#so many lines in her songs which i feel go unnoticed

[kiribaabe]

Slut Him Out

Summary: Very little patience and being quick to anger were just a few ways to describe Miguel O’Hara. It’s nothing people didn’t already know about him— working with him in the spider society meant you adjusted to his attitude with quickness if you wanted to survive. That being said, he seems even more…on edge than he is usually.

Which doesn’t go unnoticed.

Or

Miguel is an overly pent up jerk, and it’s up Jessica to help straighten his attitude out with some silicone and a whole lot of patience.

Part 3/3

Ao3 Link (see previous chapters here, comments and Kodus appreciated 🙏🏾 )

Content warnings: N S F W. Pregnancy sex × Strap-Ons × Pegging × Anal Sex × Anal Fingering × Men Whimpering × bottom Miguel O’ Hara × Touch Starved Miguel O’Hara × Hand Jobs × Blow Jobs × Edging × Orgasm Delay/Denial × Praise Kink × Overstimulation × Sexual Frustration

“Why not?"

"Miguel…"

"I'm just saying. I let you put it in mine, so that seems selfish and hypocritical to me."

"Miguel."

Quiet, feathery laughter bubbles out from Jess’ chest. A genuine sound that permeates the air around them like a leisurely Sunday morning song. She shakes her head at the man laying beside her, although her attention is kept on the ceiling above them. The sigh that leaves her when her laughter fades is exasperated but fond, evident by the smile she’s unable to keep at bay. "You’re so fuckin’ stupid." She says, though there’s not a trace of actual heat behind those words.

Miguel bares a grin from his place next to her, his arm propped behind his head as he lay there, still naked and shamelessly sticky from their time together just moments ago. His attention is also above them, aimlessly watching the ceiling fan whirl it's circles while his chest falls with recovering breaths. "Well, it is. How many times have I let you fuck me, and I can’t even—"

"Listen," Jess cuts him off before he can finish and turns her head to shoot him a look. One that’s supposed to be something obdurate, but it’s impossible to keep a straight face around this man anymore. Whatever glare she was trying to send his way breaks out into another smile the moment he turns his own toward her. "God put a happy button in your ass, not mine. This is not up for debate."

It’s Miguel’s turn to sigh, something heavy and terribly overdramatic. "You never let me do anything."

"Oh my God?" Jess scoffs before sitting up enough to rip the pillow out from behind Miguel’s head and smack him clear in the face with it. "That’s it; I’ve had it with you. Get your ass out of my room. Go. Chop chop.”

Miguel snickers, unable to shield his face in time to stop the brutal assault. He easily grabs the pillow, though, removing it from his face with a lazy, lopsided grin. "Oh, c’mon, not yet. Ok, ok, I apologize.”

He meets Jess’ deadpan stare with a pleading look, and it isn’t long before she relents with a roll of her eyes. “Thin ice, Miguel.”

The lines in the corner of his eyes crease with the motion of Miguel’s laugh this time. It’s happening more often lately— these smiles, this laughter. It almost has a way of making him feel, well, not himself.

Not in an unsavory way, just different.

As if this is a version of himself he doesn’t quite recognize and still needs to get used to.

He rolls with it as best as he’s able. It’s difficult, but as unfamiliar as it all is, it’s also pleasant. He enjoys this part of him that Jess has brought out, even if he’d never verbally admit as much.

Sitting up some, Miguel leans over Jess and plants a sudden kiss along the swell of her belly. His touch is gentle, trailing his way down the noticeable pregnancy line and stretch marks that are starting to form along her skin. It’s then that something happens—a light push he feels against his mouth.

"You feel that? They’re sick of you too." Jess flashes him a toothy grin before laying back against her headboard for support. One hand resting along her bump, the other glides through Miguel’s hair, unable to hold back her snort when she notices the offended look he flashes her way.

That expression only lasts a second before he’s grinning again, though. Eyes of red clay shine with pure adoration while he refocuses on her belly, large hands settling against the sides while he patiently waits for another kick.

It should be illegal, really, how adorable this man can be behind closed doors. There are times where Jess wishes others could see it, the kindness that lays just at the surface of that rocky exterior. Then there are other times—like these ones— where she’s grateful this is only hers for the keeping.

"You still don’t know the sex yet?" Miguel asks, glancing up at Jess for a moment.

The woman hums before her shoulders shift with a shrug. "We could find out, but we’re still trying to hold out for the surprise. God, it’s hard, though. I’m really hoping for a girl, I think. I just love the idea of raising a next-generation badass. Lil mini me. I mean, she’ll be her own person, but you know what I mean. Can you imagine?"

Jess’ excitement shows through her eyes, her smile. She lights up in a way that should be infectious, spilling into Miguel and consuming him whole. Which it does, in a way. He’s happy for her. So incredibly happy for her, truly. But there’s still something that flickers in Miguel’s expression even despite that.

A sudden dullness behind his eyes, a subtle fall in his smile as memories of what could have been crept along the back of his mind, uninvited.

Memories of cupcakes, of childish laughter.

Of lost hair barrettes, of soccer practice.

Can you imagine?

Yes. It’s an image Miguel can envision all too clearly—vibrant and held just at his fingertips, yet still so incredibly out of his reach.

Suddenly, there’s a tightness in his chest—something uncomfortably restrictive that wraps around his lungs and threatens to cave them in.

Jess seems to catch the shift almost immediately, and the realization tugs her heart into her stomach. "Miguel…I’m—“

"Girls are fun. They’ll keep you on your toes, that’s for certain," He says with a quick chuckle, cutting her off before she can even think of trying to console him. "Worth it, though. This world could use some more Jessica Drews, after all." The smile he gives Jess this time is something... tired. It holds the usual exhaustion that Jess so often finds him weighed down with.

The exhaustion that for once he was void of just a few moments ago.

Miguel gives her another kiss along her stomach before he rolls over to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge while he reaches down on the floor for his clothes.

Jess is quick to crawl over to him, wrapping her arms around broad shoulders. She leans into his neck, trailing kisses along the marks she previously left behind. "You know, there's no need to rush out. You can stay awhile, if you want." She tries, her voice soft. She can’t stand to see him leave like this—with so much despondency still harboring in him. She'd rather him come back to bed, make him laugh about something stupid and enjoy each other’s company until that smile she’s grown so attached to returns to him.

The genuine one that sends something warm spreading through her core.

Miguel eases into her touch easily enough. He doesn’t make any attempts to move away from it, although he does continue to gather whatever clothes are within his reach. "You know I would, but I have a lot of things to settle before the weekend is out," He states. His voice goes back to that same flat tone he always uses outside of their time together. When they’re working. "Besides, don’t you have business to take care of at home tonight? I thought you requested the night shift off."

Oh, shit.

That’s right! Her husband has had this date night planned for weeks now. Fancy dinner, a show—the works. Jess curses, sitting back on her knees to run her fingers through her coily hair.

How could she almost forget?

"Hey," Miguel stands, sliding his boxers up over his ass, soon followed by the pants of his suit. He turns to Jess and lifts her head up by the chin, gently guiding her eyes up to his. "It’s fine. Go have fun. Do whatever it is spiders do on dates. You know I’ll be around when you get back."

Jess regards him for a moment, only allowing herself to relax when she sees his reassuring smile. He still looks tired, but whatever emotion he was carrying earlier is sufficiently masked now; she’s unable to see it, but Jess knows its still lingering there beneath the surface.

She doesn’t press, though.

"Alright, alright," she relents, sighing softly. "Well, I’ll swing by to let you know how it goes later?”

"Sounds good. You know where to find me." Letting her go, Miguel turns to grab his mask that had been tossed carelessly off in the corner of the room earlier. Only when his back is turned to Jess does he allow himself to frown. The lines in the corners of his mouth deepen slightly when he does. He’s not sure why the thought of Jess spending a romantic night with her husband has something black and inky suddenly sinking its way into his chest. It’s thick like sludge, and Miguel knows it’s a dangerous thing.

Something vile that threatens to suffocate him from the inside out if he lets it fester.

He’s obviously been aware of her husband's existence. It’s not like her marriage is something new to him. This whole arrangement was only allowed under the pretense that he was even open to it, after all. But when he’s with Jess, Miguel nearly forgets about him entirely. The man falls far from his mind, allowing Miguel to slip into a fantasy of intimacy and closeness with Jess as his own. A fantasy he never should have allowed himself to indulge in.

Jess had a date with her husband, and Miguel is due for one with a brutal reality check.

He’s gotten far too comfortable here lately, and he needs to reel himself in. If he doesn’t, this may no longer be something he can do.

When Jess gets home, it’s late.

The city is still bustling and lively, with sounds of chatter and cars honking aggressively at one another from beneath her high rise. Heels clack against her floor as she enters her bedroom, already quick to take off her earrings and let her hair down from its updo.

The date had gone nicely.

Jess’ husband had taken her out to a trendy new restaurant that just opened up downtown, where they dined on the best food and wine that either of them had in a while. Following that, was a romantic walk in the park, then some dessert from one of their favorite little crepe stands.

Jess enjoyed herself.

Even if her mind was somewhere the entire time.

There’s some guilt that she harbors in her chest for that. Because her husband is a kind man, even if a bit predictable at times. He deserves her undivided attention for planning such a beautiful evening, but her mind was focused on other things.

On Miguel.

He’s been through a lot; they all have. Every Spider-Man variant had their own trauma that manifested itself in some way, similar yet still unique to them. However, Miguel's… Miguel was rough, and she felt for him.

It’s hard to bear witness to the moments when his past catches up with him; when he's too weak to wrangle his demons back into place on his own.

She wants to help him, especially now. She likes to think their relationship has strength into something closer than it’s ever been, and that he wouldn’t push her away entirely should she extend her hand to him.

They were friends, after all.

Jess sighs, unsure why that notion causes discomfort in her chest. This weird, unfamiliar pull

"Are you alright, hun?" Her husband's voice is quick to draw from her thoughts. He approaches from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her close to his chest. She feels him smile against her skin, kissing her exposed shoulder.

Jess returns his smiles with one of her own. It’s easy to lean into his touch, and she does so without hesitation. "Mmhm. Just thinking, that’s all." She assures.

There’s a pause from the man, a quiet hum leaving him while he continues to kiss over her shoulder blade, then across her back and toward the other one. "About Miguel?" He asks.

Jess blinks at the question. It isn’t accusatory; there’s no sense of displeasure or annoyance in his tone. But it still momentarily throws her off guard. Jess turns to face him, and he meets her with a shrug. "I just assumed. He seems to be on your mind a lot here lately."

That statement pulled something of a laugh from her this time. She moves away, kicking off her heels, before she moves toward her closet to find something more comfortable to change into. "Uh, how do you figure that?"

When she returns with a nightgown in hand, her husband is giving her an incredulous look. "We’ve been married for three years, you think I don’t know you?" Look. He rolls his eyes and steps off to the side to unbutton his dress shirt. "I don’t think a day goes by that you don’t mention him at least once, Jessie-bear. Are you going to tell me he’s not where your head has been all night?"

Jess opens her mouth to defend herself, but the words don’t form, and she’s quickly forced to close it again.

She hates that he noticed. She hates that he knew her attention wasn’t where it should have been their entire time together. More than that, she hates that he isn’t particularly wrong about that statement.

She doesn’t go out of her way to bring up Miguel when she is home. It just…happens. Their relationship isn’t a secret, and she enjoys their time together as well as the new ways she’s been able to make him crumble at her touch. She can’t deny being eager to talk about it, especially when her husband was so supportive and open to actually listening.

Migeul would probably have an aneurysm if he knew, but she doesn’t plan on telling him anytime soon.

Sighing, Jess gives her husband an apologetic smile. She cups the side of his face in her palm, allowing her thumb to brush against the stubble that decorates his jaw. It’s funny how polar opposite this man is to Migeul. His features are soft, while Miguel's are hardened and chiseled.

Calm, where Miguel is... not as much.

Where her husband is unconditional love, warmth, and uplifting support, Miguel is laughter. He’s laughter and togetherness, trust, and thrill. The moments with him feel like adrenaline—this rush of unexplainable excitement and energy that shoots through her nerves and straight to her heart, pumping it so full it nearly overworks itself.

She adores them both so much.

In different ways, for different reasons. But still, this same sense of adoration she has for her husband, she’s starting to find that she shares it with Miguel too.

Not that she’s entirely ready to admit that…

"I'm… I'm sorry." Jess eventually says, shaking her head free of her earlier thoughts. "It’s not on purpose. I just feel like something’s up, you know? Spider senses and all that, I guess. It’s just hard to ignore sometimes."

Her husband smiles at that and returns to his place behind her. He unzips her dress, letting it slide down her shoulders so she can properly step out of it and change into her gown for the night. "Then I think you should look into that. I’m sure he’d appreciate the check-in if there is something wrong."

"Yeah?" Jess smiles. God, she loves this man. He really was hot, in more ways than one. His understanding of Miguel’s growing importance in her life without resentment or jealousy continued to be his hottest feature. "Are you sure?"

He nods and turns back to take a seat on their bed. "Yeah, I’m sure. Go get him, babe. If one thing ends up leading to another, try not to almost kill him this time."

Jess meets her husband's smirk with one of her own, a quick laugh rumbling out of her chest. "No promises. If I do, it’s always because he has it coming."

