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pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 3 years

Note

HEAR ME OUT: KIX BUT WITH MORE TATTOOS, I WANNA TRACE THEM 🥺👀🥵

DUDE YOU ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE. (Am I going to become the tattoo blog cause I am totally ok with that lmao) Also sorry that this took so long to finally get to you. Things have been so crazy the past few weeks and I needed a bit of time to sort stuff out (and move hooray!!) and I just want to thank you so much for your patience❤ Also... this kind of got away from me. So instead of the drabble I originally had planned you are getting a 4131 word fic. I hope you enjoy!! (Also a bit of a side note, I plan on doing a smutty sequel to this in the future so... say what you will about that lol)

Also a HUGE thank you to @captainrexisboo for all of your help on this. I never would have gotten this finished without your unbelievable support.

Medical Canvas

Kix x Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of injury and the first half is just packed with ✨sexual tension and steamy stuff✨

How Kix had talked you into sparing with him, you had no idea. Five minutes ago, you had just been doing your stretches to warm up and now here you were. A sore side from missing an easy block and a small crowd that you could see betting on who would win between the two of you.

In all honesty, you thought that you had a fair shot at winning. You had managed to get a couple of good hits in and after working alongside the medic for so long, the two of you could practically predict what the other would do.

“Getting tired yet?” he asked with a smug smile and heavy breaths.

The two of you kept rotating around each other, fists raised in front of your faces and sweat covering your bodies as occasional cheers came from the edge of the mat.

You let out a sharp laugh. “Not on your life, pretty boy.” You returned his smirk and lunged in, flinging your fists out just for them to be blocked.

Jumping back, you kept your eyes on him, trying to gauge what his next move would be. “Oh! Well, if you find me so pretty, let’s try to avoid the money maker, shall we?” He gestured to his face, giving you a wink.

Oh, you knew this game. You and Kix had been playing it ever since you first laid eyes on each other. Teasing and flirting shamelessly with one another while avoiding actually addressing the tension and want that had steadily grown between the two of you.

The rest of the 501st could see it. How teasing jabs had turned into lingering touches and stolen glances. It was the reason behind the biggest betting pool in the 501st. When would the two of you finally stop being so oblivious to the others obvious pining and just do it already?

Jesse was the one who would change his bet the most. Every time he saw the two of you interacting, his timeline would change, and this time was no different. He had taken one look at you and Kix on the mat and immediately commed Rex to change his bet to within the next thirty minutes.

All of this was unknown to the both of you of course. You simply saw it as the guys trying to make some easy money off of each other while you and Kix spared.

“Ha! The money maker? I’d say those gorgeous hands of yours would be good enough to get the job done for you.” You laughed mischievously as you saw more credits being passed on the side of the mat.

Squaring your stance, you took a deep breath, readying yourself for your next move. Might as well make it interesting.

Kix chuckled. “Sweetheart, if you want to see what these hands can do—”

You spun around, bringing your foot to Kix’s side in an attempt at a roundhouse kick. But he was too fast. He grabbed your leg and wrestled you to the floor, straddling your waist. The wind was knocked out of you as your back hit the mat and before you knew what was happening, Kix had your wrists pinned above your head, his face just centimeters away from yours.

He angled his brows at you and gives you a smooth look. “—all you have to do is ask.”

His heavy breathing fans over your face, alerting you to how close he actually was to you. You could smell him. The earthy musk that all troopers seemed to carry that mixed so perfectly with the sterile scent of the medbay to create an intoxicating aroma that you just had to breathe in, replacing the dingy smell of the gym that you had grown to ignore.

The weight of his body is keeping you flat against the mat and your eyes go wide as you feel your face start to heat up. Your skin burns under his touch, sending sparks flying through your nerves and not letting your eyes break their lock on his face.

He stops smiling and his eyes go wide as he realizes the position that the two of you are in. The cheers and curses coming from the edge of the mat are all muffled, not breaking through the trance you had been thrust into as your heart rate spiked into your ears.

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed frozen against each other on the floor and you didn’t care. All that mattered to you in that moment was Kix and how much you wanted to feel his soft lips against your own. You glanced down at them, immediately bringing your eyes back to his and hoping that he hadn’t noticed your slip up. He was one of your best friends. Surely, he didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You heard him let in a sharp gasp before his eyes bolted to your lips and then back up to meet your eyes. Suddenly, all of your thoughts were halted when he lunged forward, hungrily capturing your lips with his in a burning kiss that had your heart leaping out of your chest.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to stare at what was happening in front of them, but the two of you did not care. For all you knew, you were the only people in the universe at that moment. All you could see, all you could hear, all you could feel, was him.

Something in him broke, causing him to let out a deep moan as his tongue dragged across your bottom lip, begging to get more of the sweet cherry taste of your chapstick that had almost been overpowered by the salty sweat that covered both of your bodies while your hands fought against the hold he had on your wrists. You wanted to touch him, to feel the way his muscles moved as he was pressing up against you and to get more of the buzzing sensation of his skin against yours.

Kix lets out a deep groan that vibrates throughout his chest, keeping your wrists pinned with one hand and sliding his other down your arm until he is cupping the back of your neck.

“Stars you two, get a room.”

Gasping for air as Kix pulled away from you, you turned your head to see Jesse standing over the two of you. A smug, satisfied look plastered across face and his arms crossed against his chest.

Kix whips his head back to you, his breathing still heavy.

“My quarters?” you breathe out.

His eyes darken as a lustful smirk makes its way across his features. “Oh, absolutely,” he growls, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

He releases your wrists and crawls off of you before running off to get his things from the other side of the gym. You rush over to the edge of the mat, picking up your bag as Jesse trails behind you, the arrogant and knowing grin still displayed on his face.

“I should thank you. You just made me a lot of money.”

You turn to him confused. “What?”

Kix runs back up to you, taking your hand in his and gently pulling you toward the door.

Jesse starts laughing, bringing his hand down to hold his sides. “I’ll tell you later.”

With that, you shrug and start walking as fast as you can back to your quarters. As you pass by other troopers on your way there, you see eyes widen as they catch a glimpse of your hand entwined with Kix’s. Faces rise and fall and you see credits being exchanged between a few of the men you pass. You glance at Kix as you lead him through the halls toward your room. “I think that there was a betting ring on when we would get together,” you say with a laugh.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

You round the corner and finally make it to your quarters about halfway down the hallway. Letting go of his hand, you quickly input the code and the door whooshes open. Pulling him inside by the collar of his blacks, you both immediately drop your bags to the floor as your lips collide.

Kix reaches behind him, feeling around until he finds the door panel. You hear the locks click and feel his hands trail their way down your body, gently squeezing whatever part of you he can reach as they make their way, until they stop on your thighs. His fingers tap you twice and you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

The kiss never breaks as he walks forward, stopping once your back has hit the wall and you let out a small sound at the force of the freezing metal meeting with your hot skin. He breaks away, leaving you gasping for air and missing the subtle minty taste of him as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, stopping at your pulse point to lightly bite at the skin there.

A small, breathy whimper of his name falls from your lips as his teeth continue to drag across your sensitive skin. You can feel him smirking against you as his hands dip under the fabric of your shirt and slowly slide it up until he gets it off and throws it across the room. “You’re so impatient mesh’la,” he growls as he starts aggressively marking your now exposed collarbone, desperate to push more pleading sounds out of you. His fingers start teasing your waistband sending sparks shooting up your spine as he presses delicate kisses against the tender spot he had just finished making.

Clawing at his shirt, you start pulling it up, exposing the tanned skin of his stomach. “Off.”

Chuckling, one of his hands comes up to cup your face, his thumb traveling along the line of your jaw, while the other travels down to your hip, placing it in a tight hold. He fiercely kisses you as your hands continue to try and pull his shirt off. “Very impatient,” he snarls out between kisses. He rolls his hips against yours, pushing a whine out of you. “Patience cyar’ika,” he murmurs against you. “I want to take my time with you mesh’la.”

You let go of his shirt, bringing one of your hands up to grab his jaw and force his dark eyes to meet with yours, giving you a brief moment of dominance. “Stop teasing.” Your lips crash into his, a lewd moan escaping you at the way his breathing speeds up. You take his bottom lip between your teeth before pulling away and looking into his lust filled eyes. Giving a small tug to the fabric you bat your eyes at him. “And take this off.”

“Alright,” he teases. “But only because I can’t deny a gorgeous thing like you.” He reaches his hands up and starts pulling the fabric at the base of his head up, exposing his stomach and lower back once again as your lips collide in another bruising kiss. Suddenly, a high-pitched beeping comes from Kix’s bag. Neither of you pay it any attention, too caught up in each other’s desperate panting and shameless moans as you continue to kiss each other until a muffled voice comes from the bag.

“Hey vod, I know you’re probably busy making Jesse a rich man, but I need you in the medbay. Hardcase and Echo accidentally blew themselves up again and have some legs that need to be set.”

Kix groans and pulls away from you, his head falling back to look at the ceiling. “I’m going to kill those two.” He gives you an apologetic look before stepping away from the wall, holding onto your midsection as you lower your legs back to the floor.

Giving you one last kiss, he walks over to his bag and digs around until he finds his comm. “Rex, those two better be dying by the time I get there, or I am going to kill them myself,” he snaps, his jaw clenched in frustration.

You chuckle, walking over and picking your shirt up off of the floor where Kix had thrown it.

“Based on how out of breath you sound, I don’t blame you.” He lets out a small laugh. “See you in a minute vod.”

Kix tosses his comm back in his bag and straightens up before turning to you and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Those two—”

You bring your hand up to rest over his still rapidly beating heart and place a light kiss on his lips. “It’s fine Kix.” You reach behind him and unlock the door, letting it whoosh open. Leaning forward, you settle your lips right under his ear and whisper against his neck. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you finish.” You playfully bite down on the skin under your lips, pressing a kiss on the newly formed mark you had just made before pulling back to face him.

His eyes widen, and a playful smirk overtakes his features. “Well then, I’ll see you later cyare.” He takes your hand in his and presses a kiss against your knuckles before heading off toward the medbay.

“I can’t wait,” you call down the hallway after him, smiling at the glance he throws over his shoulder before he rounds the corner and is out of your sight.

You turn back inside, picking up your bag and starting to put stuff away while you mumble to yourself. “If he doesn’t kill them, then I sure will.”

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

It was about five hours later when a knock came at your door. For some reason, today was the day that everyone decided to get injured so the medbay had been constantly busy once Kix had gotten there.

One of the mechanics had his arm pinned under a ship when the jack he had it held up with snapped (thanks to the Republic buying cheap equipment). Someone at the gym got a concussion after a spar got a little rough. Some poor shinie had slipped in the mess and cracked his head open on one of the tables.

Luckily, it was your day off as the on-call medic, so the only things you had to worry about were the reports that were coming across your desk from all of these medbay visits. But that also meant that Kix was getting all of the hard work in the medbay.

When you opened the door to your quarters, you were met with a Kix that looked dead on his feet.

“Long day?” Reaching up to trace his features, you gave him a light kiss and gently pulled him inside.

He nodded, bringing a hand up to rub his face. “I’m so sorry mesh’la but can I take a raincheck? I’m just so kriffing tired and just want to rest right now.” He was tense. His shoulders were pulled up toward his ears and he stood stiffly in front of you.

You hummed, pulling him toward your bed. “I thought you might be, so I had a better idea.” Giving him a soft smile, you pushed on his shoulders until he was sitting on the edge of your bed. “Take off your shirt. I’ll be right back.”

He looks up at you in confusion. “Cyare, I don’t think—”

Pressing a kiss against his lips, you grasp one of the hands he has in his lap and rub your thumb over his knuckles that are rough and dry after a full day of constantly washing his hands. You bring your forehead against his and look into his eyes. “Trust me.”

Turning away from him, you walk into the small refresher that is attached to your room and pull out a bottle of lotion that smells like fresh honey. You begin walking back out into your room, rolling up your sleeves to your elbows. “I thought you’d be tense so I—”

You stop dead in your tracks, seeing Kix stiffly sitting on the edge of your bed, his shirt laid out next to him.

“Cyare? You ok?” Kix stands up and walks over to your frozen form, placing his hands on either side of your arms and rubbing small crescent shapes with his thumbs.

Your eyes stay fixed on his chest, not leaving it as he stands in front of you. “I didn’t know you had more tattoos,” you squeak out, barely above a whisper.

Kix looks down at the red medic symbol that covers the entire left half of his chest over his heart before meeting your eyes once again. “Do… Do you like it?” He begins to worry his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for your answer.

Your hand comes up and lightly starts tracing the symbol, outlining it and then brushing your fingers over the parts that are filled in, leaving goosebumps on his skin in the wake of your gentle touch. “Very much.”

He clears his throat, it suddenly becoming dry as you trap him under your stare. “Oh. Y-yeah. I got them not long after I joined the 501st.”

Whipping your head up, your eyes go wide. “Them?”

“Um. Yeah,” he stutters hesitantly, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I have a couple on my back too.”

His back. You shook your head and brought your hand down from off his chest, remembering what you were doing. “Oh. Right. Um, how does a massage sound? You seem tense.”

He sighs, bringing his hands up to hold your face and lightly kissing your forehead as he angles it forward. “Honestly? That sounds amazing.”

Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you take a step toward the bed. “Good,” you beam. “Lie down on your stomach and get comfortable.”

Kix walks over to the bed, slipping his boots off before he crawls up so that his head is near the pillows close to the wall. He grabs one and crosses his arms under it before letting his head come to rest there. He lets out a deep sigh and shimmies a bit before settling.

You gently press on his lower back. “Is it ok if I sit here?”

His eyes are closed and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep already before he cracks his eyes open and gives you a small smirk. “You can sit anywhere if it means those pretty hands are gonna touch me.”

Rolling your eyes, you quietly laugh, straddling his waist and squirting some of the lotion into your hands. As you rub them together to heat it up, you let your eyes travel over the smooth expanse of his toned back. His midsection steadily rises and falls with his breath, and there are scars that occasionally disrupt the path your eyes follow up his back. Then, your eyes fall still when they look between his shoulders.

A grey, Republic cog that sits between his shoulder blades, taking up almost all of the space there and blue geometric markings that come down either side of it and angle away from his spine once they reach the bottom of the symbol. They stop about halfway down his back and break off before a small blue dot ends the lines.

You begin rubbing the lotion onto Kix’s lower back, kneading the muscles there.

The sweet smell of the lotion combines with his irresistible scent and the bacta that inevitably made its way onto his pants as you work it across his warm skin, causing you to have to suppress a shiver as you take in as much of it as you can in a single breath.

He lets out an obscene groan and his eyes flutter shut the second your hands start working their way across his skin.

You giggle, still working your hands over his back, feeling the tension disappear with your work. “Feel good?”

He groans again as your hands work their way up his back. “Feels amazing,” he sighs.

For a while, you work in silence, the only sound being your steady breathing and the occasional groan from Kix when you work over a particularly tense area.

You squirt more of the sweet-smelling lotion into your hands, making sure to warm it up before running them over Kix’s back once again. “Kix?” Your voice is questioning and soft, not wanting to disturb him if he has fallen asleep.

“Hmm?” he hums out.

Trailing your hands over the tattoos on his back, you tap your fingers on them, letting Kix know what you are about to ask. “Jesse and Hardcase?”

“M-hm.” He lets out a relaxed sigh as your hands begin tracing over the markings like they had with the medic symbol on his chest.

“Mind if I ask about the story behind them?”

He cracks an eye open, peering over his shoulder and meeting your stare before settling back down and closing his eyes. “Not at all cyare.”

You begin to massage the muscles around the tattoos, occasionally stopping to just trace over them.

“It was pretty early on in the war when I joined the 501st.” He breaths out a short laugh. “Commander Tano wasn’t even here yet. But because I was trained on Kamino as a medic, and because things were pretty rough at the beginning, all of my batchmates were sent to different battalions, so I didn’t really know any of the troopers in the 501st. But Jesse and Hardcase, well, they made me feel welcome and always had my back. We all got here at about the same time and just… clicked. Always knew exactly what the other one needed.” He laughs. “Hell, I probably wouldn’t be here now if those two hadn’t saved my ass more times than I can count.”

For a brief instant you stop your movements, gazing at the soft smile on his face.

“They’re my best friends and I know that they’ll always be watching my back, no matter where any of us are.”

Your fingers lightly trace the tattoos one more time, gracing over every outline and filling in every shape. “That’s… That’s so sweet. I never knew that. I-I mean, I knew that you guys were close, but I just assumed that it’s because you joined the 501st at the same time.”

He hums. “They have the same tattoos you know. Jesse has me and Hardcase and Hardcase had me and Jesse. We’re all watching each other’s backs. Makes us feel safer, you know?”

You sit up, trailing your hands down until they are resting on Kix’s lower back. “Well,” you say leaning forward, “I’m glad that they do.” Then, you begin pressing gentle kisses against his skin, outlining the tattoos one final time. “Because it makes me feel better knowing that you’ve got such amazing people looking out for you.” You feel him shudder lightly as your breath fans over his skin and as your lips trail over the tattoos. You start at the blue marking on his right and trail up until you’ve traced the cog between his shoulders, and then back down the left blue marking.

Placing one final kiss at the base of his neck, you climb off of him and lie down at his side. He turns his head to look at you as he opens his eyes. “How do you feel?”

His hand comes up to the side of your face, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. He looks at you with pure admiration as a blissful smile overtakes his face. “Perfect.” He draws you in, brushing his lips over yours and speaking against them with a grin. “I can’t believe that I didn’t ask you to spar sooner.”

Laughing, you push forward, fully capturing his lips with yours. “Yeah!” you tease. “What took you so long you di’kut?”

“Shut-up,” he smirks, flipping onto his side and wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you close to his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of your head as your curl up into him. “Would’ve done it sooner if I knew it would have gone so well.”

You brush your lips over his neck, snickering at the brief shutter it caused before burying your face into his chest. “I’m glad that you did even if that sparring match was unfair.”

You can feel him smile against the top of your head as he places another kiss there. “You’ll get me next time cyar’ika.” His chest thrummed as a chuckle made its way past his lips. “Who knows, maybe I’ll let you pin me down instead.”

#kix x reader #kix x gender neutral reader #clone trooper kix #medical canvas #my writing #pro speaks #clones with tattoos #they sexy

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spacegirlapollo · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream (Hawks x Reader Smut)

Title: Ice Cream

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Words: 2,916

Summary: Keigo gives you a reward for using your quirk to help him out.

(lmao I’m so bad at summaries, anyways its smut 90% and plot: 10% lmao enjoy! )

-----------------------------

“Keigo!” you groaned, looking down at the mess of chips that were sprinkled on the floor not too far from the bag that you had dropped.

You had your arm practically submerged in a bag of your boyfriend’s chips, when the front door to your shared apartment swung open, revealing the man himself in all of his post work glory. You were very taken off guard because he hardly ever used the front door, instead he consistently shot through one of the big balcony windows, that had been his only deal breaker when apartment hunting. He only occasionally used the door when his wings were all used up or he was exhausted. But he was standing in front of you now with a seemingly full set of wings and boundless Keigo energy.

You were so used to it now that you could even hear the faint sounds of his wings flapping a few seconds before he came into the window. You were also feeling the tiny ping of guilt as you had stolen his bag of chips, you hadn’t planned to eat the whole thing, but now the chips laid on the floor inedible.

“Sorry babe.” He said with a chuckle as his back was turned to lock and close the door. He turned to you and gave you his famous closed eye charming smile. The one that always made you forget what you were even upset about before. You pouted bending over to scoop up the chips before he could see your contraband.

In the corner of your eye you could see his boots enter your vision and then he was eye level with you, positioned to help you scoop up the chips. His face widened in mild disbelief.

“Are these my-”

“I’m sorry!” You said not able to hold your laugh in as you almost shouted it.

“ I was craving salt. I needed salt Keigo.”

His golden laugh rang around your ears and you couldn't help matching his laugh. You watched his face for a moment and your smile fell a bit as his face scrunched momentarily in pain. Setting the bag full of ruined chips to lean against the sofa, you reached for him frowning.

“Are you okay baby?” You asked concern dripped all over your facial features.

His face cleared up immediately and his golden smile was back.

“Yeah i’m okay.” He said lying flawlessly. You frowned as he started to stand up. He said it in that tone that you knew meant he wasn't going to give you any other answers. It was the tone he used to pretend like things at work were fine even if they weren't.

“I’m going to shower.” He said looking a bit far away now, but he turned back to you a smaller smile creeping on the edge of his lips.

“I missed you today… want to watch a movie or something?”

You smiled at his, for some reason you’d missed him today too.

“Sounds like a plan.” You said.

He winked and turned to head down the hallway leading to the bathroom. His smile had dropped again though.

--------------------------

15 minutes later, you had vacuumed the floor a bit and were now carrying a large plant into the living room.

Your quirk was a healing one, which was convenient when Keigo came home bruised and bloody occasionally. You could heal any and everything, but your quirk was all about balance and energy. If you healed someone directly, it would take energy from you to balance itself. But if you had something like a plant nearby you could use the energy from the plants to heal as well.

You had a feeling, something was wrong with Keigo and he wasn't telling. Why, you weren't sure. He typically did not like being healed by you, as too much healing could leave you feeling weak for days at a time. You figure this must be it. Either way you placed down the plant near the edge of the couch hoping that he wouldn't notice the sudden addition to the room.

Grabbing the remote and plopping down on the couch you could hear the water shutting off from deeper in the house.

A few minutes into your search for a good movie, and you could hear his footsteps as he re-entered the room, a white tee and sweatpants on instead of his heavy duty hero uniform.

“Did you pick something out?” He asked, crossing into the room.

“Yep!” You said patting your lap with your free hand motioning him towards you.

He eagerly came forward sitting on the couch and resting his hand on your lap. The couch was large enough to fit his wings, which was like most furniture in your home. You pressed play on your zombie movie you’d picked out and started to play with his hair with your right hand.

