyes for a second before looking away as if his presence wasn’t even there. At this point, you didn’t know what to say to him, yet. This fired up Bakugo because within a second he started yelling again.

“HEY DUMBASS! YOU DON’T GET TO IGNORE ME LIKE THAT!” he screamed.

You turned to meet his glare annoyed, “Oh, shut the fuck up. I don’t owe you shit. Leave me alone.”

He tested, “The fuck did you say to me, idiot?!”

“Fuck off, dipshit, all you ever wanna do is yell! And might I add- you do it loudly. Are you such a fucking grandpa that you can’t even hear yourself speak? Can you ever jjust shut. the. fuck. UP!” you yelled back.

The arguing continued and the rest of Class 1-A continued with their previous conversations after seeing you guys back to normal. The tension between you guys soon left their minds as they continued with the rest of their day. Unbeknownst to them, the night before you two were arguing like usual in the kitchen area of the dorms before Bakugo made his first move on you.

-

The argument started with you getting angry at Bakugo for making a mess on the counter after spilling some of his water. It was late at night and no one else was around and you two happened to wake up around the same time to get a drink of water.

“You idiot, clean up your fucking mess. You spilled it all over the counter,” you said as you gestured to the spilled water.

“Tch. I didn’t spill shit. If it bothers you so much, why don’t you go clean it up yourself?” he groaned as he leaned against the counter.

Appalled, you grabbed the roll of paper towels and threw it at his head. He was caught off guard as the roll of paper hit his forehead. It fell and rolled out onto the floor. Now, he was truly annoyed.

“Fuck was that for, huh?!” he said staring at you, smoke practically coming out of his ears.

You laughed, “Just giving you a hand since it seemed like you were too fucking lazy to grab the paper towels yourself. Seems like the grandpa’s getting too old to do stuff for himself, boohoo.”

He growled, rage evident in his face. You laughed to yourself looking away from his face. The next thing you knew, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the fridge behind you. You were pinned by his big, rough hands and he was closer to your face than usual, yet still enraged.

You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was useless, “Let go of me, idiot! You need to learn how to take a fucking joke.”

He didn’t respond, but he kept his eyes on your face. You tried moving away, but now his grip on your shoulders tightened, making your breath hitch.

“What the fuck is your problem? You want me to say sorry or something? Did the paper towel knock the fucking sense out of you? Let me go!” you argued.

“What happened to all your fucking hero training? Can’t get out of my grip, huh? How pathetic,” he growled in a low tone.

You felt his eyes piercing into your own and it was making you a little bit uncomfortable. He’s never been physical with you, even with the constant bickering between you guys. This was a side of him you’ve never seen.

You started, “Look, did I hurt your feelings or something? Did I hit you really hard on the head? There’s no point in holding me against the fridge. Plus, the handle is kind of hurting my back-”

“Shut up,” he stated plainly.

He looked away, avoiding eye contact with you. Okay.... suspicious much...

You tried moving once again, then he pulled you up from the fridge only to slam you back against it, but this time harder.

“Why can’t you just fucking stay still?!” he started yelling.

“Ow! Because you’re being a fucking weirdo! There’s something fucking wrong with you, it’s starting to creep me out! What the fuck are your intentions anyway, huh?!” you argued back.

His calmness fading, he yelled back, “SHUT THE FUCK UP! ALL YOU EVER DO IS GET ON MY FUCKING NERVES LIKE YOU KNOW EVERY FUCKING THING IN THE WORLD!”

His face was inching closer and closer to your face with each word pouring from his mouth. You smirked at this.

You laughed, teasing, “Oh, you wanna kiss me so bad, huh?”

He immediately froze after hearing that sentence spill from your mouth and avoided eye contact yet again. Oddly enough, he returned to his calmer self... If you didn’t know any better, it was obvious that that sentence held some truth with him.