She finds her way over to the man, kissing him sweetly. With that, Jess finishes getting dressed before snagging her watch and promptly setting the coordinates to HQ.

~~~~~

It’s quiet when Jess arrives, uncharacteristically so. It makes sense with how late it is, but something still feels off about it. It's almost like being in a mall as it’s closing down—when the lights are dimmed and it’s void of the usual bustle of people.

Jess hums as she ventures through the lobby, being sure to wave hello at the spare spider folk she does come in contact with. While some spider people do have rooms here, a majority of them head back to their own dimensions by the end of the way. Rest their heads on their own beds, see their families.

But one person she knows she can always count on being here is Miguel.

Most likely cooped up in his office, scouring over his screens at odd hours of the night like the restless old man that he is.

Jess bites back a smirk at the visual, and eventually she makes her way to Miguel’s usual resting post. It doesn’t take long to realize he’s not up there, though. It’s too quiet, and his screens aren’t illuminated either. Hm..

"Heyyy, girl! Aww, look at you! Love the make-up~ how’d your date go?!"

Lyla’s appearance only startles Jess for the moment. She should be used to the way she pops up out of nowhere by now, but somehow it surprises her every time.

"Hey, Lyla. It, uh, went well. And thanks," she smiles and reaches a hand up to absentmindedly feel at her face. Damn, she forgot to wash her makeup off for the night.

"Listen, have you seen Miguel? I just came by to check on him, I figured he’d be here." Jess tries to keep any sense of worry out of her tone. It isn’t like Miguel to not be here, and she’s hard pressed to think of anything else he could be doing at this hour.

Lyla all but pouts, no doubt bored and looking forward to at least some gossip about Jess’ evening. She doesn’t press, though, and instead pulls up her little screen with a sigh. "Yeahh, he left about an hour or two ago? Didn’t tell me where and got all Mr. Grumpy when I tried to ask. I can give you his coordinates for his current location, though, if you like."

"That would be awesome, Lyla. Thanks." She chuckles at the AI, ever grateful. She likes working Miguel’s nerves almost as much as Jess does, and for that, she’s always liked her.

Lyla downloads Miguel’s location in mere moments, and Jess glances down at the holographic map that soon emits from her watch. She frowns at the location, her brow quirked. "Here, really?" She asks, glancing at the other.

Lyla shrugs again. "He’s been acting weird all day. Maybe he needed some R&R?"

"I don’t think Miguel even knows what that means. Or how to spell it, for that matter." Jess scoffs and closes out her watch, his location saved. "Thanks again, girlie."

With that, Jess heads down to the garage for her bike, but not before Lyla appears in front of her again. She’s smiling; something a little mischievous is dancing behind those pink, pixelated glasses. "Sooo, I know it's not my business. But are you two still, you know? Going to bone town, as the people say?"

"I don’t think anyone says that, Lyla." Jess can’t help but snort, unsure what possessed her to even ask something like that. "Why? Are you gonna ask me to set his attitude straight or something so he stops bothering you? I’m not taking requests right now." She smirks, sarcasm clear in her voice.

Lyla laughs. "Hah! No, no. Although, like, yeah, thank you for your service," she gives her a salute. "But no, I was just going to say I think you’re doing a real number on him, Jess. He’s still Mr. Grumpy Pants, but he seems, I dunno, happier overall. I can tell." The AI smiles, and Jess rubs the back of her neck with an almost sheepish look.

"Yeah, well, you know. Man’s been pent up for years, some good sex tends to lighten people’s moods." She says.

With a shake of her head, Lyla chuckles and adjusts her glasses a little further up her little nose. "No, I think it’s more than just that. I mean, I’m sure the sex helps, but..." she pauses, then pushes the beds back on her nonexistent cuticles. "I think it has a lot to do with you more than anything. He trusts you, and you make him happy. As happy as a guy like him is capable of, at least."

Jess blinks in response to that, and something warm settles beneath her skin. She opens her mouth to deny the claim, but her words fail her for a second time that evening. "You really think that?" She asks instead. She fails to keep that tilt of hopefulness in her tone. She can tell Lyla picks it up, and while Jess isn’t one to get embarrassed, the warmth in her face grows a little hotter.

"I do." Lyla reassures.

Jess smiles, rubbing the back of her neck again. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm just charming like that, I guess.” Clearing her throat into her fist, Jess waves Lyla away so she can no longer see the growing red along her ears and quickly turns to continue her way to the garages. "I’ll, um, see you later, L. Thanks again.”

"Okay! Go get ‘em, girl!"

In her defense, Jess does try to knock like a normal person before she enters Miguel’s apartment through the fire escape, helping herself in through the unlocked window. One would think the guy would take his safety more seriously and invest in some kind of home security. But then again, she’d be far more concerned about the safety of whoever decided to break into Miguel’s apartment than Migeul himself.

Jess grunts, holding her belly while she slides through the opening and steps out into the living room.

At first glance, Miguel’s apartment appears visibly untouched; there’s not one piece of furniture that isn’t covered in a fine layer of dust, as if nothing had been used or moved during the entirety of his time here. The walls remain barren too, and whatever furnishings he did have were sparse. It almost felt like some runaway's hideout— a place troubled kids go to sneak around rather than an actual living space occupied by an adult.

It's hardly surprising. Very seldom does Miguel ever spend much time in his own dimension, clearly having a preference for living at headquarters. It’s a shame, because it’s a nice space; with old, early-world charm, original floors, and pretty finishes that she knows goes totally unappreciated by Miguel. It would make for a great home if he’d just treat it like one. Some pictures. Some curtains. Anything to give a resemblance to life.

"Miguel?" Jess calls out as she ventures further into the space. The silence she’s met with pulls an odd sense of worry into her chest. This is where Lyla said his location was, and she’s never wrong.

With a hum, Jess pads down the hall. It’s pitch black, save for the light she can see trickling out from under the door to what she guesses is a bedroom. It flickers every so often with the movement from inside.

"Miguel?” She tries again, a little louder this time. There’s still no reply, but she does hear something. A squeak in his mattress, followed by a low groan.

A noise that’s come to be all too familiar.

The tension in Jess’ shoulders ebbs away at the sound, and a crooked smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Well, at least he’s alive.

But what was he doing, masturbating? It didn’t seem like he came all the way here just to do that. Well, good. It’s about time he learned to manage his horniness on his own from time to time.

Nipping at her bottom lip, Jess grabs the door handle and gives it a quiet turn. It’s unlocked.

Hah. Dummy.

Under normal circumstances, she’d usually leave him be. But Jess had never caught Miguel with his hand in the cookie jar before, and considering how she loves to embarrass the guy, well, she couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, could she?

So, she lets herself in with an obnoxious "Honey, I’m home!" Fully expecting a naked Miguel with a hand down his pants, blushing and flustered, and shouting at her to get out like she hasn’t seen his dick a dozen times already.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was to see Migeul with a woman pressed into his bed instead.

Missionary, one hand holding her wrists above her head while the other enveloped her throat as he fucked into her hard enough to almost look concerning. At least Jess would be if the girl didn’t seem so utterly cock drunk; eyes crossed, mouth hung open in a silent scream that's never voiced as Miguel adds more pressure to her throat.

Time stops, and the air grows unbearably thick when Miguel’s attention shoots up from the woman in his company to her. There’s a moment—a brief millisecond of shock—that flickers behind his eyes before absolute vexation takes its place.

Oops…

Jess pointedly ignores the puncture wound that gets sent straight through her chest—a sharp, scathing ache that only seems to grow more intense the harder she fights it. But she does fight it, because she knows this feeling, and she also knows it has absolutely no place residing within her.

Who Miguel fucked on his own time is none of her business or concern. They weren’t exclusive; Miguel didn’t belong to her.

He could fuck who he wanted.

She shouldn’t care.

She doesn’t care.

So Jess hardens her nerves. She has a few choices here; she could turn tail and run, let Miguel handle his business like nothing happened. She could offer an apology to the girl and quickly explain that this isn’t what it looks like.

Because she’s well aware that this scenario doesn’t exactly pull in Miguel’s favor.

Some pregnant woman, dressed in a silk nightgown and nice make-up, waltzing into his room like she clearly owned the place.

Yeah, Jess would catch a case if she happened to be in the opposite position.

Luckily, she’s not , and she realizes that being on this end of the scenario leaves her with a third option.

Perhaps a dick of an option, but...

Again, she’s a woman of opportunity.

"Oh my god, Miguel. I know you’re lying right now—how could you do this?" She gasps, clutching her nonexistent pearls. She makes a show of being entirely distraught, heartbroken over the infidelity she just bore witness to. "You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore. For Christ sake, It’s our anniversary!!" She cries.

Cries , a single tear trickling from her eye as she sniffles.

Miguel’s jaw goes slack.

Jess tries so hard to keep a straight face.

"What the fuck?" She finally hears the girl curse, quickly shifting from her fucked-out state when Miguel lets go of her. She sits up in a hurry, shoving Miguel off and covering up her indecency with one of his bedsheets. She looks at Jess and then Miguel with shock and confusion, but it isn’t long before Miguel is being shoved out of the way entirely, and the girl is scrambling out of bed while she screams at him for being a lying piece of shit.

You’re married?!

How could you do this?

You cheating fucking freak!

Jess just watches the mess unravel, and while she could interject, drop the act, and tell her she’s got the wrong idea, she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything else as the woman gathers up her clothes in a naked hurry, while Miguel tries and fails to get her to calm down and listen for a second.

She's pretty. A skinny little thing with dark skin and hair that’s been braided back into an intricate style She looks young, like she couldn’t possibly be much older than nineteen at the most, and part of Jess feels bad for the look of utter mortification and embarrassment that’s in her eyes for the brief second their gazes meet when she rushes past her.

Almost.

Eventually, the front door is heard slamming shut, and the sound of sirens from outside starts to fill the void of silence around them. It’s then that Jess turns to Miguel with a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, ok, that was kind of mean; I’m sorry. In my defense, I had no idea when I’d get another opportunity like that again, so really it’s your own fault, and you should learn to lock your windows."

A deeply etched frown settles on Miguel’s features. It only disappears behind his hand when he drags a palm over his face before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you serious—you’re not funny. That wasn’t fucking funny, Jessica. What the hell, what are you even doing here?"

The use of her government name stuns her almost as much as his tone. Sharp and heavy with such disdain.

Dark brows furrow tightly in a frown of her own, and Jess crosses her arms under her chest.

Okay, maybe she went too far.

Maybe she crossed a boundary she shouldn’t have.

"Woah, okay. That was a bad joke, then. I’m sorry." She says. She means it, though her voice is tight. She regards Miguel, watching as he sighs and gets out of bed to snatch his boxers off of the floor. He pulls them up and over his ass before turning to her with a noticeable glare.

"What are you doing here?" He repeats.

The way Miguel looks at her sends something tense and uncomfortable tugging at her nerves.

It’s not like it’s the first time she’s ever pissed him off before, but even so... He’s never looked at her like this.

She's not a fan.

"Listen, I’m sorry for ruining your lay, but don't talk to me like you’ve lost your senses," she huffs at him, her voice firm and uncompromising. He can be mad, but like hell she’s going to take his tone sitting down. "I came here because you weren’t at HQ, and I was worried. I thought… I don’t know. I just wanted to check in. Sorry if I didn’t think you’d be fucking a teenager when I got here, I would have called first..."

Her hardened glare is just as unwavering as the one Miguel continues to shoot her way.

The man scoffs something harsh and vitriolic before cursing lowly in his Spanish tongue. Exasperated, he slides a hand over his face again, and heaves a heavy sigh. " I need… I need you to leave, Drew. Go home. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m none of your concern."

Jess’ eyes furrow deeper at that, and the same sting from earlier flares in her chest again, uninvited. "Excuse me?"

There’s fierce anger that bubbles forward, hot and all-consuming, lighting her nerves like a match. Where the hell is this even coming from? Is all this anger really just because she interrupted some (presumably) subpar sex with a mid-life crisis cliche of a girl he picked up off the street?

Miguel looks up from his hand, red flickering behind his eyes. "Jess, I’m serious. I’m asking you to just—“

"And I’m telling you no, O’Hara. You’re being so fucking weird right now. What is this really about? You’re not acting like yourself." She frowns.

And he’s not. The sunken, near-sleepless look in his eyes the way he seemed so needlessly agitated None of this felt like the Miguel she’s had the fortune of knowing over the past month or so.

The Miguel that lets his guard down, the one whose eyes crinkle in the corners when he finally stops restricting his laughter

Kind Miguel.

Funny Miguel.

Not whoever the hell this is.

Miguel scoffs again, far more mean than his last, before all but stalking toward her until they're not even an inch apart. He backs Jess into the door and glowered down at her with something dangerous. There’s an emotion behind his eyes that Jess has never seen directed at her, and it almost hurts. Burning like acid into her chest.

"Oh, but I am. Or have you forgotten? This is me acting like myself, Jess. The dick with anger issues, the asshole that you thought you could permanently pacify with a good fuck. News flash: It doesn’t work that way. Now, please go home." He rolls his eyes before turning his back to her and stalking out onto his balcony. It’s a small space, but big enough for him to lean over the rails as he looks out over the city below. The sea of endless cars, people, and life

The lines in Jess’ forehead deepen, and her frown is notably more intense. She doesn’t understand this; she doesn’t get where this is all coming from all of a sudden. He had been fine all day until...

Jess takes a deep breath and gently exhales. Then, she's following the man out onto his balcony.

"Are you really this mad at me about that girl? Or is this about this morning, Miguel?" She asks after a moment. Her voice softens as she stares at him, watching the unreadable emotions shift in his eyes while he continues to stare down at the city below instead of her. "Look, you’re the one that asked me about the baby. But if that’s what this is about, I didn't mean to upset you. I…I was just—"

"Jess…" Miguel stops her before she can finish and finally turns to look at her. His expression eases just barely, the deep lines in his face slowly dissipating as he scratches a hand down the side of his face, a habit he so often does when he’s stressed. "Fuck. Don’t apologize for that, alright? It isn’t—goddammit…" With a heavy exhale, Miguel starts to pace along the small balcony. He shakes his head, trying and failing to articulate his words properly without making things worse.

"Then what is it?" Jess presses on. She takes a step forward and reaches out to prompt Miguel’s attention to her again with a reassuring touch along his arm. "Just fucking talk to me, Migeul. Whatever’s going on, whatever has you this upset, I want to know. You don’t always have to brood on your feelings like an idiot; we’ve been over this! I’m your friend. Let me help you.”

Finally, Miguel does turn his attention to her. He just stares, searching for deep bronze eyes that look at him with so much determination that it’s infuriating. She’s trying so hard to be there for him when she could have cursed him out and left by now. It only serves to remind Miguel how little he deserves Jess. Not as a friend, and certainly not as anything else…

"Jess," he sighs again, trying to keep his tone steady. "I don’t want to talk, okay? I didn’t come here to talk. I didn’t go out to a bar for the first time in years and pick up some random fucking girl so I could talk. I don’t need help. All I want is—"

"All you want is what?" Jess cuts him off. She’s still staring, unwavering, and stubborn. To be left alone? To fuck out his frustrations with someone other than her? All that was fine; Jess didn’t fucking care. She just wants to hear him communicate it to her.

"You’re so...fucking frustrating." Migeul grows, his irritation with her heavy in his tone.

He says this, but his hands suddenly grab Jess by either side of her face and hold her there before he leans in to kiss her. It’s something rough and uncoordinated and utterly messy.

What he wants, he can’t have. There’s no use in bringing it up and ruining the very good thing that he and Jess have established. So he pushes it down, back into the pit where it belongs, and locks it, refusing to allow it to surface again.

The kiss catches Jess by surprise, but she leans into it almost immediately, allowing Miguel’s tongue to glide against hers. Meanwhile, delicate hands snake around his shoulders and up the nape of his neck to tug at his hair. The groan this elicits from him pools straight into Jess’ core like always, warm and fueling her on. Her touch mimics his— rough, erratic movements; tugging, pulling, scratching. All while their mouths are still connected to one another in a borderline feral make-out session.

Miguel handles her like he’s still so fucking pissed, brows furrowed in a scowl, and hands bruising the give of her hips. In return, she curses at him, nipping at his bottom lip in retaliation. It’s hard enough to draw blood, and she drags it out and lets it go, licking across the trickle of crimson that spilled over her lip in the process. "You’re the only one who likes to bite." She breathes, a newfound sense of desire floating behind her eyes when Miguel stares down at her. There’s but a split second of silence and heavy breathing between the two before they’re right back where they were, entangled in yet another scathing kiss.

Jess isn’t sure how they got here. How Miguel went from yelling at her to get out of his room to this

But she isn’t complaining about it. She much prefers this.

Miguel’s growl is a deep rumble that vibrates in the back of his throat while strong hands glide down the curvature of her body, settling on her ass with a firm flex of his fingers.

"There wasn’t much to feel back there with that other girl, was there?" Jess questions him, acrimonious. "So tiny. Fuck, was she even able to take you?"

"Jess…" His voice rumbled against her like a warning, though something of a grunt trickled out toward the end when Jess’ hand suddenly slid down between them, palming his cock. The action causes him to pull away, opting to rest his forehead on hers as he takes this moment to catch his breath.

"Well?" She asks again.

"No. N-not... not.. with her mouth, at least." He answers truthfully. She was young, and with that came inexperience. Her jaw kept hurting halfway through her attempts before they ultimately gave up and tried something else.

"She couldn’t take you like I do." Jess continues, stroking Miguel back to hardness through his boxers.

Another grunt, another soft stutter of his hips "No…"

Jess chuckles, a dangerous sound, before she lowers her voice to a whisper against his jaw. "No one will be able to take you like I can. You’ll never find another like me, Miguel." She murmurs.

As if he didn’t already know that.

As if that wasn’t his whole problem.

Miguel curses, buckling at the cool air that hits him when Jess suddenly tugs him out of his briefs. She then uses her weight to send him staggering back, pushing him until he can rest his ass against the railing of his balcony. From there, Jess slowly lowers herself to her knees.

"Fuck, Jess. W-what are—"

"For the record, I’m not doing this for you." She interrupts. "I’m doing this as a reminder, Miguel. So that the next time you find yourself succumbing to whatever this pathetic new desire is to fuck out your feelings with some random teenager, you’ll think of me. You’ll think of me and be wrecked by the fact that this was the last time I ever fucking touched you. You’ll be forced to lay in the bed you’ve made, knowing no one will be able to make you feel as good as I have."

Jess watches as regret settles behind Miguel’s eyes. He opens his mouth in reply, but Jess doesn’t allow him the opportunity. She grabs his cock, giving it a few slow, leisurely strokes while she opens her mouth and lets her tongue fall forward in a filthy display. Eagerly, she guides his cock onto her tongue, sliding it around the head and dipping beneath his hood. She swirls her tongue around those sensitive nerves with deliberate skill, while fighting a grimace at the taste of another woman on his cock when she sinks him into her mouth with ease.

She’d fix that later.

Miguel curses something low and unintelligible under his breath in response to her actions. She’s pretty sure it was in Spanish, and while she doesn’t understand it fully, she gets the gist of it.

It feels good, doesn’t it?

That much is made clear by the way Miguel’s hand finds purchase in her hair, gripping a tight fistful of curls while the other covers his mouth. "Jess, I...f-fuck...you’re killin me." He murmurs from behind his hand. He wants to say more—but the words don’t form when he tries.

In answer, Jess just hums around him, allowing the noise to vibrate against his cock while she bobs her head in slow drags that leave residual red smearing around his length.

Well, so much for this shade being everything-proof.

The woman makes a quick mental note to return her lipstick for false advertising before taking a short breath through her nostrils. A slow, even exhalation follows. She relaxes herself, letting her throat loosen as much as she’s able before she starts to guide Miguel even deeper. It doesn’t take long before her nose is nestled in fluffy pubic hair, his balls brushing up against her chin.

The whimper this draws out of Miguel is sinful.

She gives another inhale through her nose, allowing a pleased moan to rumble from her throat again when she’s met with the smell of him. She closes her eyes to savor it—this mixture of aromas that are so robust and utterly masculine that it leaves her feeling damn near drunk, sinking through her system and warming her chest like a shot of cinnamon whiskey.

The noises that Miguel continues to make in return for her efforts start to feel distant. As if she’s hearing them from underwater. She can feel him, though— the way he tugs at her hair, the way his thighs twitch beneath her finger tips.

Eventually, her eyes flicker open, and she stares up at Miguel with a haze over her. He’s clenching his jaw, and she can tell he’s straining to hold himself back, less he ruins her.

As if she couldn’t handle it.

He should know exactly how unbreakable she is.

Jess resists the urge to roll her eyes at him. Instead, her hands come forward to rest on his hips. She taps him and pulls him into her, trying to encourage him to move. Miguel glances down at her, and when their eyes finally meet, there’s a silent question: "Are you sure?"

Jess simply flexes the muscles in her throat.

Miguel seems to finally get the hint. His throat bobs with a swallow, and gives a short nod before he finally starts to find a pace. "You’re going to be the death of me some day, Jess." He groans, the grip in her hair tightening.

Mouth too full to respond properly, Jess just hums, bobbing her head along with his movements, letting him fuck her throat in hard, desperate rolls of the hips. She goes easily with the movement, showcasing the skillset she’s earned with age and experience. Her throat closes around him like a vice, so tight that she can practically feel whenever his cock makes a noticeable pulse.

It’s almost become addicting to pleasure him like this. Even when he’s been a dick and doesn’t fuckin deserve it, all Jess wants is to make him feel good. To hear that drawl of her name when he unravels due to her efforts.

And her efforts alone.

She watches through heavy-lidded eyes as Miguel breathes through his pleasure, jaw tight and brows furrowed while he all but uses her. It’s not much longer before she can feel the familiar twitch of his skin under the pads of his fingers or hear the guttural way he curses under his breath, signaling he probably wasn’t going to last much longer. So she settles in and continues to breathe through her nostrils, allowing Miguel to ride this out.

"Jessie…sweetheart! Fuck!" The man hisses above her, pet name slipping by before he can stop it. He sounds damn near pained as he shoves Jess deeper into his groin, keeping her in place. His orgasm greets him with fierceness after that, his balls draining into her in thick, repetitive ropes.

There’s not much for Jess to actually swallow other than a few trickles of mess that Miguel leaves behind when he eventually draws away. Everything else had been shot straight down her throat, but she still makes a show of letting her tongue roll out of her mouth again regardless, showing Miguel there was nothing left of what he'd given her.

"F-fucking hell..." Miguel curses in between his labored breaths. He had thrown his head back in ecstasy as he came, but when he finally looks back down to see Jess, the sight of her nearly breaks him. The vulgar display of her tongue hanging out of her mouth, the puffy, swollen lips and smeared makeup, the way tears and eyeliner leave a trail down her face.

Miguel’s cock visibly twitches.

"Think that may be a new record?" Jess asks. Despite the way her voice is utterly wrecked, there’s still a cocky tilt to it. The more they do this, the less Miguel seems to be able to last.

It’s kind of funny, honestly.

But Miguel isn’t laughing. He just growls, something low and laced with what Jess can only categorize as umbrage. Despite that, he’s helping her up and immediately crashing their lips together in another kiss once she’s standing. It’s a rushed, incredibly muddled display of lips and tongue.

Of growls and whines, and of hands grasping at every piece of each other that they can grab.

Miguel is quick to guide them back into the bedroom, his large hands settling on the back of Jess’ thighs. He picks her up with ease and settles her down on the bed, where he crawls over her, hunched over the swell of her belly. "You never know when to just shut up, do you?" He asks. He pulls away from the kiss just to trail down her neck, nipping at beautifully melanated skin. He doesn’t give Jess much of a chance to respond before those kisses hers are moving downwards. Down the side of her neck, to her shoulders, to her chest.

Eventually, he gets to her breasts. They had spilled out and over her gown in his rush to the bed, and he immediately curled his lips around a pretty, perfectly erect nipple.

"Oh, shit. M-Miguel." Jess gasps, his back arching against his efforts. Panting heavily, one hand grips at his sheets while the other finds the back of his head and grips his hair.

His name slips from Jess’ mouth so sweetly, like a hushed little secret only to be heard between them. It spurs him on, encouraging him to continue his efforts. He needs to return the favor especially well this time, because Jess was right with what she said earlier: There would never quite be anyone who makes him feel as good as she does.

He groans around her, flicking the hardened bud with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hand finds its way between her legs, where he eagerly pulls her lace pants to the side. She’s so wet already, a sticky mess painting her outer labia and parts of her inner thighs.

He doesn’t waste too much time, being quick to slide his fingers along the seam of her sex. He starts with a single digit, letting arousal coat him before sliding inside of her. He slides in and out experimentally for a few moments before joining a second finger. From there, he immediately starts a pace, something quick and steady, while he continues to suck on her breast.

His movements there are more eager, though; he nips and mouths on her like a man starved for his next meal, and Jess can’t help the small chuckle that worms its way out of her system, intermingling with her moan.

Miguel looks up from his place at her chest at the noise, a brow raised.

"F-fuck...sorry," she says, breathing heavily through her smirk. "It’s just, hah, y-you know how I mentioned the other day that I want a Mother’s Day present? I-I think you owe me two now."

Miguel’s brows fall, and he pulls away from her breast just to bury his forehead against her chest, his face heating. "Jess..." he sighs, slowing down his fingers.

"S-sorry, sorry. I'm not trying to ruin the moment. Keep doing what you’re doing. It’s just, were you bottle-fed as a kid or something? Because you are really into these things."

She never quite answered Miguel’s earlier question, but, no. No, she didn’t know when to shut up.

Miguel sighs tiredly, and his face remains buried in its place at her chest, refusing to look up from it. "Me estas volviendo loco..." He mutters, "You’re so fucking annoying."

Jess snorts. She’s not fluent in Spanish, but she’s not completely hopeless either. She pieces the phrase together, and it’s safe to say she’s not hard pressed to actually believe him when he says that this time. "Wow, how sweet. Why don't you tell me how you really feel, O’Hara?" She replies, sounding only mildly offended.

Miguel shakes his head against her, an indignant scoff leaving him. "If I did that, I’d ruin everything."

He barely speaks loud enough to be heard. It comes as a whisper, something spoken more to himself than anything else. But clearly, he still wasn’t quiet enough.

"Huh?" Jess blinks, lifting a brow at the implication she picks up on. Ruin everything. Ruin what? "You want to tell me what that’s supposed to mean?"

When it registers what’s actually been said and that he’s been heard, Miguel sighs again. He remains with his face in her chest, slowly kissing the skin there before making his way up to her neck. "No."

"Miguel…"

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, he focuses on her pulse points when he comes across them, nicking at them with his fangs while he starts to move his fingers again.

"M-Miguel…boy… D-don’t just ignore me—Miguel— Oh, you d-dick—!"

She smirks when a moan flutters out at the end of her complaint, kissing another spot of exposed skin. He hears her labored breathing and the way she keeps fighting against the pleasure of finding her words. But Miguel effectively silences them, at least for the time being. His fingers fuck into her in well-timed movements, curling upwards until the pads of his fingers settle along a spongy area not like the rest. He presses into that spot, massaging into her with skill while his thumb rubs firm, even circles on her clit.

The dual stimulation is enough to send Jess into space, floating high amongst the stars. His pace is relentless, and the feeling continues until suddenly she’s pulled blazing back down into orbit, threatening to break apart upon re-entry. "M-Miguel!" She gasps for air, and at first it seems like she’s going to berate him again. But the only thing that comes out of her mouth is, "Don't you dare stop—!"

"I won’t." He promises, but his voice remains low.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t change his pace or a thing about what he’s doing. He merely sucks a mark onto her neck and keeps his movements steady until Jess is crumbling against his hand in a rush of fluid and a scream of his name that he wishes so desperately to play on repeat whenever he wants.

He rides her through it, keeping up with the slow, steady motions along her clit until her thighs are closing around his hand, signaling him to stop.

When he does, he pulls out of her with an indecent, wet noise and promptly licks himself clean.

Delicious.

Jess lay there for a solid few moments, her chest rising and falling with heavy, labored breaths. It takes a while for her to settle back down to earth, and even longer to regain the ability to speak. But when she does, the first thing she says is: "Y-you’re a dick."

"So you’ve told me." Miguel rolls his eyes at her when he lifts his head up from her neck, meeting her gaze with his own. She’s cute like this, glaring up at him with her ruined makeup and missing lashes.

"You’re really not going to t-tell me what the fuck you meant earlier?" She presses on.

"I wasn’t, no." Miguel replies with a heavy sigh. He’s about to pull away from her, but Jess wraps her arms around his shoulders and tugs him back into place before he can get too far.

"I really don’t get you, O’Hara. What the hell are you so afraid of? What can you possibly want that makes you think it’ll ruin everything?" Her glare holds firm, her dark brows knitted together in that same look she always gives when she’s officially fed up with him.

Miguel just…stares. There’s an expression behind his eyes that Jess can’t entirely place. Regret, longing. It brews like a storm on the horizon—dark and almost unsettling. But then he's bringing a hand forward, cupping the side of her face while thumbing against the skin of her cheek. And the touch is so sweet and so gentle, like he’s settled it in his mind that he's already lost her. It leaves Jess more confused than she’s ever been in his presence. "Miguel?"

The man sighs again, and he closes what little distance there was between them with a kiss. Something slow, yet so uncharacteristically passionate this time. "You, Jess. Fuck, all I want is you." He murmurs the words against her like something forbidden. As if his confession comes at a price.

Jess frowns, brows still furrowed, as she tries to process what he means. She’s here; she’s been here. Fully giving herself to him. Pulling away from the kiss, she searches his eyes again, and she realizes then that it may not be the physical aspects of her presence that he’s referring to.

But before Jess can ask questions, before she can get him to try and elaborate, he’s kissing her again. He swallows whatever she’s going to say, his tongue melting against hers in a kiss that, once again, is filled with far too much sadness and longing for her liking. As if this would be the last kiss they ever shared.

"If you want me, I’m right here, Miguel," she murmurs against him. "Take me. I’m all yours, okay?" Delicate hands glide down the muscles of his back, down to his ass, where she pushes him into her, encouraging him. "I’m right here..."

She rolls her hips against the cock she feels pressing against her thigh, still hard and dripping with mess from his last orgasm.

Miguel curses in response, something low and throaty in sound. It doesn’t take much coaxing for him to start guiding himself into her, sinking past the lips of her pussy and into her heat with a groan of pleasure that sends Jess keening. "Fuck, there we go. Good boy."

"J-Jess…I shouldn’t…”

"Shh, it’s okay. Just keep going." She hushes him, one hand still firmly planted on his ass while the other scratches up and down his back. "You said you want me, so then take what you want. This is it, right? You want to fuck me? What else?"

Miguel groans, and Jess's arms move to drape over his broad shoulders while her legs wrap around his narrow waist. She pulls him in, caging him into her, continuing to encourage him to take what he’s too shy to ask for.

Miguel tries to answer honestly. But the way Jess rocks into him, meeting his movements, makes it difficult to think, let alone speak. What else? Fuck, there’s so much he could say. There is so much he wants to ask for.

Swallowing thickly, his head hangs low, his messy hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. But then Jess brushes it back and out of the way, resting her palms around his face and forcing their gazes to meet. Hers is soft and sugar-coated as she looks up at him. "Tell me, Miguel. I want to hear it from you."

"I want to fuck you," he finally says. His face heats against Jess’ palm, and she smiles in return.

"Yeah? And what else?" Jess keeps coaxing him, rocking against the man’s slow, deliberate movements. She makes a point to squeeze around him, enjoying the surprised, involuntary whimper that it pulls out of him. The action cuts off whatever it was that Miguel was going to try to say, and Jess hums.

"Do you want to put another baby in me, Is that it? Give this one a little sister?" She asks.

The question nearly folds him in half. He looks into Jess with widened eyes and a crimson darkening beneath his skin when his cock twitches with interest from inside her. He knows she felt it, and he knows there’s absolutely no use lying about his answer.

So he doesn’t.

He swallows against the lump in his throat and nods before looking away as if shamed. At least he tries to. Jess doesn’t let him, and she forces him to meet her eyes again before pulling him down for a kiss. "Then go on. Breed me, Miguel."

Miguel curses under his breath. He doesn’t care if that’s not exactly possible in her current state; he doesn’t care if this fantasy of his is just something she’s playing into for the moment. He knows he’s going to be in for another brutal reality check when this is over, when his perpetual horniness and emotional instability isn’t completely taking over his brain. But for now, with Jess’ encouragement, he indulges.

He falls into the kiss easily, tilting his head to the side to deepen it more. As she holds him, his hands move down the curvature of her body and down the length of her legs, settling there as he grinds into her at a slow, intentional pace.

Something soft, something impassioned.

Something... not at all like they’ve been doing in the past.

Where their previous engagements had been bold, heated displays of their desire, this was different. Or at least, it felt different. This felt like something neither of them had shared with one another before.

It’s dangerously close to...

Well, something Miguel is far too proud to even say

Because Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do that .

He’s not emotionally set up for that .

At least, not usually. But it came easy with Jess. This feels natural—the way she flows with his body and his movements.

"Fuuck, Miguel. Are you still with me? K-keep going, okay?"

Jess’ words pull Miguel back from his thoughts. "I’m h-here. Fuck, sorry—you just feel so incredible."

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah." He pulls away from her just to plant a kiss on her nose, a little gesture that sends a smile spreading across her face. "What was that for?"

He shrugs, and red blooms beneath his skin like ink in water.

"D-dork." Jess chuckles brightly, relishing in the grumpy "shut up" that she gets in response before he buries his face in her neck again. The woman's smile widens, her own face buried where his neck meets his shoulder. It’s maddening, the way he can be so fucking cute yet so infuriating all at the same time.

As Miguel’s hips start to stutter against her, Jess moans in encouragement. She's able to read him like a book and knows from his movements alone when his orgasm is drawing near. "Mm… I know. It feels good, doesn't it? You’re doing so well, but I need you to hold it a little longer. I-I want to chat with you, Miguel. Can you do that? Can you hold it for me?"

Miguel groans in response, and with the sound comes another stutter in his movements. He forces himself to slow down and labors his breathing to avoid ending entirely too soon. He wants to cum, but more importantly than that, he wants to cum with Jess.

He wants to unravel alongside her.

So he nods and adjusts himself. He hardens the pace as opposed to quickening it, fucking into her with slow, deep thrusts that angle perfectly against her gspot. Simultaneously, he brings a hand down between her legs, rubbing more circles across her clit with his fingers. Her body tightens around him, and he relishes the way she gasps in response.

"T-that’s it, fuck. Just like that, Migeul. Don't change a fucking thing. Just—fuck—like that!" She’s panting, her manicured nails digging into his upper back and shoulders. The stimulation to her clit sends sparks behind her eyes, and it’s exactly what was needed to give her that extra push that sends her toppling over the edge of release.

Miguel keeps his pace until she screams like that, until nails dig into his skin. From there, it’s over. He moans, guttural and shameless, while he works the sensitive bundles of nerves at his fingertips in more desperate movements. The damn breaks, and with it, so does he. His orgasm hits him harder than it’s ever had. It splits his nerves in the best way, with pleasure shooting down every limb and sending his entire body wanting to curl in on itself. But he keeps going, pushing past any sense of discomfort or overstimulation to ride Jess through her own release, adoring the way she convulses around him.

They way she all but milks him of everything he has.

Much to her own surprise, the sensation of a thick, sticky mess painting her insides in ropes is quick to send Jess into a second orgasm. Less powerful than the first, but God the back-to-back release feels insane; pleasure crashes over her like unrelenting waves, refusing to allow her even a moment of recovery. It's nearly overwhelming, threatening to drown her entirely. But just as the overstimulation of it all threatens to take over, Miguel slows, easing up on her clit and leaning in to kiss her sweat-laced temple. He whispers something to her, something kind and encouraging that her brain can’t seem to comprehend at the moment. She smiles, though, appreciating the gesture nonetheless.

Miguel stays connected for as long as he’s able to, not yet ready for the loss of her warmth. But he can’t put his full weight on her in this position, and not wanting to collapse, he eventually pulls out of her and rolls over on his side. As they both recover, all that’s left between them is labored breathing and the distant noise of the outside.

Police sirens.

The odd ambulance or two.

Eh. Let that be someone else’s problem this time.

It falls quiet for a while. Jess isn’t entirely sure how much time passes or how much she’s supposed to allow before she says anything. However, she knows they need to talk, and it’s clear she’s going to have to take the initiative to start that conversation. So after a few more moments of stretched silence, she breaks it. "Are we…going to talk about it?"

Miguel remains quiet, and there’s a dip in the mattress when he rolls over and lets his arm fall over his eyes. "I'd rather we didn’t." He says it gruffly.

"O’Hara…"

"Drew."