You knew how much he loved when you did this, but now you could still see how his eyebrows were pulled together slightly. It wasn't totally innocent , your playing with his hair, as when you did this you were able to take a sort of scan of whatever you were touching to better understand what was wrong. The spots typically show up as red circles in your mind. And sure enough you could see red circles where it seemed his wings connected to his back. It must have been sore from all the flying he’d been doing lately. He’d told you once that his body was a little two small for the powerful wings. You wondered how often he went through this pain without saying anything.

Your hand slipped up the back of his shirt and he looked up at you a little, an eyebrow raised.

You reached the spots of red before he could turn away from you.

“Babe what are you doin- MHM”

His sentence was cut off by a deep moan that caught you a bit off guard. You’d touched one of the spots activating your quirk. You knew though from healing yourself that the healing felt intensely satisfying like a good scratch on an itchy spot, or stepping into a hot Jacuzzi.

You moved onto the next spot activating your quirk again, The plant next to you starting to shrink and wilt. You felt him melting in your lap despite him having tried his hardest to not let you know.

You pressed slightly against a larger red zone another gasp like moan came from your boyfriend, and you couldn't help but bite your lip at the sound. You knew it wasn't on purpose but It was almost sinful the noises he was letting out. You shifted slightly pressing your thighs together as you felt your mind running wild.

You finished with the right wing and started to make quick work of the second, pressing softly against each zone while Keigo’s face smoothed out with each heal. You’d saved the largest one for last, guiltily hoping for another moan. You were rewarded when you started to heal and he let out another gaspy groan and you imagined him making that noise right next to your ear while on top of you.

The plant next to you had officially wilted down but Keigo was fully healed and sitting up now from your lap to face you. Before you could react both of his hands were on your cheeks and he pulled you into a kiss that felt like he was the sun and filling you up with light.

He pulled away and let his hands drop giving you a shy smile.

“I don’t know why I was being so stubborn Y/N.” He shook his head in disbelief. He seemed to be his normal self again, face cleared of any pain.

“I feel…” He sighed in relief. “ So much better.”

You smiled back at him, head a little foggy from the kiss and body on fire from his noises.

“How can I make it up to you.” He was saying now, getting animated again.

“I could make dinner.” He started to suggest but then thought better tapping his finger on his chin as he was thinking.

“Hmmm no… I could fly us to get ice cream!”

He looked at you his face the question : “ How about it?”

‘

When he didn't immediately read a yes on your face he shook his head. “ No? How about…”

“Keigo..” You blurted , heart skipping a beat when he immediately stopped and looked at you.

“I- I want something different.” You said, cursing yourself for how soft your voice was coming out. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks and his head tilted a bit, confused. He looked cute and insanely hot like that, watching you.

Keigo was a quick study however, and you saw the realization of just exactly what you wanted hitting his face. A smirk crept across his face,

“Ohh, I see.” He said so low it sent a chill down your spine.

and he moved so quick he didn’t give you a moment to think. His hands suddenly were on each of your ass cheeks scooping you up and planting you firmly on his lap. He moved back a strand of you falling hair before drawing your lips in again for a kiss. This one is much different from the last. His lips parted yours, your tongues swirling together as his grip on your ass tightened.

You felt a throbbing between your legs and as you broke apart your kiss for air he started to kiss up your neck and to your jawline leaving butterfly kisses along the way that were sending your head spinning.

“Mmm I missed you today.” He said close to your ear in that low voice that sent chills down your spine. You felt his hand slipping into the front of your pants, and you let out a small moan as he sunk two fingers into your soaking cunt.

“You miss me?” He asked, pumping his fingers into you agonizingly slowly. When you didn't immediately respond he sat back some and grabbed your chin to bring your eyes to him. He inserted another finger, picking up the pace as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Hm?” He asked again as you opened your mouth to moan out a yes.

“Tell me.” He said breathily, his speed making you see stars now.

“ Tell me how much you couldn’t wait for me to come home and fuck you.”

You moaned and the sound of his soaking fingers fucking you filled the room. You were close to unraveling and he knew it.

“Keigo” you moaned out using your hands flat against his chest to balance yourself. “Fuck, I missed you.”

This seemed to satisfy him as he grinned devilishly at you bringing your face intoxicatingly close again.

“You gonna come for me?” He asked as if he could feel just how close to the edge you were.

“Mm yes be a good girl and come for me.”

You couldn't hold off anymore as your head leaned back in an open moan as you came onto his fingers. You could feel his deep chuckle vibrating in his chest on your hands that were placed squarely on his chest.

You let out a little squeak as your whole body rose as he picked you up. Your legs were wrapped instinctively around his waist and you giggled a bit in excitement as he started to walk you almost blindly into your bedroom.

“Mhm you thought I was finished with you?” He asked.

“I really hoped not.” You teased back, before your back landed on the extra large bed in your bedroom. Keigo was above you now grabbing your t-shirt and rolling it off your head, then going for your pants slipping them off effortlessly. You say up slightly and began to remove his clothing as well, almost blushing in the way his eyes followed you.

When you were both completely naked, he grabbed your chin again bringing you in for a kiss. You reached for his hardened cock pumping it in rhythm and enjoying his breathy moans against your lips.

Breaking apart your lips with a smirk you pushed him back, and he went willingly sitting up slightly against the headboard.

Coming closer you took it into your mouth moaning to send vibrations down his spine. You watched as he closed his eyes slightly at this, He was looking at you eyes half lidded and lustful.

You stuck out your tongue as you brought your head up releasing him with a pop. His hand came forward and grabbed your face guiding you back down to the hilt of his cock. You hollowed out your mouth and hummed relishing in his deep moan. He was setting the pace now bringing your head up and down his hard shaft, chasing his orgasm.

“Fuck Y/N” He growled out his lips parted as he came deep down your throat.

“gaddamn it.” He said sitting up and rolling you over till he was on the top. Although there hadn’t really been a moment where he wasn't in charge.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He said before entering your wet folds with a push. You moaned out at the feeling of being filled up by him. He didn’t wait and he was slamming into you again, his right hand gripping your hip as he fucked you and his left next to your head for balance..

You loved looping up at him like this, your beautiful boyfriend and his stretching wings above you. He knew every inch of your body and just how to make you feel good. You moved your head slightly to the side to make room for his hot lips against your neck. Moans spilled from your lips as he didn’t let up on you in the slightest. You reward him for healing him, as he typically teased you from start to finish. You weren’t going to last long and he was planning on that.

“Fuck Keigo.” You moaned as he pressed his body closer to yours and descended into short powerful strokes against your g spot. Your hands were around his neck now as he fucked you into the mattress all the while his hot voice in your ear, egging on your climax, sending your body into a tailspin with his dirty words.

You felt that tight knot in your stomach as your eyes rolled back in bliss.

“Yes. Yes.” He said now eyes closing as your pussy tightened around him “Yes. cum for me”

He took your lips with his as he reached his own climax and overstimulating your soaking cunt. A few more deep strokes and you could feel him cumming inside of you filling you up.

------------

“Did you really miss me today?” You asked looking up at Keigo who was stroking your hair now, as you were both naked in bed. He had you close to his chest and he looked back down at you a little more serious than you’d thought he’d be.

“I miss you all the time little bird.” He said moving his hand down to stroke your cheek.

“You always heal me in more ways than one.”

Your face squished with how cute and cheesy that was, but you couldn't hide your big smile.

“Hmmm. I missed you too.” You said and he kissed your forehead sending your heart going wild.

It was quiet for a while as you laid there just enjoying each other's presence.

“Can we still get ice cream?” You asked quietly and you could feel his whole body shake as he laughed.

-----------------

“Sure little bird, lets go get some ice cream.”

#keigo takami #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #Hawks x reader smut #Keigo Takami x reader smut #Hawks smut #mha fanfiction #MHa smut #mha imagines #I did not proof read this #SO SORRY

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s1utspeare · 3 years

Text

@staidwaters asked for Li Cu and “selcouth” (in reference to this post; send me a prompt!), and since someone ELSE requested selcouth for a character I gave you an extra word lmao. THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE PROMPT!!! I LOVE U!

Also I will put these in a whole collection on ao3 at some point lol.

selcouth—unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful hiraeth—a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home with maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

There’s a time, when he returns, when he realizes he doesn’t know where home is.

Objectively, of course, he knows where he lives. He knows that there’s an apartment with his father in it and his bed and clothes and things are there, but that’s different. It never quite was a home, but it really isn’t anymore, because it’s just… it’s so small. He’s spent weeks with the stars as his ceiling, even more looking at the same four walls of his room in the Wang compound, so an apartment with beat-up furniture and storage closet that was never used for storing things isn’t that much different from any other apartment he could be in.

He tries going to Su Wan’s first. Part of him wants to because he missed Su Wan, but it’s mostly because he didn’t know for weeks if his best friend was dead or alive, so when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a short, sharp gasp, all he has to do is listen, and he can hear Su Wan breathing next to him in the bed. Also, Su Wan will cuddle him whether Li Cu wants him to or not, so that’s nice.

It doesn’t last, though, because every morning he has to go downstairs and say hi to Su Wan’s parents, and Su Wan’s parents tolerate him, but they don’t really like him, and they really don’t like him now, after he filled their garage with packages and dragged Su Wan off into the desert. Also, sometimes he doesn’t want to be cuddled because that’s like arms pinning him to the ground and it takes all his willpower not to punch a sleeping Su Wan in the face, but to instead lie stiff as a board until morning.

So he packs up his stuff and moves to Hao-ge’s, which is different, but not exactly better. Hao-ge is dealing with his own grief, his own loss, and Li Cu feels in the way of all that fury and rage. He knows, logically, that Hao-ge doesn’t blame him anymore, but he can still see Hao-ge’s face, streaked with tears, his fist pulled back, his voice strangled with anger and pain. Li Cu’s leg throbs.

He stays for three days, just to be polite. He watches their shop while Hao-ge goes out of town to visit some relatives, to figure out what they’re going to do with his grandmother’s things. He knows Hao-ge is probably going to sell the store. It’s not just because he doesn’t want to run it; he honestly can’t, financially. Hao-ge’s not ready to let it go, quite yet, so when he gets back, Li Cu lets him have the space back, to trace over and memorize the corners of his home before he has to leave, makes a mental note to bring Su Wan over to help him pack, to keep him distracted. He didn’t sleep well at Hao-ge’s anyway, especially when he was gone. It was too quiet then.

He can’t couch surf, after that. All the rest of his friends are dead.

He uses some of the stupid money that Wu Xie paid him at the very beginning—and it’s really not even enough, Wu Xie should be putting him through college—to rent a hotel room for a couple nights. That’s nice at first. He has his own space, a big shower, cable tv. But he doesn’t know it, his body can’t relax in an unfamiliar room with big, wide windows and only one lock. He spends two sleepless nights lying on his back, on his side, on his stomach, pacing the carpet. He gives up after night two, when everything’s hazy and dull in the back of his head, and checks out.

He spends the afternoon wandering around the city, toeing past the restaurants and coffee shops and arcades that he used to hang out in, the soccer fields and schools and parks he passed every day. There’s the manhole cover that broke and the city’s never gotten around to fix it, so there are perpetual orange cones around it in a cult-like circle—no, no, don’t think about cults, cones can’t have cults, it’s just a circle, Li Cu, come on—and there’s the statue of a dog near the center of the park near his house and he likes dogs, even more when they’re—not attacking him, they didn’t attack him, the dust of Wu Xie’s grandfather is ground into your bloodstream—and there’s the library that he and Shen Qiong used to go to for story time when they were really young—and now she’s young forever, a bullet in her brain between her eyes she died angry with you she died alone she died at the hands of her family—and eventually he’s on the soccer field and he’s lying flat on his back in the grass but there’s too much light and he can’t see the stars.

He can’t see the stars.

He can’t fall asleep if he can’t see the stars. If he can’t see the stars maybe he’s underground again, maybe—

“Kid, you can’t sleep there.”

He lifts his head, wearily. It aches, heavy on his neck. It got dark at some point, except not right now, because there’s a police officer shining his flashlight into his eyes, and he squints into it.

“Come on,” the officer says, “Go home.”

Li Cu laughs and flops back onto the grass. The police officer mutters something that sounds like a swear word under his breath and comes through the gate, marching over to Li Cu and hauling him, albeit gently, off of the turf.

“You been drinking?” the officer asks. Li Cu shakes his head. “Can’t smell any on you.” The man scoffs. “Jeez, kid, no offense, but you look terrible.”

Li Cu just blinks at him. He’s really tired, actually.

The officer sighs. “Come on, I’ll drive you home. You got an ID?”

Li Cu remembers that his ID is in his wallet which is in the pocket of his backpack and he knows it’s there because he had to use it to pay for the hotel.

He hands the entire thing to the officer, who sorts through it, glancing at Li Cu every so often in concern, and clicking his tongue contentedly when he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright,” he says, “Let’s get you home.”

Li Cu’s glad this officer knows where his home is, because Li Cu has no idea.

Never mind. Li Cu is pretty sure this isn’t his house.

The police officer rings the doorbell, and unfamiliar chime. A loud, deep voice inside says, “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” and then the door is flying open, and a large man with wild hair is staring down at them.

Li Cu frowns because he has no idea who this guy is.

The guy seems to know him, though, because he rolls his eyes, turns back into the house and shouts, “TIANZHEN!”

Li Cu winces, cause his head kind of hurts now, and that was not helpful.

The man turns back to look at them. “What did he do?”

“Uh,” the officer says, because he’s shorter than Li Cu, actually, so he must be feeling very intimidated by this large man, “He was sleeping on the soccer field at the high school.”

The door man snorts. “Of course he was.” He folds his arms, leaning against the doorframe, looks Li Cu over. “Yeah, you look like a mess, Ya Li.”

“Wha?” Li Cu says, because that’s weird, that this strange giant man with large arms is calling him Ya Li.

“That’s what Xiao Wan called you, right?” the man asks. “Su Wan? Your best friend?”

Li Cu gapes. “How do you know Su Wan?” He backs up a step. “Is someone stalking me again?”

The police officer looks very alarmed at that. “Again?”

“He’s joking,” the Person-Who-Calls-Him-Ya-Li says, “No one’s stalking him. His friends came to me for help a while back, but he wasn’t with them.”

The police officer does not seem convinced, but at that moment, a familiar face appears in the doorway behind the Person-Who-Calls-Him-Ya-Li.

“Wu Xie?” Li Cu asks.

Wu Xie looks just as surprised as Li Cu is. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” the officer says, “He was trying to sleep on the soccer field. Which is actually illegal. So I brought him home.” He frowns. “This is his home, right?”

“I don’t know,” Li Cu says.

“Yes,” Wu Xie says quickly. “Yes, you brought him to the right place. Sorry, he’s been a little out of it lately. Stress at school, you know. Not sleeping very well.”

“How’d you know that?” Li Cu asks in surprise, because as far as he can remember, he hasn’t seen Wu Xie since before the Wang compound. There’s a fuzzy memory of an apology, of being carried, but after he’d been thrown out the window, he woke up on a train.

He glares at the windows to the side of the house. He does not trust them.

Wu Xie gathers him by the shoulders and pulls him through the doorway. “Thank you, officer. I’ll make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay…” the police officer says. “Um. Get some rest, kid.”

“Mmm hmm,” Li Cu mumbles, even though he knows that probably won’t happen, and Wu Xie shuts the door.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asks. “You’re supposed to be at home.”

“I dunno where it is,” Li Cu says. He yawns, widely. How long has it been since he slept? He has no idea.

“You don’t know where your house is?” Wu Xie says slowly, like he’s trying to figure something out. He’ll be able to do it. Wu Xie has a Big Brain.

“My house is where my house is,” Li Cu says vaguely. “I dunno where’s home.”

Wu Xie goes silent for a moment. “I see.”

Li Cu blinks himself into less of a stupor, figures out where his hands went (they were on the end of his arms). “I’ll go back there, I guess. Sorry.”

“No, no, wait,” Wu Xie says, which is funny, because Li Cu hasn’t moved. “It’s late. You’re… really tired. We have a couch.”

“Good for you,” Li Cu congratulates him.

Wu Xie closes his eyes for a second, gritting his teeth. “The couch is for you.”

“You’re giving me a couch?”

“Oh my god,” Wu Xie says.

The Person-Who-Calls-Him-Ya-Li laughs. “You sure chose a good one, Tianzhen.”

“Shut up, Pangzi,” Wu Xie mutters, because apparently he is this Tianzhen person.

“Make him take a nap for an hour,” Pangzi says, wandering off down the hall. “Then dinner’ll be ready.”

“We had dinner earlier,” Wu Xie calls after him.

Pangzi stops, looks at Wu Xie pointedly. “Nope. Dinner. In an hour. So the kid can join us.”

“Oh,” Wu Xie says. “Oh, right. Yeah. Dinner.”

Li Cu might puzzle through this if he were more awake, but he’s really not. “What?”

Wu Xie sighs at him. Li Cu should really stop making him do that. “Alright,” he says, “Come with me.”

Li Cu dutifully follows Wu Xie down the hallway, because he’s followed Wu Xie into worse places.

They come out into a wide-open room, full of books and random vases and boxes of papers and bits and bobs. Sure enough, there’s a couch there, and Wu Xie steers Li Cu over to it, pushing against his shoulders gently to make him sit. The couch is pretty soft, a well-worn type of feel to it, like someone has sat here every day for years and years and filled it full of memories.

“I’m not going to ask if you need to be hom—back at your place, because I really doubt it,” Wu Xie tells him. His voice is coming from below Li Cu’s ears, so Li Cu looks down to see Wu Xie pulling off one of his boots, so Li Cu flops over his knees to pull of the other one, but his fingers get tangled in the laces, and he gives up and lets Wu Xie do it.

Wu Xie sighs at him. He takes Li Cu’s backpack and puts it next to the coffee table, where Li Cu can see it. He appreciates that. It’s good to know where things are. If you know where your things are, you can’t lose them. If you know where snakes are, they can’t bite you. If you know where Wu Xie is, you don’t have to miss him.

“Lie down,” Wu Xie says softly, and the couch really is comfortable, so Li Cu tentatively pulls his legs up and sets his head down and gazes at the lamp next to an armchair.

Wu Xie drags the throw blanket from the back of the couch and settles it around Li Cu’s body, which might be a little overkill, because Li Cu isn’t going to be here that long, he’s just going to rest for a moment, and then he’ll leave. Then he’ll get out of Wu Xie’s way. He’ll go back. Just a few minutes.

Wu Xie straightens up, grunting a little bit, and Li Cu almost says, don’t go, but he bites his tongue. He can’t ask that much of Wu Xie. Wu Xie’s already giving him a couch.

But then, Wu Xie doesn’t leave. He goes over to the armchair, picks up the notebook lying tent-style over its arm, flips through it. Someone’s glasses are on the end table, and that someone turns out to be Wu Xie, because they go on his nose as he takes in whatever the journal says, chewing the inside of his cheek absently and tapping a pattern out on his knee.

Li Cu blinks, slowly. Wu Xie is warm and marvelous, he thinks. He’s fading into a soft glow, backlit by a warm light that reminds Li Cu of something, something good, something he thought he lost, but maybe not. Maybe not.

He falls asleep and dreams he’s home.

#alsdighalskdfj i made myself sad #writing #my writing #fic #dmbj #li cu #wu xie #pangzi #there's a cop in here and he's nice ig but fuck the police #just putting that out there #anyway #prompt fill #ask tag #dad!xie rights #the lost tomb #tomb of the sea #sha hai

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

Not Important

A/N: Hello we are BACK with Jealous!Shawn––It’s been sitting in a doc for nearly a month now so I thought it was about time to let it out into the wild lmao

There’s ~some smut but like nothing full on…hands disappear…but like…that’s it 😬 So if you’re not 18+ head over to my masterlist and read something else!!

Thanks a MILLION to all of you who have read and reblogged and shared your thoughts with me on anon😌 It really does give me motivation to write!! Reblog are never expected, but always appreciated!! ☀️💗💜🥰🌻 Hope you’re all staying safe out there!!

Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST

Warnings: Smut (it’s my first time writing it so be nice plz), little arguments, some swearing, and jealousy (??)

Word Count: 9.5K

Buzz. Buzz.

You blindly reached a hand out from the covers and tried to quiet the noise.

Buzz. Buzz.

An arm tightened around your waist and you felt hot breath fan against your neck, “Turn it…off.”

Once your hand finally connected with your phone, you pushed the lock button to shut off the noise. With your eyes still squeezed tight, you brought your phone to your face and squinted one eye open.

3:27 a.m.

Even though your brightness was turned all the way down, it was still too bright. Shawn groaned as the light illuminated your face as he nuzzled his head deeper into your shoulder to block out the light.

“Back to sleep,” he grumbled against your neck.

You lifted your hand that was curled around Shawn’s neck and played with the curls at the nape of his neck. You wanted to go back to sleep, but you were curious as to who was texting you this late at night. And you were curious as to why your night time mode was no longer in effect.

It took a few tries to correctly enter in your passcode since Face I.D. didn’t recognize your face in the pitch black. You then tapped on the green message app and read the few text messages you received.

How was your day?

Having a good spring break?

With a swift click, you powered off your phone, and let out a deep sigh. It was a kid from your marketing class three semesters ago; and he had taken up a habit of texting you every day. You hadn’t talked to him face to face since you presented the disaster of a marketing project and you had hoped to keep it that way. He was a nice guy, but he was just a partner in a group project; nothing more and nothing less.

But for some reason he thought it would be best to rekindle whatever dynamic you had. You didn’t have a dynamic with him other than working on a semester project.

You wiggled your way down the bed and felt a hand on your back creep its way under your shirt. A relaxed sigh left your lips as Shawn rubbed lazy circles with his thumb along your spine. Your eyes fell shut as you felt a soft kiss be placed on your collar bone, “Important?”