“Look just-”

Before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed onto yours. Your eyes shot wide open at the shock of the situation. Bakugo Katsuki fucking kissed you... Bakugo Katsuki. The Bakugo Katsuki who always argued with you. The Bakugo Katsuki who always got on your nerves. THAT Bakugo Katsuki.

Taking you away from your thoughts, he pulled away from the kiss. He examined your face for your reaction, but you were frozen in place with your eyes shot wide open. You didn’t know what to do, as if you were a computer and you were going through some code that you weren’t programmed to handle. He looked away and scoffed at himself, mumbling.

“Of course, she didn’t fucking like that, idiot...” he mumbled.

His grip on you loosened and his hands were brought to his side and he couldn’t bear to look at you in the face again. Breaking from your frozen state, you focused your eyes on him. He pulled his face away from your point of view and was scratching his neck in embarrassment and you could notice the light blush spread on his cheeks. You felt a little tug on your heart that you’ve never felt before when looking at him. At that moment, he was just so freaking cute.

Mentally telling yourself that you’re gonna regret this later, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him closer to you again. Your lips locked with his and you closed your eyes to bask in the moment. Only this time, Bakugo’s eyes were shot wide open, but only for a second. Relief soon spread across his face and his eyes rested on your waist, pulling you closer.

Both of you guys wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever, the rivalry between you two completely non-existent. As all good things must come to an end, you pulled away from him and your eyes made contact for a second before you both looked away, blushing. Realization soon hit you and you didn’t know what to do next.

“I-”

“Uh-”

You guys stuttered at the same time, making eye contact for a second before looking away. The atmosphere between the two of you was confusing. Before you could think of another thing to say, he spoke up first.

“Good night,” he said.

He walked away swiftly and turned the corner to the hallway towards his dorm. You stood for a few seconds not knowing what to think. You released the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in and proceeded to walk towards your dorm room. Leaving the kitchen a bit of a mess for the night.

The next day it was Kaminari who was blamed for leaving the paper towel on the floor and some spilled water on the counter. Poor boy.

-

Now, the relationship that you had with ‘blasty-boy’ would probably seem complicated and confusing in the eyes of others, but you two were pretty content with where you guys were at. There was an unspoken agreement that you would keep your relationship under wraps. You knew how Bakugo always tried to upkeep his ego of being the best. You’ve always assumed that he didn’t want anyone to know he had a soft spot for you. And you didn’t necessarily mind not sharing your relationship out in the open, anyway. I mean, you guys only just made your relationship official, but it was a little hard to keep your mouth shut when you desperately wanted to gush about him with the other girls of Class 1-A.

Although, you guys have managed to maintain the rivalry between you guys in front of the others. It’s not like you guys were faking it, though. Only now, you guys saw it as fun, meaningless banter and meant nothing by it. The few times that you’ve got to spend with Bakugo alone were completely different from when you would be with him as a group. 

On one of your more recent dates, he invited you to watch a movie in his dorm room and he was so adamant about keeping you close to him throughout the movie. At one point in the night, you tried to get up to use the restroom real quick and his arm around your waist pulled you back down, making you fall onto his lap and you stared up at him. He ignored you and stared at the laptop screen.

“Uh... I need to go pee. Let me go, please?” you smiled up at him.

He gave you a glance and reverted his stare to the screen again, “No.”

“What do you mean no? I drank so much water because the popcorn was too salty... come on. You want me to pee on you or something?” you joked.

He laughed, “So, what if I do?”

You sat up and his gaze finally met yours and his signature smirk was plastered on his face.

You grabbed one of his pillows and hit him with it, “Ew, you’re so fucking gross! I’m going.”

He laughed and finally allowed you to leave, but rest assured, he snuggled up with you when you came back.

-

Right now, you were hanging with the rest of your class in the common room. On Fridays, you guys all agreed to a movie night after a long week of classes. You were sitting with the rest of the girls, settled between Momo and Mina. The movie hasn’t started yet since everyone was starting to get comfortable and settled in. A few of your classmates were grabbing popcorn and other snacks in the kitchen while the rest of you guys were just chatting. Somehow, the conversation between the girls evolved into talking about relationships.