Jess frowns, a small scoff of disbelief leaving her. It takes a second for her to do so with her belly, but she effectively rolls over on her side, facing away from Miguel. Silence falls between them yet again. A very loud silence this time, though.

Which doesn’t last very long before Miguel’s the one to break it.

“…what, are you mad at me now?" He asks, lifting his arm from his eyes when he feels the mattress shift with her movement.

Silence.

"Jess…"

"…."

"Oh, cool. Well, that’s—that’s great." He sighs, exasperated and heavy. "Unbelievable. You can’t get mad at me just because I don’t want to sit here and talk about shit that doesn't matter."

Shit, that doesn't matter?

Jess wants to remain quiet, but that statement draws an annoyed bark of mean laugh out of her. She still doesn’t turn to him, though, satisfied with the view of his wall over him. "How does it not—you know what, whatever. I'm not even mad, O’Hara. I just don’t get why you’re always so fucking…” She trails off with a huff of frustration as she struggles to find her words, gesturing to the air before she heaves a heavy groan. "Emotionally constipated." She finishes lamely.

Miguel's brows furrow in a tight-knit frown, looking just as offended as he’d be if Jess cursed his mothers name. "Emotionally—I'm not emotionally constipated, Jess. What, just because I don’t like talking about my feelings??"

The word feelings gets spat out as if it were physically hard for him to even say, and Jess fights the urge to scoff at him again.

"That’s literally what being emotionally constipated is, fool!" Jess sighs, utterly exasperated. "Earlier, you said all you wanted was... me. And that you were afraid you’d ruin everything by asking for it. Now all I want from you is to tell me what that means, Miguel. I’m asking you to communicate for God's sake, and you’re acting impossible."

Miguel’s frown deepens. With a heavy groan, he runs a hand across his face, silence falling over them again. It ticks by, creating a thickness in the air that is no longer palatable. It’s suffocating, and Miguel can’t stand the way it’s making him feel.

He can’t stand the way Jess being mad at him makes him feel.

"Fuck, Jess. I don’t… " He tries, but ultimately trails off for a moment, trying to think of the right words. When he finds them, he takes a deep breath and tries again. "I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what I want, okay? I’m trying to figure it out. I’m trying to understand this myself because I haven’t felt it before. It’s new, and it freaks me out that it could mess something up if I say or do the wrong thing.”

Miguel frowns again, but ends up turning to her anyway, settling with his chest against her back and his face resting along the back of her neck. He isn’t good at this. At…feelings. Not how to address them, and certainly not how to communicate them.

All he knows is that whatever this arrangement he’s got going on with Jess works. For the first time in years, he’s been comfortable spending a considerable amount of time with another human being. Their sex was great, and the moments they spent together after the act were even more so.

He’s been more satisfied with his life than he’s been in years, and it’s because of Jess.

He wants to be satisfied with that.

But as they spend more time together, they’ve gotten closer both physically and emotionally. Miguel’s not sure when it happened, but as a result he finds himself missing her when she’s gone. He craves her touch even outside of sex, and when she leaves to go home at the end of the day, back to her husband, it’s become a reminder that these wants of his are something feeble.

So he withdraws, hoping it will help him to retrain his focus and he can keep history from repeating itself.

He let his desires ruin everything once before.

He can’t do it again.

The silence stretches for a few passes before Jess rolls back over, finally deciding to face him. Their nose to nose, and brown eyes regard the ones in front of hers for a moment. Never had she seen him look so scared, so unsure. Due to his own emotions, no less.

With a soft sigh, Jess reaches down and grabs his hand. Delicate fingers play with his own, tracing along the little lines she sees in his palms. "So," she starts, "You have feelings, and you’re having trouble processing them. You don’t know exactly what it is that you want, but it's safe to say you’re craving more than what we’ve been doing here, hm? More than just sex?” Her voice is soft, the annoyance that had laced her tone previously no longer as present. Miguel sounds so at war with himself, and while she finds it a little ridiculous, she at least wants to attempt to understand without him feeling overly judged.

Miguel’s palm heats up in her hand. She watches him process her assumptions, before giving a little nod.

"More like…dating?" She asks.

This time, Miguel’s entire body warms.

That word feels too raw, too official for his liking.

God, he’s never…dated. Not in nearly a decade, at least. And certainly not with anyone nearly as important to him as Jess. You date someone you love, right? And love only leads to people around him getting hurt...

No, he doesn’t want to date her.

He just…wants to spend time with her outside of work. Frequently. Alone, together. In a sort of…romantic way.

But that’s not like…dating. That’s different.

"No.” Miguel finally answers after a stretched, internal debate with himself. “I mean— fuck. I…I don’t know."

Jess sighs again, but the look she gives him is closer to the edge of fond rather than angry. "Okay. That’s okay, if you don’t know. We’ll figure it out." She places a kiss at the start of his palm, then brings his hand up to rest her cheek against it. She smiles, a soft thing that has Migeul swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.

"Why are you so willing to entertain this, Jess? I mean, your husband…”

"My husband and I are very open in our marriage, Miguel; I’ve told you this. I have enough room in my heart for more than one person, you know. Have you ever considered that maybe I could want more out of this too?" She lifts a brow at him.

Miguel blinks, as if stunned. His eyes widen, and his mouth goes slightly agape before it closes with an indignant little huff. He had been so consumed with the possibility of rejection and his fear of ruining things as they were, that not once had he thought about a better case scenario. "No. I... hadn't really considered that possibility." He admits. His voice is barely above a grumble, so hushed that Jess can’t help but smirk.

"That’s because you’re an emotionally constipated idiot. I swear to God, Miguel. How are you so smart yet so fucking dumb." Jess shakes her head, her exasperation of him back in full.

A deep flush dusts over Miguel’s face and neck, and he sends her a glare. “…Jerk. Give me a break, Jess. I told you I’m bad at this.”

The woman snorts, a quiet little sound as she tilts her head to kiss his palm again. "Mm, yeah, okay. I’ll cut you some slack. But only because you have a cute ass and a good dick game. Those are your saving graces.”

Miguel rolls his eyes. Despite his best efforts, a chuckle leaves him right after. He gives Jess a something of a barely-there smile, brushing his thumb over the supple skin of her cheek. "You think it’s cute?" He asks, a playful tilt returning to his voice.

Jess barks another laugh.

"Mmhm. And delicious too, I might add. Absolutely divine." She sticks her tongue out at him with a knowing grin that has Miguel glaring at her again in a fit of embarrassment.

"Christ, Jess.”

Jess laughs at him when he turns from her, lays on his back again, and promptly brings a pillow up to hide his face. One time (A handful of times) he lets her eat his ass, and now she brings it up every chance she gets.

Her laughter carries for a while, fluttering out into a soft giggle eventually. She wished it didn’t take all of this to get the man to tell her how he’s been feeling, but she's glad they could finally have this discussion regardless. This was new to her too, and she’s excited to explore what this could mean for the both of them moving forward.

Even if it is a little scary.

With a smile, Jess moves the pillow away from Miguel’s face, meeting his grumpy frown with a kiss to his cheek. "So, tomorrow, you and I will go to this restaurant I know that serves real empanadas. We’ll eat, have a couple of drinks, and then we can talk about this a little more, yeah?”

Miguel darkens at the kiss yet again, but he nods. He brings his hand forward to rest along her cheek, enjoying the enamored look in her eyes that he gets in return. "Yeah. Okay."

At his agreement, Jess wastes no time kissing him again, a sweet, slow thing. The way that Jess smiles against him, the way she’s handled him with so much care and adoration gives Miguel no choice but to fully melt into her. This type of vulnerability feels different than it’s been with her in the past. He’s no longer laying his body bare for her, but his heart too. It leaves him uncertain and so anxious, making him want to withdraw again. But he fights against the instinct to do so, allowing himself this potential for happiness that he’s been longing for all his life.

He’s not good at these things, at feelings.

At people.

But for Jess, he’s willing to try his best.

[keiamor]

No one asked for this but—

Getting high with Yang is a whole new experience, even the busiest mafia boss needs a break or two when it comes to fighting his rival gangs. There are times where Yang uses alcohol to eases or perhaps numbs his emotions before making a decision... or rather escalate them just to feel the thrill of danger and blood dripping from his fingers, it was only a couple of days ago when you finally had the chance to ask him — why. Yang have always been a difficult book to read and silent moments like this makes it even harder to read beneath the lines, whether he is mad or amused, perhaps a bit of both.

"Why, a plan without risks nor disadvantages is boring."

Yang knows he is powerful, compare to those fools who only knew how to wield a gun without the qualities of what makes a good fight. Anyone can use a gun but who can truly use a Shuang Gou the way he can, not many. Despite the worrying looks and silence you’ve been offering, Yang couldn't help but to offer a sigh in return. "Stop giving me those eyes, you're goin' make me want to have my ways with you." He can see the way your cheeks glow from just simple comments, a reaction that he is quite fond of no doubt.

Whilst there are other times where Yang choose to smoke a combination which gives him a high much like this one, it's not often that he takes a long draft of those intoxicating smoke, let alone in front of you. The combination from his homeland is quite expensive after all, especially if it is high quality. Why would Yang risk ruining his own body with the drugs he provides when he can have something risk free for double the price?

With a leg over the other and an arm tugged neatly underneath, your curious gaze falls onto Yang who has a pipe sitting between his fingers elegantly but it doesn't go unnoticed. "Curious?" He asked in his usual sing song tone, eyes thinning as they observes your reaction. "It smells... different to the usual tobacco you have..." That much you know but there's something different about this, something stronger and heavier. "That's because it is different!" Lan chimes in with a knowing chuckle, "A special kind that gives you a high without... y'know the crazy side effects like Red Camellia." Fei added with a slight shrug, "They're very expensive too, I'm surprised Yang even took it out of the box." The small girl added with her brows frowning slightly, that along was enough for you wanting to question Yang further.

“Enough, leave us.” Disappointment was clear as day as the twins turned in their heels, letting out a union sigh as they grumbled whilst making their way outside. You promised you’d visit the market with Lan and Fei today after all, that’s why you are here, to ask Yang for permission. “I—“

As soon as those golden eyes met yours, a shiver instinctively creeped its way towards your core. Cheeks flushed, it was too late to look away. “Come, don’t make me repeat myself.” Yang’s voice sounded as alluring as the first time you met him, on that very roof top. You know better by now than to push his buttons unprovoked, every steps towards him felt heavier than the last until you were finally close enough to feel his warmth and for him to pull you into his lap without warning as per usual.

“Open” It was only natural for you to look as confused as you feel, leaning subtly against his touch whilst you wonder what Yang meant and so far there’s only one thing you can think of. As your open lips parted slowly, the smile that slowly spread across his lips whilst he leans back into the chair was enough to make your heart pound, “Good girl.” The way Yang’s voice rumbled through his chest was unforgettable. Suddenly, you begin to doubt if this was another one of his tricks or test your loyalty to him as your jaw begins to ache. “Yang I—“

Before you knew it, those familiar soft lips had locked themselves onto yours. The bitter taste of whatever herbs within his pipe lingered as he toyed with you, tip of Yang’s tongue brushed ever so forcefully and then soften against your tongue. Forcing you to inhale the smoke he had taken purposefully just before kissing you, Yang could never get enough of the way you struggle helplessly against his hold as your mouth moulding into his own.

A string of silver attached between the two of you when the crimson haired finally drew back, coughs from that body of yours echoed across the room. It was only natural, it takes time to get used to intoxicating things like this. “What you think?” There’s a hint of mockery in his tone, matching the smirk that lingers across those delicate features. Of course Yang wasn’t expecting you to take enjoyment in this, he expected you to kick and shove him away whilst calling him every name under the sun, explaining how you were only here for something else. Yet none of it happened, that’s when Yang heart squeezed slightly.

Did he go too far?

“Oi you—“ That’s when he spotted your expression, blissful but dizzy. Perhaps this was way too strong for someone as inexperienced as you, the way you wiggles between his lap and clawing at Yang’s chest was enough for him to indulge in this. The panic melts into amusement as those golden eyes observes your actions, “What is it? I can’t hear you.”

“I want more.”

Found this in my draft and thought you’d enjoy this @jozhenji

[drenix004]

Blue | Dee (00)

❝𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 ⁝ He never thought he would like the color blue so much, nor that it was enigmatic, like the girl who wore it in her hair, to the point of having his attention. He was an enigma calling him to solve it, and he never left anything unsolved.❞

warnings: mention of alcohol, drugs, death, obsession, sex among others, if you do not feel like it!

rating: 18+

pairings: Dee x female Oc

¡English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes, don’t hesitate to correct me.!

He left Ches' store after a long day, after all it was Saturday and the older man had called him to help him organize some new accounts that had arrived. He didn't refuse, he wanted to have some time away from his idiot brother, he was sick of hearing the redhead shouting when he played video games with his friends and even more if it was the weekend. His steps were with parsimony, looking at the sidewalk as if it had something interesting. The typical noise of people around him only increased his boredom so he ended up clicking his tongue. But, he suddenly stopped walking when a soft melody reached his ears so he looked up from the ground and searched for the source of the melody. It was a violin that sounded in the distance, which aroused his interest because as far as he knew, no one where he lived played or liked classical music since it was considered for people with high socioeconomic status. When he realized where the sound was coming from, he began to walk towards it without realizing it. The melody grew louder as he got closer, the soft notes began to envelop him without realizing it, the notes were sweet caresses that reached his ears, enchanting them in a way that even he didn't understand. Soon he reached a small square and then he saw who was playing. There, surrounded by a small group of people, who like him were enchanted by the melody, was the owner of such a beautiful melody. A young woman wearing a French style chiffon dress with bare shoulders and long sleeves with a loose corset and white platform boots was elegantly playing that violin with her eyes closed, but her saddened expression did not go unnoticed. He couldn't help but wonder why she was dressed completely in white, did it have something to do with the song she was playing? But what stood out the most was her wavy blue hair, her hair was the first thing that stole the attention when the eyes fell on her. A gasp caught in his throat as she opened her eyes and connected with his gaze. The young woman's irises were a beautiful blue color, very different from his and showing a great mystery in them. She kept looking at him, making him nervous. The sound of a call coming from his phone put an end to the eye contact when he had to answer, so his brow furrowed. -Dee! -his brother shouted from the other line, "You have to come now, I've got my hand stuck in the pipe! -You idiot-he sighed, his mood had gone to hell when he wanted to look at the young woman again, but she was looking the other way-I'm on my way, but you owe me one. -Come quick, I can't feel her! I think I'm going to-" the blond hung up the call before he continued. He spun on his axis and quickly walked back to his house while still listening to the music that got quieter and quieter as he walked away. Dee didn't know it, but that had been the first encounter of many he would have with the mysterious blue-haired girl.

Fate had already made her first move, let's see how far her game goes.

PREV | NEXT

[musicarenagh]

Cheryl Craigie Shares Inspiration Behind Her Latest Single 'Migraine' Good day ladies and gentlemen! It is my honor and immense pleasure to welcome you to this exclusive open interview with Cheryl Craigie, whose most recent single "Migraine", has been making waves since the release date of the 1st of March. The song that ended up being written after Cheryl's chronic migraine combined her deeply personal experience and a desire to inform others that often the disease is underestimated and even left unnoticed. As soon as "Migraine" plays the first line, listeners are going in to its pulsating synth melodies, which, like the pain of a migraine attack, brings them right in to it. There is a transition of Cheryl's emotional lyrics and authoritative tone that dominate the song, as she captures the dark reality of dealing with migraine status forever. Cheryl´s father, a professional pianist, who is her greatest source of inspiration in pursuing a career in music was her biggest source of inspiration. Working with Eric Goldberg at the beginning, Cheryl improved her singing and eventually took her style beyond the mere desire to please the audience.  Her art is now characterized by risk-taking and authenticity. Besides music, since Cheryl is a food explorer, she finds solace in cooking, usually trying out new recipes from different cultures. If not for her music career she would open up her own restaurant, featuring her passion for cooking and her gastronomy talent. After all, she is planning to do a cover of Taylor Swift’s song, which would mean a new chapter in her music career.  She vows to continue doing what she loves with the support of her fans without whom she wouldn’t be there in the first place. Concluding, there are a lot more news from this incredible artist with a deep message and so many interesting ideas. Listen to Migraine below https://open.spotify.com/album/6gUlE4lRtoHUo3zbs45S3J Follow Cheryl Craigie on Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Youtube Instagram What is your stage name Cheryl Craigie Is there a story behind your stage name? No, just me plain and simple! Where do you find inspiration? I usually come up with song ideas and lyrics when I can’t sleep. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? I’ve been singing since childhood and composing has evolved in recent years. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Yes, my father was an accomplished pianist. I grew up playing and singing with him. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? My father. He was my biggest fan and encouraged me to keep making music. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? I was very fortunate to study under Eric Goldberg who is not just an accomplished musician but knowledgeable in production and all aspects of music. He has guided me through every step of the way and co-produced all my songs. I would not be doing this without him. What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? Jefferson Starship. I won tickets on a radio station and was awestruck when I saw the live performance. Since then I have been to over 100 concerts and still feel the adrenline rush every time. How could you describe your music? My taste in music is very eclectic. I like to see where a song will take me and then decide what genre fits it best. Some of my listeners may not like that as they may be expecting a specific sound. I understand that music is very subjective and there is a risk in choosing to do this but I think it’s a risk worth taking. Describe your creative process. I usually write my lyrics first and then decide what genre fits the message best. What is your main inspiration? To write about life experiences. If you write about what you know you can convey the best message in your music. What musician do you admire most and why? Dolly Parton. She’s not only a musician and composer but a storyteller who’s stood the test of time and still able to connect with people of all ages through her music.

Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? Absolutely! I’m not afraid to take risks anymore. Who do you see as your main competitor? That’s a tough one! I’m not sure I can answer that. :) What are your interests outside of music? I love to cook and I’m constantly coming up with new recipes spanning all ethnicities. I find cooking relaxing and rewarding when others enjoy my meals. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? I probably would have gone to culinary school and would have opened my own restaurant. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Being heard. It’s really hard to break through the barriers and get people to listen to artists who haven’t made a name for themselves yet. More doors have opened in recent years but it's still not enough. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? Make it easier for Indie Artists to be heard and get recognition. https://open.spotify.com/artist/5wkBchroodP0ldDdK6Y1WO?si=IHDt3rk5TOatdft8KkAFbw Why did you choose this as the title of this project? There are literally millions of people around the world who suffer from Migraines. I wanted to bring attention and awareness to a disease often misunderstood and overlooked. Also, I wanted to let other know they are not alone in their journey. What better way to do this than through the universal language of music? What are your plans for the coming months? I am currently working on a cover of a Taylor Swift song with a whole new arrangement. Stay tuned! Do you have any artistic collaboration plans Not at this time. What message would you like to give to your fans? I would like to thank them for listening and inspiring me to keep doing what I love. Their support means everything to me.

[katsukikitten]

Just some general warnings and disclaimers, this is an aged up Victorian era AU that I did a sort of collab with @bakugotrashpanda, so please check out BTP’s work as well. We had so much fun discussing this idea and breathing life into it, we would love to hear how these stories made you feel. Please also note that the woman in the banner is NOT the set skin tone for reader so please feel free to have that match your own skin tone! Also this is one of my bigger works coming in at a little over 14,000 words! (maybe a part two idk) but enjoy~

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food. 

Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not. 

Countless eyes rake over your long dress, always choosing a color so deep in hue it is often mistaken for black. They often murmur curiosities as they ponder over what exactly you are mourning.

Little do they know it is your freedom. 

Tonight you are in blood red with matching gloves to your elbows, diamonds, garnets and rubies drip from your throat and ears. A sight to be seen in your bold dark colors that are often frowned upon during the bright season of spring and summer. 

A bold male approaches and yet the closer he gets to your stunning form the more meek he becomes. He nods his head and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to your gloved knuckles. 

"May I have your first dance?" He peers up at you as you stare down with an icy glare. Removing your hand with deadly precision from a man you know of but could not care less about. 

"You may not." You say simply and all he can do is stew in his rejection, affirming your wishes with a small nod. Another male in a smooth storm grey suit approaches. His large hand grasping onto your fingers, bringing your knuckles to his lips. 

"You look exquisite my dear. Would you honor me with your first dance?" 

"I shall not." Another subtle yet swift removal of your hand from his, wishing you had worn two pairs of gloves for this sniveling little asshole. Not everyone knew his secret love for abusing women but you did. He would never get the pleasure of dancing with you and in the two years since your introduction into the market you've made sure he had no one to wed. Using the power and respect people had towards your Father's name, towards you for guidance, ultimately steering them away from this pathetic sack of bones. 

And with your power you were dubbed the icy hot debutante of Alryne, fierce as a flame so hot, it felt cold. 

You wear a neutral face, but you do not smile, making yourself a touch unapproachable. This already weeds out the weak men who want nothing more than to suck the blood and money from your father's estate. 

But it wasn't as if the neutral face was easy to achieve, oftentimes you had to fight a scowl. For two years you've hated every second of every ball, party, or soiree since the Queen smiled in your favor during your first debut. She often praised, as did your mother, your cold precision, quick wit, and intelligent political decisions that were so well disguised that men just thought you modest. 

When in actuality you were playing the game, and since you were being forced to play by your father then by Hell's flames you would win it all. 

The first half of the ball drags in stupor of tedious repetition as you idly chat with women of various titles to gather any information you could without revealing your own hand. 

Besides all of the pestering gnats, everyone knows that your first dance is always reserved for important males, to never approach until after the two of your six stamps have already been taken. Even then there was a high chance of rejection, as there were no men of value to be seen. 

At least not yet. For as long as you could remember the higher ranked males arrived a touch late, "fashionably late" they claim. Abhorrently annoying is what you call it.  

Fashionably late men such as Lord Bakugou, son to the Duke of Summer or his distant cousin Lord Kirishima, son to the Duke of Spring. 

Bakugou arrives first, his grin wolfish as he scans the crowd, women flock to his arrogance in troves, although he ignores them. He has one woman in his sights yet it is not the woman he stands before. You give a small courtesy as you speak. 

"My Lord." Offering your hand gently. 

"My Starlight." He presses his lips to your silky glove for a long moment unable to keep his cocky smirk off of his face, "May I take your first dance?" 

Fighting to keep the delighted smile off of your face you offer a flutter of your lashes. He kisses your knuckles once more as if you needed convincing but the two of you know what you are doing. 

"You may." And with that his wolfish grin returns as he sweeps you onto the dance floor, showcasing your abilities as he shows off his own. Not to mention the dance floor is a great place to talk in private. His hand lingers just above your lower back, firm in his grip as his other hand holds yours almost delicately. 

"We match tonight, my Starlight. A brilliant touch." He guides you along the floor with ease, his eyes gesturing towards his vest and tie. 

"I only took an educated guess as to what you would wear, my Lord." 

"Do not sell yourself short. I know how sharp that mind is." Another wolfish grin, his eyes never leaving yours while feeling the court gaze upon the two of you. You give him a knowing smile before asking. 

"Any luck with her majesty, the prized diamond?" You ask, eyes blazing with curiosity. He smirks again, only his eyes revealing his true scoff as he twirls you in your jeweled slippers. 

"I did as you instructed and went with my father to that dreaded stay at the countryside Manor, how did you know her Majesty and Princess Amila would be close by." 

"I took an educated guess." A blatant lie that has him grinning from ear to ear. He leans closer, pulling the attention of the ladies especially as his ember eyes burn into you. 

"Far more than an educated guess." He spins you again and you fight the tightness in your gut. Enjoying the dance as he parades you around the room as if to say look at what I have that you could never. 

Even if the two of you agreed you would never be his. The two of you having struck up an arrangement of sorts on your first dance. He was forced by his Grace to ask at least one woman to dance and he had only chosen you with hopes that you would say no. 

But you loved the honest, irritated look that lingered in his eyes and on his lips. So of course you said yes as misery loves company. It was then he told you not to fall for him as he had his eyes set on the Crown, you laughed loudly and said "As if I would ever fall for an arrogant pig such as yourself, my Lord." His smile was wild as he enjoyed your insult, it was then you told him you would help him with the Crown, only if he made you his first and last dance of the evening at every event. 

Back then he had hesitantly agreed, now he can see how far your scheming mind went. Saw the numerous callers and suitors who loitered in your parlor, the extravagant flowers that they sent in excess. The rings they bestowed to you as they dropped to one knee, bold enough to peacock the large diamonds in front of other callers. 

And all after Bakugou had done as you asked for only three parties. He got a front row seat to rejection every single time, which in turn started the talk, the gossip, that this city loved.  You were desired because of how you painted yourself and in turn made Lord Bakugou desired as well. Talked about, all because he was the only male who had your approval. 

He loved your scheming mind so much he could kiss you, but alas you did not wear a crown. Although you often had a braid of jewels atop your head, sadly you were not kin to royalty, only a Baron's daughter after all. 

Bakugou wonders what you could have done as a queen. He would think you an empress.

"Is that all the detail I get? Just a confirmation that I was correct about their holiday?" He spins the two of you in step, hand guiding you although you did not need it. Having memorized every step to every dance there was since before your debut. 

"She saw me." 

"And?!" You can hardly keep up the façade of calm collection as you wait. 

"And she flushed. Her cheeks were as red as any rose, Starlight, she was a rare red diamond sparkling by the lake. She must already be in love with me."  You snort, unable to stop the smile on your lips. 

"I've never heard you so poetic before. Normally you leave that to Lord Kirishima. How many times did you run into her? Not more than three I hope."

"Oi, I am a well versed student and I listened to my teacher. I made her wait for the fourth and denied it. Left her in wonder and hope as you said." He rolls his eyes, fingers sliding up to your dress line touching your bare skin with his beneath your guise of hair. The sensation of his warm fingers against your cool skin does not go unnoticed. 

"Are you practicing for your dance with the 'rare red diamond' now?" You taunt, earning that chest tightening wolf grin. 

"I'm only doing as my teacher has instructed." 

"Well the Princess will fall for you the moment you kiss her hand." 

"One can only hope. Her official debut is less than a month away. I want it to be perfect." His eyes shimmer with plotting mischief as does yours. 

"So it shall." 

The music flows and ebbs to the end of the song as Bakugou deposits you right back where he got you. Bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he holds your gaze once more. 

"My Starlight." When he straightens you curtsy.

"My Grace." With that he leaves, heading towards the table of sweets and beverages, you were sure he would be ordering bourbon. Your mother clears her throat from her chair, the out of season silk blanket over her thick skirts pulls at your heart. She sits on that plush chair as if it were her throne. 

"You dance with Lord Bakugou often." An observation. 

"Indeed." A dry retort. 

"I am sure Lord Kirishima will be your next dance, correct?" 

"One can only hope." 

"So you have an eye for a Duke's son?" 

"I am happy to dance with those deserving, Mother." Your mother keeps her eyes on the turning bodies on the hardwood floor, Kirishima makes his way through the crowd once he spies you. Your mother turns to face you as she says 

"Is the Duke of Winter's son deserving?" 

"Hmm, he has three sons, mother." You keep your eyes away from her until she finally looks back into the crowd. 

"Ah yes but only one is ever at these events." You follow your mother's gaze and they fall upon the Lord, he is the third son, he opted to chase after the world of medicine rather than women. Earning his doctorate much faster than his peers, he only just returned to conduct his practice in Alryne. 

Pity he returned at all. 

He catches your eye and you make a point to turn your cheek, unable to stomach his heterochromatic, condensing gaze. Your turned cheek was as close to fuck you as you could ever say to the high and mighty Lord. Still the words burned on your tongue as if you swallowed acid. 

"It is not as if he ever dances mother. Therefore, how can I give him my attention? As you taught me a woman must wait to be asked as it is every woman's dream to be wed to a handsome, skilled dancer." Out of the corner of your eye you can feel her displeased look before she straightens. 

"At least do not string along Lord Kirishima, that boy is not as zealous as his cousin." She says just as the large man slips through the last throng of the crowd. 

"My shining gem." He smiles with sharp teeth before he places a chaste kiss atop your hand. 

"My Lord." A curtsy before he asks. 

"May I have this dance?" His smile is plastered on his face as he knows your answer. 

"You may." Kirishima sweeps you across the floor in a different manner than Bakugou. Lord Kirishima is more flirtatious in the way that he guides you. Always choosing more of the upbeat dances as opposed to his cousin's serious selection. You do not hesitate to go in for the kill. 

"So when do you plan to ask Lady Mina for her hand?" He blushes at your words. Biting the inside of his lip subtly, a habit you could only notice from being up close. 

"Have you even attempted to court her? What fear plagues you, Lord?" Confusion dots your features as a sad smile paints his soft lips. 

"I am not sure she would- That we would be an ideal fit." Kirishima admits, turning you gracefully, pulling you close to his body. Scandalous some would say had the two of you been an inch closer. 

"Well my Lord, I believe, had you actually talked to her while the two of you danced, as I suggested, then you would come to find out that she is lovely. Pure hearted as she is honest in this game seeking love. Most women here are making attempts to move up in position, my Lord. As a Duke's first son the title of Grace is yours to master. She is a delight and air is not the only thing between her ears as some of these…"You survey the room as everyone watches with greedy eyes, "Vultures." 

He laughs never used to your own unwavering honesty. He knows you are not participating by your own free will, he knows because you are helping himself and his cousin when he was sure you could have had anyone in this room.

If the Majesty's nephew, Prince of the Yarrow were to attend even one ball this season, Kirishima was sure you would have his attention too.  

He twirls your body away from his and brings you back to the safety of his sturdy form. Your eyes are molten determination as you all but hiss 

"Ask her to dance next. You know the host prefers the set to be serious, flirtatious, and then a slow dance. It will be the perfect time to talk." 

Lord Kirishima sighs, squeezing your hand as he guides the two of you closer to your mother so he can leave you in her company. 

"You could turn any dull man into something more. Whoever wins your hand is getting a precious gem indeed." He kisses your hand as the music begins to change into something slower as you had predicted. 

"One shall only hope." You curtsy as he takes his flushed neck towards a certain Countess. Your mother gives you a knowing look and you offer her a cat smirk. She shakes her head but even she cannot hide her own satisfied smile.

A blonde male approaches, as he does every third ball after he ensures your first two dances have been taken. The flamboyant male has not once asked for a dance first, trying to be just as calculating as you. Although he is much more obvious. 

You suppose it was not half bad for a male. 

"My lady." He bends lower than he should for his station in life, but he is obviously copying the cousins before him having seen how it makes you smile. 

Lavender eyes shine up at you as the Viscount brings his lips to your gloved hand. You debate if you should say yes tonight. Having left him in the dark as your desire to dance with him solely depended on your mood. 

"May I show the room the grace in which steals the breath from my lungs?" Your eyes smirk as your lips form a small smile. It seems flattery would earn him a dance tonight. 

"You may." 

The Viscount smiles with delight as he gently takes you to the dance floor, holding you to him as he takes you across the hardwood. The candle lights play along your features as Monoma's face grows soft. Had he been anyone else his gaze might have brought a flush about you. The two of you shared a few dances before, he has sat in your parlor in the time he has attempted to court you and the flowers he sends are always the most expensive. 

He has even brought you chocolate from a month's long trip. Even you had to admit that was thoughtful, not too many people knew of your Achilles heel. A small part of you thought that if no one else would do, at least this man would bring you luxurious chocolates. 

"No trips this season?" You smile politely, he blinks as he seems to come to. 

"Only if I can take you with me." He smiles, a hint. You pretend yourself modest and look away to fight the roll of your eyes. 

Maybe chocolate would not be enough to sate you. 

His eyes flicker to your mother as a question forms on his lips. 

"Neither your brothers nor the Baron attended tonight?" 

"Ah unfortunately no. My mother is my chaperone tonight." You say tilting your head, he turns so you can face her, stepping slowly as the song lulls on. 

"I am elated she is well enough to attend." He smiles, you cannot tell if it reaches his eyes so instead you offer 

"As am I." 

The rest of the night is filled with rejection tumbling from your rouged lips as champagne flutes seem to find their way into your hand. 

"Not too much of that dear or you will not be able to enjoy the company of your suitors." 

"Truly a pity." You say taking another from a passing waiter. Eyes trained on Lord Iida and the lovely dancer in his hands, a blue dress sweeping across the floor and a white carnation nestled in her hair. 

A beautiful touch and it pays homage to their first dance before they were even wed. 

The love that embraced the couple could turn anyone in the room green with envy. 

You down your flute as you reach for another. 

Night brightens into morning much too soon as curtains are ripped open in your room. 

"My lady callers will be here soon." Rose, your handmaiden says softly, "I have a bath waiting for you."

You groan in response having not had enough sleep after pouring over your drafts for your book until your candle snuffed itself out. 

"Turn them all away Rose." You growl turning away from the irritating light, could it not have rained this morning to delay the suitors as it always did in this forsaken town?

"She will do no such thing." Your mother says as she walks into your room with her cane, her hand gripping onto the golden beak of a bird. 

"Mother, why not marry off Hendrix or  Hideki?" 

"Hendrix must apprentice under your Father for a period of time while Hideki can do as he pleases for now. He is only 20, besides he makes an excellent chaperone does he not? He isn't too nosy nor does he neglect his duties to intimidate pushy men." She pushes some of your hair back as she sighs, "Although I doubt you need help in that manor." 

"I deserve a strong bloodline, so I will do what I must to ensure that. Even if my face has to be scary at times." You and your mother share a laugh before she adds. 

"Your face is far from scary my dear." She touches your cheek softly rising from the bed to allow you to get ready, "The suitors shall arrive within the hour. Make haste." 

"Yes mother." You half groan rising to wash. Enjoying the warm water that Rose has so kindly added aromatic flora and citrus to. Once you enter your bedroom Rose has a dress picked out for you, waiting for your final approval. You nod allowing Rose to assist you with your corset and strings of your dress before you pick out jewelry to match your silver finery. You choose a silver bracelet with little diamonds as stars that Lord Bakugou had given you for your birthday this past year, smiling down at the small thing before assessing yourself in the mirror. 

"What do you think Rose, should I add some rouge to my lips?" She gives you a smile of delight. 

"And your cheeks too, my Lady." 

Breakfast is served in the parlor as it consists mostly of fruits and finger pastries that will be served to the other guests. Hideki comes down in a fine and deep sapphire suit. 

“Sister.” He gives a smirk to which you nod.

“Brother.”

“And what trouble will you get into today?” He stage whispers, causing you to cut him a glare as your father comes around to loom in the arch way of the parlor. 

“Remember, you need to pick a husband this season or I will pick for you. It is disgraceful to have gone through two seasons at your age.”

“I am only twenty four, dearest Father..”

“That just proves my point. You have a month before I extend an offer to the Duke's-.” He takes in a sharp breath to chide you further only for his Grace to swoop in and save the day.

“Baron.” Bakugou says, his eyes challenging as your father bows his head. As Bakugou makes his way towards the delicate foods. Father cuts you a knowing glare. As if to say I know your games child.

You offer a sweet smile as you make your way towards your small writing desk, fighting off the urge to groan outwardly. You just wanted to work on your manuscript or read for that matter. Instead you would have to entertain men who cared not what you thought only what your pretty mouth would not say. They would swarm you, demanding attention as you waved them off gently, half you had never even spoken too.  Bakugou gives you a wicked smile from beside you as if he could read your thoughts. At least he always sat closest to you, saving you in a way although you never instructed him to sit close. 

He just always had. 