“Not at all,” you hummed as Shawn stopped his hand movements and pressed his hand flat against your back, pulling you tighter against his bare chest, “Sleep.” You barely got the single syllable out of your mouth before you felt yourself get carried away into a dreamlike state.

•••

Waking up on a tour bus was something that you weren’t too fond of, but you couldn’t deny how exhilarating it was to wake up in a different city. And sharing a bed with your boyfriend on his own bus was something you couldn’t complain about.

It was your spring break and you made plans to visit Shawn while he was on the European leg of his tour. Touring Europe was one of Shawn’s favorite experiences and he begged and pleaded with you until you agreed to spend your break with him. It was quite the sight, watching him literally fold his hands up in prayer at your knees, but little did he know, that in your mind you had hoped he would invite you out for some of his European dates. So he didn’t need to beg.

Shawn had played a show in Cologne, Germany the previous night and you drove through the night to Paris, where his next show was being held.

The two of you got up early, Shawn mentioned something about wanting to walk around the city with you a bit before he got swept away in tour mode. Shawn texted Andrew that he was heading out and that he would keep him updated on his whereabouts. Andrew made Shawn promise not to wander off too far.

Once off the bus, Shawn took your hand in his and started to obnoxiously swing them. You let out a little laugh and went along with it. After all, you were in Paris––the city of love––with your boyfriend. It was a little cliché to think, but you felt as if you were floating on cloud nine.

There was a small cafe not too far from where your bus was parked and Shawn decided he wanted to try it out. Shawn opened the door for you and immediately you were encased with the smell of sweet pastries and espresso. A smile over took your features as you looked back at Shawn who was already smiling at you.

“This is heaven,” you breathed out as you stood close to the pastry display window. You wanted to taste every pastry, but knew that was impossible. So you convinced Shawn to have you each buy two pastries each to try. He rolled his eyes but went along with your idea. You knew he wanted to try every pastry in the window too.

Once your americano, and Shawn’s cappuccino, were finished, you took your bagged pastries and went outside to sit on their small patio area. You unwrapped the bag with the chocolate croissant and ripped a piece off.

“Who texted you last night?” Shawn took a sip of his cappuccino. He tried to play it off as if he wasn’t that interested, but you knew it had been bothering him since your phone woke the two of you up in the middle of the night.

Shawn was the only person who ever texted you that late; with the exception of your best friend and sometimes your mom. Shawn was always forgetful of timezones, but he was sleeping with you in bed last night, so he knew it couldn’t possibly be him texting you. There was someone else.

You shrugged your shoulders and offered him a piece of ripped off chocolate croissant. He took it and popped it in his mouth, still waiting for your answer.

You sighed, “Just some guy from my marketing class.” You broke off another piece of croissant and dipped it into your coffee which earned you a confused stare from Shawn, “I read an article that this is the French way to drink your morning coffee.”

“You’re insane,” Shawn let out a breathy laugh, “But this guy, you have a class with him?”

You scoffed and took another sip of your coffee, “Yeah, like last year.”

Shawn choked on his coffee and started coughing uncontrollably. You placed your cup down and made a move to get up and help him, but he just held his hadn’t out and choked out a fine, before patting his chest and coughing a bit.

Shawn coughed once more, “And he––You still talk to him?”

You tilted your head in thought, you didn’t really still talk to him. He was radio silent for over a year and then sent you a message out of the blue, a bit odd really.

“Not really, he’ll just text me and I’ll respond sometimes.”

“Have you talked to him over the phone?”

You let out a laugh at his ridiculous concern, “Never.”

“Does he know you have a boyfriend?”

You tilted your head once more and softened your eyes, “I––I don’t know?”

Shawn let out an exasperated breath. He was annoyed, you thought, he was upset with you and you didn’t like the nauseous feeling that bubbled up in your stomach.

“We weren’t dating when we had our group marketing project––“

“You did a project with him?”

Your grip tightened around your paper coffee cup, “Yeah, with three other people.”

In through your nose, out through your mouth you repeated the mantra over and over in your head. Keep your cool. It was silent for a moment and you rationalized with yourself that what you said probably didn’t ease his concerns at all, but then again, Shawn was never the one to be jealous.

“I’m sure he’s seen the picture or two I’ve posted with you on Instagram,” you thought that would ease his concerns but it only caused his eyes to widen even more, “But he’s not important,” you waved the subject off and reached your hand across the table, “I’m in Paris with my insanely hot boyfriend.”

Shawn dropped his left eye in a wink and smirked, “Damn right.”

•••

Shawn’s performance in Paris went better than expected, Andrew nudging his elbow into your side from the side stage saying that it was all because of you. For the rest of the night, Andrew’s words rang through your head and you blushed every time Shawn looked backstage at you.

After the show concluded, Shawn handed his guitar off to someone and thanked all of the crew he walked past for a great show until he came barreling into you. He wrapped his sweaty arms around you and squeezed you tight.

You let out a squeal but hugged him back with as much strength you could muster up. He kissed your cheek, released you from his embrace, and threw an arm over your shoulder as Andrew talked his ear off about hotel reservations for the night and travel plans for the next day.

Andrew guided both of you toward the back exit of the arena where a black car was waiting for you to take you to the hotel. There were two days between the Paris show and the next show in Munich. And Shawn had convinced Andrew to let you both stay over night in Paris and then meet up with the team in the late evening the following day. Andrew reluctantly agreed, and he made Shawn promise that he would be on his best behavior for the rest of tour.

The car ride to the hotel wasn’t long, but it didn’t help that Shawn kept his hand on your thigh for the whole ride. And it didn’t help at all that he kept inching his hand up as he nonchalantly looked through the window with a smirk on his face. Once the two of you were at the hotel, Shawn took both of your bags, checked in with the concierge and wasted no time in pressing the elevator button.

“Geez, be patient with it,” you laughed as Shawn repeatedly pressed the up arrow. He ignored you and continued to press it until the ding sounded. He cheered in victory and yanked you into the elevator with a yelp.

When Shawn pressed the button of your floor, your phone buzzed in your hand. You looked down at it and grimaced at the text message you saw.

How was your day?

Everyday, without fail, you received a text message from the guy from your marketing class, and while you didn’t want to assume anything, it was a little annoying that he kept texting you when you told him you were on vacation with your boyfriend. You looked over at Shawn and saw that he was busy scrolling on his own phone, so you decided to respond.

You typed, it was good!! Just finished watching my boyfriend perform in Paris! Crazy!

Your phone vibrated with another text, Paris is always good––always love going back there. Between the good art, good food, and good coffee it’s a city built for me.

That was the other thing about texting him; he always revolved the conversation around him or brought it back to relate to him in one way or another. And yes, you knew that to keep up conversation, you had to talk about yourself, but the amount of times he always seemingly tried to one up you in conversation did not go unnoticed.

Yeah! My boyfriend and I got coffee at a cute little cafe this morning! Better than anything back home!

You made it a new rule to mention Shawn at least four times in conversation with him because the more read into the text messages, the more you could see where Shawn’s worry and jealousy came from. When he first texted you out of the blue, you thought it was a bit weird, but you loved reconnecting with people so you just saw it as that. But when Shawn was sound-checking today, you read back through the text messages and they did seem flirty on his end.

I could show you some really good coffee shops in Toronto.

“Y/n?” You looked up and saw Shawn standing outside of the elevator and holding the door open with his arm, “Coming?”

You nodded hastily and left the text message on read without a response. That was the furthest he’s gone in insisting on a date. He had brought up his ex-girlfriend a handful of times, clueing you in on how he was single, and to refute his claims of your supposed interest, you brought up Shawn.

Stepping out of the elevator, you took your suitcase from Shawn and rolled it down the hallway. He stopped in front of the door and put the room key in. Once it lit up green, he pushed the door and held it open with his shoulder as you shuffled in with your luggage.

You set your suitcase down to the side, not bothering to unpack since you were going to be leaving tomorrow. Behind you, you heard the door close with the click sound of the lock, and felt a presence behind you.

Shawn’s hands hesitantly ghosted over your waist and you immediately straightened your posture. You felt your breath hitch inside of your throat as Shawn’s hands became more steady on your hips; pulling you back into his chest as you let out a relaxed breath.

His thumbs rubbed soft circles on your hips as his hot breath hit just below your ear. You thought he was going to whisper something, but instead, he placed a single kiss under your ear. And then another kiss on your throat as one of his hands slid up your waist. And then he placed another lower kiss on crook of your neck.

The hotel room was silent; save for the Paris traffic sounds that seeped through the window and your racing heart. You could feel Shawn’s heart rate from being pressed up against him. And there was no doubt he heard just how loud your heart was beating for him.

You so desperately wanted to turn around and return Shawn’s kisses, but his hand was firmly planted on your hip, keeping you in place as he continued to pepper kisses up and down your neck. His hand snuck under your shirt, electric jolts zipped through your body, as he slowly inched his way up to cup your breast in his hand.

You let out a quiet moan, not being able to hold off any longer. Twisting your head at an uncomfortable angle, you pressed a hard kiss to Shawn’s lips. He groaned as he turned his head to meet your lips for a prolonged kiss as he continued to massage your breast.

Breaking the kiss for only a moment, Shawn spun you around and pressed your back against the wall, before hungrily reattaching his lips back to yours. With his hand still caressing your breast under your shirt, you tugged at the bottom of his white tank-top that was still sweaty from his performance. He took his hand out from under your shirt and swiftly threw it over his head, not caring where it landed in the room.

Before Shawn reconnected his lips with yours, he reciprocated your actions by tugging on the bottom of your shirt. He looked into your eyes, silently asking permission to remove your top. With a nod, he took it off at a much slower pace than how you ripped his shirt off, savoring every curve of your body as he peeled your shirt off.

Once your shirt was off, and you were just left in your bra, Shawn brought a hand up to cup your face as he stared tenderly into your eyes, “Stunning.”

Not being able to contain yourself anymore, you rounded your arms around his waist and pulled him in so your chests were pressed up together and continued kissing him. Shawn brought one up and placed it beside your head, palm flat against the wall to support himself.

Your head was getting dizzy, but you would rather suffer from suffocation than break the kiss. Shawn always had this affect on you; feeling dizzy. You felt as dizzy in this moment as you did on your first date when he pulled out your chair for you. The summersaults your stomach was performing were similar to the feeling of going around a loop on a rollercoaster, but instead of begging to get off the ride, you wanted to stay on for as long as possible.

Shawn’s hand that was cupping your jaw slowly moved its way down your neck and onto your shoulder, toying with your bra strap. His fingers would lift up the strap as he would pull it down your arms, and then back up to your shoulders, in a teasing manner. In between kisses, you struggled to get ay words out, but the one coherent word that Shawn heard loud and clear was off.

You were always comfortable in Shawn’s presence, but being bare in front of a person came a certain vulnerability. And it was different when you were with a person you loved. The vulnerability of being completely undressed and open with the person you cared for created a connection deeper than life itself.

The constricting feeling of your bra clasped around your back was gone in a swift motion as you felt Shawn sponge kisses onto your neck. He used both of his hands to slowly drag your bra straps down your arms, with his fingertips grazing your skin, causing goosebumps to appear.

You felt your nipples harden from the gush of cold air, but the inside of your body felt as if it was on fire from Shawn’s touch.

The kisses Shawn continued to place on your neck were soft, giving you time to catch your breath, as he nipped at your skin. Like his hand had done earlier in the night, it crept up your stomach at a painstakingly slow pace until his hand got to his desired destination. You leaned your head back on the wall and let out moan.

You could feel Shawn’s smirk against your skin as he squeezed your breast again, eliciting another sound from your lips.

Trailing your hands up Shawn’s arms, you made sure to feel every crevice. It seemed as if you had the same affect on him as he had on you; his muscles tensed up under your touch, but relaxed the more you rubbed up and down his arms.

Having Shawn’s lips leave marks on your body was nothing you would ever complain about, but you were missing his lips.

Without losing contact of his body, you trailed your hands up from his arms, giving his biceps a slight squeeze, before trailing your fingers up to softly gaze his neck. You heard Shawn’s breath catch in his throat; you smiled at the control you had over him.

With both hands placed on his cheeks, you lifted his head up from your neck. You offered him a small, soft smile as you tangled your fingers in his hair. His eyes closed momentarily as he leaned his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning on your face.

“God, I love you.”

Your heart felt as if it had set off fireworks in celebration. And in every sense of the word, it was a celebration. With the way Shawn made you feel loved, appreciated, and wanted… Everyday with him felt like a reason to celebrate.

“I––“ you said before he pressed a searing his to your lips, “––Love––“ his hand squeezed your hip as it slid further down, the opposite way it had been trailing all night. With the fireworks still going off in your chest, you felt the anticipation of the night’s activity build up in your lower region.

Shawn’s hand played with the top of your jeans, sliding his thumb in and out of the denim. When Shawn felt as if he teased you enough, he stilled his thumb over the top button of your jeans. Your kisses slowed down, now soothing and languid, as you felt Shawn’s tongue slowly part your lips.

You leaned your head to the side, granting him more access to your mouth, that he greedily took as he popped the button off from holding your jeans together. And just like his kisses, he slowly moved his fingers down to your zipper. You couldn’t hear the sound of your pants being unzipped over the ringing in your ear caused by pure pleasure.

As your jeans hung loosely at your hips, he brought his hand back up to your underwear. His cold fingertips pressed against your lower stomach which caused you to flinch, but once he dipped his hand down your front, and you felt a single finger swipe up your center, it didn’t matter to you.

Nothing matter to you in this moment.

You whimpered into his mouth at the intimate touches as he brought his free hand up to cup your jaw as he kissed you long and slow.

Buzz. Buzz.

Shawn halted the movements of his finger as he abruptly jumped back at the loud vibration against the wall. Your eyes widened at the loss of contact and also at the harsh vibration coming from your back pocket.

“Jesus Christ,” Shawn swore under his breath as he pressed a hand to his bare chest, “That scared the shit out of me.”

You tried to even out your breathing, frustrated that your activities with Shawn had come to a standstill. With a loud and annoyed breath passing through your nose, you reached into your back pocket for your phone, ready to give the person who interrupted the two of you a piece of your mind.

Once you swiped across on the message, not bothering to read the preview on your lock screen, you entered in your passcode and were automatically brought to the messages app. Once you saw the name on top with a blue dot next to it, you leaned your head against the wall and shut your eyes in frustration.

Hello??

What’s your favorite coffee shop in Toronto?

“Alright?”

You held down the volume and lock button to turn your phone off, leaving Shawn unanswered for a few seconds longer. Once your phone screen was completely black, you threw it on your suitcase and let out another frustrated breath.

Why couldn’t he take the hint? Why did he insist on texting you every night after more than a year of radio silence? It made no sense. He was just a boy who was put in a group with you that was randomly created by the professor. And whether or not he just wanted to be friends, it was quite annoying having to keep up conversation everyday with a person you didn’t think twice about. Seeing his name pop up on your screen made your stomach crawl and you dreaded having to make polite conversation.

“It’s…” You walked over to the bed where Shawn was sitting on the edge of. You sat next to him, debating on telling him the identity of the person who texted you. But from his tensed up shoulders and folded up hands, you could tell that he already knew, “It’s not important.”

“Was it the guy from marketing?” His voice held an edge to it as he turned his head toward you.

You nodded your head and rolled your eyes, “I don’t get it, honestly, it was over a year ago and I never gave him the impression––“

“He likes you.”

“As if––“

“He likes you,” Shawn’s voice was borderline emotionless as his jaw clenched, “He wants––“

“I love you,” you turned your top half, that was still bare, to face your boyfriend. You brought a hand up to his clenched jaw and caressed his cheek with your thumb, “I only want you.”

Shawn’s eyes darkened with lust as he twisted his body, placing a hand on your hip, “Move back,” you didn’t question his command as you inched your way up on the bed. Once you were at the top of the bed, Shawn slowly lowered you until your head was resting against a plush pillow. He situated himself on top of you as he ran a hand softly through your hair, “I’m gonna show you how much I love you,” Shawn whispered each word as he slowly brought his head down to brush his nose up against yours.

The tension was thick; unfinished business left up and open in the air.

With every breath you breathed out, your chest touched Shawn’s. And every breath you breathed in, all you wanted was for him touch you.

Your lips ghosted over Shawn’s for a brief moment, barely able to contain yourself, before whispering, “Show me.”

And show you he did.

•••

The air conditioning was on full blast, but you were still sweating out of your mind, as you laid on the couch with Shawn. Both of your bodies were drenched with sweat, having spent all day out in the Italian sun in Bologna. Your bodies felt as if they were melted together by humidity itself.

Feeling a bit cramped, you stretched out your legs.

“Stooop,” Shawn groaned as your legs peeled off his, causing an uncomfortable sticky feel to the back of your calves. You didn’t like the feeling of your hot legs slowly becoming unstuck from Shawn’s, but your legs felt free and refreshed after a quick stretch.

“Sorry,” you apologized before slotting your legs back into place with his, “Needed a stretch,” you snuggled back into his chest as Shawn curled his arm around your neck to bring your head up to press a kiss to your temple.

The two of you continued to lay in silence, enjoying the feel of the other’s gentle rise and falls of chests. You felt disgusting, and you knew you needed a shower, but cuddling with Shawn was your top priority. You only had two more days left with him and you wanted to be with him of every second of those last days.

You were set to fly back to Toronto the day after his show in Turin. So while you were excited to see Shawn perform more, you wish he had an extra date somewhere that would give him an off day. It would be at least another month or so until you would be able to see him in person. At times, you grew jealous of all the fans who were able to see Shawn in concert. You were jealous that they were with him and you would be sitting on your couch, scrolling through update accounts to get a glimpse of him.

The thought of leaving Shawn for a lengthy amount of time caused a familiar sting in the back of your eyes. You weren’t going to cry, you repeated to yourself, you can’t cry. Shawn had no control over his touring schedule, and you knew how much he loved this part of the job. And seeing him doing what he’s passionate about made you love him even more. You couldn’t deny the joy you felt coarse through your veins as you watched him strum his guitar on stage with thousands of fans singing his lyrics back to him.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

It was as if Shawn was thinking the same thing as he voiced his concern. You lifted your head up slightly, not wanting to move it too far off from where it’s been resting on his bicep because of the stickiness between your bodies. He was already staring down at you.

“I’ll miss you too,” you breathed out a sigh.

Shawn swallowed hard, “Will you––Are you seeing that marketing guy when you get back?”

You scrunched your eyebrows together and answered slowly, “No?” He didn’t look satisfied that your answer came out as more of a question, “I mean––I don’t have any plans to see him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Shawn sat up, slowly untangling his sticky limbs from yours, “Do you want to see him?”

You rolled your eyes at Shawn, who was now sitting on the opposite side of the couch staring down at you with hard eyes, “No.”

The rattling of the air conditioner was the only sound that could be heard between the two of you. Shawn was still distancing himself from you and you didn’t know how to get it through his head that you had no interest in the guy from your marketing class; you had a boyfriend––Shawn was your boyfriend.

“I’d feel better if you’d stop talking to him.”

You let out a little laugh, not believing what you had just heard him say, “Okay, sure.”

You went to reach out for Shawn’s hand, not liking the space between you when your time with him was dwindling away. Once your fingers were slightly curved over his hand, he snatched his hand away. Confused and hurt, you looked up at him to see his jaw set and head turned as he looked away from you.

“I’m serious,” he said, “I don’t want you talking to him.”

Your confusion morphed into annoyance, “You really don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with.”

“So you’re friends with him now?”

“Oh my God, Shawn,” you let your head fall onto the back of the couch and screwed your eyes shut, “It doesn’t matter! You don’t get to decide that stuff for me.”

Shawn scoffed, “I’m your boyfriend.”

You lifted your head up and rubbed your temples before opening your eyes and looking at the cause of your oncoming headache, “Yeah you are,” you let out a deep sigh, “so you shouldn’t be worried.”

“He likes you, Y/n,” Shawn slightly raised his voice. You raised your eyebrows silently asking him if he was really going yell at you for something out of your control, “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled without actually meaning the apology, “But can’t you see where I’m coming from? He texts you every day––And you can’t even deny that, I hear your phone in the middle of the night––And even when you try and ghost him he still texts you every day. He really really likes you.”

He had a point. You didn’t like that Shawn made absolute sense. You looked down at your hands while starting to nervously fumble with the end of your shirt. It wasn’t like the guy from your marketing class wasn’t a good guy; he was nice, polite, and genuinely wanted to hear what you were thinking at all times during the day. Sure, keeping up a conversation with him was exhausting at times, but you didn’t know what else to do.

“What if like––What if like we weren’t together––hear me out,” you cut your explanation short when Shawn’s tight jaw went slack and eyes bugged out of his head, “So in this alternate universe where we are not together,” you gave him a pointed look, “And say I really really liked you. I would text you nonstop. I would want to hear everything about your day, even if you had just slept and done nothing all day, and I would be absolutely devastated if you wouldn’t text me back.”

Shawn was silent, carefully planning out his next sentence.

“So you…” he started off slow, “Don’t want to hurt his…feelings?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I guess so.”

On the inside you felt defeated, you knew that wasn’t a good enough answer, especially for Shawn, because he got up from the couch and started pacing behind it.

He ran a hand through his curls, “And what about my feelings?”

You propped your elbows up on your knees and rested your head in your hands as you let out an aggravated sigh, “Can we not argue about this?”

“I really wouldn’t feel comfortable if you saw him when you go home,” Shawn stopped his pacing and leaned his hands behind you on the couch, “Please promise me you won’t see him.”

You gulped, your head still buried in your hands. You had no intention of seeing him when you got back, you respected Shawn’s feelings about him, but it ticked you off that he thought he had some sort of power to tell––not even ask––you to not see him.

Lifting your head from your hands, you turned your head around to see his eyes pleading with you. It made you sad to think that Shawn thought someone could easily come between your relationship. Did he not trust you enough to be alone with someone else?

Buzz. Buzz.

“Jesus, fuck––Are you kidding me?!”