“Oh my god! There was this really cute guy that I accidentally bumped into at lunch and apparently he’s a third-year! I hope I bump into him again, he was seriously cute,” gushed Mina.

“That’s so cute, Mina! I wish I had, like, ANY romantic interactions. My life’s so boring...” groaned Ochaco.

“Same,” said Hagakure.

The rest of the girls sort of nodded in agreement, but you just sat there sipping your juice pouch loudly.

“Y/n? You’re awfully quiet,” teased Tsu as she nudged you with her elbow.

“Well, I mean-”

“What are you ladies talking about over here, huh?” said Denki as he and the other boys inched closer to the girls to join their conversation.

Momo spoke up, “Seems like Y/n over here has a crush!” 

You covered your face in embarrassment, “No I do not! It’s... uh... look we’re just... talking?”

Kirishima teased, “Awe so who’s the lucky individual?”

“Yeah, I wanna know who captured our Y/n’s heart,” laughed Sero.

“It’s no one...” you said after trying to recover after digging yourself in a deeper hole.

“Hey, Bakugo. How do you feel about Y/n’s new crush, huh? Maybe your love for her isn’t reciprocated after all...” started Kaminari before Bakugo stood from his seat on the couch and grabbed his shirt to intimidate him.

He growled, “I don’t have a crush on Y/n. How many times do I have to tell you idiots that?!”

“You’re just jealous that Y/n’s significant other is probably hotter than you!” laughed Mina.

Visibly annoyed at the situation, Bakugo walks away rolling his eyes and mumbling, “Tch. Can’t believe I go to school with a bunch of idiots...”

“Awe, can’t take it anymore? Your love for me is so strong that it pains you to listen to this conversation, huh, Bakugo?” you teased.

“Shut up. I’m going to the bathroom,” he said plainly.

The rest of your classmates on the couch got a laugh in before the topic of your potential significant other died down into smaller topics within different people. Those who were in the kitchen preparing the snacks for everyone finally came back and everyone was finding their seats around the TV and your boyfriend had yet to come back.

You pulled out your phone to text him and right as you did, Iida turned off the lights.

“Yo, Y/n. Turn off your phone it’s too bright and the movie’s about to start,” nudged Mina.

You apologized, “Sorry. I’ll turn it off in a minute I just need to text someone.”

You pulled up your boyfriend’s text log and typed in a message for him:

yo blasty boy why arent u back from the bathroom the movies starting

...also i saved u a seat next to me so we can cuddle (lowkey of course hehe)

After sending those two messages, you put away your phone in your pocket. Everyone was concentrated on the movie and you set your attention on the TV screen until...

PING PING

A phone on the coffee table lit up brightly while making two loud notification pings. Everyone lost focus on the movie and looked over at the phone on the table. No doubt that it was your grandpa of a boyfriend’s phone pinging. Before you could do something, Kirishima grabbed it.

“Who the hell didn’t turn off their ringer? And why is it so damn loud..” laughed Sero.

Kirishima’s eyes scanned his phone for a quick second before his eyes widened and he covered his mouth in surprise.

“Holy shit! Bakugo has a girlfriend!” yelled Kirishima.

You couldn’t help but cover your face in your blanket... Bakugo was about to be so mad at you. Your secret would be out and honestly, you were glad, but you know that your boyfriend didn’t want anyone to find out anytime soon. At least, not like this.

Everyone turned to Kirishima, suddenly losing interest in the movie playing in front of them.

“Oh my god, you’re joking!” squealed Yaoyorozu.

Ojiro claimed, “There’s no way that Bakugo has a girlfriend. Not that hothead.”

“Bro, I’m not joking! And guess what... it’s someone in this room!” exclaimed Kirishima.

Everyone starts looking around the class, silently accusing their classmates of being the culprit.