"Do you not want to play the piano today, my shining Gem?" Kirishima asks from the door. 

"Ah I am not sure I am in the mood for it, my Lord." 

"Easier to avoid people as the bench is only meant for one." Bakugou gives a devilish smirk, Kirishima almost pouts, his sullen expression does not go unnoticed by his cousin. 

"It has been an eon since you last played for us." Bakugou adds. 

"Am I to be your song bird today?" You cut a glare at him. 

"Yes, Starlight I believe you are." It seems it had no effect. Sighing you stand, collecting your skirts as your wrist twinkles in the morning sun. Garnet eyes bore into the delicate wristlet. Your fingers pluck a key here or there until you begin to play. Losing yourself in the music as you sing ballads from ages ago, melding them into songs you've written until it all sounds like a cohesive piece. Each old song is lost in transition to the new one, time ticks on but you do not notice the string of men who come and go from your parlor. Resting your voice for the time being as your fingers fly across the keys to something you composed while thinking of your father and his ever pushing hand towards a Duke's son you had great distaste for. The notes are sharp, almost jarring at times yet still the piece is stunning.  In that time you had not noticed the lavender eyed man who sat closest to you, right in front of the piano in the corner of the couch. The finger cramping song ends on a somber, harsh note. 

"What a beautifully charged song." Monoma says breathlessly. 

“Well I was thinking of my enemies when I composed it.” You smile at the sunshine blonde with a devilish grin, he feels unsettled by it but says nothing nonetheless. His lavender eyes glance over to the wolves at the back of your den. Hideki gives him a small nod, Kirishima a soft smile but Bakugou gives him a glare that feels like Monoma is gripping needles. 

He swallows thickly, adjusting himself on the plushed silk of the couch before your small piano. 

“Ah before I forget.” He smiles pulling out a box setting it atop the polished wood. Gifts were a natural part of courtship or so your mother said. You offer a smile, grabbing for the box with poised eagerness and yet not overly so. 

Not that you were excited but you had to pretend to be. You unbox the obvious jewelry and fight back the distaste as you stare down at a gaudy, overly large necklace. The colors are a soft green and yellow, colors you avoid for many reasons. 

“Thank you.” You think to add a chord or two to your unnamed song in honor of Monoma. Bakugou laughs loudly from the back of the room, feeling how much you hate the gift, you look over your shoulder to send him a glare that he can only smile at. 

After hours of trepid and boring conversation Monoma takes his leave. 

“Another evening my Lady.” He smiles softly and you return it half heartedly.

“Another evening.” Lavender looks over your shoulder before Monoma clears his throat

“Your Grace and your Grace.” He bows his head, the ash blonde and redhead nod in unison. 

"Shall we go and drink my high friends?" Hideki asks, hoping for an excuse to leave the stuff house. He was more than over bearing witness to  gag worthy stares and compliments some of these men gave you. 

"An excellent idea!" Kirishima exclaims, standing before stopping by you. He takes your gloveless hand with a sharp, flirtatious smile. 

"My shining gem." He presses his lips to your skin and you return his smile. 

"My Lord." He nods and takes his leave, Hideki at his heels as Bakugou approaches. He does an exaggerated sigh unable to hide his smirk. 

"Little songbird how will I ever get through the night without my Starlight?" He holds your hand, lowering his upper half as did his cousin before him. 

"I suppose you will fumble in the dark."

"If only I had the pleasure." He purrs as he presses his lips to your bare skin. Suddenly his fingers are too warm as he holds your gaze, he looks as if he could devour you. 

Lest he forget he is staring down a panther himself. 

"Have fun fumbling in the dark by yourself, my Lord." You remove your hand and look out of the corner of your eye at him. He backs towards the door of the room. 

"I should hope to have thoughts of Starlight." He calls before he disappears into the hall. You tap a key as your mind wanders before you rise, famished and ready for dinner before you would take a long night of writing. 

A month passes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself outside of the ballroom in the grand hall of the castle. Soft music filters in through the doors as your Father insisted the family be a bit late this evening. 

For he wanted to make a statement and one at your expense. 

"If Duke Enji's son asks you for a dance you will oblige." Your father hisses, his large hand curling around your bicep. You bare your teeth, stepping out of his grip as you collect yourself. 

"He has three." Acid drips from your tongue as sure as morning dew. 

"The doctor. Not the failure first born and not the inadequate second. The third. Shoto. Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

"I think you will not weaponize her. So do as I please and decline." You hold his burning glare as you add, "If the Duke's family is as bad off as you make it seem." 

"Oh I think you shall accept his dance. Or so help me God I will burn every book your ill, grief stricken mother ever shoved into your scrubby little hands." He leans closer, a nasty smile forming as his lips, "And if that is not enough I will throw your manuscript into the fire for fodder." 

Your eyes blaze with a rage that ignites beneath your skin, burning your blood as your eyes make unspoken promises. When I am through with you 

You part your lips to retort but your eye catches Hendrix and Hideki, their eyes filled with pity before your mother slowly approaches. 

Father chose his battleground well, knowing you would be unable to react as you pleased and with Bakugou already at the party there was no other male to save you. You bite your tongue until you taste blood. 

"Is everything alright?" Mother asks tentatively, fussing with your hair, "Darling you must mind your face, my love." 

You swat her away, breathing through your nose as if you were a dragon. Heat still dancing in your veins as you allow your feet to move on their own. 

"Announce me. Only me. And do not announce another soul until I am beyond the last step." You hiss to the harbinger whose eyes grow wide before he nods. His voice booms over the murmurers of the crowd and once eyes begin to land on you they are silenced. 

Your eyes are set hard and as cold as stone as you look over the crowd, slowly descending the steps in your deep ombre gown. Starless night black from the bodice before it lightens gradually into a charcoal grey, glittering crystals sewn into the material shine in the candle light like miniature stars. Your gloves followed the same gradual pattern except it seemed as if each finger was dipped in glittering silver and atop your wrist was your favorite piece, diamonds winking in the low light set into silver pointed stars. Woven in your hair were diamonds and pale citrine alike forming a crown in its own nature. 

Had Her Royal Highness not have already been announced and seated it would be easy to mistake you for the Crown. Considering how you commanded attention and held yourself, eyes looking at no one but seeing all. 

The envy, the awe, the lust. 

A pivotal moment was coming, the last three stairs is where a woman would normally hold out their hand, expecting their favorite suitor to take action but you did not hold out your hand. Keeping one firmly on the dark wood of the banister while the other was eloquently posed beside you. Even if you had held out your hand the men in the room were too stunned to step up to help you. This allowed a soft, devilish smile to form on your painted lips as they performed exactly as you had planned. Finally your gem encrusted slipper touched the hardwood, parting the crowd before the spell was broken by the announcement of the rest of your family. The room let out a collective breath and instantly erupted in hot gossip. All of it falling on deaf ears as you grabbed onto a flute of trusted champaign. 

From across the room you felt burning garnet eyes on you, you met them briefly before sipping at your bubbly beverage. He begins to cross the sea of bodies when a large man steps into your view. 

His eyes are cold as they bore into you, a shining sapphire paired with a smokey quartz. Distaste curdles your stomach as you fight to keep your face neutral and your eyes trained on him. Fans block painted lips as they spread more gossip about the man before you. 

"Is she ensnaring another Duke's son?" 

"She is becoming too haughty for a Baron's daughter." 

"Do you think she insulted the Crown with her entrance?" 

"Would you allow me your first dance?" His deep voice cuts through the vultures' cries pulling you back to him. He has your glittering left hand in his. Brining the dazzling glove to his lips in greeting, there is no joy in his gemstone gaze. 

The hot rage bears its teeth again as it surges through your blood like liquid fire, burning so hot it felt cold as it licked at your bones. Your lip barely twitches, No poised on your tongue as your father's grating voice echoes in your head. 

"Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?" 

And so your mouth finally forms the words. 

"You may."  He looks surprised, surrounding faces mirror his own before he fully takes your hand. Guiding you to the floor during one of your favorite songs that you always sat out as no dance partner ever dared the secret, advanced steps. You were steeling yourself for disappointment 

Shoto's grip on your body is tight but not uncomfortable as he sweeps you across the dance floor, twirling you, guiding you as he holds your gaze. His stare is heavy and intense in a different manner from Bakugou's with a hint of something that could be mistaken as flirtatious. But you saw it for what it was, discontent. 

As the song pushed on the discontent seemed to change into something new entirely as he showcased your skill while hiding his own. Allowing you to twirl away from him in several rotations that would make even the most skillful dancer fearful of misstep and yet you breathed in the music as if it were precious air. Neither of you notice how the other dancers give you room, allowing for more twirls and advanced steps as the two of you are becoming lost to the music. His fingers brush your bare skin as he pulls you back to him for  guided, sharp steps as the music heightens. His skin brushes yours again, electricity thrums beneath the pads of his fingers before he sends you into another dizzying rotation but to you it was nothing. Briefly you wonder if this were a test until you see the soft smile on his lips when you return to his arms safely for the final set of guided steps before the music were to abruptly end, just as the dance was intended. His eyes were glued to yours the entirety of the dance, softening with each step. 

Both of you stop in beat with the last soaring note panting as the movement seems to catch up with the two of you. Neither of you realize how quiet the room is until clapping comes from the royal dais high above the room, the rest of the crowd follows suit. Shock melts into a smile as your eyes return to his. A sharp pain rings out in his chest. 

"Not bad for a Baron's daughter." Disgust settles on your face faster than you can stop it spewing from your lips. 

"Not bad for a recluse of a Duke's son." You tilt your head up, fighting the snarl of your lip as his face becomes so mind numbingly neutral while his eyes darken. Shoto drops you off by your mother only for Bakugou to approach, swiftly bringing you to the floor for a slow song. 

"Starlight. How did I not know you could dance like that?" He is astonished by your skill, "I've never seen you so happy. Maybe the Duke of Winter's third son will do you justice yet." 

You scoff but all Bakugou can do is offer you a deadly smile. 

"Enough about my dead end dancing." Your eyes glance towards the dias, the Princess cannot look away from the two of you, "This should be enough for the Princess to want to dance soon." 

It is Bakugou's turn to scoff. 

"Are you sure she is even going to have the opportunity to dance? No one is even allowed on the stairs to their enclave." 

"Ah but this is her debut. The Queen will allow it, besides the princess cannot keep her gaze off of a certain ash blonde." 

"How could she ever?" Your laugh rings out, it warms even the coldest hearts as Bakugou pulls you closer to him. Heat radiates from his body in a calming manner, your fingers squeeze his. 

"Arrogant as ever." You smile, thinking how you will miss dancing with him or even having him at the back of your parlor to laugh with over sad attempts at your hand, "Remember once you take her one dance for the night, she must be your first and last dance of the night in the future, if not your only." 

Bakugou cannot hide the dejection in his eyes even as he feigns cockiness. 

"I am a well versed student, remember?" His fingers brush over your skin, his middle finger tracing a small circle. 

"The best student I could ask for." The music comes to a close on more than just the song as Bakugou returns you to your family. He presses a long kiss to your glittering glove. 

"Until we meet again, my Starlight." He holds your stare. 

"Until then my Grace." With that the night sets into motion as you turn down dances left and right. Eyeing a ruby haired man who twirls a certain countess in his hands. As the music ends the Queen stands earning a hushed crowd. 

"My daughter, the Royal Princess shall take the dance floor, she will only allow one dance on the night of her debut." It is not a shock that she is allowed so little but there is no worry on Bakugou's face. The princess straightens at the top of the stairs, trying to exude the same commanding energy you did. She falls short in power but outshines you in other wordly innocence and grace. As if she were a lily that only bloomed for the moon, her beauty unmatched in her pale pink dress. Carefully she guides the layers of it down the steps as diamonds and pearls drip from her hair and throat. She tries to keep her eyes from sticking to a broad shouldered man and yet at the same time from wandering, as she stares at the back wall of the room. 

As she nears the third step Bakugou struts towards his prize with the ease of a relaxed swagger, glaring at men as he passes before he reaches the bottom of the steps. Extending his hand to the Princess just as she hits the third step from the bottom. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as her gloved hand claps onto his bare fingers. He bows deeply, raising her hand above him to look from beneath long lashes before he brings his lips to the silk. 

"Your Royal Highness, my shining diamond. You are truly the envy of the night." A flush gives the Princess' lack of experience away, "May I have this dance?" 

"You may." It is a breathy answer before Bakugou sweeps her off of her feet. Charming her with each calculated step and  arrogant quip. The princess smiles wide and almost pouts once the music begins to ebb. Bakugou returns her to the stairs, supporting her hand as long as he can before she rises out of reach.

But to Bakugou she never was and never will be unattainable. 

Before the night is over an envelope is pressed into your hands with the Crown's seal pressed into the wax. You quirk your brow, tucking it away to be read at home. 

"I am so elated you came." Her voice is like honey as the butler opens the doors to a parlor so large it could hold your entire home. She guides you towards a small table and fights with the layers of her silk dress before sitting.

"How could I reject a personal invitation from her majesty?" You sit across from her, eyes going over the deck of cards and a set of tea. 

"Well, believe it or not, I do not have the pleasure of friends, so please call me Amila." 

"Everyone would desire to be a friend of the Crown, your Royal Highness." You counter, quickly she points her fan towards you, tapping your side of the small ornate card table. 

"Ah but you do not have the desire to befriend the Crown, so I have high hopes that you will befriend me for me." She smiles, a certain gleam to her eye before she says, "Now let's talk about handsome Bakugou and how well you played me." 

Your face gives nothing away as you look up from the cards you've been dealt. Your mind rushes down all possible avenues but you know to avoid the one of playing dumb. It is obvious that the Princess has a keen eye. 

"Surely you'll reveal to me what gave us away." 

"After that dance Bakugou had with me, had I been anyone else he would have returned to you. He either has his only dance with you or his last dance with you. I figured him or Lord Kirishima to be heavily interested in you. You are a sparkling gem amongst the coal down there so I know you have many callers and suitors. But the last to leave are always Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima. That is what has thrown me off the scent."  You laugh at her honesty of the knowledge she has obviously collected about you or was tactful enough to guess. 

"This is what we do, your Royal Highness." Your gloved hand gestures to the table, "I take them for all that they are worth." An honest giggle leaves Amilia's lips.

"For that I am grateful and some would dare say I am in your debt." 

"A brazen statement." Your eyes return to your cards, "I would not state it as a debt although I am happy to receive your gratitude. Especially since it is in the form of cards and cake." 

A laugh falls from her lips as a smile settles on yours. The round of cards continues. You win the first few rounds and then Amelia has a lucky hand. Winning the last white tea macaron. 

"Did you allow me to best you?" 

"Lady Luck just happened to take favor of the Crown." 

"Or maybe she took pity. " She smiles, fingers fidgeting nervously, "Would you care to admire the art? Mother allows me to have this as my own personal parlor so I decorate it as I wish." 

"I would love to admire some of these lovely paintings. Starting with the one behind you." You stand, heading to the large piece you had been eyeing for some time during the games. You could tell by the stroke of the brush that the artist was newer to painting but they were quite talented, the strokes almost went unnoticed even by your sharp eye. 

Most importantly were the emotions the work of art evoked from the viewer. 

Silently the two of you drank in the large oil painting. The canvas colored in deep pinks, reds and oranges as the sun laid to rest to allow its lover the full scope of the sky. Shadows stretched far and towards the viewer and if one paid close attention they would notice the black cat in the corner with two large moon eyes. 

You especially liked this painting, the ease it made you feel even earning a small smile. 

"I can already tell this one is by far my favorite, your Royal Highness you have a fine eye for art." She blushes at your compliment, twisting some of her low hanging hair. You keep your amusement of her flustering to yourself, eyes trained on the swirling colors of the rippling blue mirror of the sky, looking for a signature. 

Odd, there isn't a looping set of initials in the corner like most have. As if reading it on your face she speaks. 

"I- I am the artist…" It is shy and soft, unlike the Princess and you realize the weight of the truth. That she had not heard one genuine compliment of anything that she had ever done. 

All she would ever receive is flattery and only for the hopes of kindness from the Crown. Finally time swallows up her sudden meekness as she blurts out.  

"Are you sure Lord Bakugou is not in love with you? I know you fancy Lord Todoroki, Doctor Shoto." 

"I do not fancy the Doctor, he simply is the most logical option I have currently, he would make a fine partner and husband. The seasons have not brought anyone new and my days of spring are limited." You idly move to the next painting as you speak, "As far as Lord Bakugou, he and I are too much alike. Too ambitious for our own good, we'd either explode or implode I'm afraid. Like some tragic star in the vast galaxy." 

"You would not marry for love?"  

"It is best to marry for a strong partnership, love is a possible byproduct, however it proves to be a rarity. Love comes with time, your Royal  Highness, a luxury us women do not have." You glance her way, "Not even a Princess is immune to this unfortunate condition from which all women suffer." 

"But he looks at you with intense burning, with...love." 

A quiet moment passes between the two of you before you offer your honesty. 

"He would learn to look at you that way, more than he would see the Crown. Especially with your mind and artistic skill. He would be a fool not to fall for you." Her eyes water at your response, "Come, let me teach you how to best Bakugou at his favorite card game, Amelia."  

When you return home later that afternoon Bakugou is fidgeting outside of the manor causing your brow to furrow. Then it dawns on you that one of your brother's has a big mouth and told his Grace where you would be. 

"My Lord." 

"Starlight." He offers you a strong arm and you take it as he guides you up the stairs and into the parlor just off the foyer. 

"Are you here to gossip?" You trust Bakugou enough to go without a chaperone, besides the doors to the parlor are wide open. You sink into your writing chair as he takes his normal seat by your side. The plush cushions do not ease his twitching fingers before you give him a playful shove. 

"Out with it then!" You giggle, the sound pulls a devilish smirk from the blonde seemingly easing whatever troubled his mind. He leans back into the cushions. 

"So, how much did her Highness speak of me? Endless compliments no doubt." His teeth flash white as you roll your eyes. 

"And here I thought you had a pressing matter." You move to turn away from him to focus on writing but he grabs onto your knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze as his face gives him away. The tips of his ears burn before he clears his throat. 

"I have to show you something and I need your honest opinion." Silence is his answer as you patiently wait for him to produce the mystery item. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, a black velvet box is in his hands. A smile blooms on your lips as you anticipate the ring he must have picked for the princess. He opens the box and your heart free falls into your stomach. 

It is a pear shaped black diamond flanked by silvery diamonds that wink in the afternoon sun. At the top of the circle of diamonds was a deep red garnet that looked like a drop of blood. The ring felt powerful if it could make one feel such a thing. You fist your skirts as you collect yourself.  He watches your face contort as you look over the ring, his jaw ticking with worry as you assess what is essentially both his ego and pride. 

But the ring is breathtaking, perfect really. 

"Katsuki, it is a gorgeous ring…" Your voice trails as you admire it, "But I believe the princess to have less...moody tastes. She does not normally wear dark colors." 

A small silence stretches between the two of you, almost as if he expects something else, quickly he snaps the box shut. 

"This is why I ask you things, my stunning Starlight." He pulls out a red velvet box popping it open. This ring is beautiful as well but does not have your heart as much as the first. 

It is a stunning and giant marquise cut white diamond. Blinding in the light with a halo of pale pink diamonds. It is vibrant, radiant like the princess. Katsuki always did pick out the perfect jewelry to match a woman's tastes. Bakugou watches your face carefully, the sad smile that pulls your lips upward causes a deep ache in his chest. His jaw ticks again but you answer before he can even think to lash out. 

"Your Grace, this will surely win her heart." He looks you in your eyes, a flash of an emotion you cannot quite catch before his arrogance returns. 

"Indeed it shall. We can discuss the best date to ask another time." He closes the box and tucks them both away, he grabs your left hand, fingers ghosting over the bracelet he gave you, "You seem tired, you should get some rest." 

"I believe that to be a grand idea." You say softly as he kisses each knuckle. He squeezes your fingers. 

"My life would be dark without you my Starlight." You fight to keep the bitterness out of your voice as you reply. 

"Soon you will have a shining diamond to light up your life." 

"Only thanks to you." With that he takes his leave. 

With burning eyes you add to your manuscript, foolishly writing a love story as your other novels have been completed. The candle dwindles as the hours pass before your hunched shoulders ache from the poor posture and lack of movement. You stretch, yawning as you do before you decide to head to bed. 

Expecting an empty foyer you are surprised to see your father looming in the hall, your mother standing solemn by his side. Her fingers clutch at her pearls as your eyes catch sight of bags at their feet. It is not unusual for them to leave in the middle of the night in order to keep the severity of your mother's health from the limelight. 

"Is there troubling news?" Anxiety twitches in your fingers as you clasp them together. Although your father's next words make your fingers want to wrap around his thick neck. 

"We have been invited for an extended stay at Duke Enji's manner in the countryside in hopes the two of you will court one another." 

"Father that is scandalous in itself." 

"Not if an engagement comes of it. Which one will, whether you fall for him or not, young lady. The matter has been decided among the men." His words sting like a slap in the face. Where most would cry you lash out. 

"Oh, I get it. Per usual the men can think with nothing more than what hangs between their legs, fearful that theirs is not long enough. So the men do all that they can to control everything but their own fragility." You step towards your father and he takes a step back, "Or is it more gruesome than that? One blackmailing the other? I just cannot imagine the ambitious Duke wanting a Baron's daughter for his son. Unless his family is so far in decline he must place the weight on his new heir and bride." 

His eyes widen unnaturally before he is frothing at the mouth. 

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN. YOU WILL LEARN YOUR DAMN PLACE. " He slaps you, causing a hush to fall over your family. Your eyes are wide with animalistic rage as you lunge only for Hendrix and Hideki to hold you back. Both strong men begin dragging you away.

"Forgive her, Father." Hendrix starts before Hideki finishes, "You know how the heat gives women a touch of hysteria."

"We will help her pack her bags." 

All the while your mother looks at her husband in horror.  The sight falls beneath the stairs before you are shoved onto your bed. 

"Sister!" Hendrix roars while the youngest brother looks flustered, worried, "What were you thinking? You know how closed minded father is." 

Hideki cuts the eldest a look before he adds. 

"We are just worried. Normally you keep your wrath at bay." 

"As much as it may come as a surprise. I am only human." You rise from the bed asking Rose to prepare you a trunk. To pack anything, that you did not care as you sat at your desk furiously writing. Your bothers watch you with curious eyes as the tension seems to subside before they take their leave.

Minutes tick by before you're standing in the foyer. Father and mother were already sitting in the carriage that waited outside under the cover of misty rain. Hendrix and Hideki stand awkwardly by the round table in the middle of the foyer. Pretending to fuss over lavish flowers Lord Bakugou had sent that morning. A beautiful arrangement of roses and hydrangeas, two of your favorites, the Lord knew of them through observation alone. You wait patiently until one brother makes eye contact with you. Hideki breaks first, guilt shining in his eyes as it threatens to spill over. It is obvious he does not want you to leave the house, his normally crooked smile falters. You cup his cheek, smiling up at your sentimental younger brother, he acts as if you will never come back. 

Maybe there is some truth in that. 

"Cry not, for I have an iron will while father's is but made of glass." You swipe the tear, before pressing two letters into his chest, "Besides I have an important task for you." 

"Is it your scheming?" Hendrix chides and you laugh in answer before continuing. 

"These are for Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima, it is imperative you deliver these letters." The paper contained important instructions for not only a successful proposal but a marriage as well. 

You'd be damned if all three of you would turn out miserable. 

"I'll put them in the post." 

"No hand deliver them." Your eyes turn icy causing both brothers to go rigid, "And should I find out the seal has been broken before their arrival I shall take the family jewels from between your legs."

"Is that any way for a lady to talk, my dearest sister?" A jest in an attempt to lighten your souring mood. 

"Yes, it is."

"They will be in their hands by this evening. We are wagering on a fight tonight. Enjoy your stay." Hideki leans in close with a tease but his voice almost cracks, "Make sure the rock is huge." 

"Indeed." Hendrix agrees with an almost sad look in his eye, leaving you to wonder what it is that they know and you do not. 

Well, you do know why they have such long faces, you just do not care to admit. You wave to them and their eyes catch on the silvery reflection of diamonds on your wrist. 

The manner is stifling to say the least. The large, grand thing is as your trunk is set in your room that overlooks a small garden and the long sweeping hill that leads home. You pace your room before a knock comes at your door. 

Hoping to ignore it, having not the desire to speak to a soul, your feet quiet. You listen for them to retreat but instead a louder knock sounds out. Before his grating voice floats from beneath the door and through the keyhole. 

"I know you are in there, my lady." 

Ugh, that stupid doctor stood on the other side of the door. Still you ignore him. 

"It is rude to ignore your host."  It ignites something in your stomach before you rip the door open. Eyes ablaze as Todoroki stands perfectly still in his onyx black suit sans jacket. White sleeves rolled up showcasing his strong forearms. 

"Surely, a good host would not force his guests to his estate?" 

"A good host would not mention how unwanted their guest is." His smile is sickeningly polite, eyes as cold as yours. It is hard to keep your composure as you breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes widening before you slam the door in his face. 

Only once you hear his footfalls retreat and the moon shines long on your floor boards do you finally make your way towards the door. A woman on a mission as you yank the door open, uncaring that you were not in much but a thick white nightgown that could be mistaken for a dress.  You rush for the stairs and through the door just off their back parlor, having memorized it from the long winded tour both your father and his Grace Enji insisted the small party take of the grounds. 

A cool summer breeze whips your hair this way and that as it dries the sweat that sits at your nape. Normally people would describe this feeling as miserable, that even the breeze had a bit of heat to it, but you. 

You lived for it. Twirling in the moonlight you allow yourself a moment for vulnerability you often cannot afford before you go deeper on the grounds, closer to the woods that lie just beyond the manor. 

Once you are at the edge you give the grand home a glare with your back towards the woods. The creatures of the night sing their symphonies well into the late hour. A twig snaps behind you cause you to turn about face, your eyes meet with lavender framed beneath light lashes. 

Ice runs through your blood as you faintly recall him speaking of these trees by his own countryside manor. He often went to these grounds to hunt. 

So why was he standing on the Todoroki grounds? 

"So it is true?" Monoma chokes out an ugly sound. It is between defeat and a snarl. He takes a step closer, "Whisked away in the night. Did Todoroki steal your maiden head from me?" 

Your eyes widen at his scandalous accusation and it is then you see how truly disheveled he is. Hair plastered to his forehead, his canary suit stained green from foliage. The fabric even darkening beneath his armpits and at his collar, it sends a sort of frantic look to his eye. He steps forward and for once in your life you yield, stepping back. 

"That is a damning accusation." You fight to keep the cracking rage from your voice, the small fear that blooms in your belly like poison nightshade. Swallowing thickly he steps forward. 

"He, he can't take what's mine. I- I was going to propose today. But that damn Bakugou is always lingering around like toxic gas. Poisoning your mind with his….ambitions." It is then you see red. 

How dare anyone thing you were so fucking fragile and innocent some young blonde could corrupt you. Your palm strikes his cheek with enough force that he is facing away from you. You strike again and then as you rear up your fist he pulls you to him. Pressing his whisky soaked lips to yours as he swallows you whole. Mouth extended over your lips, sloppily engulfing you as he makes sounds that make you want to retch. His tongue slides past your lips and you bite.

Not enough that he loses it, although you wish you could afford to do such a thing. But you still lived in a society where a man's word was far more valuable than that of a "whore." Shaking you pull back, so much rage that you do not see the flash of light until it is too late. 

"Fucking bitch!" He slashes at your nightgown, cutting the fabric away as you think you've doged, he goes to slash again, "God damn whore!" 

His voice echoes through the trees and that scares you more than the knife in his hand, his sloppy demnor creates an opening as you kick him so hard between his legs he falls to the ground, puking up his belly full of liquor onto the moss floor. 

Suddenly the summer night is too hot, the frogs and crickets too loud as an owl calls deep within the wood. Thunder roars overhead before the clouds become too heavy. Panic slicks your skin before the pounding rain as you turn to run, hopping you kicked hard enough to rupture something in this cowardly man. 

If you lived in any other world, you would have tried your best to seize that knife and plunge it into his chest. 

But you didn't, so you ran. Vision blurring as the pain finally catches up to you. Hand instinctively flying to your stomach only to come up wet. 

"It's the rain, it's just the rain." You gasp out rushing into the house and shutting the glass paned door as quickly and quietly as you can. Fumbling for a lock before you give up all together, arms outstretched in the dim room looking for a candle or a mirror. Shaking fingers find a match that you light using the wallpaper, uncaring of the risks as you frantically look for a stick of wax. Lighting the wick once you've found one and taking it to the mirror above a small runner table. You set the wax down, close to the glass, thunder shakes the windows and the house as you pull the fabric from your torso. It reveals an angry red slash that weeps crimson, a choked gasp leaves your lips as lightning flashes illuminating the whole room. Still you do not see the reflection of the man in the mirror. 

"What happened?" It sounds animalistic as it comes from the corner. Your whirl to face him, pulling the cloth back down to cover your decency. A lie falls from your lips as easy as breath. 

"Nothing." Your rasp, feigning embarrassment, "My-my courses have come early. Your Grace this is not something you should witness." 

"Do you take me for a fool?" He steps closer, eyes burning in the candle light, "I may not be an expert of female anatomy but I know the basics." 

You swallow thickly, trying to jest. 

"Then my Lord you are far more experienced than myself. I am bashful to be in the presence of a skilled womanizer. This truly is nothing." He closes the distance, wrapping his deadly hand around your small wrist. Pulling it away from your body.

"That laceration does not look like 'nothing'." He mocks, "I will not ask again." 

Silence engulfs you as the storm rages on, it competes with the roaring in your head. Your knees slowly buckle as Shoto keeps you up right. His winter's night by the hearth scent floods your senses. 

"I feel a bit faint." Your voice sounds so small, so far away that it stirs something in Todoroki. In the year that he has watched you, he has not once seen your falter or become meek. He makes way to scoop you into your arms and is a mixed of relieved and agitated as you swat him away. 

"I-I can walk." You straighten your back, smoothing the reddening fabric over your bodess and for once you're thankful the blasted nightgown is so thick. He gently guides you to your room. 

Once there he prepares a basin as you try to sit on the plush bed. 

"Aht!" He whispers harshly, "Change." 

You relax into the foot of the bed anyway, unable to hold yourself up right any longer. He sucks his teeth, bringing the supplies to the bedside table before searching through your trunk. 

"A Lady's things should not just be rummaged through." 

"Hmm is that so?" He finds another night gown before he hovers over you, face pinched as he asks, "Can you undress yourself, truthfully?"

Moments pass before you admit that you are not sure that you can with a shake of your head. Slowly he eases you out of the damp fabric, dabbing at your wet skin with a towel. He avoids looking at your breasts and as much as he would love to stare a weeping wound commands his attention. He places the gown just enough to hide your breasts before he lies you down on your back. 

"From beginning to end, tell me what happened." When you do not answer he forces your chin to face him, "Tell me, now." 

And your name slips off his lips like poisoned honey, a truth serum you swallow whole. You retell the quick exchange, including the damning kiss as you watch rage blister across Shoto's handsome features as he silently begins to work. 

"We must  prosecute him."

"We must not!" You exclaim as he dabs antiseptic at your wound. He gives your an exasperated

"What would have happened if he had nicked an internal organ?"

"I suppose I would be free of this wretched world." A nonchalant shrug as best as you can manage.a glare cuts your way as his roar turns soft.   

"Why would you say such a thing? Do you think no one would mourn the loss of you? Do you think he would not weep at your service?" Shoto touches the bracelet of dancing stars and you pull your wrist back. Tears burning your eyes, you do not allow them to fall. 

"He is not up for discussion!" It's a loud whisper before you grip Shoto's jaw with enough force it grinds, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Lord. You can take your leave as I do not need a soul."

He melts as he watches the pain flutter in your eyes, a long sigh escapes him as he melts into your touch. His fingers feathering over your forearm.

"Pride is a deadly sin. Allow me to help. I will be quick." Slowly you drop your arm away from him. He digs around in his bag before you change your mind. He disinfects the sutures before he sends the needle through tender flesh, your tears dry as you allow your mind to retreat. Shoto takes quick notice. 

"You do that a lot…" He comments softly, pulling the suture through your skin, you glance his way, "You seem to disassociate." 

"Well, feelings hurt so it is better to not feel at all." You grind your teeth as he pulls the widest part of your wound together. 

"Is that why you push him away so often?" He holds your gaze before returning to his work.

"Did I not tell you that he is not up for discussion. No matter, I do not have feelings for Lord Bakugou." He scoffs at your lie. 

"Ah so then it was not you who suggested the Princess in the form of flattery? Lord Bakugou is a smart man but you played into his blind spot, stroking his ego and enticing his ambition." Your gritted teeth say it all. 

"And how pray tell would you even guess at such grandor things when you are not in attendance at even half of these events?"

"I am privy to this knowledge because I too keep everyone and everything at arm's length. It is much easier to see the moves when one is far enough away from the board." He dabs at your abdomen, "And you my Lady are by far the best player." 

"Flattery does not go far with me." You sigh softly,  fingers idly playing with the wrinkles in the sheets,  "Father wants me to set a final round."

"Mine wishes for me to begin and end in the same turn." He slowly places your nightgown down, "Which is why we should make an effort to at least get to know one another. With your wound I suggest staying an extra week or two to ensure it closes properly. I can convince our Wardens that the extension is for an attempt to win your hand."

He leans back in his chair, sweat on his brow from fusing with your wound, from worry as it furrows. Your chest tightens and suddenly the urge to be in control sinks its teeth into your skin. Quickly you unclasp the birthday present Lord Katsuki had given you, setting it on the nightstand beside Shoto with dramatic flare. His eyes widen as he reads between the lines, the silent vow of "I will make an effort...for now". The promise seems to pierce his heart. 

"Fine. I enjoy picnics, I suggest we do that on the grounds so that we may be chaperoned from afar and yet have privacy. My expectation is unbashful honesty from both parties." You turn over to give him your back as you pull the fine blankets to your shoulders, "Furthermore you must come up with some sort  of endearment for me. Anyone who has ever tried to seriously court me has. I have come quite fond of them as titles bore me. Something lovely so give it thought."

Shoto is stunned into silence for a moment before he lets out a dark laugh. 

"I see, this is still your game"

"Precisely." You say, he stands, lingering in the doorway before shutting the heavy oak. 

It was difficult to sleep to say the least. Still you were grateful to have risen before Rose. Dressing yourself before she could see your wound. More grateful still when Rose set down some tea claiming Lord Shoto sent it.  

You downed the scalding liquid in three swallows, surprising Rose, before she passes you a folded note. 

Meet me in the back garden for lunch. 

-Shoto 

A muscle ticks in your jaw as pain blooms across your stomach as you stare at his lovely script. 

Shoto hates to admit that the first thing he looks for is that bracelet on your wrist, when he does not see it he lets out his held breath. Drinking in your deep, sapphire dress. It sparkles as if covered in stardust, his heart clenches. He looks towards your stomach, worry etched on his features. 

"How are your stitches? No corset right?" He asks, gently guiding you to the plush pillows on the ground. Maybe he should have asked the butler to bring out chairs instead. 

"I feel naked without it." You admit, he sees a bit of nervousness you have normally schooled away. 

"You look lovely." His eyes are gentle, lips formed in a soft, genuine smile. Your heart tried to skip a beat. It's the heat you tell yourself. 

"Flattery will not get you far remember?"

"I'm only being honest, my sweet petunia." You give him a puzzled look, was this going to be his nickname for you? You were not a delicate thing. 

"A flower?" You give him a look but his smile does not falter. 

"Ah would you rather I say my dew kissed rose? My begonia?"

You both laugh at his last suggestion. 

"My sunflower." Your heart stutters, you glance away for just a moment and he takes notice. 

"Ah so you approve," He collects a strand of your hair between his fingertips, "Sunflower?" 

Heat rushes your cheeks as you fight the smile on your lips. You lose as he kisses your hair. Maybe you could be a delicate thing. 

"Did you know sunflowers can remediate soil? It is why they are planted after tobacco is harvested in hopes to use the fields once more." He is quiet as he waits for your admission. 