Shawn’s outburst caused you to jump up from the couch and spin around to face him. His eyes were glaring at your phone that continued to vibrate on the glass coffee table. Which was odd since your phone only vibrated twice whenever he texted you––Oh.

Your eyes widened at the realization; Oh.

Buzz. Buzz.

“It could be anyone,” you tried tried to calm him down as you carefully reached down to your vibrating phone, “He’s never called me–––“

And just as you said your famous last words, you turned over your vibrating phone to see his name appear on the screen. With wide, nervous eyes, you quickly pressed one of the side buttons on your phone to silence the call. When you no longer felt the vibration in your hand, you opened your mouth to offer an excuse to Shawn, but your phone started vibrating in your hand again.

Buzz. Buzz.

“Is he for real?!” Shawn threw his head back in a humorless laugh that sent chills down your spine, “After you sent him to voicemail, he’s still––“

“How do you know it’s him?!” You raised your voice to match Shawn’s, your tone sounding defensive.

Shawn narrowed his eyes at you, “Don’t pretend like it’s not!”

Growing more and more frustrated with his accusations, you turned your phone off and threw it on the couch. Now that the sound of your vibrating phone was nonexistent, you only heard your heart angrily beating through your ears.

“Is this how you really want to spend our last days together?” You took the cheap way out of deflecting Shawn’s negative emotions and changed the conversation, “We have two days left together and you want to fight?”

Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose, “You’re not listening––“

“Shawn,” Andrew’s voice was followed by two knocks, “Soundcheck!”

You breathed out a sigh of relief. Shawn breathed out a sigh of irritation.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Shawn said coldly over his shoulders as he walked toward the door; swiftly opening it up and slamming it behind him as you heard Andrew’s muffled voice go on and on about what Shawn still had to do before the concert.

•••

The last two days you spent with Shawn were tense.

You still held hands, you still cuddled together in bed, and you still shared intimate moments together. But everything felt stiff. Shawn’s hands were limp when you held them, Shawn didn’t rub circles on your back when you had trouble falling asleep, and your intimate moments were always overshadowed with Shawn trying to prove he was better than anyone else who could possibly want your attention.

He was jealous.

The conversation that Andrew interrupted the night of the Bologna show was never picked up again. It ended right then and there with the slam of the door. Shawn was usually a person who kept their word; so you were expecting to circle back to that conversation after his show when on his tour bus.

But that wasn’t the case. That night was filled with lust, love, and connecting with one another. Your head was resting on Shawn’s shoulder, his hand clasped around yours as they rested on your lap, as you recounted the events of last night.

He grabbed your wrist, untangling your hands from his curls, a mischievous smile on his lips before his head ducked under the sheets and began place kisses on your torso, making himself comfortable between your legs.

You looked up at Shawn through your eyelashes, already missing his tender touches, as you watched him mindlessly scroll through Twitter. Squeezing his hand, it caused his attention to drift away from his phone; a lovesick smile spread out on his face.

“Shawn,” you muttered his name out before he abruptly cut you off as he dragged his tongue along the inside of your thigh, eventually meeting your aching core. You had to bite your lower lip until you tasted blood to fight off the string of expletives that were threatening to slip past your lips.

Once his eyes met yours, he locked his phone and threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to him, You snuggled your head deeper into his neck and breathed in his scent not knowing when the next time you’ll see him would be. You had tentative plans to see him once he was back in Toronto, on a break from touring, but you knew he would still have some work and would want to spend time with his family. He pressed a soft kiss to your the side of your head, “I love you.”

There wasn’t a second where his name didn’t escape your lips. Over and over, you said his name like a prayer. With your fingers entwined, the feeling in your lower stomach was strong, but not as strong as the love you felt for him in that moment. You had come to realize that you lived out everyday to love Shawn. Just Shawn. One of his free arms hooked around under your thigh and held you in place as you fought to squirm, overcome with a pleasurable sensation.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, which was a little difficult considering the tiny amount of space between him and the seat. You hugged him tighter as you saw the sign on the highway indicate you were coming up close to your destination of the airport. You didn’t want to let go of Shawn. You never wanted to let go.

Before the car even made the exit from the highway into the airport vicinity your eyes were already prickling with tears. You loved how Shawn was out in the world living his dream. You loved seeing him bounce off stage with the thrill of performing in front of thousands of people in his eyes each night. But there were times where you wanted to be a little selfish and just keep him to yourself.

You let out a sniffle when Shawn informed the driver what airline you were flying so he could drop you off at the appropriate location. Taking notice of your unhappy state, Shawn carefully rubbed his arm up and down your arm, “Hey,” he said once softly, and then repeated himself with a hushed tone, “You’re okay. I’ll be home to you soon.”

The way how he equated home with you was what lowered the barrier of your sniffles into free flowing tears. Not caring about following road safety, Shawn unbuckled himself and then reached over to undo your seat restraints. Once the click of your buckle indicated you were free, he circled his arms around your waist and pulled you up to sit on his lap.

You kept your head buried into his shoulder; your hands clutching his t-shirt. Your tears were silent, save for the occasional hiccup from trying to hold back the intensity of your cries, but Shawn’s hands grazed up and down your spine, trying to calm you down. He whispered encouraging words into your ear about how well you’ll finish up the semester and how much he loved you. You wanted to hear those words on repeat for the rest of your life.

Once your tears were nearly gone and your chest was just slightly heaving, the car pulled up to a stop in front of the airline you were flying back to Toronto. When you felt the car stop and heard the driver put the car in park with a polite, Ms. We’re here, you shook your head in denial as you clutched onto Shawn tighter.

Shawn continued to rub your back as he let out a sigh, “I’m going in with her,” his voice was just above a whisper.

Knowing that you’ll get to spend some extra seconds with Shawn inside the airport was enough to get you to calm down. Your time was officially ticking down to your last minutes together and you wanted to spend as much time with him as humanely possible. It seemed as though Shawn had the same idea.

“Mr. Mendes,” the driver started out as he looked up in the rear view mirror, “I don’t think that’s a––“

“I’m going in with her.” Shawn’s voice was strong as he didn’t leave any room for discussion. The driver seemed to understand the memo as he nodded his head and got out of the driver’s side and rounded the car to the trunk to unload your suitcase.

Shawn unlocked the door and was able to open the door. He softly patted your back, indicating that you had to get up and out. Begrudgingly, you slid off his lap and quietly thanked the driver who rolled your suitcase around to you.

After a brief word with the driver, Shawn softly laced your fingers with his as he walked slowly up and through the automatic doors that led into the airport. There were people of all ages in the airport and you were a bit nervous that your final goodbye with Shawn would be so public.

Your bloodshot eyes looked up at Shawn as you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble. Shawn’s eyes were apologetic and full of sorrow as he looked down at you, then up at the crowded airport, and then back down at you. Thinking that this was where you were going to say your final goodbyes, you took a deep breath, but before you could get a word out Shawn tugged on your hand.

Like always, you blindly followed him to wherever he was taking you. Shawn led you to a quieter part of the concourse, tucked away behind a thick metal beam where prying eyes couldn’t find you.

Shawn took your other hand in his, holding both of your hands tightly as they swayed slightly in between your bodies. He looked down at you, his eyes sad but also twinkling as he smiled, “It won’t be too long, promise.”

“I––I know,” you hiccuped, “I just always miss you.”

You already missed the way his muscular arm wrapped around your waist as you slept. You already missed the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed too hard as he recounted a story. You already missed the whisper of his voice, that carried words you wanted to memorize like one of his songs.

You felt a chill wind wrap around your heart––never having missed him with so much before.

“I’m sorry,” Shawn blurted out, “I’m––I knew I acted weird these past two days and I’m sorry that I made our last days suck and––“

“Hey, hey,” you were the one comforting him now. You released one of his hands and brought your fingers up to brush through his hair. His eyes normally closed in bliss, but they stayed open with regret, “It’s alright. That––It was stupid. Just a little something, but everything’s all good,” you emphasized the last word as you squeezed his hand, “I quite enjoyed the last few days.”

No matter how hard you tried to hide the blush from creeping onto your cheeks, it was inevitable when Shawn’s soft smile changed into a devious smirk, “Quite enjoyed it, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at his cheekiness and smiled at him before scrunching your eyebrows together; you wanted to take in every last detail of the face you fell in love with, “I won’t see him when I get back,” your voice carried a more serious tone than the lighthearted banter shared just moments before, “I––I know it makes you feel uncomfortable, so I won’t see him.”

Shawn closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on yours. He breathed out a sigh of relief, “Thank you,” before capturing your lips in an innocent kiss. Much different than the kisses you shared all throughout visiting him on tour.

“I don’t want to––“ you were able to get out a few words before Shawn kissed you again, “But I––“ he brought a hand up to rest on your cheek, holding you in place, “I have to––“

“Sh,” Shawn quieted you as he kissed your lips that turned upright into a smile, “Let me kiss you.”

“I have to go,” you managed to get out between each sweet kiss he gave you.

With one––two––three more soft kisses, he reluctantly pulled himself away and looked into your eyes with care and affection, “I love you.”

You smiled and leaned up to press one last peck to his lips, “I love you, too.” Shawn’s smile grew from a closed lipped one to a full blown grin as he stared down at you.

“Text me when you land,” he took your suitcase handle, along with your hand, and started rolling it toward the escalator that you needed to go up in order to get through security. You nodded and told him to expect a text from you when you landed and when you were back at your apartment.

With one last kiss pressed to your lips––one that caused a few tears to slip through your closed eyes––you watched as he walked away, head turning over his shoulder every other second and waving to you as you took the escalator up. Once he was finally out of your view, you let a few more salty tears escape down your face, still being able to feel his soft lips pressed against yours as you made your way to the security line.

Once you had waited your turn and made it past security, you walked up to the flight board to make sure that your gate hadn’t changed from the time you printed your ticket.

Buzz. Buzz.

How was today?

Your stomach dropped at the name that appeared on your screen. You hadn’t texted the guy from your marketing class back since he had nearly ruined the night with Shawn in Paris. You had prayed that he took the hint in you not returning his texts.

Buzz. Buzz.

Miss you already!! Counting down the days until we’re back together. Maybe we can do a repeat of Paris or Bologna?? ;)

Your heart fluttered all throughout your stomach as a smiled slowly inched its way on your face. You had last seen Shawn within the hour, but your heart still ached for him. You came to a conclusion that your heart would always ache for him.

And with those two text messages––from two very different people––coming into your phone at the exact same time, there was only one person that you deemed worthy of a response, and the other person was not that important.

•••

Dressed in black skinny jeans, a maroon button up shirt, and black Ray-Ban sunglasses; Shawn thought he was dressing incognito, but he really didn’t do much to hide his identity. He was very upset when you pointed out that he still looked like Shawn Mendes.

He whined the whole car ride as he drove to a coffee shop you spent most of your semester at. You wanted to show him the little things in your life that he missed when he was on tour, so that way he wouldn’t feel as sad.

“I’m just saying,” you laughed as you shut Shawn’s car door and rounded the front of it to meet up with a pouty Shawn, “Maybe try wearing a hat? A puffy jacket––“

“Y/n, it’s nearly summer,” Shawn scoffed as he walked up to take hold of your hand, “Like hell I’m wearing a puffy jacket.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you opened the door for him and walked in to the coffee shop that was littered with a few people. With universities out of session, the coffee shop you frequented wasn’t nearly as crowded as it normally was.

You smiled, happy that you wouldn’t have to fight for a table, “C’mon,” you tugged Shawn’s hand toward the front counter, “I’m getting an espresso, what do you want?”

Shawn took his time reading the menu, debating on getting a specialty drink or sticking with green tea to keep his vocal chords healthy for when he was due to head back out on tour. A pang of sadness hit your heart when he nonchalantly mentioned leaving again, but you tried not to focus on that. You were focusing on the present––being present with Shawn.

Once he decided to order a lavender honey latte, you ordered your drinks together and slipped the cashier some cash before Shawn could whip out his credit card. He glared at you and you leaned up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

When you had your drinks in your hands and heading towards a table in the back, you were laughing at something Shawn said when a voice cut you off.

“Y/n?”

It was a voice you hadn’t heard since your marketing class now four semesters ago.

Shawn turned around before you did and looked at the guy before scrunching his eyebrows down at you in confusion. You let out a frustrated breath and turned around with a fake smile on your face.

“Ridley,” you let out another sigh, “Hi.”

At the sound of his name Ridley brightened up and sent a smile your way, “It’s been a while! How are you? How’s your day been?”

You ignored Shawn’s stare burning into the side of your head. If reading the constant text messages from him starting every conversation off with how are you or how was your day wasn’t bad enough, hearing him actually say them to you sounded like nails on a chalk board. You thought you were successful on getting him out of your life.

“I’m good––Actually, I––I’m here with my boyfriend–––“

“You never responded to my text,” Ridley cut you off, calling you out for ghosting him.

And if Shawn hadn’t put two and two together, he definitely did now as he extended his hand, “Hey, man, I’m Shawn, Y/n’s boyfriend,” he emphasized his title and you didn’t miss the little glare Ridley sent Shawn’s way.

“Ridley,” he dropped Shawn’s hand in a manner of seconds, “Y/n and I had marketing together.” Shawn was about to open his mouth to say something, but Ridley shifted his body to face you and tilted his head, “But yeah, I never heard back from you since Paris.”

You lightly clenched your coffee cup, wishing that there was a way to ghost someone while talking to them in person, “My phone actually fell into a river and when I got a new one I lost all my contacts,” you offered a small smile with your excuse.

“That sucks,” Ridley said. His eyes momentarily left yours as he intently watched Shawn’s arm sneak around around your waist and pull you into his side, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. A true genuine smile lifted on your face. Ridley took notice and didn’t seem to like it one bit.

Ridley cleared his throat and fumbled with something his back pocket, “Here––What’s your number again? We still haven’t gotten coffee together after I asked––“

Shawn let out a laugh that cut Ridley off. Both of your heads turned to face your boyfriend and your eyes widened, unsure of what was to come out of his mouth next.

“Are you really asking her out––my girlfriend––out on a date in front of me?”

Ridley’s eyes widened at Shawn’s bluntness before they narrowed in on him, “I think she should decide for herself––“

“Oh, fuck off,” Shawn groaned as he leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, trying to conceal his anger. You tried pulling him away from the situation, mumbling a c’mon, but Shawn wasn’t having any of it, “Leave her alone.”

“You can’t make decisions for her.”

It sounded very familiar to something you had said a few months ago when Shawn told you to stop talking to him. You had told Shawn that he didn’t have any control over who you could and couldn’t be friends with. And while that still remained true, it felt slimy coming from a person you didn’t even want to be friends with.

“You’re right, I don’t make decisions for her,” Shawn’s voice was low, “But you’re clearly making her uncomfortable and as her boyfriend I always have her best intentions in mind and right now,” he removed his arm from your waist and took a step closer to Ridley who shrunk back, “you really need to leave.”

You had never seen Shawn act so calm while visibly angry. His voice was laced with poison as he spoke to Ridley, his hand was clenched, and face turning a shade of red with every second Ridley didn’t leave. If this was any other person trying to ask you out, you know Shawn would’ve paid no attention to them, but since it was Ridley––the guy from your marketing class––who was relentless in trying to pull you away from Shawn…You could see where he was coming from.

Ridley had caused some turmoil in your relationship when you visited Shawn on tour. And there was a brief period where Shawn was more scared than he’s ever been at the thought of losing you to someone who could provide you with a stable lifestyle. But now, face to face with the person behind the text messages, Shawn just felt anger toward him.

“She’s not uncomfortable,” Ridley stared back at Shawn, before he turned to face you, “How about a coffee?”

You honestly didn’t know how he was so confident in asking you out in front of your boyfriend. Above anything else, that made you uncomfortable. You could handle his texting and the nuisance of his presence, but this was a step too far. It was as if Ridley knew Shawn’s biggest fear was losing you to someone else and he was dangling it right in front of him.

Ridley also wasn’t as observant as Shawn. Shawn noticed your body language; he noticed your tense shoulders, heavy sighs, and how you positioned your body slightly behind him wanting protection. Ridley hadn’t noticed any of that––he hadn’t noticed that you were uncomfortable.

Shawn looked at you with concern in his eyes, wanting to get you out of this situation, silently telling you he would do whatever necessary to make you feel safe, but wouldn’t push you too far. And Ridley looked at you with a glimmer of pride in his eyes, full of mischief like you were a prize to be won and paraded around.

After a moment of silence, you cleared your throat and shuffled into Shawn’s side, “I’d actually just like to sit and have a coffee with my boyfriend.”

Shawn draped an arm on your shoulder as you answered. Without looking up at him, you knew he had a shit eating grin on his face. Ridley’s face dropped as he looked between the both of you, and with a huff, he left you alone without another word.

You breathed out a sigh of relief as you rested your head on Shawn’s chest and let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

Shawn shrugged his shoulders as he pulled you in closer to him with his one arm, “Just doing my job,” he then guided you to a table in the back where you sat down across from him. You took a sip of your lukewarm espresso as Shawn played with your foot under the table, which caused you to look up at him.

You tilted your head and let out a small laugh at his smug facial expression, “What?”

“You were right,” Shawn took a sip of his coffee, “He’s not important.”

#here is the jealous Shawn!! woot woot!#it's a bit lengthy but I wanted to prolong the jealousy lmao #I hope you all enjoyed it!!#hearing your thoughts brightens my day up!!#let me know your thoughts!!#I have a lot planned out for future writings so get READY!!#I think I've read this about 20 times to make sure it's throughly edited but there still might be some mistakes skfjdkf #Shawn mendes #Shawn Peter raul mendes #Shawn mendes fanfiction #Shawn mendes fan fiction #Shawn mendes ff #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fan fic #Shawn mendes imagine #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes oneshot #Shawn mendes one shot #Shawn mendes writing #Shawn mendes x reader #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes angst #Shawn mendes fluff #Shawn mendes smut #Shawn mendes writings #Shawn mendes oneshots #jealous!Shawn #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn x y/n #Shawn fic

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Note

So second time lucky 😅 can I request a continuation of the 'fight me you attractive stranger' blurb, that one is soo good i love how you wrote roger in it leaving her all flustered 😆 maybe we'll find out if she went to the stall and if they had that 'wrestle' after all 👀😂 only if you would want to of course! 😁💕

here you go darl! This was a fun one to write - I love the competitive energy these two have lmao

warnings: smut, a bit of biting, dom!rog, edging/denial, fingering

Fight Me blurb

Blurb Advent: Day 17

Truth be told, you hadn’t expected the coat to be real. As Freddie had promised, Roger called that evening, his voice somehow more rough and enticing over the phone, to tell you the coat was available if you’d like to claim it.

“Uh, yes, I would like it. Been thinking about it all day. When’s the stall next open so I can come by and pick it up?”

“Well, normally I’d tell you to come by on Saturday but, seeing as you know what you want, I think I can make an exception this time. If you’d like it a bit sooner than the weekend, you could come by my place.”

It smelt a little fishy to you. Inviting you to his place for a coat you couldn’t guarantee existed. You really should just tell him to fuck off. But…what if the coat was there? You didn’t want to lose it after you’d given up the other one to Roger. Besides, if you went in suspicious of him and his pretty face, then he wasn’t going to be able to pull the wool over your eyes. So you agreed and took down his address, promising to be there in a few hours.

You took a little while to get ready, maybe making more effort with your appearance than was strictly necessary. But, if you were being completely honest, he’d been in your head all day and you wanted to leave him with the same impression. Changing your underwear to the matching set might have been a bit far since he wouldn’t see it, but you could justify it. It was your favourite set and made you feel more confident which could only help, especially if your suspicions were correct and he was just trying to have it on with you. You were glad you’d made the extra effort when you got to his place though. Roger opened the door, still dressed in the same jeans and shirt you’d first seen him in. He held a bottle of beer in one hand which he waved absentmindedly as he invited you in and offered you a drink too.

“No, I’m right thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Sorry about the mess,” he gestured vaguely around the living room as he lead you through it and you saw a collection of text books and pages of notes strewn about the carpet though they took up less space than the drumkit that had been set up by the wall, “been studying for an exam and it’s doing my head in. Glad you’re here so I can have a bit of a break.”

“So, is, um, is Freddie here?” “Nah, he’s not in tonight, he’s at a mate’s place so they can work on an assignment together or something.”

“So, where is it then? This coat?” you were sick of the small talk.

“Right, the coat. It’s in my bedroom, just this way.” Roger led you on, talking over his shoulder, “we keep most of the stock in there cause it’s the biggest room in the flat.”

You nodded along though you were sure your suspicions were about to be confirmed.

Roger stepped towards a rack as you hovered in the doorway, but when he turned there really was a fur coat clutched between his hands. “Here you are then. If you wanna try it on there’s a mirror in the corner. It’s in pretty good nick. There is a button missing but that’s easy enough to fix if you want. Its also not going to matter too much if you don’t. Otherwise it’s as good as new really.”

As Roger spoke, you put the coat on, surprised not only that it was real but also that it was so nice. It fit well, and felt warm and soft.

“So, is it up to scratch or are you going to want that fight after all?” You shook your head, “It’s perfect, I’ll take it.”

“Excellent. Saves me having to lug it around on the weekend. Anything else you want to look at while you’re here? I’m sure I’ve got something to tempt you.”

You ignored the suggestive tone and shook your head, “Think the coat will do me.”

Roger nodded and gave you the price, watching as you counted it out and handed it over.

You felt odd once the transaction was complete. Nothing had gone quite how you’d expected it to. The coat had been legitimate and aside from one or two suggestive comments Roger hadn’t been at all like how he was at the boutique. You’d gone in expecting an argument or at least for him to make a proper pass at you. Perhaps that was why, taking another look in the mirror, you said, “Freddie was right, it’s much nicer than the one I let you have,”

“Oh you let me have it did you?” Roger snorted, “Sure, okay.”

“Well what would you have called it?”

“I’d say you were conned.”