“Look what they said: ‘also i saved u a seat next to me so we can cuddle‘! Someone better start speaking upppppp!” said Kaminari teasingly as he got the phone from the red-haired boy.

“So, who is it?” grinned Ochako.

Sero peeked at the phone in Kirishima’s hands, “There’s no name, it just says ‘dumbass’. That’s so like Bakugo.”

You sighed in relief. You didn’t know that Bakugo didn’t have your contact as your actual name. 

“G-guys! I don’t think Kacchan would want us to go through his phone...” protested Midoriya.

“Midoriya is right! This is not respectful behavior, we should respect our classmate’s privacy,” Iida said matter-of-factly.

Kaminari replied, “Aw, come on you guys are no fun! It’s harmless, anyway! If it really is someone in our class, we were bound to find out! It’s inevitable!”

You grab the phone from him and said, “Wow, Kaminari, I didn’t know you had the vocabulary capacity for the word inevitable! Now, let me see this...”

Lo and behold, your messages were shown on the screen under the name ‘dumbass’. You tried to analyze the situation and how you could use this small sliver of anonymity to your advantage. You concluded that just trying to play off the situation would be the best thing to do-

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s that as Bakugo’s wallpaper?” said Mina as she slowly grabbed the phone from your hands.

Right then, a horror scene played out right in front of your eyes. As everyone was standing crowded around the phone (whether they agreed with peering through your boyfriend’s phone or not), they were looking at the brightly-lit device in the pink girl’s hands and she deleted the notifications to show his very-telling wallpaper… you could say there was a slight miscalculation in your plan as you failed to notice earlier that his wallpaper was the two of you... making out.

You couldn’t bear to look at what was on his phone as everyone let out their gasps. It was too embarrassing, everyone seeing such an intimate moment on your boyfriend’s phone. Bakugo had taken that picture on a whim one night when you two were having one of your movie nights. When he did that, you were shocked because there was no way that Bakugo took pictures of himself ever. Honestly, you were shocked to see that he knew how to take a selfie. Nonetheless, you peeked through your fingers at the phone in Mina’s hand just for a bit.

To your surprise, he set the wallpaper to LIVE MODE. Live mode...... Everyone was watching you guys make out in action like it was a fucking movie.

That motherfucker...

The silence of realization was then disrupted as the girls let out their squeals and the whole class was causing a commotion while the boys high-fived each other as if they won a competition or something. Everyone was up and moving, a strong contrast from them mere minutes ago when they were lounging around on the couch and floor. Sero was shaking your shoulders as you covered your face in your hands. Your face was heating up from all the embarrassment and you couldn’t bear to look at any of your classmates after what they just witnessed.

You didn’t know what to think. Half of you were completely embarrassed that your friends just saw you in an embarrassing scenario and half of you were angry at Bakugo because this was all his fault! Who the fuck puts such an intimate moment as their wallpaper?! Why not something cute? And of course, it had to be a live photo…

You finally peered through your hands again to see the scene in front of you. Mina was laughing so hard on the couch that she was on the verge of tears.

“I CAN’T BREATHE! NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS WOULD I EVER EXPECT THIS SHIT!” she cried.

Most of the boys were still jumping up and down like some monkeys due to the sheer excitement and energy in the room. Uraraka walked up to you and smiled widely while placing her hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Wow! Who would’ve thought that you and Bakugo were a thing! I honestly didn’t see that coming… sorry that we all had to find out that way. I was a little too absorbed in the excitement to consider how you felt,” said the round-faced girl.

With your face still red, you said, “Don’t worry about it… it was bound to happen soon enough, right? Although, now I’m a little embarrassed, but I guess I’m kind of relieved that I don’t have to put much effort into hiding our relationship anymore.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in, “Honestly, this is more entertaining than the movie we were just watching!”

You laughed along with the other girls who were nearby. On the other side of the room, the boys were making a train throughout the room and singing.

“Uh, y/n,” interrupted Asui, “Look.”