"It is my favorite flower, it is in season now. Alas not one suitor has sent them. Roses and hydrangeas are my favorites too but nothing quite says summer like a sunflower." You sigh, looking over the manicured bushes and flowers in the garden. 

"Is that your favorite season?" He is perceptive, you take  a moment to breathe in the sweltering breeze with closed eyes. Humming your answer. 

"Indeed." You kick off your shoes and place your feet into the grass, leaning back to allow your face in the sun. Not many women would be so open to sitting on only a blanket and with no umbrella or covering. And yet here you were soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Heat rushes Shoto's cheeks as he realizes just how perfect his name for you is. 

"Have you ever had intercourse with a woman?" You ask, eyes still closed as Shoto flushes further. His cheeks are as red as part of his hair. 

"Sunflower." He gasps but you giggle. 

"Unbashful honesty, remember?" He lets small silence stretch between the two of you before he answers. 

"I have. My brother convinced me it was a good idea." His eyes look sad, it makes your gut clench as you look away for a moment. Question burning on your tongue. 

"What if I were to say my maiden head was taken?" 

"Who am I to judge after I have slept with another. Sadly I know some are stolen." He answers without hesitation. 

"This is true. Mine is still intact, I am grateful Monoma had only stolen a kiss." You sigh.

"You'd never kissed anyone?" His tone is curious although his eyes are dark with anger for you. 

"I tried to be a proper lady. More so because I do not like to touch people or feel their skin. Touching them makes them real, you know? And when someone is real they can have power over your heart." Shoto mulls over your words and realizes how much he relates. He places his hands near your fingers but does not touch them. You notice the gesture and scoff without the pretension you skillfully lace his fingers with his. Delighted to see the burning blush on his cheeks. 

Maybe life with Shoto would not be half bad, if only he gave you more moments like this. 

Moments like this last over the two weeks that drag into three. Days are spent  beneath the summer sun with exchanged and often heated, intellectual debates. Both of you feeling mentally stimulated for the first time as each of you allowed a few walls to come down, pulling each other closer than arm's length. While a few hours of the night are spent beneath the moon. His gem stone eyes raking over your abdomen in worry but nothing more than his checking on your wound as he was ever the gentlemen.

On Monday of the second week Shoto has come fond of his summer sunflower, so much so he brings a large black box to the next picnic, tucked away in his pocket is a matching, much smaller box. He presents to you the medium sized box as you giggle in delight. 

"My Lord, my shining Shoto. What could this be?" Your cheeks hurt from the width of your smile as he opens the box for you to see. Your face flutters into shock before joy returns as you hold out your wrist. Shoto takes the delicate golden bracelet that has several round onyx surrounded by citrine in the shape of petals. Sunflowers dance on your wrist as you twist it this way and that, unable to school your features into your normal distaste for guadry gifts from suitors. But this gift was far from gaudy, only one man before Shoto had earned this reaction. You bring your parasol to hide your face and his from the prying eyes of the manor as you gently press your lips to Shoto's cheeks. 

"I love it." You admit. It gives him enough courage to commit to ask you on Friday, the bigger question. 

Having you walk for "therapy" through the grounds, pointing over your shoulder to point out phantom ducks on the lake as he nervously sinks to one knee. 

"Shoto, love I do not see-" You turn to face him and see his loving eyes, wavering smile and shaking fingers holding open the box that reveals a giant oval ruby surrounded by diamonds.  He clears his throat. 

"My sunflower," You fling your arms around him, making him fall off balance as you land on top of him. Peppering his face with uncharacteristic kisses as excitement, for once, rushes through your veins like a second blood. He laughs lifting you by your ribs, careful of your slowly closing wound as he spins you before setting you on your feet. He fumbles for the momentarily forgotten ring before he slips it onto your ring finger. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling warmly. It reaches his eyes in such a way your gut clenches. 

And for a moment you forgot you were ever anyone's starlight. 

For one returning to the manor seems almost dreadful and not because of waiting suitors but because you would be without your own. He insisted the two of you be seperate as your mother and his, prepared to arrange the wedding, as you demanded the ceremony to be small. Despite your desire for to keep the engagement quiet for just a week or so, your mother and father took it upon themselves to spread word back home before you could even arrive. 

You exit the carriage as the house looks quiet, earning a soft smile. Your ring catches your eye and you remind yourself that this truly was the best possible outcome. 

The foyer is covered in flowers, from congratulations to a giant trove of sunflowers on the center table. 

You smile at the flowers Shoto must have sent this morning, they sit in a glass globe of a vase, their usually tall stems cut short. Their flower heads are large and vibrant even in the ambient candle light. You finger a petal as you reminisce over the past few weeks, your stomach hardly protesting as you stand on tip toe to look at them all. Relishing the moment of silence before you realize you are most likely home alone. Your brothers lost in some fighting match while your parents took their leave from the Todoroki manor to busy themselves with venues. You figured a change of clothes would do you nicely before you settled down over your much neglected work. 

A black nightgown and almost sheer robe clung to your frame as you stepped down the grand staircase, smiling once more at the flowers before slipping into your parlor. Lighting only one other candle by the door before taking yours to your desk. With deft hands you pull out one of your manuscripts and tap along the top with a manicured nail. A sigh leaves your lips, you finger with your bracelet, with the ring on your finger before a fresh page is found on your desk. You write furiously. 

About something as trivial as love. 

Still the quil seems to move on its own as if enchanted as words dot the parchment in ink. Suddenly your work is disturbed by someone entering your parlor. You assume it is a brother who has come home, glancing up you see locks of ash blonde causing you to grip at your robe to close it tighter. The moment you realize it is just Bakugou your grip on the fabric loosens.

"I wasn't expecting you at this hour." Fear of needing a chaperone barely crosses your mind since it was Lord Bakugou who was your company. You relax into your seat as he crosses the room to sit in his normal seat, on the corner of the couch, closest to you. His posture is poor as he leans his forearms on thick thighs, garnet eyes cast downward, he grips at his own hands as his knuckles turn white. You wonder if he did not heed your letter. 

"How did the proposal go with Princess Amelia?" Your voice sounds out over the silence of the room, still he remains quiet. It is unnerving how solemn and silent the normally wolfish man is. Something pulls at the strings of your heart. His eyes seem misty. He keeps them to the ground or so you think, as they rake over the ring on your finger, on the bracelet on your wrist. The onyx and citrine dance in the low light of your burning candle. Bakugou feels a sheen of sweat coat his hands, bile rising in his throat that he has to swallow down. 

You think the worst, you think the Princess rejected him but that didn't make sense either. She was so obviously in love with the ambitious man, you heard while away that she even turned down a dance with a forgein prince. 

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" The way your voice forms around his name, the way your eyes look with unbiased worry causes Katsuki's limbs to act on their own. In one swift motion he cups your face in his broad hands, bringing his lips to yours so softly. Once the plush of your lips touch his he cannot stop as his hunger for you comes to the forefront. He kisses you with a fervor unmatched as his lips move yours, his hand moves to the back of your neck. Tilting your head so he may deepen the kiss, tongue sliding over yours as the world falls from beneath your feet.  

But as quickly as it fell it returns, pushing him away while turning to face away from him. You keep your head held high as he pants on the couch beside you. He grabs your thigh, desperate for touch, for anything but rejection. 

"Starlight." His voice is deep, rough from what might be disuse as it cracks on the second syllable. A question runs rampid in your mind.  How long had he felt like this? 

"Please, my starlight." He squeezes your smooth thigh and you look towards him. Watch his force contort with pain, as if you held his beating heart in his hands and crushed it.  

Really it is what he had done to you, as you look down at him with hot tears. 

He is the first and only soul to see you cry in decades. It seemingly tears him about but he brought this among himself. 

The kiss is answer enough as to why he is here. 

It should not be this tempting to throw it all away. 

"Get. Out." You seethe, fat droplets catching on your sheer robe, falling down your cheeks as if you were an actress going through a tragic scene. He does not move, does not breathe as he hopes your temper will cool. 

Instead it heats. 

"Get out, Get OUT. GET OUT GET OUT!!" More composure lost with each increase of volume before you completely lose it, "FUCKING GET OUT!" 

He hardly moves and the ruckus calls alarm for your brothers who were home, who let Bakugou in at such a late hour. They come from the office across the hall in hurried steps, expecting to see an assailant, hoping that Bakugou could fight them off. 

They silently determine what they see is far worse. Bakugou gripping at your thighs with this pleading look while your face is now firmly buried in your hands. A sob racks through your body setting your brothers ablaze. 

Hendrix speaks first. 

"What did you do?!" His eyes are flaming as he sets them on Bakugou, who ignores the two men. Hideki begins to close the distance and his eldest brother follows suit. 

"What have you done to make my lovely sister cry?" Hideki's voice is full of hurt, disappointment and when they receive no answer they decide it is time to remove your true assailant. 

Both grab at Bakugou, pulling him away from the couch as you wet your palms with years worth of tears. 

Everything in your life, no matter how hard you tried to conduct it, was truly wrong wasn't it? 

The fresh swirling ink on the pages answered you enough, the love story you did not know you needed with a protagonist with soft ash blonde hair. 

"Please. Do not make me BEG!" He yells as your brothers' sad attempt at forcing him from the room topples furniture and the like. 

Still you weep your self pity away. 

His next words are deafening  as your heart finally cleaves apart, the pieces falling to the floor before shattering like glass at your feet. He brandishes the black velvet box with the black diamond ring tucked inside as you finally look up to him. 

"IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU, STARLIGHT!"

[rainbows-fanfics]

Our Nightmare (Chapter 22) ENDING

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there  is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like  living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends,  where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many  ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as  they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

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Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

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Sally's wedding dress is based on one of my favorite pieces on deviantART, 

Jack's suit is the Dancing Jack outfit from Oogie's revenge - which you can see here.

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The large bell housed prominently over the Town Hall rings loudly across Halloween Town. The deafening, flat notes are heard from miles away. Its noise is recognized as an announcement to something urgent . In this case, a  wedding – but not any ordinary ceremony. Rather, a royal one, as the Pumpkin King is now integrating himself with a woman, who, after the matrimony, can call herself the new Pumpkin Queen.

It’s been ages since a royal wedding has been recorded in the town’s history. It explains the urgency of the citizens, who are desperate to participate in this rare occurrence. A good portion of the town attends, having a connection to either their king and his fiancée. They receive a generous RSVP line, filling the town square with seats and tables to accommodate the large crowd that will be attending.

As the center of Halloween Town begins to crowd with the attendees, the  husband-and-wife-to-be slips out from the commotion unnoticed. It’s a graceful feat thanks to the skeleton’s gift of creeping. They are now strolling through the Outskirts, hand happily in one another’s. Human ceremonies take superstitions seriously, but Halloween Town  adores  bad luck. Jack and Sally are striving to get the worst possible, to ensure things roll smoothly.

“It’s beautiful outside,” The ragdoll comments, holding the ends of her dress to walk on the stone path. He follows her gaze and notices the storm clouds hanging overhead, threatening to unleash rain any second now. He’s felt the static on his spine all day. Nothing can make him more content than the ideal weather.

“It truly is,” He agrees.

“I’m glad we didn’t cancel the ceremony. I love the rain.”

He holds his palm out and waits to feel the drip of the raindrops coming down. “It should only be a light shower, thankfully..!”

An excited look grows on her face. She notices the distance they’ve made from the town and her smile slightly falters. She wants to remain like this for hours - alone with him, enjoying the peaceful sights before something so… nerve-wracking .

She’s prepared for this day for a long time, planning everything with her fiancé and practicing how the ceremony will go. She’s read a lot about what to expect from weddings. Although she’s book-ready, she doesn’t anticipate feeling such a strong swelling in her leaves. It’s an overwhelming but delightful feeling - being with Jack makes the nervousness temporarily go away. But they’ll have to face the attention sooner or later.

“We can start heading back, now.”

He agrees. He swerves them into the opposite direction in a movement so smooth that has her giggling. They slip in the same way they snuck out. They part from each other to start welcoming the guests and directing them as needed, exchanging delighted grins every time the other passes their vision.

——————————

An hour or so passes while everyone settles themselves at the tables, with the help of Lock and Barrel. The Halloween Town band plays music and sings songs to keep everyone patient while they sip their drinks and watch children run around playing. They’re eager to witness the marriage between their King and the future-Queen already. The Mayor frequently reminds them that they need to be patient. They’re setting up small canopies around, in hopes of keeping everyone dry in case the rain decides to fall earlier than expected.

It isn’t long before the Mayor urges everyone to their seats, claiming things will begin. Everyone quickly comes to the chairs and snatch as many spots close to the front as possible. It isn’t long before the rows are filled. The King is friends with practically everybody and the ragdoll shares acquaintances, so there’s no need for any parties on either side. They sit wherever they please. The ghosts and winged creatures hover in the back while everyone faces the direction of the altar intently.

The Mayor is respectively chosen as the marriage officiant and minister, and is more than happy to fulfill the roles. Jack’s best man is no other than his old friend, Doctor Finklestein, who plans to walk Sally down the aisle. The only ones standing there are him, the Mayor, and Zero. The dog poses as a ring bearer and is patiently holding the rings for them on a small, white pillow. His spiral tail wags in anticipation as he looks at his master.

Everyone’s attention is on their King. Unlike his usual black-and-white pinstriped suit and bat bow tie, Jack is wearing a white suit. It’s similar to his normal attire, except this one consists purely of whites and grays and has a toned-down version of his bat for a bow tie, as well as shirt cuffs at the ends of his sleeves. He sports a white top hat to finish the outfit, which hangs lazily on the side of his skull. He keeps nudging at it trying to keep it in place, but the thing insists on being crooked. Sally spent careful time making this ensemble for him - so he’s doing his best to keep it tidy.

“Nervous?” The Mayor whispers, leaning over the podium and grinning. He’s getting a kick out of seeing him like this.

“As I’ll ever be.” Comes the rushed reply. “I’m not sweating too much, am I?”

“Jack, you can’t sweat.”

“Right, right…”

At that moment, music fills the Town square. The skeleton stiffens as everyone perks their heads up. They turn and find Sally standing at the end of the carpet, with her bouquet in her hands and veil carefully placed over her stitched face. Beside her is Dr. Finklestein, who clutches at her other hand and resists the tempting urge to scratch at his brain. He’s changed from his usual lab coat and is now wearing a white suit, much less elegant than Jack’s. Judging by his loosened posture and unfixed glasses, the skeleton can tell that he’s affected by holding his daughter’s hand at her wedding. He sniffles subtly as he wipes a tear from under his dark lenses, moving the two of them forward slowly.

Even though Jack has seen Sally in her wedding dress before, he still feels the breath leave his throat as he ravishes the sight of her. Her dress is entirely made by hand, starting from the ends to the top. The pieces are made and put together by her, including different pieces of rags with various patterns. They are combined to create a large and beautiful dress. A wilted flower is placed just behind her ear, complimenting her black eyes. A green ribbon wraps around her thin waist, consisting of dead flowers. Behind her is a long train that matches the transparency of her veil. It’s nearly reminiscent of the patchwork dress he first met her in.

Shock emerges from behind and steps forward. She scatters the dead petals across the aisle, messily but  still getting the job done, nonetheless.. Sally follows slowly, as the Doctor is careful not to get his wheelchair caught in anything. Behind them are Lock and Barrel, who serve as the pages and lift the train carefully. They take this job with consideration and make sure it never touches the ground, even if that means they trip on one another  (and have to refrain from punching each other in the middle of attention).

As soon as they’re at the altar, the Doctor removes himself and goes to his place beside Zero while the trick-or-treaters take a seat in their reserved chairs. Everyone quiets down as the lovers hold each other’s hands. Jack carefully removes Sally’s veil and notices the beautiful paleness of her face. They gaze into each other’s eyes and smile, the endearing looks never fading while the Mayor speaks. He begins the long speech about marriage and unity. No one’s really paying attention - instead, infatuated with the couple before them.

In the middle of the Mayor’s validation, a roar of thunder is heard overhead. Raindrops begin to pour from the sky. Thankfully, everyone seated is under the protection of the canopy. However, the Mayor realizes far too late that he’s in the open. As the raindrops fall, they drench his papers. He struggles to dry them while Jack and Sally continue to stare at each other, blissfully unaware of the water falling on them. An umbrella is summoned from the skeleton’s sleeve, which he politely holds over Sally with his other hand.

“Oh, what’s the  use !” The Mayor throws his hands in the air. “These papers are ruined!”

“Start with the vows!” Someone impatiently yells from the back. There is a loud murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“Alright, alright ! Jack, do you take Sally to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, and in sickness and in health, for the rest of eternity?”

“I do.” He states firmly.

“And Sally, do you take Jack to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

They take the rings from Zero, who is all too happy to deliver it to them. They slip it on each other’s fingers and hold their hands once more. Everyone around them shifts in their seats anxiously, the tension building up to witness their King and Queen’s first official kiss as a wedded couple.

“I’m sure we’re all waiting for it, so I’ll just say it!” The Mayor chuckles with a wide grin. “You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone leans forward in anticipation as the skeleton lowers the umbrella, takes Sally by the waist, and kisses her passionately on the lips. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around his neck - similarly to when they first kissed on the Spiral Hill. The audience erupts into applause and cheers, some even leaping out of their seats. Lock, Shock, and Barrel pretend to shove their fingers down their throats, but are ignored as the couple turns to the crowd.

“Everyone!” The sound of Jack’s voice quiets everyone down. “May I introduce you to…your new Pumpkin Queen!”

He steps to the side to bow theatrically and extends his hand in front of Sally. They erupt into cheers once more. The ragdoll blushes shyly as she takes his hand again. He stands up straight to lay a kiss on its surface, lowering his eye sockets as he brushes her cheek with his knuckles. She leans into his touch and unconsciously lifts her leg. Jack turns back to the crowd and rushes down the altar, being mindful of his wife while he does so.

“Let’s celebrate!” He calls.

Everyone follows after and cackles. They don’t mind the rain, as ones in suits and dresses dance and jump in the puddles. They join Jack and Sally inside the Town Hall, where the once-large auditorium is now redecorated into a ballroom. The tall wedding cake, filled with layers of Halloween Town goodness and a pumpkin cake topper, is sitting at the center. Surrounding it are tables for the guests, as well as the large, empty space for dancing.

The room is packed by the time everyone arrives.

————————

The celebrations go swimmingly. The first thing monsters and creatures do is dance - filling the floor with couples and ghouls partying their souls out. The music is played once more by the Halloween Town Band, who perform a few jazz songs before settling on slower music. The groom and the bride are in the center before Jewel receives the next dance with the Pumpkin King. As she and Jack perform a waltz, Sally joins Dr. Finklestein at the table he is seated at. As much as she would like to dance with her father, he isn’t willing to go through the trouble with his wheelchair. Accompanied with her frail stitches, it’s bound for some embarrassing trip-ups that they both want to avoid on her wedding day.

She clasps her hands in her lap as she watches him sip his wine. A few minutes pass as they listen to the music and watch the guests dance on the floor. He suddenly sets down the glass and rubs the side of his head. He coughs into his arm awkwardly as he momentarily avoids eye contact with her.

“Well, my dear, you’re going to be the Pumpkin Queen now…”

She looks at him inquisitively.  His words sound uneasy. She’s rarely heard this tone from him, beyond the times Jack threatened him for her well-being. But that’s all in the past, now. They’ve mended their relationship since then. She nods encouragingly for him to continue. And he does, with a reluctant breath:

“You are now my Queen. Which means I will have to abide by your every demand. You know it isn’t like me to disobey royalty. And now…well, you can do  anything . If you hold any reservations about how I treated you, then-”

“Doctor…” She interrupts, holding her breath. She goes to say something, but when she catches sight of his face, the words fail to leave her lips.

The tears are gently flowing from underneath his glasses. A few drops have escaped his vision during the ceremony, but now he’s succumbed to the cries. She instinctively reaches for her father. He does the same, and before they know it, they’re holding onto each other and shedding tears together quietly. This earns some sentimental looks from those nearby, including Jewel peeking over Jack Skellington’s shoulder from afar.

“Don’t look now, but they’re having a moment.” She mutters.

He gives her an odd look and she simply points her finger in their direction. When he follows her gaze, he finds his wife clinging onto her father, both swept up in emotion that they forget they’re in the middle of a wedding. He can’t help but smile, continuing to waltz his mother-in-law across the dance floor without a word.

——————-

After letting them have their scene, Jack and Jewel eventually interrupt them. The Doctor and Sally are reluctant to let go, but eventually do, giving each other a last embrace before they separate. They seem happier now, assuming they got whatever they needed off their chests. He isn’t sure what made them so emotional, but it doesn’t matter. Jack leads his wife to their table and waits to cut the cake. Sally isn’t too keen with handling such a sharp knife, what with the threads in her way, so she lets him take the honors to cut the slices. Everyone watches hungrily as they lick their lips. Particularly, the young trio that crowds the table.

  “When do we get our piece?” “-Yeah! You’re been serving everyone BUT us!” “What flavor is it?”

Jack rolls his eye sockets before serving the three their own plates. They haven’t caused a ruckus and did what they were told so far - so he figures they’re due for a reward. They take their dessert and run off, to one of the tables out of his sight. After all the slices are served, the couple receive their share and retreat to their seats. Everyone begins eating their food, most of them noisily, as the skeleton and ragdoll pick at theirs. While the crowd is dining, the Mayor stands in his chair and clinks his glass with his spoon. This earns the attention of everyone in the room, glancing up from their servings.

“I believe it’s time to make a toast!” He announces happily, holding his drink high in the air. “To our Pumpkin King and his new Queen - may your eternity be terrible and dreadful!”

Everyone exclaims in agreement, taking a hefty gulp from their glasses. They resume their treats with more chatter this time around. During this time, James, John and Jimmy make their way over to the King and Queen’s table, offering their best wishes and congratulations. Nothing is out of the ordinary until Jack Skellington feels someone slap his back harshly. He notices James reaching for his hand in order to shake it respectfully. He’s happy to offer it to him.

He suddenly gets pulled forward, so his voice stays between them. “You better keep Dolly happy, bone Daddy. If not , you’ll be hearin’ from us.”

“Heh!” Jack begins to laugh, believing it’s a good-natured joke from his friends, but grits his teeth when he feels his palm almost get snapped into two. “ Oh… ”

A few others decide to make speeches, which they happily listen to - until they find nearly the whole town wanting to say something, and the Mayor finally puts a stop to it. They’re touched by the words of their citizens, with how welcoming they are of Sally as their new Queen and his wife. The children have all sorts of questions for her. She spends a solid few minutes answering them while Jack listens in the background, pretending to focus on his cake.

“Do you think you'll ever have kids?” The Mummy Boy asks, picking at his bandages. “We’ll have more friends to play with if you do.”  

Sally blushes, peeking at her husband for a only slight second before turning back. She neglects to see the look of interest on his face. He listens carefully as she replies, a contemplative look on his face as he rubs the side of his skull in thought.

“Maybe someday.”

——————–

“Jack, how long is eternity?”

“It’s forever, darling. There is no end.”

“I see…”

“Are you happy with that? That we’re going to be together, now and  forever ?”

They’re seated on a bench outside the Town Hall, the moonlight seeping through the windows and boards of the roof over their heads. It’s still raining outside, the sounds of the drops and occasional rounds of thunder interrupting them every now and again. The wedding has been going on for several hours now. There are still a considerable amount of guests inside. It takes a lot of skill to sneak out here without anyone seeing. And here they are now - situated on a bench, holding hands, and talking quietly. Unbeknownst to anyone, it’s always been their favorite thing to do.

“Of course I am.” Sally rests her head on him and closes her eyes. “There’s no one else I’d want to be with.”

“I feel the same way.”

Jack kisses the top of her head and rests his skull there, the two of them sitting and quietly listening to their breaths. They can’t think of anything more peaceful. Eventually, it’s him who breaks the silence. He can’t seem to keep his thoughts to himself today. He wants to express how happy and grateful he is - to be married to the love of his death, now.

“To think it’s been a century since the town’s had a Queen…I think there are many here who have never had one.”

She bites her lip, gently tugging at her seams. He motions her hand away and grips it, giving her an encouraging look. She looks at the floor. “-You really think I’ll make a good Pumpkin Queen?”

She can’t seem to ever stop asking this question. He smiles softly. “Of course. Without any doubt.” He brushes his fingertips through her hair, tangling his fingers within the red yarn. Then he adds, “Everyone loves you; you’re a wonderful role model.”

“Role model?  Me ?” She turns red. “No, I…I’m not exactly-”

“You were locked up for a good portion of your life, remember? But did that stop you from coming to see me?” He smiles when she shakes her head  ‘no’ . “-There you go. You wanted something, so you worked to get to it. That’s inspirational. I don’t know how anyone CAN’T look up to you!”

She nestles in his arms. He holds her closely, wishing to ease her concerns.

“Don’t be stressed, Sally. It’s my job to be as frightening as I can be. And take care of other things, too.” He tilts his skull and brushes his hand along her cheek. “You can do anything you want to do. I’ll support you no matter what, and I know  they will, too.”

She stares into his eye sockets for a long time, a smile stretched on her face. He notices the tears starting to stream from her eyes and moves forward to gently wipe them. She sniffles and lays her head on his shoulder, embracing him as close as she can . He wraps his arms around her tightly in response, closing his eye sockets and indulging himself in her warm touch.

“This is the happiest day of my life.” She admits, choking up. “I’m married to you. Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this? The moment you set me free from that Tower, I wanted this so badly. To be  yours  and you to be  mine… ”

“I wanted this, too. I proposed to you, after all.” He rubs her back soothingly with a lighthearted laugh. “It’s the best decision I’ve ever made.” He admits.

She removes herself to gaze into his eye sockets again, this time with tears spilling out from her eyes. Before he can tend to them, she presses her lips on his, pulling him into a heartfelt kiss. He returns the affection, naturally. It lasts a minute or two, but they remain outside for the rest of the ceremony, gazing at the stars every time a clear spot appears in the stormy night sky.

—-----

Her coronation is just as nerve-wracking and difficult to get through, but it means so much to her and Jack all the same. The town attends much like last time, excited to see their new ruler be rightfully crowned. And Sally does a wonderful job through it all - ignoring her shaking limbs at times and anxious habit of picking at her seams.

It was a thorough process, teaching her how to rule Halloween as well as the town. She was often overwhelmed by it all, but comforted by her husband every time she felt stressed. It’s apparent that he’d be by her side through it all, to share the workload like a true King and Queen do. Over time, she embraces her responsibilities - happy to share it all with the man she loves.

The skeleton feels a warmth spread in his bones when he places the crown on her head. A movement done so slowly - so intensely, staring into her eyes as she blinks at him…it looks beautiful on her. Like it was always meant to be there. No head can fit it as right as hers does. She stands slowly and he takes her into his arms, holding her tightly and listening to the applause and cheering from their people all around them. He relishes her touch, and by then, everything feels exactly as how it’s meant to be.

  His Pumpkin Queen.  

 THE END

[milkyway-writes]

i’m not ready for that s.r.

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)

summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music

word count: 2,828

author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me. 

After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time. 

But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined. 

He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential. 

Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his. 

But Natasha keeps pushing it. 

“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”

"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?" 

"Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”

•••••

So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you. 

Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off. 

Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve. 

Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)

Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.

Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.

•••••

You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart. 

You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable. 

You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities. 

For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.

One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead. 

Immediately, your stomach dropped. 

Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson. 

Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless. 

While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers. 

•••••

Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval. 

You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.

He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.” 

You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding. 

It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder. 

He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”

“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child. 

He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”

“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?” 

You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them. 

•••••

You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.

Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off. 

Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done. 

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.

You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.

You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life. 

•••••

While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades. 

You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.

“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.

You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play. 

Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card. 

“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He nods.

“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.

“We’ve got time.”

You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway. 

“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”

“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”

You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand. 

“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes. 

You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?” 

Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”

You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”

He shrugs, “maybe I am.”

You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.

Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.

You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours. 

Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him. 

His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.

You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.

Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden. 

This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.

Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. 

He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.

“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.

“I need you.” 

Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan. 

Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it. 

“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties. 

You nod, biting your lip. 

He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”

You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.” 

He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”

You let out a pitiful whine. 

“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”

You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much. 

Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out. 

His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.” 

His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. 

“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.

You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.

You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.

You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest. 

With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone. 

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”

“And I’m feeling good.”

•••••

Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.

But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.

[pitch-pearl-void]

Old birthday present for @ectoblood who wanted Phantom and Danny to go to prom together (AU where Danny met Phantom as his own person)

A hand touched Danny’s, but when he turned to look, no one was there. Danny returned his attention to the dance and spread his fingers apart. Invisible fingers slipped into the resulting gap and folded over his hand, squeezing. Danny’s lips twitched into a small smile, relief loosening his tense muscles, excitement quickening his heart.

“I was worried you wouldn’t make it,” he said. The music was loud enough to hide the conversation, and anyway, who would notice?

“I almost didn’t,” Phantom replied. Cool lips pressed a kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Johnny heard it was your prom night, and he insisted on giving me a lecture about human safety measures pertaining to an ‘after party dance’ that I completely blanked on. I think he was just making things up to scare me. It does explain why so many parents volunteered as chaperons this time, though.”

Danny bit his lip and willed his cheeks not to flush. “Speaking of parents, Jazz convinced mine to leave the ghost hunting equipment at home.”

“Oh, good. Perhaps I should stay invisible for now, though.”

Although Danny nodded, he felt something like disappointment sink into his stomach. The hand he held in his own was bare, the touch of Phantom’s skin as always sending little sparks of contact to dance along his nerves. Phantom wasn’t wearing the gloves of his repurposed jumpsuit, which meant he had to be wearing something else. He might have gotten dressed up. He might have borrowed one of Danny’s suits or an outfit more in line with his ghost heritage, but Danny wouldn’t see, couldn’t see, until they left the dance.

Which sort of defeated the purpose.

“Where are Sam and Tucker?”

Danny searched the crowd of dancers until he saw the flash of Sam’s dress pass beneath the shifting-colored lights above the dance floor. He pointed at her as Tucker spun her out, the two of them laughing at the annoyed looks the others were giving them. They were moving too fast for a slow song. They were having fun when they were supposed to stare lovingly into their partner’s eyes.

“Over there,” Danny said. “Sam wanted to ‘liven things up.’ The romance crowd has had a death grip on the DJ all night, and Tucker is helping her protest.”

“Do you think their scheme will work before we have a chance to dance?” Phantom asked, sounding a little worried.

Danny glanced at Phantom, though again he saw nothing. “Do you know how to dance?”

Phantom’s hand squeezed Danny’s, and his voice took on a proud tone. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been practicing.”

“Human dances or ghost dances?”

Cold air gusted into Danny’s face like a reprimand, but the gym was so hot with so many human bodies gathered inside that Danny closed his eyes and welcomed the breeze. “Human,” Phantom said. But then he added in an undertone, “sort of.”

Danny opened his eyes again and gave Phantom an askance look. “Sort of?”

Phantom glided ahead of Danny and tugged gently on his hand. “I’ll show you.”

Danny resisted the pull and swept his eyes left then right. “Phantom, I’ll look like a total idiot dancing by myself, I can’t—” Cold energy rushed over Danny, and his hand disappeared from sight. He lifted his free hand to be sure it too was invisible. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Duh.”

Phantom chuckled. “Duh.”

He tugged on Danny’s hand again, and this time, Danny allowed Phantom to lead him forward. He located his parents for safety’s sake, but once he saw his mom dancing with his dad, her head resting on his chest, he returned his attention to where Phantom was leading him. Toward the dance floor, obviously, but how were they going to dance while invisible? People would be bumping into them from all directions. Even along the way, Phantom had to pause or weave around the partygoers crossing their path.

They reached the edge of the dance floor, and Danny still didn’t understand how they were going to pull it off, not until his invisible arm rose above his head, his feet lifted off the floor, and his tuxedo jacket floated off his back. Danny widened his eyes. Phantom tugged on his arm, pulling him higher and higher until they floated well above the dancers.

A moment later, Danny felt Phantom kiss his hand. “Ghosts float when they dance. Is it too much?”

The lights were brighter so close to the ceiling. The speakers—located beside the DJ’s table—were quieter and Danny could hear the nervous tension in Phantom’s voice. There was a part deep inside Danny that urged him to say yes. Turning invisible was one thing, allowing a ghost to dance with him in midair should have been another. It wasn’t so long ago he was as frightened of ghosts as the rest of the students, perhaps more so because of his parents’ experiments and lectures.

But things had changed, and the love and excitement stirring Danny’s heart into a wild rhythm were louder than the caution his parents had taught him.

“It’s perfect,” he said, trying to match his voice to his grin so Phantom would understand how happy he had just made him. “How long can you keep this up?”

Between the flight and the invisibility…