“What?” you whipped around to look at him, “Conned into giving you the better coat? I don’t think so.”

“Oh no, that coat is lovely and you should be very happy with your purchase. I wouldn’t sell you garbage after we promised you something nice. But for all you knew we were spinning shit. The coat might very well have never existed, the whole story of the market stall might have been bullshit. But you just believed it and let me take the coat in the store from you and then gave your number to two strangers. Bit stupid really.”

“I’ll have you know I suspected it was all fake.”

“Oh, okay. So that’s why you came over here. For a coat you didn’t think was real.”

“I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. It’s called having faith.”

“Mmhmm, sure. Unless you were looking for something else,”

You couldn’t believe how quickly he’d got you on the back foot, your mind scrambling to think of something clever to say, “Like what?”

“Perhaps that wrestle I promised you. What was it you said before…fight me you attractive stranger?”

You gaped at Roger, mouth opening and closing as you tried to come up with something to say.

“I suspect you’ve been thinking about that all day. Wondering what it’s be like to pinned by me. Nothing to say? I expected more from someone who was so sure she could have me begging.”

“I could,” you finally managed to get out, taking a step towards him, “I was just surprised you remembered what I’d said.”

“Well maybe you weren’t the only one thinking about it.”

“You were?”

“All fucking day. You really got under my skin you know?”

You shrugged off the coat, letting it hit the floor, “Good. Should make it easier to take you when you’re so distracted.”

“Oh you’ll take me well enough I’m sure” Roger growled, stepping towards you as he pulled off his shirt, “but you’ll have to beg for it first.”

“Never gonna happen,” your shirt joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor and your pants were quick to follow.

“You’ve been pretty mouthy so far, so we’ll see. Did you wear those just for me?” he asked, indicating your underwear as he finally put his hands on you, squeezing your waist as he pulled you in close.

You didn’t answer, just pulled him into a kiss. It was rough, leaving you both with bitten lips and panting breath as each of you tried to take the lead. Roger pulled you back towards the bed though you pushed him down onto it first, straddling his lap as you kissed him again. He reached behind you to unclasp your bra and you broke the kiss to sit up and pull it off your arms. As soon as it was out of the way Roger grasped your wrists and flipped you onto your back.

“Told you I was stronger than I look.” He winked, readjusting so he was holding your wrists above your head with one hand, his other sliding down your body. He grasped your breasts and then continued his path down, cupping your pussy over your underwear.

You wriggled trying to free yourself or force his hand harder against your core.

Roger laughed, “What happened love? Thought you said you’d be able to get on top?”

You groaned, his condescending tone only turning you on more.

Slowly he dragged his hand over the front of your knickers, rubbing you, his middle finger pressing between your lips.

Without meaning to you bucked your hips up as much as you could, trying to get more friction.

Roger took the hint, pulling your underwear down to your knees to he could touch you properly, grinning when you whined at his touch, “Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Bite me,”

“That can be arranged, love, especially if it makes you wetter.”

You groaned as he leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked on yours until the last second, and attached his lips to your breast. You felt his teeth press into you slowly, the bite getting harder and harder as you gasped and arched your back towards him. When he pulled back he admired his work, letting go of your wrists to trace the mark with a finger.

You tried to take advantage of your newly freed limbs, to flip things around and get on top of him instead, but he chose that moment to sink two fingers into you, his other hand pressing down on your hip to keep you in place.

“Nice try, love,” he cooed, “But I haven’t heard you beg yet.”

“Not gon-na happen,” you said lowly, your breath coming harder as he stretched you open with his fingers.

“Okay,” his tone made it very clear he didn’t believe you and you had to admit your conviction was wavering. His fingers pumping into you felt good but it wasn’t enough. Every so often he would brush you clit, just to prove he knew it was there and show he was intentionally avoiding it. Instead he focused on fingering you, pressing two and then three fingers into you, speeding up their rhythm and then slowing it down when you moaned too much. You could feel the orgasm building but he kept it just out of reach, whispering at you to beg for him. Internally you fought with yourself, your stubborn desire to prove him wrong or at least make it hard for him arguing with your desperate need for release.

“I can do this all night, love.” He said softly as you whimpered, “I know you think I’ll give in and just fuck you but I wont. I don’t need your cunt. And I won’t take it until you ask me to.”

You shook your head.

“It’s true. I can keep you here like this for as long as it takes.”

“You’ll want to cum too,” you gasped as he circled your clit and then stopped again.

“True. But I don’t mind using my hand for that. I’ll just do it over you. Keep my fingers in your tight little cunt while I wank myself off over your stomach. As many times as it takes. And if I were you, I’d give in and beg now, before that happens. If you wait too long I’ll be spent and I’ll just have to keep going like this until I’m ready again.”

That was enough for you, “Fuck okay, okay, you win, just please fuck me.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I need you so bad.”

“Good girl,”

You whined as he removed his fingers to get rid of his own underwear before immediately sheathing himself inside you. You moaned as he finally fucked you right, his thumb rubbing you clit in constant circles, no longer teasing you with tantalising moments of contact. You came quickly, having danced around the edge for so long but Roger didn’t stop.

“I think you can do another, can’t you?”

You just nodded, willing to let him have whatever he wanted now that you’d already given in.

He leaned forward and kissed you again, no where near as harsh as the first kiss had been. You moaned into his mouth as he kept fucking you, a constant deep pressure that just pushed you towards the edge once again.

“I’m close are you close?” he asked eventually, the words forced out between breaths and groans.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you willed yourself to finish.

Thankfully it didn’t take much longer, Roger’s fingers still steady on your clit as he encouraged you to cum, and you found yourself moaning his name as your orgasm hit. He pulled out once you’d calmed and pumped his fist over his slick cock until he came too, coating your stomach though you couldn’t find the energy to care too much.

“Worth it?” he panted as he collapsed beside you.

“Yeah,” you said, equally as breathless, “but I’ll want a rematch later.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #blurb advent 2020 #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #scorpiogemini

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sunsetlix · 4 years

Text

Take Care of You -Felix/reader smut

Felix wants to try being dominated and you’re more than willing to indulge.

sub!felix and dom!female reader

word count: 4,759

warnings: none? just normal smut things lol language and graphic content i guess ALSO idk if this counts as a warning but there is some mommy kink shit going on in this lmao

A/N- this is my first time ever posting on tumblr so the layout may be kind of weird?? this is also the first skz smut ive written so hopefully it isn’t terrible!! also i’m thinking about turning this into a multiple part thing if people actually like it!!

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

Felix had gotten done with a long day at the studio and he was in a weird mood. You two were lying in bed watching a show, and Felix was cuddled up to your side, playing with one of your hands distractedly. Now, your boyfriend was always very affectionate, even with his friends. That’s just who he is, he enjoys physical contact with people. But tonight he was being downright clingy. From the second he got home he was all over you, hugging you from behind in the kitchen while you made dinner, following you everywhere you went, sitting right next to you on the floor while you worked on school work at your desk. Now that you’d settled in for the night, he was trying to be as close to you as possible, every time you shifted positions he’d go with you so you kept touching. Now he readjusted himself so his head was on your chest and one of his legs was thrown over yours, and you sighed as he nuzzled his head into your chest, obviously wanting your attention.

“What’s up tonight Lix?” you asked, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair. You felt him shiver as you pushed your hand through his blonde locks, and he shut his eyes for a moment.

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“You’re being very...affectionate tonight, more than usual.”

“I just want to be close to you,” he said, opening his eyes again and looking up at you. You smiled back at him when you saw his cute little face, his cheeks slightly red and his hair disheveled from you messing with it.

“Okay, just making sure nothing’s wrong,” you said, leaning down to rest your head on top of his. Sometimes when Felix was upset, he would be extra cuddly and clingy.

“Nope, nothing’s wrong,” he said, turning his attention back to the tv. You weren’t convinced though, because after a while you were starting to notice Felix getting fidgety, shifting his position frequently and squirming a bit. You noticed his discomfort and thought for a second that maybe he wasn’t feeling well, which made you worry again that something was wrong.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting a little strange,” you said, turning down the tv and looking down at your boyfriend. Felix brought a hand up to wipe tiredly at his eyes, shaking his head.

“I’m fine, I just,” he started, ending his sentence with a sigh.

“Just what? Did something happen today?” you asked worriedly.

“No! No, today was fine.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset, y/n, it’s just,” he started, looking away from you. You grabbed his hand to reassure him. “I just wanted to talk to you about something,” he said quietly. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” you asked.

“Well it’s kind of...it’s kind of embarrassing,” he admitted, bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“What do you mean?” you asked, reaching up and pulling his hands off of his reddening face.

“I don’t know, it’s just embarrassing to talk about,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed talking to me about anything, baby, I’m not going to judge you.” you said gently.

“I know, it’s just...I don’t want you to think I’m weird,” he said.

“You’re starting to freak me out, just tell me.” you laughed. Felix smiled nervously.

“I saw something and I want to try it,” he said, playing with his hands anxiously.

“What was it?” you asked. He bit his lip and looked down at his hands.

“Well it was a video, like a...you know,” he said. You smiled at his confession, he was so cute when he was nervous.

“What did the people in the video do?” you asked quietly, looking at him as he continued not making eye contact.

“Ugh, I hate talking about this, it’s so embarrassing,” he said, yet again burying his head in his hands.

“Why don’t you show me the video?” you asked. Felix’s eyes widened.

“You mean like, we watch it together?” he asked. You nodded.

“How am I supposed to know what they did in the video if I haven’t seen it?”

“O-okay,” Felix said, reaching over and grabbing his phone off the bedside table. Anticipation rose in your chest as he opened his browser and typed in the url to a very nsfw website. He eyed you nervously as the website loaded and you nodded to him, telling him it was okay to continue. He typed in a few words and pulled up a video titled “mommy takes care of her baby boy.” Your eyes widened in shock at the title, it was not at all what you were expecting him to pull up. Felix noticed your expression and threw his phone down on the bed, bringing his hands back up to cover his face in embarrassment.

“I knew you were going to think it’s weird. Forget about it, nevermind,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. You reached up and pulled his hands away from his face, not wanting him to feel embarrassed asking you to try something new.

“Hey. Look at me,” you said gently, tilting his chin so he was looking you in the eye. “I don’t think it’s weird. I never said that. I was just surprised is all. If this is something that you really want to try then I’m more than willing to try it with you,” you assured him. He swallowed harshly and broke eye contact again.

“I don’t know, this is so awkward, y/n. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ve told you before, anything you want to try is fine with me. I don’t want you to be embarrassed about what you’re into.” You reached over and grabbed his phone off the bed, the video still on the screen. You looked at Felix, asking silent permission to press play. He gave a small nod and you tapped the screen to play the video, holding the phone so both of you could see. It began pretty slow, and you tried to pay close attention to everything happening in the video so you knew exactly what your boyfriend wanted from you. In the video the girl was in control, which was something new. Usually sex with Felix was pretty tame, neither of you were more dominant or submissive, it kind of just happened. The idea of being a dom both scared you and thrilled you, making your chest tight with anxiety and excitement. The girl in the video worked slowly and teasingly, making her sub whine underneath her. The idea of having that control over Felix awoke something inside you that you’d never felt before, and you were suddenly so so glad that he brought this up. Felix again looked at you nervously out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t look back, too busy observing what was happening in the video. The way that the sub was squirming and begging by the end of the video made you feel something indescribable. You mindlessly trailed your hand up and down your boyfriend’s thigh as you watched the video. It should have felt awkward to just sit and watch that with him, but you were so encapsulated by what was happening in the video that it didn’t feel weird at all. You finally looked over at Felix towards the end and saw how red his face was, his hands shoved between his thighs and his eyes focused on the screen in front of you. He looked up from the video for a second, making quick eye contact before diverting his eyes again.

“I never knew you were into this kind of thing, Lix” you said in a low voice.

“I honestly didn’t know either until I saw this video and then I couldn’t stop imagining she was you,” he admitted. You smiled at his words, looking back to the video just as it was ending. You closed out the app and set his phone down, tightening your grip on his thigh.

“I don’t know anything about this so I might not be very great at it,” you warned him.

“I’m just so happy that you’re willing to try it, y/n, I don’t even care,” he promised. You smiled and shifted your position so you could look your boyfriend in the eyes, nervous energy building up inside you. You reached up and brushed Felix’s hair away from his red face, smirking while holding eye contact with his desperate eyes.

“So you want to be taken care of baby?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch and sighed quietly.

“Yes,�� he whispered, cheeks still burning red from embarrassment. You pinched one of his cheeks and he flinched a little.

“I think I can do that,” you said, trailing your hand from his face down to his chest and tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I’m gonna need you to take this off for me,” you said. He nodded and hastily sat up to pull the shirt over his head. You sat back for a moment and admired his body, his flat stomach and small frame glowing in the light.

“You’re staring,” he giggled, crossing his arms over his chest. You shook your head and reached out to grab one of his arms and pull it away from his chest.

“You’re just so pretty, let me look at you,” you cooed. He blushed as he set his arms to his sides and looked away.

“Why are you being shy? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you questioned.

“Just feels different, I dont know,” Felix replied, shifting his position.

“Relax, baby. Let me take care of you.” You scooted closer to your boyfriend so you were in front of him and you pushed gently on his shoulders, giving him the hint to lie back on the bed. You watched him fall slowly and smiled at how pretty he looked all laid out for you. You sat next to him and ran a hand over the expanse of his chest, sending shivers through his body with your gentle touch. Your hand grazed lightly over his sensitive nipples and he arched his back, leaning into your touch. You knew this was a weak spot for your boyfriend, and you were going to use that to your advantage. You ran your hand back over the spot, lightly squeezing one of the buds between your fingers as Felix let out a soft whine. You were already enjoying the feeling of having him squirm under your touch, and you think you could definitely get used to this. You slowly leaned down and licked gently over one of his nipples, pulling away and blowing air on the spot you had just wet. Your boyfriend shivered at the cold sensation and you smiled at the look of lust and frustration building up in his face. You were never this slow with him and you knew it was killing him. You repeated your actions on the other nipple and then lightly bit down on the sensitive skin, causing Felix to let out a surprised “oh!” that quickly turned into a soft moan. You moved your lips again, kissing up his chest and onto his neck, before you swung a leg over him so you were straddling his lying body. You sat on his lower stomach, paying no attention to the buldge in his pants. He slightly shifted his hips up, looking for friction, but you weren’t giving it to him yet, you were making him wait. You leaned down and continued kissing up his neck, sucking a mark behind his ear.

“Y/nnnnn... you can’t do that,” Felix said, shifting away from where your mouth met his neck.

“Why not?” you asked innocently, although you already knew that he got shy about the boys seeing him marked up.

“Don’t want people to see...embarrassing,” he whined. You leaned down and brushed your lips against his ear, whispering in a low tone.

“You don’t want people to know who you belong to? You don’t want them to know that you’re here, lying down for me and letting me have my way with you?” you teased. Felix groaned at your words as you moved down, sucking another mark below his collarbone. You’d done this before, so you knew he wasn’t actually going to get upset- you would never do anything he wasn’t okay with. Felix’s breathing grew ragged, inhaling shaky breaths and exhaling quiet whines. The little noises he was making were turning you on incredibly, and part of you wanted to stop the teasing and just go at it. But this is how they did it in the video, and Felix seemed to be enjoying it, so you continued. You continued to leave wet kisses up and down his neck and chest area, moving up to his face but avoiding his lips. He bit down on his bottom lip, and you could tell he was trying really hard to hold himself back and be patient. You decided to reward him, finally pressing your lips to his. He relaxed into the kiss and immediately tried to push his tongue into your mouth, causing you to pull away for a moment.

“Eager, are we?” you smirked. He whined again at the loss of contact.

“You’re teasing,” he said, a small pout forming on his face.

“I get to do that, baby, I’m in charge,” you said, trailing a finger down his chest. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” you smiled sweetly.

“Can you please just kiss me?” he asked, his tone desperate and slightly bratty. You raised an eyebrow at his sudden change in behavior.

“I will this time, but cut the attitude in the future.” Felix gulped at your dominant tone but couldn’t reply as you pressed your lips back to his. He let you set the pace this time, and as much as you wanted to go agonizingly slow, at this point you were already too worked up to keep teasing. Deepening the kiss after a moment, you brought a hand up to tug at Felix’s hair, something you’d recently discovered he really enjoyed. He moaned softly into the kiss as you pulled at his blond locks, holding his head in place. Your teeth bit down and dug into his bottom lip gently, enough to draw a quiet moan from his mouth but not enough to draw blood. You pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your lips. Felix looked up at you, blown out pupils filled with desperation.

“You look so pretty, baby boy,” his hips bucked up at your words, his face growing impossibly redder. “What is it? Do you like it when I tell you you’re pretty? Or when I call you baby boy?” you said, a teasing tone lacing your voice. He mumbled something quietly, but you couldn’t make out what he said. “Speak up Lix, I can’t hear you.”

“B-both,” he whispered. A smile crossed your face as he looked into your eyes longingly. You would never get over how cute he was when he was embarrassed.

“Awe, my baby boy likes to be praised, how cute,” you cooed, tracing your hand down the side of his face. Felix smiled shyly at your words, not breaking eye contact.

“You’ve been so patient for me, baby, do you think it’s time for me to reward you?” you asked. He nodded excitedly, but you weren’t giving him anything unless he used his words. “Words, sweetheart, tell me what you want.”

“Want you to- to reward me, I’ve been good,”

“How should I reward you?”

“Just touch me, please,”

“Touch you where? Here?” you asked, dragging a hand down his chest, which was now burning hot. He shook his head. “Here?” you asked, running your hand over the hickey you had given him, pressing your finger into the darkening bruise. He let out a soft whine but shook his head again.

“You’re going to have to tell me where, I’m not sure what you want.” You said, knowing damn well what he wanted from you but wanting to hear him say it himself. He groaned in frustration but spoke up.

“Down there, please, you know what I want,” he begged.

“Ohhh, you want me to touch you down here?” you asked, scooting down so you were now sitting on his thighs and bringing your fingers to the waistband of his pajama pants. He nodded eagerly as you toyed with the drawstring on the front of his pants.

“Beg.”

His eyes widened nervously at the dominant tone you were taking, it was something he definitely wasn’t used to. But this is what he wanted, so he had to play along.

“Please touch me, I need it, I’ve been so good for you mommy,” your breath hitched at the name, when you’d heard it in the video you thought it was a little weird, but now that it was coming out of Felix’s mouth it was the hottest thing in the world. He noticed your sharp inhale and looked at you worriedly. “Is it...is it okay if I call you that? I won’t if you don’t like it-“ he rambled.

“No baby, I love it. I really do.” you assured him. He smiled in relief as you leaned down to pull at the waistband of his pants. He lifted his hips so you could pull them down, repositioning yourself so you could pull his pants all the way off. His hard cock sprung up and smacked against his stomach, red and already leaking precum.

“So needy for me, aren’t you baby boy?” you said, taking in the sight of his naked body but not touching him yet. The power you felt was exhilarating, Felix fully nude and trembling under you, while you were fully clothed and in control. He nodded and you brought a hand down to his neglected member, but he reached out and stopped you before you could touch him. You raised an eyebrow and he used his other hand to grab at the hem of your shirt.

“Can you take this off? Please, wanna see you,” he asked, tugging gently at your soft cotton shirt. You smiled and reached down to grab the bottom of the shirt, beginning to pull it up over your head.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you replied, tossing the shirt to the side, your top half now bare as you hadn’t been wearing anything under the shirt. Felix eyed your chest, taking in the sight of your breasts that he loved so much. You thought about continuing to tease him by not letting him touch you, but you thought he’d had enough teasing for tonight. Besides, you were supposed to be taking care of him.

“You want to touch, baby boy?” you asked, already knowing what his response would be.

“Can I?”

“Go ahead,” you gave him permission, leaning forward to give him better access. He reached up and gently caressed your breasts, thumbing over your nipples. You arched your back in response to his touch, slightly grinding down where you were sitting on his legs. This was the first time you had been touched all night, and you hadn’t realized how much your body was aching for release. You didn’t let it go on too long, because tonight was about Felix. You leaned down once more to press a quick kiss to his lips before sitting back up and finally bringing a hand to his member. You slowly wrapped your hand around his girth and began to move it up and down at a teasingly slow pace, Felix arching up into your touch.

“Patience, baby boy,” you said, using your other hand to press his body back down into the mattress. “Let mommy take care of you, okay?” you said. Felix whined again but nodded in compliance, relaxing his body and placing his hands down at his sides. You slid your hand up over his slit, collecting the built up precum and using it as lubricant for your hand. Felix let out soft breathy moans every time you touched the head of his painfully hard dick, and you knew your pace was torturous for him, but you were going to see how long you could keep it up. As you stroked him slowly, you reached your other hand down and dipped it below the waistband of your sweatpants, dying for some relief of your own. Your fingers found their way to your clit and you rubbed slow circles at the same pace as your other hand was moving on Felix’s length.

“You’re so beautiful, seeing you like this made mommy so wet,” you whispered, making eye contact with your boyfriend as you pleasured both of you.

“Want to touch you too,” Felix whined, reaching out a hand towards your sweatpants that you still hadn’t removed. You took the hand off his length and swatted his hand away, as he whimpered at the denial and the loss of contact.

“Not now, baby, this is about you,” you hummed, grabbing his hand and placing it down on his stomach. You put your hand back on his dick, staying at the same pace. You knew it was killing him, but you weren’t going to speed up until he asked you to. The request came sooner than later, though, as Felix almost immediately groaned in an obvious attempt to tell you something was wrong.

“What’s wrong Lixie?” you asked, stopping your hand’s movement. He looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Need more, faster,” he whined.

“Oh, is this not enough? You need more than what mommy is giving you? Good boys aren’t greedy, you know,” you said, resuming again at the slow pace. Felix’s eyes widened at your words as he scrambled to speak.