The man-of-the-hour walked in the room with his hands in his pockets with his usual grumpy expression. He stopped to examine the room and stared quietly at the energetic group of boys.

He scoffed, “What are you nerds doing? Why aren’t you guys watching the fucking movie, huh?”

He looked around the room until his eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, which caught his attention. Your mind was racing a mile a minute trying to think of an excuse. Your gaze averted to the ground, but you could hear his footsteps heading your way.

“Since when did your socks suddenly get so interesting that you can’t look me in the eyes?” teased Bakugo.

He brought his hand up to your chin and lifted your face to meet his gaze. His playful smirk instantly dropped once he saw your expression. Your eyes were borderline teary and seemed lost, like a sad puppy.

He whispered so that only you could hear, “Baby… what’s up?”

You wanted to give in to his touch at that very moment and run into his arms, but you resisted because you knew that it would be too selfish given how you just broke your guys’ agreement. You didn’t deserve to be in his embrace right now, he was seconds away from finding out that your guys’ secret came out accidentally all because you sent a random text. You pulled your face away from his grip and moved away from him.

“W-wait, what-” he started.

“HEYYYYYYYYYYY, BAKUBRO!” said Kaminari and he wrapped an arm around him (much to Bakugo’s dismay), “How come you didn’t tell your buddies that you had a soft side to you, huh?”

Bakugo grunted, “What the fuck are you going on about?”

Kirishima chimed, “You know, you shouldn’t leave your phone out in the open like that… it makes you vulnerable!”

Still confused he said, ”Did worms get in your brains? We’ve been only one day off from school and you start lacking common sense?”

To his surprise, you walk up with his phone in your hand while keeping eye contact, unlike earlier.

“Sherlock, I thought you would’ve connected the dots by now,” you sighed, with a tinge of sadness behind it, “Your wallpaper… really?”

You hold up the phone up to his face and his reaction was almost humorous to you. His eyes widened and his face was painted with a light tint of pink.

For the first time in your life, you witnessed your boyfriend at a loss for words. The rest of your class watched the whole interaction and some restrained laughs were let out and they were all back to square one, laughing like maniacs. You were about to join in and laugh with them when you realized again what the situation at hand was. You were scared of how Bakugo would react since this would be the first rift in your relationship and you didn’t want to have a genuine argument with him, especially with how angry he could get. Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands grasp yours and you look up to see your boyfriend smiling at you.

“I-”

Before you could say a single word, he hauls you on his shoulder, and you yelp in surprise. You don’t know how you ended up in this position, but now you’re dangling off of him and now you’re staring at the ground. (Also, his face was dangerously close to your ass, but you didn’t mention it.) He starts walking away and away from the commotion towards his dorm room. Before you can protest, he leans his head on your body causing you to freeze up. You could feel his warmth from his body heat against your shirt.

“You know… I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you,” he says quietly.

Your brain took time to process that sentence… was Bakugo actually not mad? Most importantly, who knew such sweet words could come out of his mouth? You couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief and you relaxed a bit.

Wanting to tease him, you said, “Sorry, you were too quiet. Could you repeat that again?”

He groaned, “I said… I’m not mad at you, I could never be.”

You giggled, “I know. I heard you the first time, but I thought my ears were deceiving me… Katsuki Bakugo is saying something nice for once? Whatttt…”

He shook you a little, “Forget it. You didn’t hear anything.”

Raising yourself a little, you patted your boyfriend on the head, “Nope. Remembering that phrase forever and ever.”

“Whatever.”

You smiled, “Whatever!”

[sasarahsunshine]

Extension of the Happy Retired Aaron Hotchner headcanons! This time with a husband <3 (I am attempting to do x Male Reader for this lol)

For @softhairedhotch and @scorpio-hotch because I love you guys <3

When Hotch met you he had no clue that you would be the one to break down his walls, chipping away at them bit by bit with kind words and soft touches, until he was laid bare before you as the scared and vulnerable man he pretended not to be. But it was a good thing, because once his scars were on display for you to witness, you smiled and kissed each one, healing him until he felt human again.