“Oh, perhaps two or three songs.” Phantom lifted Danny’s hand upward. Another cool hand pressed against Danny’s lower back and pulled him closer. It was a more traditional dance pose than Danny was used to, and he raised his eyebrows even as his stomach fluttered and swooped. “I should take a break afterward to keep from exhausting myself.”

Danny laughed, mostly due to nervous excitement. “Right! Yeah. Don’t want to fall on the others below.”

“That would be bad,” Phantom agreed. “Are you ready?”

Danny searched blindly for Phantom’s shoulder with his free hand, found his chest—it felt like Phantom wore a jacket, same as Danny—and slid his hand up until it could rest on Phantom’s shoulder. His other hand squeezed Phantom’s. “Ready.”

Phantom moved, rotating them slowly around a fixed point in a waltz. Danny moved his feet out of reflex, but it wasn’t like dancing on the floor at all. Phantom controlled the dance. He spun around Danny and pulled Danny along with him, unrestricted by gravity and the slow steps humans had to take. It felt graceful, effortless, like flying. Danny didn’t have to worry about knowing the steps to a waltz, he just had to enjoy the ride. He grinned out of reflex and relaxed into the dance, allowing Phantom to twirl and spin them around each other. The slow song ended and a faster, more upbeat song began. He laughed, and Phantom echoed him. Sam had won her protest.

Phantom spun Danny out and pulled him back in without Danny needing to do anything more than hold onto his hand, but without being able to see Phantom or Phantom him, Danny crashed into Phantom’s chest with a little grunt of surprise. 

“I suppose,” Phantom said, his own voice light with cheer, “we’re high enough no one will notice us if we’re only transparent?”

Given the frequent ghost attacks, Danny doubted they would go unnoticed for long, the humans were too well-trained by this point, but what was life without risks? He wanted to see Phantom, not just feel him.

So even though he knew it was a mistake (and Phantom probably did too), Danny nodded and said, “Yeah, that should work.”

The cold aura of Phantom’s powers still surrounded Danny, but a moment later, Phantom popped into sight. He was transparent, allowing Danny to see the lights and streamers through his head and chest, but there was enough definition there for him to make out his boyfriend’s pleased smile. Phantom’s white hair was messy—his hair was as resistant to being tamed as Danny’s, maybe worse due to the wind he regularly flew through—but he had dressed up in a tux. It wasn’t one Danny recognized, Phantom hadn’t stolen one from his closet, but then where had he gotten it?

It fit him surprisingly well…

Phantom’s smile widened, revealing sharper-than-normal teeth. “Let’s try this again.”

He swung Danny into motion. It was even easier for Danny to lose himself to the aerial dance than the first time. Danny could see Phantom’s expression, the softness in his eyes, the happy smile matching his own. They spun and twirled around each other, sometimes losing sight of one another, but always held together by their clasped hands. Danny laughed freely, unafraid of being heard over the loud, cheerful song.

So high above the other dancers, Danny saw only Phantom and the streamers hanging from the lights. They could have been dancing alone up there, surrounded by music and bright, shifting lights.

“When we can finally dance on the ground together,” Danny said, beaming as Phantom spun them around without any effort on Danny’s part, “I’m going to lead.”

Phantom laughed. “Only fair,” he agreed.

The song ended soon after. Another slow song took its place, and Danny swore he heard Sam cry out “Oh, come on!” but he didn’t mind. Before Phantom could settle them into position for another waltz—seriously, where had he learned to dance? From Dora?—Danny grabbed ahold of Phantom’s shoulder, let go of his hand, and set his other hand on his opposite shoulder. Phantom looked startled.

“You just place your hands on my waist,” Danny explained. “Then we sway to the music.”

Phantom followed his instructions, though his head tilted in confusion. “That simple?”

Danny smiled, feeling soft and warm inside. “Yeah. Most of us don’t know how to do those, uh, traditional dances. We just want to hold each other and let the music set the mood.”

And this song in particular suited Phantom. It was about finding your hero in someone unexpected; an old song, but Danny’s heart swelled as he and Phantom stared at each other. Phantom floated them in a gentle sway, no longer trying to match the beat. He looked as content as Danny felt, but soon his cheeks flushed green, and he looked down at the crowd.

“This song suits you,” he told Danny. “It’s like you’re singing to me.”

Danny widened his smile. He slipped his arm around Phantom’s neck, pulled him closer, and laid his head on his shoulder, his other hand sliding down to rest over his core. Sometimes he thought he could sense emotions from it, though at the moment he only felt it vibrating beneath his hand. Phantom encircled his arms around Danny’s waist and gently rested his cheek on Danny’s head. He continued to rock gently to the music, but it was even slower than before, as though Phantom wasn’t really thinking about the dance anymore.

Inevitably, it had to end.

“Oh my gosh!” someone shouted over the slow song. “Is that—that’s Phantom! Phantom is dancing with someone up there, look!”

Phantom swore and Danny tensed. Before Danny could lift his head from Phantom’s shoulder, Phantom lifted one hand and cupped the back of Danny’s head, pushing Danny’s face against his neck, hiding him.

“Ghost kid!” Jack shouted, sounding both excited and frustrated. After all, Jazz had convinced him and Maddie to leave all their ghost hunting equipment at home for just this reason.

Others began shouting too, disturbing the song to the point the DJ simply stopped playing it. Danny groaned.

“I doubt they will calm down even if I turn us invisible again,” Phantom whispered in Danny’s ear.

“Probably not,” Danny reluctantly agreed.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“The park? I flew past on my way here. Fireflies were lighting up the walkways, but there weren’t very many people around.”

Danny’s breath caught. Leave the dance? Take a romantic walk through the park, just the two of them? That actually sounded so much better than attending prom, though he wouldn’t say no to dancing with Phantom again. “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless. “Yeah, let’s do that. We can walk toward a restaurant. I can buy you dinner, make this a proper date.”

Phantom laughed and then kissed Danny’s ear. “Sounds wonderful.”

[valberryy]

good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya

another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me

pairing: kaeya x fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)

Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.

"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc! 

"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"

You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.

"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.

"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."

Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"

"You—!"

"...So come back safe, okay?"

A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands. 

"I promise."

With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.

Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.

"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.

Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.

(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")

One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.

The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.

Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.

Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."

As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.

His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—

"...but do you remember anything else?"

A pause, then a blunt, "No."

—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.

"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"

You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."

"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"

But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.

"—I have no idea who you are."

—

Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.

But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.

"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.

Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.

"Venti, I said no—"

"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"

There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.

Ah, you was going to dance, then. 

Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.

He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.

Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.

"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."

He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?" 

You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"

Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.

You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.

"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."

Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"

It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."

You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."

—

Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine. 

And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume. 

One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."

With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."

You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative. 

He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.

You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."

The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows. 

"I really loved you, you know."

Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.

"...Good night, Kaeya."

The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.

He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.

—

"Snrk—you what?"

"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"

You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing. 

"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.

"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."

You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree. 

(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)

Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.

"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."

When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.

"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"

Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.

"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"

[thatslikely]

under the gym lights - s.s.

under the gym lights - stiles stilinski x fem!reader

warnings: none! pure stiles fluff <3

word count: 984

requested?: yes!

a/n: prom with Stiles prom with Stiles prom with Stiles :) might have to make a longer fic based off of prom with Stiles because this concept tickles my fancy

A nimble, nervous tap on your shoulder was all it took to transform your prom night from lackluster to possibly one of the best days of your high school career.

It was no secret that for as long as you could remember, Stiles Stilinski, the previously buzz-cut donning boy who always had a flannel on his back, had been head over heels for you.

Things between the both of you were long due for a change, and Stiles was set on being the catalyst.

“Hey, uh, I know you’re like, probably flooded with dates right now but… do you wanna dance?” His eyebrows were wrinkled with worry; his voice lacked the confidence that usually exuded from the sarcastic comments he often remarked in class. 

Both giddiness and curiousity sparked like fireworks in your eyes as they glazed Stiles suit-clad figure: the inky black button-up that stretched across the expanse of his chest flawlessly, the lopsided, silver bow tie clipped around his neck, his hazelnut head of hair that was tinged with streaks of pomade, all of it. 

You almost felt as if you had been submerged under a pool of crystalline water and lifted to the surface again with reborn vision, for Stiles looked unexplainably different than he had before. It wasn’t just his exuberantly handsome ensemble, no, for reminiscing back to all the times he waved to you in the locker-lined hallways with a wide, almost boyish grin retained the new filter that shone over him.

With a now rapidly thrumming heart, and the cavity of your chest swarming with butterflies, you, at long last, realized. Shielded to you from years prior until just a few moments ago, you had a crush on the witty and equally adorable Stiles Stilinski.

Eagerly you took his shaking, outstretched hand, and he stumbled you clumsily, in a perfectly Stiles fashion, to the central dance floor of the gymnasium. 

Your hands found their way instinctively to the nape of his neck, where you let your arms rest on the fabric of his shirt, your fingers fiddling with the collar. After a few awkward moments, his palms situated on your waist, following the curve of your hips that swayed with the music.

The languid, amourous song that echoed through the rafters curtained with streamers flooded your ears from a distance, and soon you found that the rhythm of your heart had synced with the steady beat. 

A million thoughts sped through the flustered brunette’s head, but they were all put on pause when you cut the comfortable silence, saying with a soft tone of genuineness, “I really like you, Stiles.” 

If Stiles had known any better, known that the feelings you expressed weren’t as fantastical as his doubts had convinced him, he would’ve reciprocated the statement in a heartbeat. But the question that lingered in his mind before he drifted off the sleep each night, the worries that simmered on the back burner of his mind wouldn’t allow him to believe you. 

Why would the most devastatingly gorgeous girl at school like, of all people, me?

“Very funny, Y/N, but I’m not really into the whole public humiliation thing.” An almost reflexive comment that dripped with familiar sarcasm emitted from his mouth with the slightest quirk of his lips and a disbelieving shake of his head.

“I’m serious!” Your throat bubbled with giggles, but your sentiment was wholeheartedly authentic. 

“April fools’ was a month ago, you’re not fooling anyone, especially not me.”

“Why are you having such a hard time believing that I’d like you?”

“Maybe just the fact that you’re amazing, popular, breathtaking, the smartest girl I know, flawless, et cetera. Everything I’m not?”

“Oh come on, Stiles, you seriously can’t believe that, can you? Even if I have a sub-par day, you always manage to make me crack a smile in Econ. And you always know what to say when someone’s down; Lydia’s told me about all the times you’ve helped her when she really needed it. And your streak of intelligence doesn’t go unnoticed by me, either. I’ve seen you cooped up in the library reading until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. You don’t realise all the things that make you as wonderful as you are, Stiles.”

His captivating chocolate eyes widened with surprise. He must’ve been dreaming, right? How many fingers does he have? Is there something around him that he could read?

“What’s wrong?” you queried concernedly, as Stiles’ mind finally absorbed the reality sitting patiently in front of him.  

“Nothing, nothing. I-I, I’m just still letting the fact that you could actually like me sink in.”

A smile crooked your lips upwards, an expression that Stiles could get addicted to; a look he’d do absolutely anything to grace your features again. 

“You look really beautiful under the gym lights.”

Small, lighthearted giggles escaped your fluttering chest ever so slightly; you retracted your hands from their hanging position around Stiles’ neck to cover your mouth as increasingly deeper laughs hiccuped from your throat.

“Sorry -uh, that sounded a lot more romantic in my head.”

Beads of perspiration formed on his palm as he combed through his soft hair flusteredly. 

Before his embarassed words could fill the magic-dusted air, or continue to sway to the steady rhythm of the music while panicking internally, you swiftly pressed your lips to his’.

Electric currents of passion swept over every inch of you skin, leaving prickles of addiction in their wake. What you'd give to stop time, savor this moment- this enrapturing state of emotions- until the end of time.

But eventually, the wide, goofy grins on both of your faces grew too wide to meld into each other any longer. You laid your buzzing head on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat, which was perfectly in sync with the song rattling through the gym as well.

"You look really beautiful anywhere, though."

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[theweasleysredhair]

I Wish It Was Me [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 2179

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: She loves Fred, he loves someone else... right?

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: Very angsty, very fluffy. Based on the song “Heather” by Conan Gray! Requested - enjoy, nonnie!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

You’d loved Fred a long time. Ever since that first passing greeting on the Hogwarts Express at the tender age of 11 before you even knew what love really was. He was full of life, energetic, funny, reckless. He was like a firework, bright and cheerful, always up for a laugh and causing mischief. Rough around the edges, sure, and sometimes a tad insensitive but somehow it made you love him more.

He had no idea - at least, you didn’t think he did. There were times, fleeting moments, where you were convinced maybe he did, and maybe he felt the same way, but then he’d flirt with some Hufflepuff 6th year or Ravenclaw 5th year and reality would hit you. He was one of your best friends.

You tried your best to push your feelings down, to try and get over him, but every time you thought you’d gotten a handle on yourself, he’d shoot a smirk your way or run a hand through his messy ginger hair or throw an arm around your shoulder or, worse, just throw a flirty, cocky remark at you and suddenly you’d be back to square one.

You suppose you couldn’t blame anyone else for falling for him. It was so easy for you after all, as easy as breathing. You didn’t have to think about it, it just happened and one day you realised his smile could put you into a good mood, his laugh could make your whole week.

Didn’t mean it was easy watching someone else fall for him though. You noticed right away when she started having feelings for him. She’d stutter, suddenly sit up straighter when he was around, smile more. At first it didn’t bother you - Fred always sat beside you, always involved you in conversations. Sometimes you’d notice him staring at you. He’d even give you his sweater to wear - it was warm and soft and smelled like him. “Looks better on you than me,” he would say, grinning at the way the sleeves would end long past the tips of your fingers and the bottom of the sweater would reach your mid-thigh.

Then suddenly it stopped. He stopped sitting beside you, stopped talking to you as much, stopped staring and stopped giving you his sweaters. Because suddenly, he fell for her. He had asked her to the Yule Ball, when you (and George, for that matter) were sure he was going to ask you (George asked you to go as friends instead and you had to ignore the sight of Fred and Angelina dancing all night). And it was her he was sitting beside, her he was speaking to, her he was staring at and her who was wearing his sweaters. That first time you saw her sat in his knitted jumper - the one with the large ‘F’ on the front - you swore you felt all the air leave your lungs.

It hurt.

It hurt like nothing you’d experienced before. You’d say hello to him in the hallways and receive nothing but a friendly nod before his attention was back on her. You’d try to speak to him at meals, but his focus was on her. You’d sit beside him, but go unnoticed.

You couldn’t blame him. Angelina Johnson was beautiful. She was gorgeous, smart, funny, effortlessly cool. Everything you wished you were but afraid you’d never be.

Everything you tried to be.

But you were tired of trying. Or trying to be okay. Of trying to even be his friend at this point - it hurt too much to watch them together. The way his eyes lit up as he looked at her, the way he smiled at her. You’d witnessed them kissing too many times than you wanted to admit, your heart aching as you wished it was you.

It felt like he was disappearing from you. And you knew George felt the same. Whilst they still spent time together, it was nowhere near as often as before, and you knew it was getting to George.

The more time Fred spent with Angelina, the more you spent with George. Something you were often reminded of was how smart the twins truly were and it took less than a week for George to realise you had feelings for his brother.

You denied them when he asked, but then he just looked so much like his brother yet was so different - that much kinder, that much more sensitive - that you couldn’t help but spill your secret. That you’d loved Fred for 6 years. Telling George made you feel simultaneously better and worse. Better because now you had someone to confide in and to help you through it but worse because admitting your feelings made them so much more real. And that was scary.

You saw Fred less and less, partly due to his new relationship but mostly due to your decision to avoid him. George had tried to discourage you, but he saw how much it was hurting you to see Fred and Angelina and began helping you avoid him instead where possible.

You didn’t think Fred would notice. You noticed his absence greatly of course, but you didn’t think he would be focused on your absence. That was, until one day you were leaving your potions class and you suddenly found yourself pressed between a wall and someone’s chest.

Your heart was beating as you looked up at the culprit, staring into the deep eyes of Fred Weasley.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me, love?”

His voice was low and he was staring down at you with such intensity that you had to look away.

“I’ve not-“

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted you, “You’re worrying me - why have you been avoiding me?”

His warm breath was hitting your face and you couldn’t help but shiver, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of the cold from being in the dungeons or the proximity between you and the boy you loved.

As if he’d just realised how close he was to you - his chest was pressed against yours and his hands resting either side of your head - he stepped back a bit, pushing his ginger hair out of his face as he looked at you expectedly, although a hand was resting on your shoulder as if he half anticipated you running away.

Which now you thought about it, wasn’t such a bad idea.

“I um... I’ve been avoiding a lot of people, not just you. I’m just going through something and-“

“You’re not avoiding George,” he said softly as his hand dropped from your shoulder. A flash of hurt crossed his features but he covered it up quickly.

“He’s been helping me.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to me? Why George?” His hurt tone made you wince - the last thing you ever wanted to do was cause him any pain.

“You’ve been kinda busy with... with Angelina recently I- I didn’t want to bother you,” you pressed your lips into a straight line and looked down - suddenly your shoes were very interesting.

“You could’ve still come to me. I would’ve made time for you. We’re friends - best friends last time I checked. I thought you trusted both me and George. Not just- not just George.”

“I couldn’t... I can’t tell you,” you said helplessly.

“Why?”

“I just can’t!”

“Don’t you trust me?” He whispered, that same hurt look flashing through his eyes.

“I do trust you Fred I just can’t... I didn’t think it was a good idea to come to you with this certain problem I have. You wouldn’t be able to help because even I can’t help it,” you tried to explain.

He looked like he was still fighting the hurt he felt and you sighed. “I’m bloody in love with you and you love Angelina,” you said quietly, “And I thought I could handle it but I can’t. I can’t because it hurts too much. I love you, Fred. And it’s crazy because I’m so young but I know how I feel and that’s it. And-and I know you have Angelina. And that’s fine, it is, but I couldn’t be around you for a while. I didn’t think you’d notice, I didn’t think- I never thought- I-“

“You love me?” He asked, his eyes slightly wider than usual.

“Yes.”

He was silent for a while and you could feel your heart beating faster and faster.

“Fred?” You whispered, “Please... say something.”

“I’m with Angelina. You know that. I like her,” He scratched the back of his neck and stayed silent for a moment and you swallowed, nodding.

Your lips trembled and you fought to keep a tear from falling, “I know... I know. And I could never be her and I wouldn’t want to get in between you both so... that’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I’m happy. I am happy,” he said determinedly, “I’m taken, I can’t-“

“I know Freddie,” you said softly, “I’m sorry. I never meant to tell you, I was trying to get over you. I just... I-I’m gonna go.”

Fred watched helplessly as your figure retreated down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.

“I loved you, Y/n,” he finally admitted to the empty space where you once stood. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the floor, sighing before shaking his head, “I love you.”

***

“Y/n, have you seen Freddie?” George asked as he ran to fall in line with you walking back to your common room.

“Haven’t in a few days, since...” your voice trailed off and George nodded. “I’m assuming you’ve heard him and Angelina broke up?”

You came to an abrupt stop and your head whipped over to look up at the tall younger twin, “What?!”

He shot you a cheeky grin, “Freddie broke up with her- look!” He nodded down the hall at where Angelina was stood extremely closely in front of a 7th year Ravenclaw, whose hand was on her waist, her giggling up at him.

Your jaw dropped, “But-“

“You know, if I were you, I’d go find my less attractive brother. I reckon he might have something to say to you,” George winked dramatically, “He’s on the Quidditch pitch.”

You frowned in confusion, “What? But I thought you were just looking... for him?”

George shrugged, “Maybe I made up a reason to talk about Freddie... and to show you Angelina’s new boy.”

“You cheeky-“

“Go get him,” George cut you off with a gentle nudge towards the direction of the pitch.

With a nod, you made your way outside, before realising rain was falling fast and drenching you to the bone. You pulled your cloak further around you, pushing wet strands of hair out of your face as you rushed over the grass, your eyes falling on a familiar figure.

“Fred, what are you doing?” You called out.

As you headed closer, you saw him look up at you and grin, “What do you think I’m doing, love? Quidditch practice!”

“It’s chucking it down out here!” You exclaimed. He leant on his broom as he watched you walk over to him.

“I heard you broke up with Angelina. Or, well, Georgie told me and I saw her with, you know.”

He nodded, his rain-soaked hair sticking to his cheeks as you came to a stop in front of him.

“Did he tell you why I broke up with her?”

You shook your head.

“Because of this,” and suddenly he’d crashed his lips to yours.

It was a desperate kiss, one that made your toes curl as he dropped his broom to the ground to grip your hips. It was mostly a clashing of teeth to begin with and you hit his nose with your own a couple of times before you both began moving in sync, ignoring how the rain was falling down around you.

He pulled away slightly, staring down at you the way you always dreamed he would - but the reality was better.

He rested his forehead against your own, both of you shivering from the cold yet in no hurry to get back inside. The corner of his lips turnee upwards into a smirk, “It’s you, darling. You’re it for me. Fuck- I love you. I have for years. You never seemed like you felt the same so I assumed you didn’t feel the same. You never said anything so I tried to get over you but... I couldn’t be with Angelina any more when I found out you were an option - the best option. The only option I want.”

As he leant down to kiss you again, standing with you in his arms, your clothes soaked through and your shoes filling with water, you couldn’t help the smile that began to creep onto your face. You’d thought about this moment over and over again, and now... now it was finally happening.

And it was better than you could have ever imagined.

[the-bau-quinjet]

A Song For You

Steve Rogers x Singer!Reader

Summary: Snippets of Steve and Reader's life together as she sings a song she wrote for him.

Warnings: mention of car accident, parents dying, mostly just fluff though

Word Count: 6413

a/n: this is a mess, but I'm happy with it. It's basically a series of blurbs that are not in chronological order so I could follow the song. It's inspired by Like My Father by Jax. :) Sorry if it's confusing, hopefully it all makes sense at the end

Masterlist

Steve had been gone for months on a mission. It wasn’t often his missions lasted that long, so of course one of the few times it happened Y/N needed to tell him something important.

She shook off the annoyance as she got ready for Tony’s gala. He wanted to celebrate the successful mission as soon as Steve and Bucky came home. Of course, everyone tried to reason with him that waiting would be better so that the two super soldiers wouldn’t be exhausted, but Tony refused to listen to logic.

“Nonsense. We’re having the party as soon as they arrive.” He stated matter-of-factly before turning to Y/N. “And you, my dear, are going to sing.”

“Tony, maybe you could at least pretend to phrase it as a question?” Pepper scolded, eyeing the woman in question apologetically.

“Sorry. Will you sing at my party?” He grinned, knowing Y/N would say yes since Tony probably already told everyone she would be performing.

“Tony, you’re a menace.” She eyed him before nodding.

“I am, and you’re wonderful!” He exclaimed. “I happen to know you’ve been working on a new song. Care to sing it for Steve at the party?” He grinned.

“I don’t know how you know about that song, but fine. I think he would like it. Avengers only though! I’ll sing something else for all the guests.”

She rolled her eyes at the memory as she finished getting ready. Luckily she was ready early because Tony came running into the room in a panic.

“He’s here!” Tony’s smile widened as he thought about the nights events. “Let’s go!” He practically pulled her from the room, far too eager to share news that wasn’t his.

Tony had Y/N set up on stage right in time for Bucky and Steve to arrive. She sat behind a piano, ready and waiting for Tony’s cue.

As the guests of honor entered the main ballroom, Tony stepped up to the microphone. Steve stared at Y/N with questioning eyes while ignoring Tony’s speech. She smiled lightly, shaking her head at Tony in an effort to explain.

Steve laughed to himself, wishing for nothing more than to hold her after a long 5 months away.

“Give it up for Y/N L/N!” Tony’s introduction came to a close, signaling for her to start playing. It really was over the top considering he was only introducing her to the people who have become family to her, but she let him do his thing.

“Thanks, Tony.” She smiled fondly at Steve before introducing the song. “I wrote this song for someone special. As you all know, my parents died in a car accident a few years ago. Don’t worry, the song’s not that sad.” She earned a few laughs from her friends before she continued. “Ever since I was little, I wanted a love like theirs. It seemed so magical. Well, I found that love.” She smiled at Steve again.

“This one is called Like My Father.” With the name of the song announce, she started singing. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

I wanna come home to roses

Today had been the day from hell for Y/N. First, she woke up late due to accidentally setting her alarm for 6 pm instead of 6 am. She rushed to get out of the tower on time, only for the subway line she was supposed to take to be closed for repairs, making rushing a complete waste since she was going to be late anyway.

In her haste to leave on time, she forwent breakfast which only made her more irritable. By the time she made it to the studio, she had missed her morning meeting and had to play catchup.

The day only got worse from there. Something went wrong with every song she was meant to work on. Sometimes it was a small thing, like a guitar being out of tune. Other times, the song just didn’t feel right. No matter how many different ideas she tried to work on, she just kept running in circles.

By lunch, she was ready to give up and just go home. Unfortunately, her label was having a meeting to discuss progress for the next album’s lead single. So instead, she tried to cheer herself up with her favorite lunch. Just when she was sitting down to eat, someone bumped into her and spilled the entire meal onto the floor.

Suffice to say, by the end of the day, she was ready to collapse into her boyfriend’s arms and sleep the weekend away. However, her boyfriend was currently on a mission out saving the world, so not even he would be able to lift her spirits this time.

She trudged down the hall toward their shared apartment, eager to take a shower and lay down. It wouldn’t be as comforting without Steve, but it was still better than nothing. Finally reaching the door, she turned the key and shoved her way inside. Instantly, she stopped in her tracks.

The scent of tomato sauce filled the air. The soft sounds of Steve’s old music floated through the air, further adding to the welcoming atmosphere. She stood frozen, eyes filling with tears when Steve noticed her. He smiled, too far away to notice the tears, before turning around to get something from the counter. He held whatever it was in both hands behind his back as he walked up to her, a frown slowly forming as he noticed her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, hands instantly moving around his body to hold her only to be impaired by a beautiful bouquet of white and peach colored roses. Her tears fell despite her smile. She eagerly took the flowers, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” She took a few deep breaths, calming herself before leaning back to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve replied easily. “Do you want to talk about it?” Despite not knowing exactly what happened, Steve could tell she had a bad day.

She shook her head, her small smile growing as she inhaled the scent of the roses. “No, I just want to be with you.” She leaned further into the embrace, relishing in the comfort Steve always provided.

“That can be arranged.” Steve smiled, carrying her to the couch to eat.

And dirty little notes on post-its

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Steve left for his mission and Y/N was still finding his notes around their shared apartment. Every time she added a newly found note to the box, she read through all the previous notes as well. It never failed to cheer her up.

Most of them were simple comments about how much he loved her. Little sayings like “I love you to the moon and back” or “My love for you is as endless as space.” Despite the cheesiness, she couldn’t help but smile with each new note found.

But this newest note was… different. The 21 words scrawled on a bright blue post-it had her flushing instantly.

“I miss the way you feel pressed up against me, can’t wait to come home and pin you against the wall”

Suffice to say, Steve couldn’t come home soon enough.

And when my hair starts turning gray, he’ll say I’m like a fine wine better with age.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was flat as she emerged from their shared bedroom dressed for another one of Tony’s galas. Steve turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“What? You look amazing.” He smirked when she blushed.

“Steve. I just found a gray hair.” She pouted, holding the offending piece of hair between her thumb and pointer. “Is this what it feels like to be old?”

“You’re not old.” He chuckled at her dramatics. “And even when all of your hair is gray, I’ll love you even more. Like cheese…” He paused, trying to think of a better comparison. “And wine, you just get better with age.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled her eyes before moving to throw the hair away.

“I mean it. I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.” He smiled, a familiar fondness in his eyes. She moved closer to embrace him.

“I love you too.”

I guess I learned it from my parents, that true love starts with friendship.

She was nearly running down the street, doing her best to slow down the dog pulling her forward.

“Hudson! Stop!” She tried to speak calmly like her manager- the dog’s owner- instructed, but it was no use. Hudson would not stop running, no matter how hard she tried to make him. “Hudson!” She yelled his name again, surprised when he actually halted.

So surprised in fact, that she was still hurtling forwards, tripping over the now stationary animal. She braced herself for impact, eyes squeezing shut and hands sticking out to catch herself, only for the impact to never come. Instead, two warms hands caught her mid-fall.

Her eyes shot open, heart racing and breathing labored. The man who caught her helped her steady herself on her feet before letting go, smiling sheepishly.

“Thank you.” She breathed out, still taken aback by the turn of events.

“You’re welcome.” He replied kindly. “You’re dog’s pretty strong.” His grimace at his own awkwardness went unnoticed by her as she looked at the dog in question.

“My friends’ dog actually. I’m dog sitting this week.” She smiled, relieved to shift the topic of conversation from her to the dog. “He normally listens really well, but I guess he really wanted to get to the park. I’m Y/N, and this here is Hudson.”

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Steve.” He shook her hand, blushing slightly from the contact. Before she could reply, Hudson leaped at a squirrel, pulling her off balance again. Steve reached out to steady her again.

“Here, let me help.” He shifted the leash from her hand to his own, having a much easier time resisting Hudson’s pulling.

“Thank you… again.” She smiled.

The two walked around the park with Hudson every day that week, becoming fast friends. She wasn’t offended when he didn’t recognize her as one of the biggest names in music, just as he wasn’t offended it took three walks for her to realize he was that Steve Rogers.

They understood each other, despite the wild differences in occupation. Steve could easily relate to Y/N’s aversion to the media. Y/N knew what it felt like to have a team of people relying on you. The two just clicked, and thus a beautiful friendship was formed.

A kiss on the forehead. A date night.

“Hey Steve.” She greeted him warmly when they met up for their weekly coffee. He smiled, but didn’t verbally respond.

The two got their coffee, sitting at a table hidden towards the back. Steve’s replies were short, as if he was thinking of something else during their conversation. By the fifth comment of hers that he merely nodded his head or hummed in response too, Y/N decided to address it. “Are you okay?”

“Go out with me.” He replied quickly, eyes going wide when he realized what he said. Her own eyes widened in response, taken by surprise. “Sorry! I just, I mean- let me start over.” He pleaded, relief filling him when she nodded.

“We’ve been friends for a while now…” She nodded along, eyes still wide. “But, I want more. Let me take you to dinner. And not like we’ve been doing. Let me take you on a date?” He smiled nervously, hands fidgeting with the lid of his coffee cup.

“I’d like that.” She replied simply, unable to form a more complicated sentence due to the butterflies in her stomach.

“Yeah?” He released his breath, unaware he had been holding it. When she nodded, a wide smile appeared on his face. “Good. I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night.”

“You mean I have to wait?” She pouted playfully as they both stood up to leave. He laughed, moving his arm around her shoulders to guide her out of the cafe.

“Just until tomorrow.” He smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before helping her into her car.

“Tomorrow then.” She smiled. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Fake an apology after a fight

“Y/N?” Steve questioned as he entered their apartment. He looked around, unsurprised to see her covered in blankets on the couch. “I’m sorry.” He tried for a small smile, knowing it was of no real use.

“No you’re not.” She pouted, rolling her eyes. “But I forgive you anyway.” She gestured for him to join her on the couch. He jumped at the chance, quickly moving to hold her close to him.

“I am sorry we fought.” He spoke up after a few minutes, still trying to clear the air.

“Me too. It was stupid.” She shook her head, cuddling closer to him. “I just don’t understand why you like it.” She made a face, grimacing at just the thought.

“It’s good! Pizza has really taken on a whole new life since the 30s.” Steve quipped, smiling when you laughed.

“That doesn’t mean pineapple is an okay topping.” She could fell herself getting worked up again, but ultimately the two burst into a fit of giggles. What a stupid fight.

I wanna road trip in the summers

“Steve! You were supposed to turn there!” Y/N laughed as Steve grumbled about the GPS and his preference for maps. “This is why you should’ve let me drive.”

“Nope, because then I couldn’t surprise you.” He smirked, briefly looking at her in the passenger seat.

“What surprise?” She smiled fondly, knowing he wouldn’t tell her.

“You’ll see. Now turn off the GPS, we’re not actually going home.”

Steve drove for the next few hours until the two arrived at a small house just off the beach in Maine. He pulled into the driveway, turning to find Y/N asleep with her head pressed against the window.

“Y/N, we’re here.” He smiled at her groggy state, laughing when her eyes lit up.

“Are we in Maine?” Her eyes filled with tears, a combination of nostalgia, Steve’s surprise, and residual sleepiness the cause.

“We are. As close as I could find to where you used to come when you were little.” He responded, a shy smile on his face. Despite how long they’d been together, Steve was always nervous about surprising her. “I talked to your manager, and you’ve got the weekend off. We’re going to just relax on the beach for three days.”

“It’s perfect.” She gave him a watery smile, pulling him from the back of his neck until her lips met his. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just-“ Y/N cut him off with another kiss. It was passionate and heated despite the limited area for movement in the car.

“I love you.” She breathed out the words quickly, but meant it with her whole being. “I love you so much. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Tears still burned in her eyes, but the overwhelming happiness she felt made it worth it.

Steve looked shocked at her proclamation, but quickly recovered. “I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” Y/N knew exactly what he meant with those words, and it filled her with so much happiness she thought she might combust. He kissed her again, and again, and again.

They shared a few more quick pecks before finally getting out of the car.

I wanna make fun of each other

Meeting Steve’s friends was nerve wracking for a multitude of reasons.

Steve was the only person Y/N had outside of her career. All of her friends were somehow tied to her music, except Steve. Her parents died a few years ago, and she didn’t have any other family. If things went poorly with Steve’s friends, would he leave too?

Plus, all of his friends are superheroes. That’s an intimidating group of people to meet even if you aren’t trying to win them over so you can keep dating their friend.