“N-No! No, I promise I’m a good boy, it just hurts, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. His voice tugged at your heart, you weren’t actually upset with him, you just wanted to tease him a little more. You suddenly sped up your pace without any warning, and Felix let out a strangled moan at your actions.

“Is this what you want?” you ask, stroking him at a quick pace and occasionally thumbing over his sensitive head. He nods, but you want to hear it.

“I said is this what you want?” you repeat, and he gets the hint.

“Yes mommy, fuck, so good,” he cries, the hand you placed on his stomach moving up to roam over his chest. He looks at you as if asking permission to touch himself, and you nod. His hand ghosts over his nipple before he brings it back and pinches it lightly, rolling the nub between his fingers and clenching his eyes shut. The sight is incredible, you can’t help but stare at the look of bliss and slight frustration on his face as he’s being touched by your hand and his own. You speed the pace of the hand you’re using to pleasure yourself, feeling yourself getting closer to release as you watch Felix bring his other hand to his chest, using both to lightly touch his sensitive nipples. Your hand on Felix stutters as you bring yourself to release, arching your back and moaning lowly. The relief washes over you and you enjoy it for just a moment before remembering the task at hand. You open your eyes to see Felix, eyes wide and staring at your blissed-out expression, mouth slightly open- which gives you an idea. You remove your hand from Felix’s member for a moment, and you also pull the hand that you’d been using on yourself out of your sweatpants, feeling Felix’s eyes on you as you bring your fluid soaked fingers to his mouth.

“Wanna taste?” you asked. He didn’t even bother to answer, eagerly taking your fingers into his mouth and sucking languidly. His tongue swirled around your digits for a moment as he looked straight into your eyes. You smiled brightly at him, pulling your fingers out of his mouth with a popping sound.

“Good boy,” you cooed, wiping the wet fingers on your sweatpants and leaning down to gently place a kiss on Felix’s forehead. “Now it’s all about you, okay? You’ve been so good for me, I think it’s time you get some relief too, do you agree?” you asked, sitting back up in the position you’d previously been in. Felix looked up at you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face, his naturally innocent appearance corrupted by his swollen lips and lust-blown eyes.

“Yes mommy,” he said, swallowing hard as you moved down in between his legs so you could lean down and give a small lick to the tip of his length. He shivered at the contact after you hadn’t touched him for a while, and you spit into your hand before wrapping it around the base of his dick. you lowered your mouth down onto his length, taking only the head into your mouth at first and sucking lightly. You slowly moved down his length, your hand working the part your mouth couldn’t reach. Felix moaned quietly, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle it. You pulled off of his dick with a lewd popping noise, sitting up to look him in the eye.

“Don’t hold back baby boy, i want to hear how good mommy makes you feel,” you said, and he let out a small whimper. You lowered your head to take him into your mouth again, this time setting a faster pace with your hand and your mouth working at the same time. Felix was overly sensitive from all of the teasing you’d put him through, so you knew he wouldn’t last long. You could really tell by the way he was trying his best to keep from bucking up into your mouth. You occasionally pulled up to suck lightly on just the tip, knowing how sensitive he was there. Felix let out a high pitched whine, signaling to you that he was about to finish, when you remembered how the video had ended. Usually, you would just let Felix finish in your mouth, but you had a different idea.

“Oh fuck, mommy, I’m gonna-“ he started, and you pulled your mouth off of his length, bringing him to his climax with only your hand, letting him spill all over his stomach with a loud strangled moan. Felix came down from his high breathing heavily, eyes closed and hands above his head. You smirked as you used a finger to scoop up the cum from his stomach, and he looked down at you confused for a moment before he realized what you were doing. You brought the finger up to his mouth, parting his lips with your thumb and sliding the digit between them so he could taste himself. This wasn’t something you’d done before, but it was how the video ended, so you thought you’d try it. Felix hummed around your finger as he sucked the liquid off it, swallowing his own fluids. When your finger was clean, you pulled it out of his mouth, again wiping it on your sweatpants and then bringing your hand up to caress Felix’s face before placing a gentle kiss to his swollen lips. You could feel him smile into the kiss before you pulled away, grabbing his discarded shirt and using it to wipe the rest of the cum off his stomach.

“Was that good, baby?” you asked, moving off of his legs so you could cuddle up against his side.

“Holy shit, y/n, that was amazing,” he said, his breathing still heavy and deep.

“I had no idea my baby boy was so kinky,” you teased, Felix’s face flushing red again as it had just calmed down.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Felix mumbled, causing you to raise an eyebrow and sit up to look him in the eye.

“Really?” you asked. He nodded in response and you got excited just thinking about all the new things you’ll get to try with him. “You’ll have to show me sometime, but for now I think it’s time for you to sleep, you look exhausted,” you said, but by the time you finished your sentence, Felix was already drifting off into sleep.

#stray kids smut #felix #skz #skz smut #sub!felix #felix lee #stray kids #kpop smut #felix x reader #mommy kink #felix smut

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

put a ring on it 03 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 11k 🤪

warnings: rlly none! hectic families, stupid pet names, uncomfy emotions, compromising positions. also dont any of u dare get as close to another human as is depicted here anytime soon. pls flatten the curve. social distancing is cool i swear.

a/n: lmao remember on part 2 when i said i wouldn’t take as long to update this time? here we are, almost exactly a year later, even tho i wrote 8k words of this in the past couple days. enjoy!!! better late than never ig.

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @abovethyfold - lmk if you want to be added; sorry if i missed anyone!!

Philip had brought you coffee without you asking.

It was mid-morning after your shower; the carpet of Philip's room was soft under your feet as you grabbed your phone off the marble countertop of his sink, just enjoying the peaceful silence. You scrolled briefly through your texts, smiling as you declined an offer for a manufactured emergency from Patsy (not before you seriously considered it, though). You slid it into your back pocket before padding down the stairs to find wherever Philip had gotten off to.

And thus, you were met with the distinctly strong smell of coffee.

Your footsteps stalled only a moment. You furrowed your brow; the corners of your lips quirked as you continued into his kitchen. You found him sitting at the end of the table opposite where you stood, glasses pushed down the bridge of his nose, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee from a paper cup. Your smile grew as he didn't even realize you were there; you leaned forward, resting on the chair nearest you as you bit your lip.

"Hey." Your voice was soft as he looked up, giving you a soft smile as he met your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he hummed, taking another sip from his cup as he eyed you, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well." Your yawn came through in your voice despite your words, and he nodded, averting his eyes back to his paper. Neither of you dared mention how you'd woken up tangled in each other, your legs intertwined with his, hands in his hair and with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, your head against his bare chest. Instead, you broke the silence with, "So, you gonna share any of that coffee with me, Hamilton? Or were you just gonna ignore these bags under my eyes?"

You pointed to yourself with mock annoyance, and he chuckled, putting down the newspaper. "What, you don't think I picked up anything for my girlfriend?" He raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes, slumping into the seat opposite him.

"Oh yeah? What'd you get me?" Your tone was flat as you pinned him with a skeptical stare. He only grinned, leaning back and grabbing another paper cup from the counter behind him. You raised your eyebrows, eyes widening in the slightest. It probably shouldn't have come as a shock to you, but you couldn't help your surprise at the gesture.

He chuckled at your expression. "I can't believe you'd underestimate me like this." He put a hand on his heart with a mock pout as he passed the coffee across the table to you, and you took a seat, rolling your eyes.

"What's the catch?" you asked dryly.

"Does there have to be a catch?"

"Last time you brought me coffee I ended up here." You raised your eyebrows, looking at him knowingly, and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I get it. Point made." He grinned as he reached again behind him, grabbing a small brown bag and holding it out to you by its rolled opening. "But I brought you a croissant to make up for it."

Your eyebrows shot up when you saw the other bag, eyes widening in the least. "Coffee and food? Now there's definitely something up." You shot him a questioning look, and his obvious self-content didn't waver.

"Think of it as a "thank you'." Your skepticism far from dissipated, but something in the soft smile he wore made you take the bag from him with no further questions, a soft smile of your own gracing your lips.

You breathed in the warm, sweet air from the bag as you opened it, sighing at the smell of the croissant. As you broke a piece of it off, you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "So anyway, where's your family? House seems eerily empty."

He chuckled, raking a hand through his loose curls. "Yeah, it is. My siblings are all still at school for the next couple hours, and Mom and Pops are out getting breakfast with the Lafayettes. Said something about wanting to 'give the happy couple some time to themselves'."

You rolled your eyes. "So no one else is home?"

"So we're finally alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you scoffed.

"Just 'cause you brought me a croissant doesn't mean I'm about to jump your bones, Hamilton. Don't get your hopes up," you informed him dryly, but his amused grin didn't waver.

"Since we have the day free, though," he continued just as brightly, ignoring your unimpressed expression, "I figured I'd show you around the town a little, take you a few of the places I used to go."

You raised a brow. "Oh, yeah? I'm getting the grand tour?" A smile had at that point worked it's way back into your expression, sitting slightly lopsided as it played at your lips, though you tried to contain it. "Where are you gonna take me, Hamilton?"

His grin grew at your words, taking another sip of his coffee to hide his self-content. "You'll see."

-----------------------------------

"Where are we going?" you groaned as he tugged you around another corner in the quaint downtown of his small city. His grin never faltered; he seemed very much to have a set agenda. There were people and places he wanted to see. Seeing as this was his family reunion weekend, you couldn't have blamed him.

"C'mon, we're on the block now," he assured you, pulling you along in his haste to find the little storefront, wondering if it had yet changed the aging display in its frosted glass windows. You scoffed audibly, and he let out a little laugh. "What, don't believe me?"

"You'll forgive me for not trusting the eighth time you've told me we were almost there," you said dryly, letting him pull you along regardless. He shot you a look over his shoulder.

"No need to exaggerate, princess."

"Don't think I haven't been counting, Hamilton," you shot back, giving him a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Just come on."

You (grudgingly) allowed him to drag you along three more blocks, unsure what had overtaken you -- your feet were getting sore, your stomach was starting to cramp (you needed to work out more), and you really just wanted to sit down. Yet, something about how earnestly excited Philip was managed to keep you going, just a few more yards, just a few more yards. You tried to ignore the lopsided grin thrown over his shoulder and the teasing lilt to his voice that met your complaints.

"Here we are." He skidded to a halt in front of three stairs, a stone stoop, leading up to a glass door. You raised an eyebrow, turned your gaze to him.

"Where, exactly?"

His smile grew, and he nodded forward. "See for yourself."

You rolled your eyes as you followed him up, and he reached for the handle just before you, holding it open. You didn't acknowledge the action, just continued forward into the small shop.

It was an adorable space, dimly lit and colorful. Leafy plants spilled over from pots above the windows, contrasting with the bright red window frames on the sunny morning, interspersed with framed photos and paintings packed tightly together on the limited wall space. Soft guitar music drifted through under the buzz of chattering customers who'd arrived for their morning coffee. You could smell the coffee brewing behind the counter, the scent mixing with the sweeter one wafting from the ovens behind a swinging door.

"C'mon." You yelped in surprise as Philip's arm found its way around your waist, and he shot you an amused glance. You let him lead you forward, though, fighting the heat that began to rise in the back of your neck.

You neared the back of the store together, your gaze still wandering around the adorable coffee shop as you walked, and as the woman behind the counter caught sight of you, her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Philip!" She dropped the rag she'd been wiping her hands with onto the counter, rushing out from behind it to greet him as his arm came back around from your waist, instead pulling her into a tight embrace. You sighed internally as his warmth left your side.

"Hey, Aunt Maria," he said, grinning as he pulled back from the hug. "How've you been?"

"Worse without you," she scolded, whacking his chest lightly. "It's been what, four years since you've been home? Felt like an eternity."

He laughed, eyes still shining as he spoke to her. "Yeah, it's been too long. I've just been so busy."

Maria scoffed and promptly turned her attention to you, clearly not caring for any excuses for Philip's absence. "And who is this?"

“I’m Y/N,” you started, your smile unsure. At this, Philip also turned his gaze back to where you stood, grin growing on his face. “His girlfriend.”

Her face lit up again at this, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing embrace. "Oh, you're the pretty thing I've been hearing about from Philip's parents for so long? It's so great to meet you."

You laughed as she finally pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I guess that must be me, unless there's another woman, hm?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, grinning, and he just rolled his eyes. "It's good to meet you too, though."

Philip rested a hand on Maria's shoulder as she released your forearms, an affectionate look in his eyes as he glanced down at her. "Aunt Maria's an old family friend, Y/N. Pops helped her out of a tough spot when I was younger, and we’ve forced her to stick around with us ever since."

She smiled, putting a hand on his as she looked over at you. "I owe the Hamiltons big. They really changed my life a while back, helped me get away from my ex-husband, start a new life on my own. Can't thank them enough, honestly."

Philip rolled his eyes at that, giving a dramatic huff. "You owe us nothing. You’re all we need."

"Then stop spending so much time in the city!" she lectured him, giving a shell of a glare, and he laughed.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She glanced back at the counter over her shoulder, where her employees were still diligently taking orders, making coffee. "Anyway, I've gotta get back to work, but can I get you two a cup of coffee? Donuts? Crêpes?"

Philip looked at you as he came back around, pulled you softly to his side with an arm around your waist and a raised eyebrow. You gave Maria a warm smile.

"Just a coffee would be great."

"Same for me, then," Philip added, and Maria winked at the two of you as she made her way back to the counter.

"Two coffees coming right up for the happy couple. Feel free to have a seat anywhere," she called to you over her shoulder, and you grinned.

"Wanna sit down?" Philip asked, and you pursed your lips, pinching the hand that was squeezing your waist. He yelped, withdrew his arm from you with a wince, and you nodded and gave an easy smile.

"Let's go by the window."

He rolled his eyes as he followed you. You slid comfortably into one of the smooth wooden seats, glancing out at the sunny morning before you, and he sat across, an eyebrow raised.

"So, what do you think of my hometown so far?"

You looked back at him wearing a soft, mischievous smile and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You really wanna know?"

He fixed his stare on yours, and your grin grew (though you tried to suppress it). "Yeah."

"It'd be better without you here."

He scoffed loudly at that, turning his head from where he had sat facing you, his grin near indistinguishable in his indignant expression, and you couldn't suppress your full-bodied laugh at his reaction.

"C'mon, really?" While he tried to maintain his scowl, turning back to you had his smile widening at your repressed giggles. He fixed a glare over his gaze as you tried to swallow your grin. "God damn, I ask you a legitimate question, and you can't resist ripping on me?"

"It was just too easy!" you defended, brushing your hair away from your face as you looked sheepishly back at where he sat, shaking his head. "Honestly, though?"

"I dunno, am I gonna get an honest answer?"

You knew very well his skeptical expression was well-earned, and you grinned, rolling your eyes as you defended yourself. "Yes!"

He shrugged, motioning to the space between you, a silent go-ahead. You sighed.

"It's really nice." You glanced around the coffee shop as you spoke, your eyes ultimately finding his again, though now a dreamy look was painted across your features. "It's... homey."

"'Homey'?" he repeated your answer with a breathy laugh, and you rolled your eyes, playfully shoving the arm he had resting on the table.

"See, this is why I don't take your questions seriously, Hamilton," you scowled, feeling your face begin to grow hot at his reaction. "Give you an answer and you just make fun of me."

He chuckled as he reached for your hands, still resting on the table as the heat did not subside from the back of your neck. He took them in his, enveloping them as he gave you a simper. "Aw, c'mon, I'm not trying to tease you." His simper turned to a mocking pout, and you scoffed, rolled your eyes.

"Oh, whatever, Hamilton." You didn't pull your hands out of his grasp, though, refusing out of sheer spite to meet his eyes.

"I'm not kidding!" he defended himself, and you could see out of the corner of your eye the grin return to his face, seemingly entertained by your reaction. You were a bit preoccupied, though, with inhibiting the blush from your cheeks as you couldn't seem to focus on anything other than, God, how warm his hands were. You were painstakingly aware of every time they shifted against yours.

"'M glad you feel at home in my old town." Your annoyed gaze was still fixed on the table before you as you heard him let out a sigh, dropping his face to break your line of vision. "Princess?"

"Don't call me that, Hamilton."

He deadpanned. "Y/N."

You met his eyes with an expectant look, and for a moment, you just held his stare, almost didn't notice when your breath caught as the corners of his lips quirked upward. You frowned.

His grin only grew at your adverse reaction, breath coming out in a puff of laughter. He shook his head, tongue in cheek. "Loosen up."

The way he squeezed your hands reminded you how close the proximity between the two of you was. You could feel your heart jump in your chest. When his thumb smoothed over your knuckle, you felt suddenly very self-conscious about how sweaty your hands were.

You took a deep breath, feeling unable to hold his gaze any longer, looking out the window beside you. Thankfully, Maria chose that exact moment to arrive with your drinks.

"Two black coffees, right up!" You froze when you met her beaming expression, flinching as you almost tried to yank your hands from Philip's, feeling like a deer in headlights. He squeezed your hands softly, his expression concerned at how panicked you looked. You plastered on a smile, reminding yourself as your face heated up that you were there as his girlfriend, this was supposed to be normal, it was expected. What made you uncomfortable was exactly how normal it felt.

"Thanks, Maria." You withdrew your hands with a smile to take your coffee from her. You ignored her raised eyebrow, her pleased half-smile.

"You sure there's nothing else I can get you?" The maternal look in her eyes turned playful as she folded her arms. "Anything else to drink? Some lunch?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Some privacy?"

You choked on the long sip of coffee you'd been taking, trying to catch your breath as Philip just laughed. You set the mug down as you coughed into the back of your hand, trying to stifle it.

"I think this'll be all for now," he said, "We probably aren't gonna loiter too much longer, don't worry."

Maria gave him a warm smile, a smile you only caught a glimpse of as you emerged from your coughing fit. (You also caught a glimpse of Philip suppressing a laugh at you, and made a mental note to chew him out for it later on.)

"You know you could spend forever here and I wouldn't mind."

"I know." You couldn't help but notice that his smile in return didn't quite meet his eyes; something melancholy lay behind them as well.

As she pursed her lips, you thought her expression looked quite a bit like your mother's when you left for college, almost tearing up, but holding it together for you. "Well, let me know before you all leave," she said softly, "You know I don't see enough of you around here as is."

"I know. We'll see you tomorrow, though? At the reunion?"

"Wouldn't miss it." The quiet sadness in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, and she reached down to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. "Looking forward to seeing the both of you there." Her wink before she turned away was blatant. You couldn't help your soft smile.

------------------------------

"So, when do I get to meet the rest of your family?" He'd taken you out through the middle of town, refusing to let on to your destination. It was a nice day out, luckily for you, but you still weren't fond of having to reach all your destinations on foot -- if you'd wanted a walking tour, you'd have asked.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he walked alongside you down the sidewalk, appreciating the lush greenery that lined the streets, and your gaze rested on his faraway expression as you raised an eyebrow.

"Dunno. Whenever my siblings get home. Angie'll be coming in before they all get outta school, so she might even be there when we get back, but the rest of them have classes for a few more hours."

"'The rest of them'? How many siblings do you have, Hamilton?"

"Just six."

"Six?!" you repeated, eyes wide, and he just nodded.

"Yeah. The youngest is four, that's Eliza, and I'm the oldest."

"How old are the others?"

He pursed his lips, as though deep in thought, and you really couldn't imagine having to strain to remember a sibling's age. "There's William, at seven, then John, who's eleven, James is fifteen and Alex is seventeen -- they're the ones in high school right now -- and then there's Angelica, who's nineteen."

You couldn't help but let out a low whistle at that. "Sounds exhausting for your parents."

"Really. I was the easy child, and it was all downhill from there." He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

"You were the easy child? Tell me why I find that hard to believe." Your challenging tone just made him shrug.

"Dunno, princess. I've just always been so responsible that my parents had an easy time with me."

"And at what point did you lose the responsibility trait?"

"I mean, when I found out I could pawn off all my responsibilities onto you..." He trailed off with a grin, laughing when he saw your glare. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just kidding."

"What, about being responsible? Or about pawning your responsibilities off on me?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he shrugged. "Because we both know it's not the latter."

"Hey, let's not forget that you're here because you didn't wanna take on a responsibility."

"A responsibility you pawned off on me!" You scoffed, and his amused smile only grew, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walked alongside him.

"Why must you be so focused on pointing fingers, Y/N?"

"I'm not pointing fingers, you just--"

"We're here." You skidded to a halt as he cut off your rant at it's beginning, too absorbed in your argument (despite how obviously he was baiting you) to have realized he stopped walking. You raised an eyebrow, turning to face exactly what he was looking at, and while he began walking in without a second thought, you paused a moment, taking it in.

What stood before you was the oldest building you'd seen so far in town, its structure essentially in ruins, ivy crawling up the eroding brick, moss running down it. The only thing that tipped you off to the fact that you weren't being lead to a remote location where no one could hear your screams was a small metal sign above a descending staircase, a single light above the path. By the time the full sight had processed, Philip had since reached the staircase and was watching your reaction with an eyebrow raised, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"You coming?"

You exhaled. "See, I'm not trying to make any accusations, but all I'm saying is that if I were to murder someone in this town, this would be the place for it."

You followed him, though, as he grinned at your hesitance, and what you found at the bottom of the staircase was far from what you'd expected. You entered behind Philip into a sleek but old-fashioned bar, somehow teetering on the line between an antiquated tavern and a nightclub. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the place, empty at the moment, save one person standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses. The chairs were up on the tables, the televisions were shut down -- you assumed Philip hadn't brought you there for drinks, but instead for the handsome stranger who had just caught Philip's eye with a growing grin.

"Philip Hamilton?" he called out the moment the door shut behind us, his disbelieving smile echoed in Philip's reaction. "Never thought I'd see the day. Thought you'd abandoned us all for city living by now."

Philip let out a huff of laughter as he reached the counter, pulling the man in for a hug over the bar. "Whatever, man. I don't wanna hear it." He pulled back with a skeptical look in his eye, holding him by the forearms. "It's been two years since I've been home, but I've never gone three damn months without seeing you since college."