At your wedding you adopted Jack, signing the paperwork to become his official Papa. You can’t remember who cried more: you, Aaron, or Jack. Maybe you all did.

When Jack was 12 he mentioned wanting a younger sibling. It didn’t take much discussion to decide on adopting (but it did take quite a bit of kissing and giddy smiles when you both agreed that yes, let’s do this).

You adopted a little 8-year-old girl named Molly. Jack took to her immediately, which helped her come out of her shy shell. Jack calls her Molls.

Adopting another child meant needing an actual home, not the three bedroom apartment you’ve been living in for the last several years. Morgan helps get you set up in the perfect place, white picket fence and all. You laugh at Aaron’s face when he notices a spot for a vegetable garden. “What are we, farmers?” He teased.

Little did he know that he would actually spend most of his time in that garden after retirement. Which doesn’t happen until Jack moves out to go to college.

“I’m getting too old to be tackling Unsubs,” he declares at dinner one night. You just smile and take his hand, “You don’t seem old to me.” He smiles in return and squeezes your hand.

You waited a couple more years before your own retirement. It’s when Molly moves out that you finally decide to put away the badge as well. It’s hard for both of you; always used to being fit, practicing at the gun range, chasing unsubs on foot.

Aaron gets up at 5am for his morning jog most days. You’re up with coffee and breakfast waiting for him when he returns; always with a kiss and a smile and a mumbled, “good morning.”

Jack ends up going to the FBI academy. Aaron waits until he’s alone to cry about it, and for a moment you’re worried it’s because he’s scared for Jack—but it turns out he’s full of pride. He couldn’t be happier that his son wants to help people, like the two of you used to do.

Molly can’t decide what she wants to do, but she moves around the country for a bit before eventually settling down near home (with her new boyfriend that you and Aaron have decided seems good enough for her. If you had Garcia do a background check on him, you don’t tell Aaron. Or Molly. Even tho you’re sure they both know).

So many years go by so quickly, you wonder where the time went as you sit on the back porch and watch Jack’s twins play in the sprinkler with their Grandpa Aaron. They’re squealing when he grabs them both and hauls them over his shoulders— you can already hear him complaining about the back pain later, but you bite back on commenting anything. He’s making memories with his grandkids, after all.

Jack sits next to you, not without kissing your forehead first. “What’s that for?” You ask your son, arching an eyebrow, “you’re up to something.” Jack laughs and shakes his head. He looks just like Aaron when you first met him: all toned and proud. A real FBI agent, just blonde with a cheeky personality that can get him out of anything. You blame his uncles Dave and Derek for teaching him that.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Jack says as he spots his wife speaking with Molly, the two laughing over how carefree and silly Aaron is being with the twins. You purse your lips and sip at your drink, “for what?” He smiles, and you can’t help but see Aaron in that smile. “For being here. For loving dad, and taking care of him. For being my Papa.”

If you feel choked up, you don’t say so. You clear your throat to hide it, setting your drink down, “where is this coming from?”

Aaron sets the twins down, standing up straight and stretching out his back as they cling to his legs, all giggles and smiles. He glances at you and grins. You can see how his hair has greyed a little, salt-and-pepper strands here and there, even in his stubble. He’s softened over the years, but his legs and arms are still as strong as ever (that’s what he gets for having a runners body). The lines on his face, that you used to tease him for, saying he frowned too much, now look like laugh lines. His eyes shimmer with genuine happiness.

Jack must see what you see, because he looks at you again. “He’s been through a lot, you know that. And there was a time, when I was a kid, that I wondered if I’d ever see him smile like that again. And then he met you. So, thank you.”

You lean forward and pull Jack into a hug. You don’t say anything, because you don’t need to. You both know you’d do it all again to end up here; happy, safe, surrounded by love and family.