“Just relax, they’re going to love you.” Steve whispered into her ear as the two rode the elevator up to the main residential floor. Steve did what he could to keep the event simple. It was just drinks with his friends, who happened to be Avengers.

“If you say so.” She smiled nervously, laughing to herself. Before Steve could reply with more words of encouragement, the elevator doors were opening. Steve lead her down the hall to a room that resembled a lounge in a fancy hotel. Bars lined two of the walls, a mixture of blue and white furniture sprinkled throughout the room.

“Ahh, here they are!” Tony Stark quickly rose from his seat, ready to meet the woman stealing away all of the Captain’s time.

“Tony, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Tony Stark, I know.” She quipped. In her stress to meet all of Steve’s friends, she forgot to mention that she had already met the billionaire. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” Steve questioned a the same time Tony recognized you. His jaw dropped as he turned back to Steve.

“We met at a fundraiser a few years ago-“ Tony jumped in before you could finish the explanation.

“You’re dating Y/N L/N? The Y/N L/N? Famous singer-songwriter, been topping the charts for years, Y/N L/N?” He balked, eyes rapidly flicking between Steve and Y/N.

“Um… yes?” Steve questioned Tony’s reaction, unsure why he was so surprised. “I told you her name already…” He shook his head, waiting for the teasing he knew was incoming.

“You didn’t mention it was actually her! I just thought it was someone with the same name!” Tony nearly yelled, still thrown off by the surprise.

“What’s going on over here?” Natasha walked up to the trio, one eyebrow lifted at all the noise.

“Y/N L/N!” Tony gestured to her. She nervously waved to Natasha, sticking her hand out in greeting.

“Nice to meet you.” She mumbled, one hand still holding Steve’s in a death grip.

“You too, I’m Natasha.” The two women shook hands, giving Tony time to finally find his words.

“I have to know, did Capsicle recognize you when you met?” Tony lead everyone back to the couches, foregoing the rest of the introductions to start pestering you with questions.

“I think he’s a bit outside of my target audience age wise. I don’t hold it against him.” Y/N replied, laughing when Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh snap, she just called you old.” Sam chimed in, reaching out a hand to introduce himself. “Sam Wilson.”

You smiled at him, introducing yourself as you shook his hand.

“Here’s the real question. Did you recognize him?” Bucky questioned, already knowing the answer. Steve introduced Y/N to Bucky early on in their friendship when Bucky followed him to one of their weekly coffee dates.

“Bucky, you already know the answer to that.” Y/N deadpanned, not eager to share her lack of knowledge on world events. Steve cut in to answer before Bucky could reply.

“She did not. Told me the name sounded so familiar, but she couldn’t place it.” Steve laughed as he teased you.

“You make me sound so stupid! I knew who Captain America was, I just didn’t realize it was you.” She huffed, annoyed with how quickly the tables turned.

Steve changed the topic by moving to introduce her to the rest of the avengers in attendance; Wanda, Vision, Thor, Clint, Bruce, and Peter.

Y/N continued to share stories with the group, laughing and joking at both her and Steve’s expense. Steve smiled fondly as he watched her interact with his friends, getting along just as well as he knew she would.

I wanna rock out to Billy Joel

“Stupid. All of these ideas are stupid. How am I supposed to put out another album when I can’t even write one decent song.” Y/N huffed to herself, unaware of Steve’s presence in the room.

He moved silently through the room as she continued writing down and crossing out ideas. Suddenly, the sound of Billy Joel’s We Didn’t Start the Fire filled the room.

“Steve?” She jumped at the noise, smiling when she found him next to the record player. “Billy Joel?’ She questioned.

“You played me this song after a bad mission. Told me to think about it whenever I needed a reminder that the world’s problems aren’t my fault. Thought it might help.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“I love you.” She got up from the couch, eager to pull him into a bone crushing hug.

“I love you too.” He returned her hug, careful not to actually crush her bones.

The two of them spent the next few hours playing Billy Joel, dancing and singing around the apartment.

And flip our kids off when they call us old

“Okay, grandpa.” Sam chuckled.

“Hey! I’m the only one allowed to make fun of how old he is.” Y/N playfully glared at Sam, enjoying their newfound friendship. “Plus, he’s younger than Bucky.”

“Rude.” Bucky called from the other couch, mostly ignoring Sam and Y/N’s bickering. It was a bit weird for him to hear someone else yelling at Sam, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

“Everyone calls him old.” Sam narrowed his eyes, confusion playing across his face.

“Yeah, but when it’s not me I have to defend him. Like when Pepper defends Tony from Morgan.” She easily compared her and Steve’s relationship to the couple, not realizing the weight of the moment.

“You see your relationship like Tony and Pepper?” Bucky questioned, now completely focused on Y/N.

She shrugged casually, unaware of the tension she created. “I mean, yeah. I think that’s where we headed.” She would be the first to admit she loved Steve more than she’s ever loved a boyfriend before. She likes to think Steve feels the same. “Why do you ask?”

Bucky shook his head, trying his best to seem casual. “Just curious is all.” He waited a few minutes before leaving, allowing Sam and Y/N to start up their conversation again. As soon as he was out of the room, he asked Friday for Steve’s location.

He had news to report.

He’ll accidentally burn our dinner

“Honey, I’m home!” Y/N called as she walked through the door. She was in a surprisingly good mood after a mediocre day.

“You seem happy.” Steve greeted as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. He pulled her close, kissing her before resting his chin on top of her head.

“I am happy. You’re here, what’s there to be mad about?” She squeezed him tighter, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around her.

“You make me happy too.” He pulled her onto the couch, eagerly kissing her after the day apart. He had returned from a mission just before she left for work, and seeing each other in passing was not enough.

“I missed you.” He mumbled against her mouth.

“I missed you too- is something burning?” She leaned away from him, sniffing the air.

“Shit!” He jumped from the couch, running into the kitchen as you laughed at his antics.

“Steve, language!” She called out in mock shock, laughing harder as he whined about burnt pizza.

And let me be the Scrabble winner

“Steve, sucks at Scrabble? Since when?” Wanda questioned as she ate brunch with Y/N and Nat.

“Um, always?” Y/N replied as if it was obvious.

“I have never seen Steve lose a game of Scrabble.” Nat chimed in, smirking as if she already knew what was going on (and lets face it, she probably did).

“Well, I always beat him.” She shrugged. Wanda smirked, clearly forming a plan.

“Well, you’ll just have to play Scrabble tonight and Nat and I will check if he can play better words or not!” Nat nodded along having seen this plan coming.

“Fine.” Y/N agreed, knowing there was no way of talking them out of this.

-

“Steve! Let’s play Scrabble!” Y/N smiled knowing Steve would give her anything she asked for. He walked into the living room with the box, a grin on his face.

The two of them set up the game and drew letters, immediately jumping into the game. After a few turns, Y/N texted Nat and Wanda to come into the living room to enact their plan. She watched from the corner of her eye as the two women watched Steve rearrange his letters.

When he played CAT for 7 points, Wanda gasped. Steve jumped slightly, turning around to investigate the noise.

“Oh my god.” Y/N’s jaw dropped as she realized Steve’s been letting her win.

“He was all set to play ADEQUATE, for probably a billion points, and he played CAT instead!” Wanda pointed accusingly at Steve while Nat just grinned.

“You’ve been letting me win this whole time?” Y/N threw a pillow at him, upset with the confirmation.

“Not every time! Sometimes I have bad letters.” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “You just look so happy when you win.”

A small smile took over Y/N’s frown. How could she be annoyed when he was just trying to make her happy.

“I love you.” She rolled her eyes at his puppy dog look. “But don’t go easy on me this time!”

“I love you too.” Steve smirked knowingly and suddenly Y/N was rethinking everything.

And when my body changes shapes, he’ll say ‘oh my god you look hot today’

“I look fat.” Y/N huffed as she plopped down on the couch, still trying to find a dress to wear out with Steve tonight.

“You’re beautiful.” Steve commented from the kitchen, causing her to shriek.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet!” She placed her hand on her heart, feeling the rapid beating from Steve scaring her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But you do look beautiful.” He smirked as he walked closer, easily lifting her from the couch. “You look hot everyday.”

He kissed her passionately to convey just how much he believed what he was saying.

I need a man who’s patient and kind

“Steve, I need a few more minutes!” She called as she ran into their bedroom from the office. The two of them were meant to be leaving for dinner 45 minutes ago, but Y/N’s manager forced her into a last minute meeting with a potential collaborator.

“That’s fine.” He called back, a smile on his face. “Take your time, love.”

“How are you so patient.” Y/N huffed as she quickly changed clothes, annoyed with herself for delaying their plans.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her to him. “It happens. I’ve missed dates for mission before.”

“Yeah, but that’s important.” Y/N replied, leaning into his embrace.

“So is your work.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

“Not so important it couldn’t wait a day.” She closed her eyes, taking a moment to just breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve questioned, genuinely confused.

“For being so kind and understanding. For never making me feel like my job is less important than yours, even though it totally is. For being you.” She replied, easily listing things she’s thankful for.

“Thank you for being you.” He replied casually, still holding her to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled before wiggling from his arms to finish getting ready.

Gets out of the car and holds the door

“I’m finally ready. Let’s go!” Y/N called, fully letting go of her annoyance at her manager for delaying her dinner plans.

“Perfect.” Steve grabbed his keys before turning to look at her. He sucked in a breath, eyes slowing gazing over her body. “You’re perfect.”

She blushed, kissing him on the cheek in response. Steve lead her to the car, opening the door for her, pressing a kiss to her lips before jogging around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?” She questioned, eager to finally be able to focus on him.

“Dinner.” He replied, a cheeky grin forming.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She deadpanned, smiling as he laughed.

They discussed anything and everything they could think of as Steve drove to the restaurant, topics ranging from new songs they both liked to what a T-Rex would have for breakfast if it could cook like a person.

Eventually, the car pulled to a stop outside of a small, family owned Italian place. The lights were on, but there was nobody seated at any of the tables.

“Are you sure they’re open?” Y/N questioned, confused by his smile.

“They’re open… just for us.” He smiled shyly. “I wanted you to have a peaceful dinner, so Tony helped me find a place I could book for us for the night. No Y/N L/N or Captain America fans to interrupt.”

“Steve…” She trailed off, unable to form words. She hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet and she was speechless. He walked back around the car, opening the door and guiding her inside. She let him lead her all the way through the building until they reached the outdoor seating.

A string of tapered lightbulbs was strung across the patio, lighting up a single table in the middle. A few candles littered the area, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him before sitting down. Before she could say anything else, a familiar face greeted her.

“My name is Sam, and I’ll be serving you this evening. Can I get you started with something to drink?” Sam smiled at your shocked expression.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” She laughed, confused and overwhelmed with joy.

“I told you, nobody to interrupt us tonight.” Steve smiled, glaring at Sam for playing around. “Sam, I already told you what to bring out.”

“Couldn’t resist.” Sam winked, quickly returning with the drinks Steve requested. Y/N and Steve thanked him before returning to their conversation.

“You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.” Y/N spoke softly, still blown away by the effort and planning Steve must have put into this.

“I know. But I wanted to. You deserve it.” He smiled, taking her hadn’t across the table. “Now, I’ll bet you’re hungry since we were supposed to eat an hour ago.” As if on cue, Sam returned with Bucky, both carrying plates of food. “Let’s eat.”

The two of them continued their conversation from the car as they ate, topics again roaming all over the place. Before she knew it, Y/N had finished eating and Sam was back with dessert.

She looked down at the peach cobbler, laughing to herself. “You know me so well.” She smiled, grinning even more when he offered to share his chocolate cake. “The best of both worlds.”

When she finished eating and looked back up at Steve he was missing from his spot across the table. Instead of sitting in his chair, he was kneeling on the patio beside the table, a velvet box in his hand.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Suddenly everything made sense. The lack of rushing, the completely private restaurant, not even having servers in the building. He wanted this to be a private moment.

“Y/N, the day I met you changed my life. I’ll have to thank Hudson for dragging you into the park that day, because I’ve never met anyone as special as you. Every moment with you is like a gift, and I want to spend the rest of my days experiencing life with you. Will you marry me?”

She nodded for a few seconds before finally finding her voice. “Yes.” It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough for Steve to delicately place the ring on her finger. “I love you so much.” She smiled, throwing herself into his arms the second he stood up.

“I love you too.” He replied, framing her face with his hands before kissing her.

I wanna slow dance in the living room like we’re 18 at senior prom

The ride home from dinner was filled with hand holding, giddy squeals, and hundreds of “I love you’s” from both Steve and Y/N. They eagerly ran back to their apartment, giggling like teenagers, high on love.

Steve quickly pulled her into the living room, kissing her over and over. She reciprocated, eager to share her happiness.

“Steve?” She questioned between kisses, waiting for him to hum in response. “Will you dance with me?” She smiled at him. Surprisingly, the two had never really danced together before. The only opportunity would have been at one of Tony’s parties, but they’re always so busy mingling with everyone.

“I’d love to.” He replied, that same fond smile on his face that she’d grown to love more than anything. She clapped, running over to the record player. She chose the first love song she could find, Cheek to Cheek by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

As the music played, the two swayed together, feeling more in love than ever before. Steve quietly sung the words in her ear, expressing all the raw emotion he’d been feeling since she said yes.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.” Y/N joined him, singing along to convey her own happiness as well.

“And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”

They danced around the living room for a few songs, letting the record play through. It wasn’t until the music stopped that they even realized the song changed, too lost in the feeling of being together.

And grow old with someone who makes me feel young

I need a man who loves me like, my father loves my mom

“We’re getting married tomorrow.” Y/N floated through the halls, humming Cheek to Cheek again. After dancing to it the night of their engagement, the couple decided it would be their first dance song. Steve walked up behind her, picking her up and spinning around until they reached the kitchen.

“We are.” He replied, just as elated as her. She giggled playfully, smiling wider than ever before. She was just about to say something when Nat and Wanda bust into the room.

“C’mon. It’s time to go!” Wanda called, gathering Y/N’s belongings.

“Where?” The woman questioned, still wrapping in Steve’s arms.

“You’re getting married tomorrow. It’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding.” Wanda spoke as if it was obvious.

“Nat?” Y/N questioned, hoping someone would understand it was just a superstition. Nat just shrugged, helping Wanda as she pulled you out of the room.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steve called after her, a smile on his lips as he thought about seeing you again.

-

Standing at the altar, looking into Steve’s eyes, everything she prepared to say dissolved from her mind. She got lost in his blue eyes, listening to him recite his vows. All the love she felt exploded in one quick statement.

“You make me feel young.” She blurted out the words without thinking.

“Is that another old man joke?” He crinkled his eyebrows, confused by the exclamation. The onlookers chuckled.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all.” She laughed, burying her face in his chest. “I just mean, we’re grown adults.” He nodded, still confused. “But when I’m with you, I feel like a kid again. Like all my problems go away and I can just be in love with you. Like my parents were.” Tears formed in her eyes as she thought about the gravity of her statement.

Steve knew how much her parents love influenced her life. She had multiple songs inspired by their relationship and happiness.

“Oh, sweetheart. You make me feel young too. Like how I should have felt as a kid.” He decided against further explanation, not wanting to weigh down the ceremony with talk of war and his sickly youth.

“I just, I never thought I’d actually find a love like theirs, despite how much I wanted to. I think they would’ve loved you.” Steve wiped her tears as they rolled down her cheeks. He pressed his forehead to hers just feeling the need to be close.

“My ma would’ve loved you too.” He replied, his own throat getting tight. They cried as they finally said “I do”, no place they’d rather be.

And if he lives up to my father, maybe he can teach our daughter

Y/N rose from the piano as she sang the last line, exposing her growing belly to the group of Avengers, but more specifically to Steve.

What it takes to love a queen, she should know she’s royalty.

Everyone cheered for her performance, but her eyes were only on Steve’s. His jaw hung open, tears pooling in his eyes. She made her way to him, everyone moving out of her way.

As soon as she reached Steve, he pulled her into a gentle hug, eagerly kissing her.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, holding her close.

“I love you too.” She replied, just as emotional as he was.

“Are you really pregnant?” He leaned back, chuckling at the “duh” look on her face. She wiped his tears as they fell.

“I found out just after you left.” She smiled, leaning into him as he lowered his forehead to hers.

“We’re going to have a daughter.” He sounded breathless, overwhelmed with the news.

“I would’ve told you in private, but Tony insisted on having this party.” She laughed when he rolled his eyes at Tony’s antics.

“You wrote me a song.” He smiled, still holding her close.

“Oh, baby. I’ve written you dozens of songs.” She laughed when he leaned back in confusion. “They’re not all good. I wanted to finish the album before I played it for you. This was the last song.” She smiled, still overwhelmingly in love with the man in front of her.

“I love you. So much.” They spoke at the same time, swaying together as Tony invited all the remaining guests into the ballroom. They missed the song, but it was clear to everyone the room how much the two loved each other.

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

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@sebastnstn

marvel taglist:

@leyannrae

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@justreadingficsdontmindme

[starshipsofstarlord]

Fame With No Shame | Part Three

A/N; I think at most there will be one more part to this series, and that will be the reveal of Luke and the readers relationship to the public. Thankyou for all of the requests for this series, please enjoy xx

Summary; in the midst of an interview, there is talk of (Y/N) dating a member. The interviewer is keen to find who is the lucky gentleman within their ranks, but can Luke remain steady though the enquiries about his girl?

Brushing his hands down his black clothed legs, Luke sat upon the seat, eyes interpreting his composure. His face was slightly flushed, aware that his hair was a bouquet of messy curls, the state of his redress had not gone unnoticed by the hostess nor his curious band members. All were wondering of whom he had hassled sexually with before this set, but nothing was mentioned, at least not yet.

A small part of him wanted to let the world know of his relationship status, and more importantly, whom he was entangled with. But it would all be released in due time, he would just have to remain both vigilant of letting anything slip and patient. The rumours could manage to infuriate and humour him all at once, so many fans had claimed to know the identity of the woman in his life.

There were many suspicions, although they were only proven by the hope and dedication of all kinds of people on sites such as tumblr and wattpad, that his lover that was concealed to their eyes was not a lady at all. It was perceived that it was a bandmate; a dear friend of his, that he was sleeping and taking midnight strolls with.

That of course was not the truth, the shipping had been dragging on for years, he sometimes wished that the guesses could be correct all by their own. (Y/N) however was amused by how much it infuriated him, and all of his frustrations would dissipate at the sound of her glorious laugh, and in the end, all that was left was for him to join in and relax.

Things between them were certainly going good, to say the least. He had never felt so elated to see someone pour themselves a mug of coffee, or tie their shoelaces. It wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been difficult for him to admit the facts – he was in love. If there was any evidence that they existed, he was sure that he had found his soulmate.

She understood not only his emotions, but his springs of motivation, the ideas that would creep in the middle of the night or whilst he was in the bathroom for songs. His process was normal to her, because she experienced the same waves of inspiration, the urge to write what flowed to mind and execute lyrics until they were sure enough ready and sounded right to be released to the rest of the world.

And together, that was like the universe had combined the two creators for a reason, to make a beautiful sound, an eternal symphony that would play on forever and a day. If people knew about them, it could disturb the state of their peace, the security that they found within their relationship. And that would be the most tragic and morbid interference that either of them could ever experience.

Hate online was strong, and (Y/N) suspected that neither of them were prepared to take the mixed responses to their newfound and blooming romance. Each of them individually received the expressions of resenting opinions, through messages, through posts, through the loop of the internet. It was never ending, the trolls were headstrong and stubborn, they didn’t want to be stopped, and any reply that they got in turn only made their day, encouraging them to cackle away at the fact that they drew a celebrity’s attention and time away from more important matters.

“And we’re live.” The hostess of the radio show confirmed, settling more comfortably into her plush, swivel seat, as she set her digging eyes into the men that were seated around the platform of a small, recorded station. “My name is Heidi, and we are here on HotRadio, with the one, the only, Five Seconds of Summer.”

Luke adjusted his headset, leaning closer to the microphone so that he was close enough to allow his reviews and answers be heard better than when he was reclined back, awaiting the start of the recording. “So now tell me boys, how was it working with (Y/N) (L/N) for your new single, Flashes.” He gulped at the mention of her name, this wasn’t the best situation, considering that he could accidentally allow some classified information slip, and spiral through the channels of the web.

“She was amazing!” Michael blazed in with his initial impression of her, a jolly grin spread across his lips and chin. “We’ve been fans of her work for so long, it was a dream to finally work with her.” His hands waved as he spoke, confirming his excitement, although working with (Y/N) had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Ashton bobbed his head, agreeing with his friend. “She is such a talented woman, we don’t do many collaborations singing with other people, but all four of us can definitely admit that she was such a great sport. She put so much work into the song, from lyrics and notes, there is a bright future ahead of her.”

The boys speaking of her made Luke want to purposely trip in his secrecy, they had no expense from gushing over her in such an idealistic way. However if he were to join in, he’d risk the exposure of the relationship. (Y/N) would be mad at him if he were to do that, so he rubbed his chin, feeling the growing prickles of stubble against his guitar picked hands.

Heidi smiled, they were eager to tell her their what appeared to be honest opinion. Yet there were still more details that she and the fans sought; answers. There were so many questions that were lingering, waiting to be spoken aloud in the recorded air.

“Was there any romance sparked between one of you and (Y/N)? How about you Calum?” It was typical, the enquiries about the song itself, that was supposed to be the main attention of this interview , it wasn’t about love, or feelings or whatever.

The thought that Calum, out of all of them, was the one considered to have gained her affections made Luke bite the inside of his cheek. Sure, Calum was single, but so was he, or at least was in the media’s eyes, and before he met (Y/N).

Luke’s frown was subtle, but it was still there! And everyone was oblivious to his disconcerting expression, all because the spotlight shined on the bassist, and the idea that he, out of all them, was privileged enough to have possibly shared a bed or the exchange of numbers in the static noise of the track.

Cal cleared his throat, ruffling the collar of his shirt, as though there were a reason for him to be fanning himself. “I mean, I’m not one to disclose that personal information.” That son of a bitch, Luke thought. From his response, something had obviously occurred, it was too bland for an answer.

That was until said boy began to laugh, spewing a humoured chuckle from his mouth whilst looking Luke dead in the eyes. The opposing man could only frown, his face hardened by the strong crease that went down the centre of it.

“Too bad she already has a boyfriend.” Michael chipped in, the guitarist’s attitude and statement not only making Luke paranoid, but also worried. What if he were not the only one that had grabbed the affections of (Y/N)?

 To begin with, it was clear that she was a bit of a player, and he had no problem with it, there was nothing wrong at all with a woman embracing her sexuality, it was even kind of sexy. But now they were partners in a relationship, and he could only trust her to be faithful.

Mikey’s words had not only drawn the intrigue of the lead singer, but also Heidi, who was leant forward in her seat, the dimples in her face prominent as she was presenting glee from hearing first time news, that was broadcasting on her radio channel.

“Are we permitted to be told who the lucky gentleman is?” How she hoped that the revelation would be unconcealed during this very interview, personally the woman was curious herself, but also the thought of the views skyrocketing encouraged her desperation for an answer.

Ash smirked, his eyes fluttering through his trio of bandmates, this was certainly entertaining for the rest of them also. Except one from the looks of it, Luke was gnawing on the outer portion of his lip. This was getting to him, just as they wanted. They knew, all along, what was occurring between Luke and the talented lady.

She had been a crush of his for a long time, and it seemed that she shared that affliction of interests, by being attracted to the natural blonde himself. It was noticeable to the boys from the first time that (Y/N) had entered the studio, their eyes navigated to the sight of the other, and their attention had to be drawn for the pair to look away from one another.

“One of us.” The eldest member replied, and Luke realised that in that moment, he had not been as discreet with the entire dating ordeal as he thought he had. They’d quickly realised that there were strings attached when Luke began to miss their nights out clubbing, and said he’d prefer to stay in and watch a movie – alone.

However, it was not a solitary activity, and binging television was not all that the promiscuous man was partaking in. The symptoms that brought light and revelation to Luke and (Y/N)’s involvement was matching marks of red suction bites around the circumferences of their throats, that eventually healed and could be concealed, however the boys could see right through their efforts.

And then there was the undebatable evidence of smeared lipstick scorned across their lips, a shade which consisted perfectly against one another, from nudes to striking reds, the pigment that streaked against Luke’s vigorously hungry lips consisted to be suspiciously similar to the original prominence that was lined and filled on (Y/N)’s own petalled mouth.

“Oh.” It appeared that the prying interviewer had not even put any efforts into hiding her pleasantly condemned grin, every detail that was slipping through the teeth of the men gave her some kind of joy.

She had somehow hit a gold mine with the answers that her pay check curiosity had earned her. There was so much going on behind the scenes that had never been revealed, and it seemed that all would be exposed, on HotRadio! “Are we granted to know which one of you is the lucky man?”

Luke shifted in his chair, gripping onto the arms with his painted nails. He was prepared to hit rock bottom in this deep deep ocean that he had swam himself into, yet a snicker left Cal, bringing all afraid and all too alert attention to him.

“I think not, we can keep a secret for a little longer.” His eyes paced slyly over to Luke, sending him an all knowing wink.

He sighed, he lived to fight another day.

[senseitoadstool]

Lyrical Enlightenment: The Family Madrigal (Encanto)

WARNING: ENCANTO SPOILERS WITHIN

As part of my Lyrical Enlightenment series, I've decided to take on the amazing songs from the latest Disney Studios movie, ENCANTO - a story about family and expectations. Heavy with tones of familial responsibilities and health both physical and mental, the songs reflect perfectly and accurately the depth of each character and the troubles of the family. I am including some story context prior to my lyrical analysis, which will contain a plethora of spoilers.

The introductory song is a way for us to not only meet the members of the family and their gifts, but also introduces a very important ingredient of the plot that passes almost unnoticed...

Without further ado, Let's Go!

Mirabel: This is our home, We’ve got every generation So full of music, A rhythm of its own design

This is my family,  A perfect constellation So many stars and everybody gets to shine

This concept will show up later as well - a constellation with many stars who shine. So we'll put a pin on this for later.

Whoa, but let’s be clear Abuela runs this show Whoa, she led us here So many years ago  Whoa, and every year, Our family blessings grow There’s just a lot you’ve simply got to know, so

Here is the first key point for the plot. Abuela runs this show. The matriarchy is set up from the very beginning - Abuela is the leader of the family, and whether they like it or not, what she says goes. She received the original miracle, and was designated as the guardian of the gift. She doesn't have a gift herself, other than ensuring the miracle lives on - and she takes this responsibility very seriously, vigilant about how the family blessings grow.

Welcome to the family Madrigal, The home of the family Madrigal (We’re on our way!)

Where all the people are fantastical and magical I’m part of the family Madrigal

This is where we get to know the family and their powers. She starts with the first generation, Abuela's children: Pepa, Bruno and Julieta.

My Tía Pepa, Her mood affects the weather When she’s unhappy,  Well, the temperature gets weird My Tío Bruno… Citizens: We don’t talk about Bruno!

Mirabel: They say he saw the future, One day, he disappeared (Oh!)

This is the first time we hear about Bruno, the family member nobody talks about (presumably by Abuela's orders, since she runs the show). Although I'm not Colombian, I do come from a Latin American background - and I can say with confidence that there's someone in every family that 'we don't talk about'. Most times it's someone who crossed the family in some way, represented a danger, or brought shame to the 'good name' of the family.

And that’s my mom Julieta, here’s her deal (Whoa!) The truth is, she can heal you with a meal (Whoa!) Her recipes are remedies for real If you’re impressed, imagine how I feel – Mom!

Here the relationship between Mirabel and her mother is clearly established. Seemingly, Mirabel has Julieta's attention more than any other members of her family.

Next, we get introduced to the men who married the sisters - men without 'miracle gifts' but provided the family with the ability to grow.

Welcome to the family Madrigal The home of the family Madrigal I know it sounds a bit fantastical and magical But I’m part of the Family Madrigal

Two guys fell in love with Family Madrigal And now they’re part of the Family Madrigal

So yeah, Tío Félix married Pepa, And my dad married Julieta That’s how Abuela became an Abuela Madrigal (Let’s go, let’s go)

And now, we hear from Abuela herself:

Abuela: We swear to always Help those around us And earn the miracle, That somehow found us

The town keeps growing, The world keeps turning, But work and dedication will keep the miracle burning And each new generation must keep the miracle burning

This is the specific segment I was talking about. These few lines give us exactly what Abuela's focus is. We SWEAR to always HELP all around us - to EARN the miracle. She is paying a debt she feels she has with those in the village because she was selected to receive this miracle gift. And how will she do it? With WORK and DEDICATION - and EACH NEW GENERATION must continue her legacy. Hence when the couples have children, the next generation now continues the legacy of preserving the magical miracle they were given. If you think about it, this is no different than a Doctor, a Lawyer, or a Military individual who have children so they can be Doctors, Lawyers, or join the Military to continue 'their legacy', regardless of what the child wants. This is a very traditional point of view that persists in some families even in these modern times, and is very much seen as a source of pride. In more than a few instances during this movie, we hear Abuela use the 'make your family proud' sentence, inculcating in the children of her household the expectation of making their family proud specifically by using the gifts they are given to help the community and continue to EARN the miracle.

Next, we get introduced to the 'cousins' - the children of Pepa and Julieta. There are three children for each of them.

Cousin Dolores can hear a pin drop Camilo shapeshifts, Antonio gets his gift today My older sisters – Isabela and Luisa One strong, one graceful Perfect in every way

Chorus: Isabela… Mirabel: …grows a flower, the town goes wild Chorus: Isabela… Mirabel: She’s a perfect golden child Chorus: Luisa, Luisa, Luisa, Luisa Mirabel: And Luisa’s super strong The beauty and the brawn do no wrong

In my view, Dolores represents that member of the family that is always paying attention to her surroundings and knows everything about everyone - yet on the same token, she's the one that is very tempted to share any secrets that fall onto her lap. She has a lot of information, and knows how to use it. Camilo represents that family member who is always trying to make friends with everyone. He's the clown, the prankster, and the social butterfly. He can be irritating and sarcastic sometimes, but he is so endearing that people tend to overlook those nasty traits because of his good side. And Antonio - as we find out later, is the animal lover in the bunch.

Isabela, as Julieta's eldest (and I'm willing to bet slightly older than Dolores), must be the perfect daughter, and the one who has to marry well to continue growing the family (which is also a traditional expectation in most Hispanic cultures). She is beautiful, graceful, polite, amiable, and the perfect hostess. Her marriage is the most important of the entire family, hence why eventually we learn about her Abuela-encouraged engagement to one of the best males in the village in Abuela's perspective.

That’s life in the Family Madrigal (Whoa…) Now you know the Family Madrigal (Whoa…) Where all the people are fantastical and magical (Whoa…) That’s who we are in the Family Madrigal (Adios!)

At this stage we proceed to learn that Mirabel is the only Madrigal without a gift. She is embarrassed and ashamed about this, feelings that mostly come from Abuela pushing her aside because, by not having a miracle-given gift, she is endangering the rest of the family. This message goes directly in contradiction to the 'make your family proud' that she was fed prior to realizing she wouldn't get a gift - but once she didn't, the treatment clearly changed. She tries to put a strong façade, but as we learn later, she is tired of feeling like a second class citizen in her own family.

Child: Whoa, what’s your gift? Mirabel: Ha! Well, I gotta go, the life of the Madrigal (Whoa…) But know you all know the Family Madrigal (Whoa…) I never meant this to get autobiographical (Whoa…) So just to review Family Madrigal Let’s go! (Mira-Mirabel)

It starts with Abuela, and then Tía Pepa – she handles the weather (Mira-Mirabel) My mom, Julieta, can make you feel better, with just one arepa (Mira-Mirabel) My dad Agustín – Well, he’s accident-prone but he means well (Mira-Mirabel) Hey, you said you wanna know what everyone does – I’ve got sisters and cousins and… (Mirabel)

One good detail to point out here is that Agustin is accident-prone, so his perfect match is with Julieta, who heals results of accidents with her cooking. Also, Pepa changes the weather with her temperament, and marries Felix - who is a very chill guy and balances her.

My primo, Camilo won’t stop until he makes you smile today (Mirabel) My Cousin Dolores can hear this whole chorus a mile away (Mirabel) Look, it’s Mr. Mariano, hey you can marry my sister if you wanna but between (Mirabel) …you and me she’s kind of a prima donna Yo, I’ve said too much and thank you but I really gotta go

My family’s amazing (Mirabel) And I’m in my family, so (Mirabel) Well…

Abuela: Mirabel!

Next installment will cover Mirabel's song, Waiting on a Miracle.

Sensei Toadstool.

[jawabear]

Hi~ could I request a Javi fic inspired by the song Take my breath away by Berlin? 🥺

Take my breath away (Javier Peña x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: thanks for the request Anon! I know you said you wanted it based on the song but I kind of based it on the scene in which the song plays in Top Gun...I hope that’s okay... this is more of a Frankie song to me, but I loved writing this for my love Javi. But I’m sorry if this kind of sucks? I really like it but I think it’s more to my personal taste... but I hope you enjoy it. I definitely recommend listening to the song whilst reading this, and maybe watching the scene too. But it’s not a requirement. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Fem!Reader, angry flirting, very slow sex, Javi being a little clueless about love and feelings, soft!javi, me trying to talk politics, time skips

Summary: The Calí case was to run differently, that was made clear to him. But something else is made clear to Javier as well.

-

Watching every motion in my foolish lover's game,

On this endless ocean finally lovers know no shame

Another day, another meeting. That’s all it was for Javier. But he didn’t expect much else. He didn’t expect the Cali case to be any different from the Escobar case. It now he was the one calling the shots, everything was a whole lot harder.

But he knew what meetings would entail. Him getting a talk from the ambassador. Generals giving zero shits for the safety of the DEA agents. And anyone else who was in their throwing in there opinions that meant jack shit to anyone else there. And she would be there.

The bane of Javier’s life.

She had been in his life since the Escobar case got going, but before Steve was sent down from Miami. He wasn’t sure what her job role was exactly. But she was in every meeting. In the background. Blending in and going unnoticed until she spoke. But Javi noticed her immediately. A radiant being. A beautiful woman. Who knew how to get shit done. And did it well.

Javier walked into the meeting room where it seemed everyone else had already been assembled, all waiting on him. All eyes were on him. He gave a curt nod and looked quickly around the room for a seat and glancing over the eyes that were on him. All except one pair.

There she sat. Writing something on her paper that probably had no relevance to anything and that no one would ever see. At first she didn’t care to acknowledge him. But he knew that she knew he was there.

Her eyes briefly looked up and met his.

Those eyes. Those damn eyes. They saw everything. They took everything in. She didn’t miss a single detail about anything or anyone. And he had fallen for those eyes. Those bright, big, beautiful eyes.

But it seemed as soon as they met his own, they were gone again, looking back down at her paper. Javi took the only seat that was available, the one that was right opposite her. Of course.

“Nice if you to join us, Agent Peña” Crosby said in a sarcastic tone.

“Sorry I’m late” Javier apologised, adjusting his sitting position as he opened the file in front of him.

The meeting got stated soon after that but it was nothing that Javier hadn’t already been told on his arrival back in Colombia. And besides, his attention was on something far more interesting. Or someone. But she paid no attention to him. She rarely ever did, save for the odd glance here and there. They had hardly ever spoke to each other. It seemed she much favoured Steve when he was there, that’s what he guess anyway. She much preferred to talk to him than Javi.

Javi knew that his feelings for her were ridiculous and one sided. She wouldn’t give him the time of day let alone the attention and affection he desperately wanted from her. She was firm, level headed, and strong willed. She never did anything spontaneous or unplanned. And he never seemed to have a place in her life. He didn’t have a place in her heart. At least, that’s what Javi believed.