"Touché. It's good to have you back." With that, though, the man's gaze flickered over to you, eyeing your form with an eyebrow raised, a small but triumphant smile. "But you've still managed to keep your lady from me ever since you and her got together. Afraid I was gonna steal her?"

"More afraid she'd meet my friends and immediately run for the hills," Philip snorted, causing the other man to shove him lightly from across the counter.

"Anyway, I take it you're Y/N?" He seemed to be ignoring Philip's jab at him in favor of redirecting the conversation from him.

"That'd be me," you said as you went to join Philip, smile wary and your hands tucked in your pockets.

When you reached the bar, he narrowed his eyes, leaning down to eye you skeptically. "Tell me, how much is Philip paying you? Hm?" Your eyebrows shot up, and he continued, "I mean, we both know he has the money to be battin' above his league, but I didn't think he'd be willing to fork over that much just for a weekend."

While his manner had you hesitant at first, his words made you laugh. If this was what Philip's friends were like, the weekend might go by quicker than you'd expected.

"This is actually pro bono," you sighed, raising your eyebrows as though you were confiding in him. "I've always been a bit of a philanthropist, so I took pity and decided to help out the less fortunate--" You gave Philip a pointed look, though he just rolled his eyes. His entertained smile betrayed his feigned annoyance. "--for a few days."

"You really are a saint."

"I consider myself more of a martyr." While his friend laughed, Philip raised an eyebrow at you, expression toeing the line between amused and exasperated. You extended your hand. "It's great to meet you, though, um..."

"Georges Lafayette," he supplied, shaking your hand. "I'm an old friend."

"Ahh, so that's you," you folded your arms, smile growing. You stole a glance to your right, and Philip was busy feigning shock that you'd actually listened to his friends-and-family crash course. When he met your gaze, you rolled your eyes. "Philip speaks fondly of you, regardless of how he may speak to you." There was a teasing lilt to the tail end of your sentence, and while Philip scoffed, Georges cracked a grin.

"Hope he's been doing me justice." He sent you a wink as he went back to wiping down the rims of the glasses that sat before him, pulling them from the dishwasher and shelving them. "Knowing him, I'm betting it's nothing compared to how he talks about you, though. Ever since you joined his office, it's been nonstop."

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, but he didn't meet your eyes as he took a seat next to you at the bar.

"You'd better bet. You've become something of a household name these past few years."

"Should that worry me?" you teased, electing to sit as well. You hopped up onto the barstool.

"Not this time." He chuckled, nudging Philip where he sat, leaning forward on the bar. "Worried me at the start of the whole thing. I figured he'd immediately fucked this up." He motioned between the two of you. "By the time you got together, I'd already found him three eligible rebounds."

"Aww, babe." You plastered on a teasingly contrived pout, turning to rest a hand on Philip's knee, meeting his unimpressed gaze. "Maybe if you hadn't spent three years pawning your responsibilities off on me, I would've been more receptive to your total lack of tact."

Georges laughed, and you grinned unabashedly as Philip let out a huff devoid of annoyance. "Oh, c'mon; let's not pretend I was the tactless one." The corner of his lips twitched as you raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Really, now, be honest." You hadn't the slightest clue where this was going, and Philip looked increasingly satisfied with your expression. "You were the one always yelling at me for leaving early, chewing me out for showing up late, finding excuses to come talk to me--"

"We work together," you interjected, unimpressed. Your words didn't seem to hinder his monologue.

"Now that I think about it, is that why you always looked so agitated when Theo came around?" He raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly pleased, and you ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You chalked it up to annoyance. “I’ve gotta say, jealousy actually is a good look on you.”

"Whatever," you scoffed. "I had to come to talk to you about the projects I was working on because they were the ones you pawned off onto me. And you know Theo has been obnoxious since day one."

He laughed, disregarding your vexation. "I mean, yeah, but she brings me coffee."

You narrowed your eyes, genuinely in disbelief. "Is the fact that you're just using her for coffee supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course." He shrugged, as though it was obvious, and you caught Georges's amused expression out of the corner of your eye. Philip winked. "You know I've only got eyes for you, princess." You groaned, turning away from him in your chair, not wanting to look at the satisfaction you caught dancing in his eyes. You didn't like how consoled you felt.

You turned to Georges, deadpan. "Has he always been this unbearable? Or did that develop after the manipulative streak kicked in?"

"In our Philip? What manipulative streak?" He furrowed his brow in contrived disbelief. The two men shared a look, their smiles mirroring one another. "But if you wanna know if he's always been this tactful, then for sure."

It appeared Georges had decided to take Philip's side on this one. You groaned internally. "Don't you start now!"

"Sorry, Y/N, Philip claimed my loyalty years ago. You're on your own."

You pinned the pair of them with an accusatory stare, a smile playing on your lips nonetheless. You didn't love that it was turned against you, but you couldn't help but find their rapport entertaining. "You two are insufferable, you know that?"

"We've heard." Georges shrugged.

"Usually from each other," Philip chimed in.

"Or your siblings." Georges glanced at Philip. Neither of them was addressing you anymore.

"Or your ladies," Philip shot back, "Usually your exes by the time we heard it."

"We were always a little hard of hearing, huh?"

"Always. Think we heard that one from Emilie, though." Philip raised his eyebrows, gaze playful. You could only assume that was one of Georges's exes. He huffed.

"You leave my wife outta this!" Indignant was the only word you could use to describe his expression, and Philip snickered as he ducked away from the rag Georges had tried to hit him with.

"You're still lucky she took you back after that."

"She loved me too much not to." He looked smug with that, but his voice had softened. "Anyway, it's your girl we're talking about this time, so you'd better tread carefully. Right, Y/N?" He looked over at you, an eyebrow raised, obviously expecting you to jump on the chance to tease Philip. You folded your arms.

"Oh, so now you're on my side?"

Philip grinned, obviously pleased with your response, whereas Georges groaned. "Hey, I'm tryna balance the scales back out, alright? Didn't wanna let Philip get too cocky, but it looks like you let that one happen anyway."

"Don't you blame me!" You jabbed your finger at him, eyes narrowed. "You took his side first; I didn't take his side at all!"

"Sure seems like you're on his side now." Georges raised his eyebrows at Philip, who looked positively smug.

"I'm against you now. This isn't about him."

He laughed. "Tough. Looks like your girl's already cutting you out, Pip."

Philip's face fell as he grumbled, "Don't call me--"

"You call him Pip?" You hoped your expression came off as endeared. Blatantly finding ways to antagonize him didn't seem like it would've fit your role. "That's adorable!"

"Y/N." His tone was warning. Your grin didn't falter.

"Oh, can I steal that?"

"All yours."

You let out a soft aww, a hand held to your heart, and put your other hand on Georges's forearm. "I can't thank you enough."

Philip stood with a huff, seemingly having had enough of you two. You raised an eyebrow -- were you leaving already? "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said, annoyed gaze never breaking from Georges's. "Don't cause too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I dunno, Pip; I was never the responsible one." Georges shrugged innocently, and Philip couldn't seem to help his amusement at his antics. "Do my best, though."

"Can't thank you enough," Philip mocked you to Georges as he turned, walking off toward the back.

Georges called after him, "You're welcome!"

Philip didn't respond, but Georges seemed more amused given that. He turned to you with a grin, leaning on the bar.

"So, Y/N." You raised an eyebrow. "I need to hear more about you; Philip's been holding out on us all these years. Took the entire family to even convince him to bring you home to meet us."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention how long it took him to convince me to come here, huh?" The words were truer than he knew; however, he interpreted them very differently from the truth. You raised a playful eyebrow, and he laughed.

"That's tough."

"You asked."

"Sort of," he corrected you, brow furrowed, and you grinned.

"No, but really," you started, deciding to actually explain yourself. "We've just been busy, couldn't find a time to get down here together."

"Oh yeah? Been getting a little too busy down in NYC?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"You know I didn't mean it like that!" You swatted at his arm, coaxing a laugh from him. "Our schedules just didn't line up. We never had the same weeks or weekends free to get out of the city."

"So this is your first time traveling together?"

"Guess so."

"Try not to kill him before the weekend's up." He winked. You kept quiet; Georges didn't need to know quite how high the odds of that happening really were. "But really, enough about him. Where are you from? Where'd you go to school? When are you and Philip getting married?"

You ignored the last question altogether, knowing that reacting to it one way or another would only encourage him. "I'm from the west coast. I was born just outside of LA, moved later on to Chicago, and then came to New York City for college."

"Yeah? What made you choose NYC?"

"My ex, actually."

"Oh, really?" He looked surprised at that tidbit of information, and you tried to just shrug it off. "Must've been pretty serious then, huh?"

"It was." He noticed how quiet you went at that, and he didn't press the point, deciding instead to change the subject.

"So Philip must've been a pretty good rebound?" He nudged you, wiggling his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"He..." You paused, considering how you were supposed to respond to that. "He's definitely exceeded expectations, to be perfectly honest."

"Hmm, I dunno how good that sounds, Y/N." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, small smile playing at his lips. "How low, exactly, were your expectations?"

You pursed your lips, but your amusement betrayed you. You hadn't expected to be called out on the truth behind your statement. Your gaze dropped to the bar before you, and you drummed your fingers on the varnished wood. You shrugged. "Not that low."

He let out a snort of laughter. "What an absolutely glowing review. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Hey, don't you betray me like this!"

"I've made it clear where my loyalties lie." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "In all seriousness, though, why were your expectations so low?"

Again, you were unsure of how much to reveal. "Let's just say that Philip isn't much for first impressions."

"Really?" His surprise appeared genuine, before he tilted his head to the side, considering it, and shrugged. "I guess, with you, that shouldn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You folded your arms, needing more information before you could decide whether you were offended. He saw your furrowed brow and grinned.

"I don't mean that as a bad thing. Honest." He paused, considering himself, and you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. He leaned onto the bar, and he spoke matter-of-factly, beginning to explain. "So, Philip's always been good with people. And he's definitely never had any problems with girls. He was in and out of casual relationships all through high school and college just for the hell of it."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was blatant, and he cracked a smile.

"Yeah, he actually did have some tact, once upon a time. Was a charming kid; I never could figure out how he did it." He shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "But... well, when something matters to him -- or someone -- he goes looking for advice, and everyone else's input just ends up shaking him up. Think I mighta given him advice about you once or twice, so I guess you have me to thank for that."

For a moment, you were stunned. You swallowed, trying not to get too caught up in your head with the information he’d shared, but given its nature, it was hard not to overthink. You tried to match his lighthearted expression. "And what advice would you have given him?"

"Well, five years ago..." He squinted ever-so-slightly as he considered your question. A silent laugh slowly etched itself into his features. "Y'know what, it doesn't matter. Just trust me when I tell you, it was bad advice."

"Georges!"

"Seriously, you don't wanna know." You glared at him, leaning onto the bar where you sat. "I'm sorry to leave you hangin', but I promise, telling you helps no one."

You huffed as you slumped back in your seat. "Are you that bad at relationship advice?"

"Worse than what you're imagining," he assured you, and you shook your head, exasperated.

"How in the world are you married?" The question was a joke, but despite his chuckle, his answer wasn't.

"I think some things are just meant to happen." You raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, wearing a small smile. "Seriously, I was an absolute fool in college -- and I mean that -- but no matter how many times I fucked up with Emilie, she always ended up back in my life. It was usually just coincidence. We were taking the same classes; we had the same advisor; we were on the same subway through town; our dorm rooms were right across from each other.

"And honestly? She kinda hated me at some point, but we kept being thrown together, and we got to know each other pretty well. Call me crazy, but it felt like fate." The distant look in his eyes shifted to something akin to entertainment, after that. "Similar thing happened with Philip, actually."

"Really? When?" You were genuinely invested by that point.

"Junior year of high school." He nodded to himself, thinking back with a grin. "Yeah, that was a hell of a time. Like, one week in, Philip and I had this huge fight. Don't even remember what it was about, but it had us really heated."

"Honestly, I can't imagine you two fighting," you said, and he gave a shrug, his smile agreeable.

"Nah, not anymore, not like that, but we were teenagers," he said, as though that entirely explained it. "But I was only supposed to have one class with him that year, so he tried to switch out of it to get away from me. They ended up having to remake his schedule so he was in every other class with me. Poor kid couldn't escape it, but if it wasn't for some underpaid high-school administrator, we probably wouldn't be friends."

"Sounds like you have a lot of luck," you said, and he grinned.

"That's just it, though." He pinned you with a thoughtful look. "Was it luck, or was it just meant to turn out that way?"

You considered it for a moment. His stories did sound like the longest odds imaginable, but when you thought about your own life, you couldn't help but hope he was delusional. You'd had more than your fair share of bad luck in your life, and once upon a time, it had driven away almost everything you cared about. You didn't like to think that your misery could just have been some cruel twist of fate.

You opened your mouth to respond, uncertain, but Philip had apparently chosen that moment to re-emerge, inadvertently cutting you off.

"Speak of the devil!" Georges called out, his grin wide, and Philip eyed you both skeptically.

"You two are still talking about me?"

Georges glanced at you, and you told him, "I'm hearing all about your high school years."

Philip groaned. "Oh, c'mon man, what are you telling her?"

"We just covered your junior-year mullet and your fez-wearing phase," he informed him, meeting your eyes with a playful smile. "I was just about to fill her in on when you joined the bowling team in our senior year, but--"

"Alright, that's enough outta you." Georges shot you a conspiratory wink as Philip cut him off, though neither you nor Philip could hide your amusement. He, however, tried to play it off as annoyance. "Sounds like we're gonna need to get out of here before you get to the highlights of college."

"Aw, but Pip, I'm learning so much," you pouted, and he looked mildly exasperated as he met your eyes.

"That's what concerns me." Georges laughed while you groaned, and Philip's smile reappeared as he took a seat to your right.

"Then just wait'll I tell her about middle school."

---------------------------------

The rest of your evening was a whirlwind. Having grown up with only an older brother, you hadn't realized quite how many six siblings were -- that changed quickly. You really couldn't believe Angelica had managed to grow up with five brothers without losing her mind. Family dinner stretched on into the night, chaotic to the brink of your comfort zone. You found yourself enjoying it much more than you'd expected to, however. The Hamiltons were as lively as they were numerous, and you couldn't help but laugh along.

"But you were the one who got the room alone!" It took an hour or two, but you'd gotten Philip's siblings' names down. That was James, the younger high-schooler, yelling across the table at Angelica, who made a face.

"I was a seventeen-year-old girl! I couldn't keep sharing a room with my younger brothers!" she shot back, "You scared away three of my boyfriends! Three!"

"You never had to bring them up to our room, but you wanted some alone time with them." It was John, the eleven-year-old, who chimed in this time, making kissy sounds at Angelica who just mocked him.

"I had a right to some privacy!" she shot back. You didn't remember how they'd wandered down this line of discussion, but it seemed to be an impassioned one. Alex Jr. scoffed loudly.

"Hey, I'm seventeen, and I don't have my own room," he interjected, glaring down the table at their dad. "This is a double standard!"

"We have a toddler in the house; grow up," Alex Sr. sighed, which only seemed to further upset Alex Jr.

"Hey, William was Eliza's age when Ang was my age! That's not fair!"

"It doesn't matter; you aren't getting any girls anyway." The sneer came from John.

"Hey, I'm getting plenty--"

"Oh, yeah? Where are they?"

"I haven't brought them home because you can't seem to--"

"Boys! Relax!" Eliza did her best to quell the growing argument, but it seemed to be to little avail. Alex put a hand on her shoulder with a suppressed laugh as she huffed, clearly exasperated.

"Don't make this about me! I'm an incredible roommate!"

"Have you seen our bathroom lately?"

"Come on," Angelica groaned, her annoyance getting lost in the growing cacophony. John was shouting now, leaning over the table at his brother, and you jumped in your seat when James yelled back, deciding it was now his place to join the conversation.

You didn't realize you had grabbed Philip's forearm in your startled fit until he broke your train of thought.

"Alright, princess?"

Your head whipped toward him, surprised to see him leaning in to talk to you, and he looked thoroughly amused by your reaction. You released his arm from your grasp, giving him a sheepish smile. "Your family really is something."

"Believe me now that I was the easy child?" he asked, and you let out a snort of laughter, gaze falling back to his family.

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you were like this ten years ago."

"Hurtful," he scoffed, mocking offense, and you just shrugged, smile growing.

"They had to learn it somewhere."

"It was all Angelica."

"I'm sure."

The woman in question broke the wall of noise at almost exactly that moment, raising her head from her hands. "This is exactly why I needed my own room!" That just turned the younger boys into a united front against her, and she looked to Philip with a sigh. "I'm starting to understand why you waited so long to bring Y/N home."

"No idea what you could be referring to. They're so charismatic!" Philip shrugged, plastering on over-exaggerated confusion, seemingly just to get a rise out of his sister. She rolled her eyes with a groan; it appeared to be working. She turned to you.

"Please don't run for the hills just because our younger brothers are absolute monsters," she said, gaze pleading as she reached for your hand. You smiled, amused despite yourself. "We really need some sanity in this family. I can't take family dinners being just me with six boys."

"Aw, Angie, are you saying I'm not one of the absolute monsters?" Philip interjected with a pout. "I'm touched, really."

You and Angelica both rolled your eyes at his antics. It was then that you decided you liked her.

You leaned over the table toward where her hand was desperately clutching yours. "You've got me for the rest of the weekend, but I'm not sure I can promise more."

She groaned exaggeratedly, and Philip nudged you lightly in the side, grinning mischievously. "What, don't you love my family so far?"

His words were teasing, but your soft smile as you looked back at the people surrounding him was anything but. "I do, actually."

When you met his eyes again, his gaze was softer, grin less pronounced. "Good."

The table had slowly grown quieter throughout your interaction, and it seemed you'd held Philip's gaze for just a moment too long, and you turned to see the entire family watching the two of you. You felt your face heat up, took a sip of your water. From then, there was silence, until a grinning William decided to break it.

He'd been quiet for the majority of the meal, so it surprised you when he turned to you, eyes shining. "So, Y/N," he addressed you, tone businesslike.

"I think we've spent enough time questioning Y/N already," Philip interjected before he could continue, resting a near-protective hand on your arm. You cast him a grateful look.

"C'mon, humor him," James said, his grin matching William's. "It's hardly eight; we have plenty of time."

"We started dinner at five." Philip sounded unamused.

"We haven't spent that whole time interrogating her," he defended, and Philip gave him a pointed look. James turned to you. "Right, Y/N?"

While you sighed playfully, playing up your exasperation, you really didn't mind it. You'd never had a family like this before. "I suppose not."

"Anyway," William interjected, looking as stern as a seven-year-old could. You pursed your lips, fighting back a laugh as you folded your hands and leaned toward him, mirroring his expression. "Y/N."

"William." You did your best to imitate his tone.

"When are you and Pip going to have a baby?"

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open in shock, if only for a moment. Philip groaned beside you, leaning back in his chair, and you could hear his parents laughing at the end of the table. Some of his siblings looked exasperated; others waited eagerly for your answer.

"Well, um..." You trailed off as you glanced at Philip desperately, hoping he'd shut his family down so you didn't have to. He hadn't yet seemed to have recovered. Your face was burning as you tried to continue. "We aren't married, so not anytime soon, but--"

"When are you getting married?" William pressed, seemingly unaffected by everyone's reactions to his words. You leaned forward, had to take a sip of your drink to hide your surprised laugh.

"Sorry to say it, but right now, we don't know that we are getting married, so I'll have to get back to you on that question." You gave him an apologetic smile before you looked back at Philip, eyes wide. This was territory you didn't think you'd have to cover. He just shook his head and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' He appeared wholly exhausted.

"Surely you've talked about it before, though, haven't you?" It was the older Alex who chimed in that time, hesitant. Eliza gave him a look. "I mean, getting married, having kids and all that. You've been together for two years; you must have considered it at some point."

"Pops," Philip said through gritted teeth, the word carrying an unsaid warning.

"What? I'm just curious," he defended, despite Eliza swatting his shoulder. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he glanced at her, eyes wide. "If you haven't, it's fine. I don't mean to rush you kids into anything, but I just wanted to know."

By then, though she sighed, you could see Eliza looking at the two of you hopefully. The whole table fell silent, expecting an answer you didn't have. "It's just... not something we've taken into consideration at this point. We aren't really set on making decisions about that anytime soon."

"Do you want kids, though?" Angelica asked you, and Philip sighed. Like you, he'd hoped the topic would fall away after your weak explanation. You hesitated, not sure whether giving them a legitimate answer would only egg them on. Ultimately, you shrugged.

"I mean, personally? Yeah, probably at some point," you offered, playing nervously with the edge of your napkin. You didn't want to look at Philip. "The whole 'settling down and starting a family' thing is something I've kind of always pictured"

"Is it more appealing now that you see how great having a big family is for us?" Alex Jr. asked, words saturated with sarcasm. You laughed as he grinned exaggeratedly, gesturing to everyone down the table.

"I know you're joking and all, but I really wouldn't mind this being my day-by-day."

"Really?" Philip chose that moment to finally interject, an eyebrow raised, and you nodded, feeling suddenly defensive.

"I mean, yeah." You shrugged, shoulders tense. "What, wouldn't you?"

"I would.” His lips quirked as he sat forward in his chair once again. “But, honestly, I didn’t think this was your style.”

"I'm not totally set on anything, but..." You didn't elaborate further. Confessing to him the future you wanted had you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. His smile was soft as he faintly nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners.

There was a pregnant pause before Alex Sr. spoke.

"I guess now you've talked about it."

------------------------------------

Dinner ended much later than it needed to, and afterward, they just herded you into their living room. It seemed that now since they all had you in front of them, they were going to take advantage of the opportunity to ask you anything and everything about yourself and your love life (with a focus on Philip, of course). You did your best to field the seemingly endless barrage of questions, and though it took you a while, you finally figured out how to deflect the more uncomfortable ones onto Philip. It wasn't until you yawned -- rather loudly, too -- that the conversation reached any sort of stopping point.