“Ambassador” she said as she leaned forwards slightly to make her self visible to everyone. They all seemed a little surprised when she spoke up. Most likely because they had forgotten she was in there. “If I may sir?”

“Please” Crosby said gesturing for her to continue.

She nodded and glanced back to Javier whose eyes had barely left her for the duration of the meeting so far “I am aware, sir, that you have already made it clear to Agent Peña that the Cali case cannot be like the Escobar case. But I wanted to make it clear to both Agent Peña and everyone else present exactly what that means”

She paused for a moment and looked around the room for any sign of objection, but when she receive none, she continued again. “Calí had to be done differently. The Godfathers play by their own rules, yes, but they do have rules. And so do we. So we have to play by our rules too. We have to follow the rules of the Colombian government too. There is no way around that. No more unnecessary risks. We cannot work as freely and as uncontrolled and Agent Peña did in the Escobar case. It’s just not going to pass this time. And whilst they succeeded in capturing and killing Escobar, the extent of the damage left behind is immeasurable. It is best for the people of Colombia and the American government is we try to avoid that same future at all costs”

“Is this now just a dig at me, agent?” He laughed making her look at him.

“No. It isn’t. I’m simply stating that we can’t have a re-run of what you and agent Murphy did in Medellín. Too many lives were lost in the hunt for Escobar. Calí has to be done differently”

“It’s a drug war, (Y/N)” he spat “there is going to be a body count however it plays out”

“It’s the DEA’s job, Javier, to reduce that body count. Or to ensure there isn’t one at all. But from what I’ve heard, you had a personal hand in making the amount large” she retorted quickly, giving him a dark look from across the table.

“I think what she is trying to say,” Crosby spoke up, sensing the hostility between the two agents “is that we take no more unnecessary risks. We play things by the book. For the safety of everyone”

That pretty much wrapped up the meeting and Javier was far too pissed of to stay and shake the hands of those who thought so little of him. He made a quick escape and (Y/N) watch his every move.

But she was more polite than Javi was. No matter how bad a mood she was in, she always stayed to show respect to the others, even if often they didn’t deserve it. But once that was done, she followed in Javi’s footsteps out the door and trailing after him.

(Y/N) didn’t quite managed to catch up to him. She stood at the top of the embassy stairs as he swung open his car door. “Javier!” She called out to him. She knew he heard her, but he ignored her completely. He got in his car and it wasn’t long before he was driving off. “Fuck” she swore under her breath before marching to her own car to chase after him. He was going to listen to what she had to say, whether he liked it or not.

Turning and returning to some secret place inside,

Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say

“Javier” she called again getting out her car to meet him.

“You insult a guy and then follow him home?” He mocked.

“Javier, listen to me-“

“To you saying what? Have you got a list in your pocket of all the other ways you can slate me and my work? If you don’t like me (Y/N), just tell me. You’ve made it fucking obvious to everyone else!”

He went to walk past her by she took his arm in a surprisingly firm grasp and forced him to turn back and look at her. He could see the anger rising in her, she looked at him with serious yet soft eyes.

“Everything I said was true but there was more that I wanted to say. But I couldn’t say it back there. There were things I couldn’t admit back there. Like how I admired your bravery and dedication to this job. I couldn’t say that because everyone would see right through me. I didn’t want people to know the truth” she stated firmly as she looked between his eyes.

He let out a laugh and placed his hands on his hips “oh yeah? What truth?” He asked.

“That I’ve fallen for you” she said without skipping a beat.

For once in his life, Javier was speechless. He just stared at her, not knowing what to say. And she just stared right back, she wasn’t phased by her words at all. But what she was phased by was what he did next.

He walked towards her, grabbing her face in his hands and pressing his lips to her. She immediately kissed him back, he hands coming to rest on his hips. Their lips moved against each other perfectly. The cliche line that they were made for each other became apparent. And it was true.

Nothing felt more perfect.

My love, Take my breath away

She stood up against the wall beside his bed, his hands either side of her head but he stood at arms length away from her. Watching her with hungry eyes as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt revealing her black lace bra.

Javier hesitantly reached out his hand and trace along the fabric whilst she looked up at him through her lashes with wanting eyes. His hand slid up to her shoulder as he pressed his lips to hers again. His tongue came out to run across her bottom lip and she didn’t hesitate in opening her mouth for him to explore. As he did this, he pushed her shirt off her shoulder, it dropped to the floor and he wrapped his arms around her as she brought her hands up to rest of his bare chest.

“I’ve fallen for you too” he whispered. They were the first words he had uttered to her since she had said the same. She hummed against his lips and managed to slip her arms around his neck, lacing her fingers through his thick hair holding his lips against hers.

Carefully, Javi pulled her off the wall and laid her on the bed. He pulled his lips from her and looking into her eyes again. Slowly he lifted his hand and gently brushed a few stands of hair from her face. He then moved that hand down her body and slipped his fingers into her panties and stroked through her folds.

“Javi” she gasped before biting down on her bottom lip. His rough fingers found their way to her clit where he began rubbing soft circles over it making her moan quietly. Javi buried his face into her neck, licking and sucking at her soft skin. Her fingers wrapped around his strong biceps as she melted into his mattress and his sweet touch.

(Y/N) began rolling her hips, grinding against his fingers eager for more friction. Eager for his touch. He pulled his head from her neck and reattached his lips to hers, his tongue sliding back into her mouth, stroking over hers as he pushed down her panties and threw them across the room.

Their tongues still dancing together, her hands moved down his back to his jeans when she skilfully undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. His fingers were still rubbing at her clit making her let out breathy moans into his mouth. She sat up slightly so she could reach into his boxers and pull out his already hard length, teasing his head with her thumb making him instinctively thrust into her hand with a grunt making her smile.

He let out a low growl and pushed her down onto her back again before pushing his jeans and boxers further down his legs. He leaned back over her and slowly eased himself into her.

“Oh fuck” he gasped into the air. She hummed as he pushed further and further into her, her tongue sliding up the length of his neck before he looked back down at her. She looked up at him with a teasing look but that look was soon wiped of her face as he began to slowly thrust in and out of her. She hummed and flattened her hands on his broad back.

They both began filling his room with quiet and breathless moans of each other’s name. The gentle rustling of his bed sheets and quiet squeak of the bed too. The sound of his lips sucking at her neck and the sound of her fingers gliding up and down his back.

Javi had never been this slow and sensual with anyone. But he had never had a reason too. He didn’t need to work out his frustrations of his day, nor did he need to forget. No. He could enjoy it. He could feel it. Feel her. Hear her. Love her.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she rolled her head back, her back arching up so their chests were touching. She moaned from her throat as her nails dug into his back.

No words were needed for him to know he had hit a good spot inside her. Now words were needed for him to know she was already close to her end, but so was he. The slowness of the sex was driving them both crazy in the best possible way.

It just felt so good.

She whispered his name and he whispered hers. His thick fingers trailed down her body again, meeting her swollen clit and rubbing barely there circles on it, the light touches blew her mind, her nails dug further into his skin making him groan.

Javi looked down at her, loving the expression of pleasure on her face. He gently nipped at her chin making her smile “oh Javi” she whispered.

He only moaned in response as her walls began to pulse around him and she began to pant. His hips began to move a little fast and he pressed harder against her clit pulling cut little whimpers and whines from her.

It wasn’t long, then, before she was coming around him. Her breath almost stopping completely as her walls clamped down on him and her eyes were squeezed shut. He came quickly after that, shooting ropes of his hot come inside, resting his forehead against hers.

She was basically frozen in her state of pleasure, her body not moving or responding to him as he slowed his hips and pulled his fingers off her.

Javi pressed a loose kiss to her parted lips “breath for me baby” he whispered to her. Words he never expected to say to someone after sex. But nonetheless, he had to make sure she didn’t die on him. A deep breath fell from her lips fanning over his face “good girl” his hips came to a full stop and he slowly pulled out of her, letting her back ease back down onto his bed as he rolled off her.

Take my breath away

“I’m sorry” she whispered to him as she dragged her finger down the slope of his nose “I didn’t mean to make you angry. I know you did what you had to do for the good of the people... I said what I said because-“

He cut off her apology by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss which she returned, her hand moving to rest against his cheek.

“I get it” he muttered against her lips “you don’t need to apologise”

“But I do” she said quickly “you’re a great agent Javi. And I admire you. I want you to know how great and amazing I think you are...” she looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. Desperate for him to know the truth.

“I’m just doing my job (Y/N)” he ran his index finger down the navel between her breasts “but I should apologise to you. For that way I spoke to you”

“I deserved it...” she smiled “for what I said to you”

“I guess we’re even then” he chuckled.

“Hmm, I guess so” she gently pulled his head back down so that she could kiss him again.

Take my breath away

13/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade @harrys-stan (let me know if you want to be removed or added to the list)

[jeonsjiddies]

Certain Things (m) | myg

original photo by snowmari on picsart

summary- you were in love with min yoongi, because he was a good person. You never thought he’d feel the same. F2l

rating- explicit 18+

word count- 5869

pairing- yoongi x reader

genre- fluff, smut

Warnings - oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, daddy kink, slight rough sex

Title inspired by Certain Things by James Arthur. <3

You did not fall in love with Min Yoongi because he was the dreamiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. 

You did not fall in love with Min Yoongi because he was skilled in just about everything 

You did not fall in love with him because of the way his body moved when he danced, almost like telling a story. 

It wasn’t the way he remembered your coffee order or the way he stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating. It wasn’t the look of concern in his eyes when you had a rough day. It wasn’t the way he could (almost) always tell what you were thinking. 

No. 

You fell in love with Min Yoongi because he was a genuinely good person. The kind of person who made you want to be better too. 

The way he’d do good things, the way he’d help people, especially when he thought no one was watching. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times you’d sat at your window and watched Min Yoongi help an elderly woman carry her groceries up the stairs, or insisted on taking the single mother's trash to the dumpster as she wrangled her child in the other arm. The times he’d fix things the apartment complex neglected to get around to, not even leaving a note. He never asked for any glory. 

The only time Yoongi sought out recognition was with his music.. His kind words and actions often went unnoticed or unappreciated by others. Yoongi didn’t mind that no one noticed, except you did. You noticed everything he did. 

The day Yoongi moved in next door a year ago, you noticed his minty green hair and his contagious, gummy smile. You’d smiled back and welcomed him to the neighborhood, offering to help if he needed it. Yoongi had politely refused your offer, telling you he did not wish to bother you. Hours later when you showed up with freshly baked cookies, he did not refuse those. That was the beginning of your friendship with Yoongi. 

After that, you two were almost inseparable, you were in his apartment or he was in yours. You talked and laughed and watched movies and got to know each other. The few moments you didn’t spend at each other’s side, you found yourself watching Yoongi every chance you got. 

Just last week, you had perched yourself at your window and watched with a fond smile as your neighbor and now best friend comforted a little girl who’d approached him with tearful eyes and scuffed up knees. 

Yoongi looked around for her mother, the single mom with too much on her plate, and when he didn’t find her he scooped the small girl into his arms, and gently distracted her with stories of a princess  he once knew who fell off her bike too. The little girl snuggled into Yoongi’s chest as he walked around looking for her mother, telling her how the princess got a special band aid that made her booboo stop hurting immediately, like magic. 

The mother darted over to Yoongi, spewing out apologies and thank you’s. She’d only turned her back for a moment and her toddler had disappeared. Yoongi shook his head, telling her it was nothing to apologize about and that he always enjoyed the young girls company.  Min Yoongi was, in your opinion, a literal angel. 

You smiled fondly, walking away from the window and stirring the soup you'd begun cooking earlier in the evening.  You often shared your food with Yoongi, knowing that if you didn't, the stubborn idiot would exist on nothing but instant noodles and americano coffee. As you stirred the pot, you let your mind drift off with thoughts of Yoongi. He had texted you late the night before while he was struggling to compose lyrics for his new song.

He sent you voice clips of him rapping verses and asked your opinion on lines for the chorus, and you'd helped him get through his little slump until he was so in the zone he forgot to reply. You'd woken up this morning to an apology text and hugged your phone to your chest, reveling in how sweet he was and thinking it was just as good as a good morning text. You knew it was stupid to pretend these interactions with Yoongi were more than friendly, but sometimes you couldnt help yourself from getting lost in the idea of being his. 

You wanted so badly to wake up to good morning texts from him. You wanted the hugs to last longer. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted to kiss those shiny, plump lips. Feel those veiny hands on your skin. You wanted to stay with him always, every time you parted from him a part of you seemed to dim. It was as if Yoongi was the sun and you were the moon, his warmth and energy reflected off of you and fueled your own.

Your entire life didn't revolve around Yoongi, not in the least. You had other interests and friends and hobbies. But it seemed like lately, he had wiggled his way into your heart so deeply, like a budding rose, the roots of your love for him were ingrained inside of you. Lately he had taken up more and more room in your heart, occupied more and more of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking off the empty feeling inside your chest and scooped the soup into two bowls.

You made your way over to Yoongi's apartment and balanced the soup so that you could knock. Yoongi opened the door a few moments later, wearing only grey sweatpants. Your mouth went dry and your grip on the soup wobbled as you stared at his exposed chest. Yoongi reached out to steady your hands and took the bowls from you, setting them down on the coffee table by the couch.

''Sorry I just got out of the shower. Let me go put a shirt on.'' Yoongi blushed, scurrying down the hallway and leaving you speechless at the entry.

You collected yourself, slowly shutting the door behind you and grabbing two spoons from his kitchen before sitting down on the sofa. Yoongi reappeared, fully clothed. You weren't sure if you were thankful or disappointed.     

''This smells amazing!'' he praised. ''I was just about to make some instant noodles but this is so much better. Thank you!''

''How many times do I have to tell you that you can't survive on instant noodles and coffee?'' you rolled your eyes.

''I don't know how to cook.'' he shrugged.

''I have offered to teach you a million times.'' you threw back at him.

''But if I learned how to cook you wouldn't cook for me anymore.'' he pouted playfully , knocking his shoulder into yours. 

''Big baby.'' you muttered, not bothering to hide the smile on your face. ''What would you do without me?''

''Probably die.'' he laughed. ''You're my best friend, I kind of need you.''

''Awww, Yoongi!'' you hugged him.

''Yeah yeah.'' he laughed, wrapping an arm around you in return. ''Just don't go anywhere, okay?''

''I won't, I promise.'' you grinned. ''Who else is going to feed you?''

''My point exactly.'' he winked, spooning more soup into his mouth and closing his eyes happily. “Ugh. Marry me.” He joked.

“You wish.” You laughed, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

You wished. 

You chucked your coat off and threw it haphazardly on the coat rack then flopped onto the couch with a loud groan. You should have called in. You'd woken up late, your alarm didn't go off. You didn't have time to do your makeup if you wanted to shower, which you really needed to. So you'd gone to work looking like a troll, and things only spiraled downhill from there.  

Your boss had called you out in front of everyone at the staff meeting for being late to work, using you as an example for the new attendance point system. Snide remarks were tossed your way from various grumpy people which you attempted to take in stride. Then, in the breakroom you'd spilled coffee all down the front of your peach colored dress. 

You had texted Yoongi about your less than stellar morning and asked if he was having a better day. He talked you through your meltdown, trying to convince you that the universe wasn't out to get you  and the world wasn't cruel and unjust. He'd been the reason you made it through the work day, albeit by the skin of your teeth. Your whole body dragged on the way home and all you wanted was to see Yoongi's smile but he had promised a friend he'd go drinking with them. 

You flung yourself off the couch and changed into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. You put on your favorite avocado face mask and relaxed with a lavender candle burning on the coffee table. You'd taken about two deep breaths when you heard soft tapping on your front door.  You whined out loud and got up, padding over to the door and flinging it open.

The poor teenager standing at your door jumped in surprise, almost dropping the pizza he was holding. Eyes wide, he stepped back a bit. Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Sorry. Can I help you?” you asked as sweetly as you could, guilt flooding your chest.

“Large pizza for Y/N Y/L/N? ” he questioned nervously.

“But I didn't order any-” you began to explain before you were cut off.

“Sorry! Sorry I thought I'd be back in time!” Yoongi huffed, jogging up to you and the poor delivery kid. 

Yoongi took some cash out of his wallet and paid the young man before thanking him as he took the pizza and turned to you with a smile. He was also holding a white paper sack you couldn't identify and you shot him a quizzical look.

“Hey there Shrek.” he laughed at your bright green face mask which you had honestly forgotten about. 

You were thankful it hid your blush as you swatted at his arm in protest.

 “I thought you had plans.” you stated, ignoring his comment.

“I cancelled them.” he shrugged, moving past you to enter your apartment and set the pizza down on the coffee table.

“Why?” you asked, shutting the door and following him in.

“Sounded like you needed some cheering up.” Yoongi smiled, opening the paper bag and pulling out your favorite wine.

“Ugh, a man after my own heart.” you joked.

Yoongi just chuckled and uncorked the bottle, walking into your kitchen and pulling two wine glasses from the cabinet like he lived there. He poured you both a glass and sat next to you on the couch.

“I am fully aware that I am going to regret this decision, but I have decided that to cheer you up, we can watch whatever movie you want.” he told you.

Your eyes widened in excitement.

“Any movie I want?” you confirmed, “you won't complain?”

“One time only offer. Whatever movie you want.” he grinned at the childlike response.

“Harvard here we come!” you giggled, snatching up the remote and selecting Legally Blonde.

You glanced over at Yoongi, waiting for a snarky comment. He only gave you a pained smile. You snuggled into the couch with your wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, feeling content and happy. Yoongi had turned the worst day into one of the best, simply by being who he was: kind and thoughtful.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you said softly.

“No need to thank me. That's what friends are for.” he smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leaning in for a quick squeeze. 

Yoongi left his arm around your shoulder while you two watched the movie, and you had never been more comfortable than you were snuggled into Yoongi's side with your wine and pizza and strong leading female character centered movie. With Min Yoongi by your side, maybe the world wasn't so bad after all.

Today was Yoongi’s birthday. He’d gone to lunch with his family the day before and had planned to spend the day with you once he got off work. You looked over at your coffee table, grinning at his gift that you’d wrapped perfectly, even put a pretty bow on top. You’d baked him a cake, which was iced and ready for candles. You opened the drawer, but did not find candles. 

Cursing under your breath, you checked the time before rushing out the door and running over to the small shopping center across the street from your apartment complex. You gave a friendly wave to the cashier, a college aged girl who worked there three days a week. You grabbed candles and a lighter then made your way over, making small talk with her and asking about classes.

“Thank god finals are almost over. They’re killing me.” She whined as you swiped your card. 

“Hang in there, it’s almost over!” You encouraged her and she groaned but laughed.

You made your way back to your apartment complex, thinking about Yoongi and his face when he inevitably saw what you’d bought him. You didn’t notice the clouds turning an angry gray. You did notice however, when the rain immediately started pelting down, drenching you in seconds. You squealed, holding your shopping bag above your head and jogging towards your apartment. 

Suddenly, the rain stopped assaulting you, and you looked up to find Min Yoongi laughing as he held an umbrella over both of your heads. Despite his eyes being the darkest color you’d ever seen, they shone with kindness. 

“Yoongi.” You grinned in surprise, “you’re home early!”

“Yeah, they let me go early for my birthday.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Well let’s party!” You beamed up at him. 

The two of you ascended the staircase and made your way into your apartment. You shrugged off your soaked jacket and hung it up. Yoongi cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I-uh... your shirt.” He mumbled, apples of his cheeks dusted with a light pink flush. 

You looked down, cheeks burning as you realized your white t shirt was soaked through, revealing your lacy pink bra. You squeaked, arms darting out to cover your chest. You disappeared into your room, embarrassment flooding your face as you changed. Reappearing in front of Yoongi fully covered, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.” He comforted you with a hand on your shoulder. 

The skin there burned. When you didn’t say anything, Yoongi pulled you into a hug, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his warm chest. You let the warmth of his embrace comfort you for a moment before pulling away and putting the candles in his cake and lighting them before walking it over to him.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Yoongi! Happy birthday to you!” 

Yoongi’s gummy smile graced his lips before he closed his eyes and blew out the candles. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked, leaning in and wiggling your eyebrows. 

“If I tell you it won’t come true!” He chuckled.

You sighed dramatically with a smile and cut the cake into slices, handing him the biggest one. Yoongi took one bite and threw his head back with a groan. 

“This is delicious, Y/N. Thank you so much.” He praised. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you grabbed the neatly wrapped present from beside the couch, holding it out to him. 

“I told you not to buy me anything.” He glared jokingly at you. 

“Just open it.” You giggled. 

Yoongi took his time opening the gift, carefully peeling back the paper in an attempt to keep it whole and make less of a mess for you, thoughtful man that he was. He froze when he saw the box. 

“You didn’t.” He gasped.

Your giddy laughter was your only response. 

“These are... they... theyre too much, Y/N. I can’t accept them.” He sighed regretfully. 

“You can and you will. You deserve something special on your special day! It’s about time someone pays you back for everything you do.” You smiled encouragingly. 

“The cake was more than enough.” He argued, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the box in his lap. 

They were the wireless noise cancelling headphones he’d been drooling over for months, ever since the promo came out on Instagram. He’d been salivating when he showed you the ad for them, and you started picking up a few extra shifts here and there to put back money for them. They were a couple hundred dollars but you would’ve saved up thousands just to see the look that adorned Yoongi’s face in that moment. 

“Thank you... so much. I’ll pay you back for these. I’ll take you to dinner. I’ll-“ he began but you cut him off. 

“Don’t even think about it. Just take them. If you really wanna pay me back, write me a song.” You grinned. 

“I will.” Yoongi promised, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Thank you.” Left his lips in a whisper over and over. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

He pulled back and held you at arms length, eyes trained on your face. His gaze roamed over your features, drinking you in. His eyes searched yours for a moment before his gaze flicked to your lips. You waited with bated breath. 

“Y/N?” Yoongi's voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned quietly, carefully. 

“Please.” 

His hand came up to gently cup your cheek. He angled his head and closed the distance between you. The moment his lips pressed against yours, it felt like coming home. He held you close, and you’d never felt so safe. Your heart hammered in your chest as your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers gently threading through his hair. Yoongi’s arms found purchase on your hips and he pressed himself closer to you, his tongue sneaking out and gliding along your lips. You parted them, and he deepened the kiss. You weren’t aware that your grip on his hair had tightened until Yoongi pulled back, resting his forehead against your own with labored breathing.

“I’m trying really hard to be respectful and not to push you, but you’re making it kinda hard pulling on my hair like that.” he admitted breathlessly. You could feel the thickness of him pressing into you.

“What if I want you to?” you asked quietly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi sucked in a surprised breath, his eyes searching yours almost frantically for a sign of doubt. When he found none, he interlaced his fingers into yours.

“Are you sure?” he pondered.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything or anyone.” you admitted, biting down on your lip nervously.

“Is this- Are you- I don’t think I can do this if it’s just a one time thing.” Yoongi sighed remorsefully. 

“I don’t want it to be.” you reply, gently running a hand up and down his arm comfortingly. “Yoongi I want you. In every possible way. You’re my best friend. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.” 

“I’m in love with you too.” he whispered, like a secret he’d been dying to tell you. “Be mine?”

“Oh Yoongi baby, I’ve always been yours.” you giggled, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

Yoongi kissed you back, slowly. He took his time, exploring your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. You tasted a bit like the cake you’d both consumed not long ago, but also just distinctively...you. Yoongi loved the way you tasted, and he wondered idly if other areas of your body tasted just as sweet.

Gripping you by the hips, Yoongi pulled you up against him and you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you towards your bedroom. Your hands gripped his biceps and he barely had to look where he was going, so familiar with your apartment since he practically lived there. He hoped to become as familiar with your body and how you ticked as he was with everything else about you. You could feel him pressing up against your core as he carried you, the friction causing arousal to pool. 

Yoongi placed you on the mattress gently, his body moving to hover over yours. He gazed down at you with longing in his onyx eyes, but it wasn’t just longing. He yearned for you, needed you, you knew this because you felt it too. The way he looked into your eyes mirrored your own expression. You were so desperately in love with Min Yoongi, and by some miracle, he felt the same way.

“I have dreamt about this moment for so long.” he admitted sheepishly, “I almost can’t believe this is real.”

“Me either. I can’t believe you’re here.” you giggled, letting a hand come up to softly caress his face, then push his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m not going to lie, I thought I was going to have to leave when your shirt was wet and I saw your bra. I didn’t want you to see my hard-on.” he laughed.

You covered your face and giggled in embarrassment, but Yoongi’s hands covered yours and pulled them away from your face, holding them on either side of your head.

“Don’t hide from me. Don’t ever hide any part of yourself from me. You are so beautiful, Y/N. I adore everything about you.” Yoongi cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Did you know…” he ghosted his lips to the other cheek. “That…” his tender assault moved to your forehead as he placed a kiss to it. “I…” his lips brushed the tip of your nose.  “love you.” he smiled, kissing your lips.

“I love you too, so much.” you  giggled, kissing him back and moving closer to him, his warm embrace cradling you. 

Something shifted, and Yoongi’s kisses got deeper, needier. His body lowered to lay flush against yours, but he was careful not to squish you. His erection pressed firmly into your core as he slowly rutted his hips into yours. A quiet moan left your lips at the swivel of his hips against yours and Yoongi’s kisses began to descend, his lips now working against the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping at the flesh. 

His fingers crept up to the hem of your dress, and he tugged gently on it. You lifted yourself, tugging it off and tossing it across the room. Yoongi had seen you in bathing suits that had covered the same amount of skin, but this was different and it had heat flooding your cheeks. You took a deep breath and willed all of your courage and unhooked your bra, letting it slip down your shoulders before tossing it aside as well, leaving you only in your panties. 

Yoongi’s jaw went slack as he stared at your breasts. You wanted to cover them, wanted to hide, but this was Yoongi. You trusted him with every part of you. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” he stated in awe.

His head dipped down and his mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the nub. Your back arched and your whimpers got louder when he began to suck. His large hand reached up to knead and tweak the other breast. Your body responded immediately, hips bucking up into Yoongi’s. You gripped his shirt and tugged, mumbling “off.” Yoongi obliged, tearing the fabric off and tossing it away in one fluid motion.

Your mouth watered, eyes roaming his ivory skin, the smooth planes of his flat stomach, poofing out just a little. He was perfect. Yoongi’s cheeks were dusted pink again and you leaned up, placing soft kisses to his tummy. Yoongi wound his hands gently in your hair, watery eyes watching you as you worshipped his body the way he deserved. Your lips ghosted over his chest and you could feel his heart racing beneath your touch.

“You’re so perfect.” you cooed.

Yoongi covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, and you grinned up at him. His hands came down to cup your face gently, and you leaned into his touch before urging him backwards until he was lying on his back. You made quick work of his belt and zipper, pulling his slacks down and tossing them haphazardly away. You watched his face for a reaction, and he bit his lip to conceal a nervous smile. Your heart fluttered in your chest at how adorable he was. 

Despite the fondness filling your chest, you couldn’t help but feel warmth farther down when your eyes roamed over the tent in Yoongi’s boxers. You reached out and cupped your hand over his hardened member, palming him over his boxers. Yoongi let out a low groan at your actions, his hand gripping at the duvet cover. You slowly pulled the boxers off his body, 

Yoongi’s length sprung free once his boxers were removed and it rested against his stomach, thick, hard, and leaking.  You peppered soft kisses along the vein, bringing a groan out of Yoongi. Your tongue snuck out and cautiously slid across the tip of his penis, and his breath stuttered. You smiled to yourself, then took him in your mouth. Yoongi couldn't tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. He'd had a million dreams about this very moment, but none of them compared to the way it felt to have his cock in your mouth. 

It was almost too much for Yoongi, the way you were bobbing your head along his length, twirling your tongue around, massaging his balls with the perfect amount of pressure. It wasn't all sensual, he could see the adoration in your eyes. It made his heart swell with joy.   Other parts of him were swelling as well as he neared his high. His hips involuntarily jerked, apologies tumbling from his reddened lips but you didn't slow down. You wanted to make him feel good, reward him for all the things he did for everyone else.

“Y/N, I..I'm gonna-” Yoongi warned.

You took the opportunity to take him deeper down your throat, swallowing around him. That sent Yoongi over the edge, echoes of your name falling from his lips, his body twitching as he spilled his seed down your throat. Yoongi took a shaky breath and gazed down at you in awe as you licked your lips clean after swallowing his load. 

 “Your turn.” He smiled, guiding you to lay on your back while he settled himself between your thighs, placing teasing kisses along the skin there.

He pulled your panties down your legs and licked his lips at the sight of your soaking cunt presented to him. Yoongi didn’t waste any time, bringing his lips to your folds and letting his tongue dart out to lick at your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further apart, inviting him in. He slowly slipped one finger in your heat, working it and curling to hit that sweet spot that had you drooling. 

His lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked before using his tongue to attack the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew Yoongi could move his tongue quickly based on every rap you’d heard him recite and you’d daydreamed about how that would translate to eating you out but his skills surpassed your imagination and he had you close to cumming in under a minute. He slowly worked more fingers in, stretching your tight hole while he seemed to recite spells on your clit with his tongue. 

No sooner than Yoongi added a third finger, you were careening off the edge, pleasure washing over you and Yoongi worked you through it, drinking up all of your juices and leaving a soft peck on your clit as you came down, which had your body jolting.  He reached down to his jeans and pulled out a condom. 

“Are you still sure about this?” He asked tentatively. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” You said with absolute certainty. 

Yoongi crawled up your body, leaving sweet kisses as he made his way to hover over you until you were face to face.  He bit his plush lip, looking into your eyes with so much longing it almost hurt to return his gaze. He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, leaving his large hands on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. You leaned up and captured his lips with your own, and he melted into the kiss, immediately deepening it. His hands travelled down your neck, his fingertips tenderly brushing against the skin of your arms until he found your hands, resting beside your head. He interlaced your fingers together as he finally, finally entered you. 

You gasped into his mouth, squeezing his hand while you focused on the feeling of finally being filled  by the man of your dreams. Yoongi felt perfect inside of you, filling you up perfectly as if he was made for you and you were made for him. He stretched you in all the right ways and feeling him pressed up against your walls had your head spinning. 

'' You okay?'' Yoongi asked, stilling inside of you.

''Yes.'' you whispered breathlessly. ''You feel so good, Yoongi. Please.''

Yoongi began to slowly move inside you, taking his time and making sure not to hurt you. His hips met yours as he bottomed out and he let out a shaky breath, watching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. You smiled up at him, pecking his lips quickly. Yoongi was amazed at how brightly your eyes shined when you looked at him. His thrusts started picking up pace, your soft noises spurring him on. 

The two of you shared sweet kisses as he thrust in and out of your aching heat.  Your noises gradually got louder, the faster his thrusts got. The louder you got, the harder it was for Yoongi to keep his composure. While he'd been picking up the pace, he’d remained fairly gentle, but something in him snapped when you groaned his name, sounding particularly needy as you begged ''more.''

His hips snapped into yours in a harsh thrust , knocking the air from your lungs.  Gone was the sweet love making from moments ago, instead Yoongi was plowing into you with everything he had within him. Everything he'd held back this past year seemed to be pouring out, driving him to fuck you harder, faster. If you thought Yoongi's slow passionate strokes were maddening, you were absolutely ruined by his relentless, unforgiving thrusts.  

Your soft cries of his name were now loud moans, he had you writhing and screaming as he drove you closer to the edge with every brush of your sweet spot. 

''Fuck, you take my cock so well baby. I have dreamed about fucking you like this for so long.'' he growled in your ear, leaving hot, wet kisses along the skin below it.

''Me...me too.'' you whined at a particularly good thrust.

''Hmmm, I bet you have.” he smirked, bringing his hand between your bodies to rub lazy circles on your clit. 

“Did you touch yourself here?” he asked, applying more pressure to your sensitive bud. “Did you play with this pretty pussy thinking about my cock?” 

You nodded, overwhelmed with pleasure while Yoongi played your body like an instrument he'd practiced all his life. He knew exactly where to touch, how to rub, how to bring you to the brink of oblivion with a single stroke of his thumb. He was a damn sex wizard.  

“You're cute, baby girl. But  I need you to tell me. Tell me how desperate you were to feel me inside you. How you thought of me while you fingered yourself.” Yoongi coaxed, bringing one nipple into his mouth and making it impossible for you to think as his tongue rolled over it.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yoongi purred, licking a bold stripe across your hardened nipple, then the other. “Who makes you feel this good?”

 “You.” you moaned, walls clenching around his cock as you got closer to release. This response did not seem to satisfy Yoongi and he shook his head.

“What's my name?” he prodded.

“Yo...Yoongi!” you cried out as he rolled his hips harshly against your own. 

“Close... but you can do better, baby girl. ” his words were muffled by the hickeys he was sucking along your skin.

“Fuck… daddy.” you whimpered.

“What was that princess? Louder.” he commanded.  

“Daddy!” you groaned.

“Cum for daddy.” Yoongi demanded.

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you, the most intense you had ever experienced before. You body arched off the bed into Yoongis and you let out the most pornographic sound Yoongi had ever heard. Your vision went spotty and your head felt light and your face contorted in pleasure. The combined feeling of your pussy clenching around him and the sounds you were making threw Yoongi over the edge and he came shortly after you, spurts of hot cum filling the condom. Yoongi didn't think he had ever cum this much in his life. He tied the condom and threw it in your trash can.

His savage streak gone, the energy drained out of Yoongi and he fell beside you panting. You looked over to meet his gaze and you both burst into giggles. His arms came to wrap around you to pull you into his chest. You sighed contently and nuzzled into his warmth. He stroked your hair softly, leaving soft kisses anywhere he could reach. You pressed chaste kisses to the skin of his chest, too exhausted to aim for anywhere else.

“I can't believe it took us this long to get here. We're pathetic.” you giggled.

“Better late than never, I suppose.” he grinned. 

“Always a bright side, that's one of the things I love about you.” you admitted with a shy smile.

“Oh?” Yoongi smiled, kissing your blush filled cheeks.

“There's certain things that I adore about you.” you explained. “Like how kind you are, and how determined and focused. How you always treat people with respect. How you scrunch your nose up. God its adorable.”

Yoongi covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, his own cheeks now turning a shade of red.

“I love you too, baby. I love how you take care of me. How your eyes light up when you smile. I love how passionate you are. You’re perfect to me.” Yoongi's voice was low and soft while he confessed. 

You hid your face in his chest, willing your racing heart to calm down, but Yoongi always made your heart race, it seemed to beat only for him.  Soon, exhaustion  got the better of both of you. You drifted to sleep in Yoongi's warm embrace, listening to your favorite sound in the world, his heart. And it beat only for you.