"Tired, princess?" Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly squeezing your side, and you sighed, not having enough energy to push back on the pet name.

"Little bit," you mumbled, a weary smile still adorning your lips. He chuckled, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling more drained than anything, and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You two should head up and get some sleep," Eliza said. The look in her eyes as you met her gaze was affectionate. You didn't notice your smile growing.

"I second that. You look exhausted, Y/N," Alex added, looking to you and Philip sympathetically.

You chuckled at that, and you couldn't help the lazy sarcasm that leaked into your voice as you responded, "Thanks, Mr. Hamilton; glad to hear it."

"Alex," he corrected you, his smile kind. He didn't seem to take any offense at your tone; instead, amusement danced in his eyes, and you nodded, matching his expression.

"Alex."

You couldn't decide whether the warm feeling in your chest as you bid everyone goodnight, letting Philip lead you to the stairs, was the result of your fatigue, the merlot Eliza had offered you around seven (and then three more times in the hours that followed), or if it just came from being around his family. It had to be some combination of the three, but you had a sneaking suspicion it leaned mainly toward the latter.

The two of you walked in easy silence, you still reminiscing on everything that had happened that day, everyone you'd met, and you didn't notice Philip watching you as you hung onto the railing to your left. You weren't in any sort of headspace for vigilant observation. Instead, you were fixated fondly on his family. It was never an environment you'd been in, so rowdy and energetic, but tender and caring all the while. You'd been dreading this weekend -- seriously, you spent about an hour on the drive down drowning out Philip's soliloquy, spaced out and wondering whether it was too late to just turn around and dump him off on the side of the road. (Patsy wouldn't have even questioned it when you arrived home.) The past however-many-hours, though, almost since you'd just woken up, had you questioning a number of assumptions you'd made, and not just about the family reunion.

You stumbled over one of the last stairs as you lost yourself in your train of thought. Your eyes snapped wide open; your grip on the railing tightened. Just as you felt yourself beginning to tip backward, you found yourself in Philip's arms, his grip on your waist steadying you as he looked down at you, amused.

"You alright?" The air hadn't yet returned to your lungs; your pseudo-crisis must have begun and ended in under a second, and you stared up at him blankly. You blinked, just beginning to process your surroundings.

Catching your breath was more of a struggle than it should've been, however. All you could discern was the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he looked down at you. You weren't even that close together, but clinging to his arms for what seemed like dear life had you feeling mildly defenseless. You couldn't miss the growing concern in his eyes.

"Yeah," you breathed as you realized you'd let the silence stretch on too long, long enough for Philip to question it. Being tired (and gravitating toward wine-tipsy) must have just heightened the panic in your system, must have slowed your reaction time. Another beat passed, and you finally pulled yourself upright, taking a deep breath as you continued up the last couple of stairs and down the hallway. Philip's concern didn't dissipate as he came up after you, but your mind was elsewhere.

You had to promise yourself to keep from drinking the next day, feeling exasperated with yourself as you couldn't seem to collect your thoughts. He caught up to you as you entered his room, and pulled the door shut behind him with an eyebrow raised. You didn't see him watching you, a silent question in his gaze, as you dragged yourself over to your suitcase.

You turned around after pulling your pajamas out and froze when you met his eyes. "What?"

He pursed his lips. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course," you reassured him, giving a weary smile. "I'm just tired; don't worry."

You didn't let yourself ponder any longer, and though you could see your answer hadn't quite appeased him, you ignored it. The room was quiet as you both picked through your suitcases, brushed past each other entering and exiting the bathroom. You were both more than ready to get some sleep.

Just before you were about to climb into bed, you paused, unable to help your drifting gaze. Philip was still in the adjacent bathroom, brushing his teeth, and you glanced back at him. Considering the circumstances, briefly vetting his room felt like fair game.

Your eyes scanned the walls, noting the different posters he still had hung up, appearing to all be from different times in his life -- some were much more worn than others, and you couldn't imagine he'd been anxiously awaiting the new Scooby-Doo movie anytime recently. You wandered over to the desk, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a small smile as you noticed the books and pictures stacked high on the surface. Your fingertips brushed against one photo, and your gaze fell to it, seeing Philip and three other people all in party hats, their celebration frozen in time.

You could hear his footsteps stall behind you as you poked into his belongings, but it didn't discourage you.

"When's this from?" you asked, turning to him with the polaroid you'd uncovered. He chuckled as he walked over, plucking the picture from your hand.

"Eighteenth birthday party," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he eyed the photograph. He turned his gaze back to you with a small smile. "You're actually gonna meet all the people in this photo this weekend, assuming they all show up."

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a yawn as you took a seat on the perfectly made bed a few feet in front of him. "What, couldn't get anyone but family to celebrate your eighteenth with you?"

"Hardly." He hummed, ignoring the aim behind the insult. "My dad lost most of his family when he was young, though, so while you'll meet all of Mom's family this weekend, Pop's is all just his friends who he's adopted into the family, and then their families. These three are his friends' kids who I grew up with," he said, motioning again to the photograph.

"That's sweet," you said softly, pushing yourself further up the bed, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Hmm?"

"That your dad chose this entirely new family, I mean." He shrugged, walking over to join you on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, "Never really thought much of it, I guess." He paused, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow where you sat. "What's your family like? You don't talk about them much."

You pursed your lips. "Small."

"Yeah?" He took a seat next to you after pulling himself onto the bed. Your skin jumped as the outside of his thigh rested against yours, his hip less than an inch away, and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You nodded, swallowing hard as a soft smile grew on your lips.

"Just me, my parents and my brother."

"That's it?" He looked surprised at your explanation, and you just shrugged. "What about cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles?"

"Two aunts, no grandparents, no cousins."

"Really," he sighed, seemingly still in disbelief. A teasing grin worked its way onto his face as he elbowed you lightly. "So I won't be going to any family reunions in the L/N household anytime soon, then, huh?"

You laughed despite yourself. "Doesn't look like it. The closest we ever get is when my brother and I are together in NYC and Mom and Dad drive up to meet us for a couple days. Not much of a production."

"Sounds nice, though." His grin had grown by then as he looked over at you, leaning back to meet you where you sat. By then, he was sitting angled toward you with his legs crossed, reclining back on his hands. You shifted, and the hand behind you brushed against his. "Next time the L/Ns get together in New York, though, I'd better be invited. Quid pro quo, princess."

"Oh, of course," you replied jokingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Might be a little quieter than what you're used to, though."

He rolled his eyes. "At least you're letting me know ahead of time." You shifted to turn yourself toward him, again finding him only inches from you. He looked as surprised as you did, but neither of you moved, and he continued, tone light. "Speaking of, sorry for not warning you about how... chaotic my family gets. It's been a while since I've been with them all at once, and I forgot to consider that this isn't how everyone's families work."

You chuckled, your smile growing. "No, don't apologize. They're sweet."

"Not the word that comes to mind." He pursed his lips, looking down at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes, but he couldn't have missed the mirth in your expression. "Then again, considering that, it's no wonder you get along with them."

Your jaw dropped in mock outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He shrugged, feigning innocence despite his smirk. "Nothing much. Just that I'm glad you feel at home with my family."

You huffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up to jab a finger in his chest. "Now don't you dare even pretend that wasn't an insult!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His grin didn't waver.

"Oh, don't play dumb," you scoffed. You both knew the fury in your voice was contrived, and his amusement seemed to grow. "We both know what you meant."

"Oh, yeah?" He pushed back on you, leaning in against your hand, an eyebrow raised. "What'd I mean, princess?"

"I said don't pretend," you warned him. He was looking increasingly smug the more indignant you became, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Who said I was?

"I'm not stupid." You raised your eyebrows.

"'Course not." He mocked your expression. "So you must already know I would never mean anything other than praise by that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes with a groan, having had about enough, despite the smile you were failing to stifle. He laughed, and you reached out to shove him away by the chest, but just as you did, he tried to grab your wrist, eyebrows raised.

He was too late.

As he grabbed your wrist, you couldn't pull back to where you were sitting, and your eyes widened as you lost your balance. Your momentum turned what would've hardly tipped him over into a much more forceful push, and you sent him falling backward, his legs unfolding as he tried to catch himself, with you, in turn, collapsing forward with a yelp. You ended up on top of him, one hand still held to his chest, the other beside his head, and you knelt straddling his waist. Both of you had wide eyes as you realized the position you were in, nose-to-nose, and your breath caught in the back of your throat.

He was the first to speak, eyes shining, his voice low. "Y'know, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you to come home with me for the weekend."

However, you were still stunned into silence, hyper-aware of any movement either of you made. You had to focus on your breathing in an effort to calm your pounding heart. (With your hand on his chest, you could tell you weren't the only one.)

You felt your hair brushing against your cheek as it fell forward, draped beside your head over Philip. It must have been subconscious when you found yourself leaning in further yet, must have been instinct based on the situation. Nonetheless, when you did, the side of your nose brushed against his, and you felt his heartbeat quicken, saw his eyes widen.

You paused when you must have been less than an inch above him.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice cautious as his free hand found its way up to your waist. You stalled, though, for another moment, shivering when you felt his breath fan across your lips. He was all but immobile beneath you, too apprehensive to make any move one way or another.

The anticipation in his eyes only heightened with each passing second.

It was then that you pushed yourself off of him, blinking hard, and you couldn't decide whether you had lost your nerve or regained your sense. You swallowed, took a deep breath. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to, um--" You cut yourself off. What in the world were you thinking? The question arose in your mind desperately as you scrambled further back, further from him. Your face was burning. "I wasn't--"

"You're ok," he said softly, giving you a reassuring (yet, slightly worried) smile. You didn't meet his gaze. "It was a mistake." You were so lost in your own train of thought that you didn't notice when Philip finally stood, walked to the empty side of the bed to join you.

"We should get some sleep," he said, turning on the lamp beside him, and you nodded. The past few minutes had you spiraling. All his actions were hesitant; had you scared him? You didn't mean to end up in that position. He knew it was just a mishap, right? Did you know that it was?

He stood briefly to hit the light, and you crawled under one side of the covers. After a moment, he joined you. Neither of you knew quite what to say next.

"G'night, princess," he finally murmured, voice as wary as it was soft as you curled into the sheets, and he pulled them over himself alongside you. You closed your eyes in an effort to forget that you were still facing him, shifted over to give him space. Your calf brushed against his knee, but you didn't pull away.

When you heard the lamp turn off, you finally spoke again. "Night, Pip."

The room was completely silent after that, but neither of you was at rest. You lay with your eyes tightly shut, your thoughts running a mile a minute as you willed yourself to stop replaying one specific moment on a loop.

You didn't realize your brow was furrowed, but Philip did, watching you for just a moment longer with smiling eyes.

The bed was just a little bit warmer that night.

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youare-mysonshine · 4 years

Text

todo cambio || chapter 1

Summary: One drunken night between best friends Camila and Oscar changes everything between them.

Pairing: Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz x (OC) Camila Martinez, Jose ‘Sad Eyes’ Guzman x (OC) Sofia Diaz

Warnings: cussing, smut in future chapters, angst.

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Alright y’all, I’m really excited about this story. It’s a collab with @spookysmujer. We’ve been planning and planning this for daaays. Camila is my OC and Sofia is her OC. We is excited lmao. Also, since Sad Eyes’ name is never mentioned in the show, we decided to make one up for him; MEET JOSE LMAO. This is more like a filler chapter, to kind of get the ball rolling. Enjoy!

—————

*four years ago*

“Here, I got your nasty ass red bull.”

Camila walked up to the Diaz household, clutching a plastic bag full of chips, snacks and drinks from the bodega only a block or two away. She walked over to Oscar who was standing in front of his precious impala, tinkering with something under the hood. He’d always tried to teach her about cars, about how to fix something under the hood should she ever find herself stranded - the only thing she managed to retain was how to properly change a flat tire.

“Nasty ass? You just don’t have good taste, Mila.” Oscar wiped his hands down with a rag, turning to look down at the short, dark haired girl. He threw a smirk her way as he took the cold can from her hand, opening it and having a drink. She gave an airy chuckle.

“Clearly I don’t if I’m friends with you.” The raven haired female started walking up the path that led up the front steps of the house.

“You should consider yourself lucky, shorty.” Mila lifted her hand, middle finger up. She heard Oscar’s rumbling laughter behind her and a smile of her own came to her face. She pushed open the wooden door, walking into the familiar house that she’d been in plenty of times before. Sitting on the couch was Sofia, Oscar’s younger sister.

“Hey bambii,” She greeted the young teenager. “I got the water balloons. Where’s Cesar?” At her words, the youngest Diaz sibling came bounding into the living room.

“Right there.” Sofia said, giving Mila a sarcastic smile. The older female rolled her eyes.

“I can see that, smart ass. Hola Cesar.” She walked over and ruffled the young Diaz’s hair, to which he promptly pushed her hand away, but he wore that big smile on his face. “Ruby’s coming later. Mama made him stay and clean his room.” She snickered. “But I got the water balloons. Are you traviesos gonna help me?”

With young Sofia and Cesar standing beside her, the three got to work with filling the colorful water balloons up with water - they were laughing, smiling, and definitely making a mess with the water. “Oscar’s gonna be mad that we’re spilling all this water.” Cesar sad as he tried tying one of the balloons, some of the water spilling onto the floor.

“Not at Mila, you know he can never be mad at his girlfriend.” Sofia teased, wearing that smirk that was so similar to Oscar’s. Camila rolled her eyes, gently pushing the Diaz girl.

“Callate mocosa. You know I ain’t his girlfriend.”

“Mhm, whatever you saaay.” From beside Camila, Cesar was snickering, laughing at the playful bickering between the two females. The older of the three wet her fingers with the water running under the tap and she flicked it at Sofia.

“Shh. Cállate, Nina. Come on, grab that. Let’s go. Maybe if we sneak up on Oscar, we can get him with some water balloons.” Armed with a bucket of water balloons, the three sauntered out of the kitchen, past the dining room, the living room and finally out the front door. Camila grabbed a red water balloon from the bucket that Cesar was holding, meanwhile Sofia grabbed another. Together, the two females crept forward - Oscar was busy under the hood of the car, some music playing softly from a speaker.

“One.. two.. three..” The two threw the water balloons at Oscar, though their aim was a bit off - Camila’s balloon hit the drivers side door meanwhile Sofia’s hit the hood. Oscar stood up straight, on high alert - his eyes were darting back and forth, looking at his surroundings, but he deadpanned when he saw the culprits. Cesar was laughing, as were the two girls.

“You two are lucky that shit didn’t go inside the car.” He spoke. He grabbed the hood and slammed it down, closing it.

“Yeah? What would’ve happened if it had?” Sofia questioned her big brother, crossing her arms over her chest, giving him that devilish smirk that she was perfecting. But Mila could see the playfulness shining in her big brown eyes, sparkling under the afternoon sun.

“Aye Cesar, come here.” Ever the loyal little brother, Cesar went bounding over to Oscar. Oscar ruffled his brother’s hair and then reached into the bucket to grab one of the water balloons, tossing it from hand to hand. Camila had started backing up, a little smile creeping up onto her face. Sofia had started backing away too. “I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

“Oscar.. Oscar, don-“

Oscar raised his arm to throw the water balloon at Camila and Sofia, who had fully prepared to run back up those steps and into the house, but it never came. It never came because the sound of police sirens filled their ears.

Now, considering that they lived in Freeridge, an inner city riddled with gang violence and crime, hearing police sirens and gunshots wasn’t out of the ordinary. They grew up around it, they were used to it, as sad as it was to say. Especially the Diaz siblings who’d grown up in and around a gang. But what was alarming was the fact that police car came racing down the street that Oscar lived in.

It almost seemed like time slowed down as the cop car came to a halt in front of the house - people poked their heads through their windows to watch the scene unfold, some people had stepped out of their house to watch. The smile that Camila wore was wiped off her face in an instant and it felt like someone had dumped an entire bucket of ice water on her. It felt like she was watching a scene straight out of a movie play out in front of her.

Two officers stepped out of their police cruiser and approached Oscar, hands hovering their guns. Oscar’s face had gone deadly serious - his jaw was clenched, but his eyes.. his eyes had a sort of.. acceptance in them. Almost as if he knew what was coming, almost as if he knew it was gonna happen.

“Oscar Diaz?” One of the police officers asked him. Oscar said nothing, just nodded his head. “I’m gonna need you to drop that, put your hands above your head.”

“Oscar?” Cesar asked. “Oscar what’s happening?”

“Oscar, what’s going on?” Sofia spoke up, sounding every bit as alarmed as they were all feeling. But Oscar.. Oscar kept that stoic expression on his face. He didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. He didn’t run. He did as told. The balloon he was holding in his hand exploded against the pavement as he dropped it, water wetting the concrete. He raised his hands up and the police officers stepped closer to him.

“Oscar- No. No what are you doing! Stop!” The bucket of balloons that Cesar was holding fell to the ground in a heap as he rushed forward. Mila sprang forward, gathering the youngest Diaz and pulling him back. Tears had gathered in her eyes as she locked eyes with Oscar. She could see the emotion swimming in those chocolate pools of his - a thousands wordless emotions coming at her all at once.

“W-What’s going on? Why are you arresting him?!” Mila finally found her voice, albeit shaky and heartbroken, as she cradled Cesar’s cry and shaking form close to her body. She walked back over to Sofia and cradled the young 14, soon to be 15 year old in the same fashion. She was holding them in a desperate attempt to shield them from watching their brother, their only parental figure, be hauled off in handcuffs.

“Stop! Let him go!” Sofia cried out as the officers handcuffed Oscar once they searched him for any drugs or weapons. With his hands handcuffed behind his back, Oscar was hauled off to the cop car, and that was when the real screaming and crying started. Sofia started thrashing in Mila’s arms, desperately trying to break free from Mila’s hold. And Cesar, he did the opposite - he was holding onto Mila as tight as he possibly could, crying out for Oscar.

“Oscar! No, please! Let him go!” Mila couldn’t keep the tears at bay as she watched her best friend shoved into that police car. By now it seemed that the entire neighborhood was standing outside and watching the heartbreaking scene unfold. Watching as young adult Oscar Diaz was arrested, watching as his young best friend did her best to console his crying siblings all the while her own heart was completely shattering in her chest.

“No! Oscar!” Sofia managed to break free from Camila and rushed forward, but one of the police officers attempted to stop her, keep her from reaching her brother. “Get away! If you come near me, I will fight you!” She choked out between cries.

“Stay here, papito. Stay, okay?” Mila rushed over to Sofia and grabbed the girl who was desperately fighting, desperately trying to reach Oscar. “Fia.. Sofia, please.. Come on, come on..” Her own words were broken, completely full of hurt, but she needed to be strong. She had to be.

It was then that Sofia completely broke down. She stopped fighting, she stopped struggling - she buried her face in Camila’s shoulder and cried. All the older female could do was hold her. Hold her tight. She couldn’t say that everything would be okay because she didn’t - she didn’t know if everything was gonna be okay. Cesar walked forward, red faced and teary eyed and hugged his older sister and the girl that had almost become like a mother figure to him in the time that he’d known her.

With her arms locked around the youngest Diaz siblings, Camila locked eyes with Oscar, sitting in the back of the cop car. Their eyes met and his face faltered for a bit - his hardened expression dropped, his eyes shining with what she perceived as unshed tears. She could almost read the thought that was at the forefront of his mind;

‘Take care of them.’

And so she did.

—————

Four years ago seemed like a lifetime ago. An eternity. Yet at the same time, it felt like just yesterday.

Camila Martinez and Oscar Diaz had met back in high school. He was a sophomore and she was barely a freshman. Her first year in high school and she had been rather nervous. Excited to finally be in high school, but she couldn’t shake those nerves that she felt. She had ended up meeting Oscar when she was trying to get her locker open - she had been an overzealous little freshman, holding way too many books than her small body could even support, and on top of that, she couldn’t seem to figure out how to get her damned locker open.

Oscar had been walking by with a few of his friends and he’d spotted her struggling. She was barely balancing her books in her arms all the while trying to open her locker and while he found it completely comical, the young sophomore couldn’t just walk pass like everybody else seemed to be doing and let her completely make a fool of herself. The teen with a head of curly black hair had sauntered over and asked her if she needed some help and the rest, as they say, is history.

Camila and Oscar were two completely different people with two completely different personalities yet they got along so well. Whereas Camila was a bit more shy and calm, Oscar was the firecracker, saying what was on his mind without a second thought. They balanced each other out perfectly.

The more time they spent together, the more the two learned about each other - she learned about his ambitions, his hopes and dreams to become a professional chef. He’d told her about how he always watched his papa cook and how he wanted to do it too. He’d told her about how he had two younger siblings - Sofia and Cesar, and she’d told him about her own younger brothers, Mario and Ruby. It was almost comical to them that only a few years later, their younger siblings would become friends as well.

However, Mila soon learned more about his life - his mother wasn’t around, having finally chosen the life of drugs over her children, and his father, gone too. Not a word to his young children. No phone calls, no letters, nothing. Oscar found himself having to raise his younger siblings with no help except from those that were in the gang with his father. It was a life that Mila had desperately hoped he’d stray from - she wasn’t naive. Sweet and nice, sure, but naive, no. She’d grown up in Freeridge, she knew how gangs worked, she knew what happened once you were in a gang - there was no getting out.

That once vibrant, hopeful curly haired teen who wanted to become a chef became Spooky. By her sophomore and his junior year in high school, Oscar had been jumped in - she still remembered the night that he came knocking on her bedroom window. She remembered ushering him inside, Oscar hissing in pain with every move he made - it wasn’t until he was sitting on her bed that she saw the extent of his injuries. Bruises littered his torso, he had a split lip, a blackening eye. But the look in his eyes? The defeat? That was the worst of it all. It was horrible and she hated it. She hated knowing that Oscar was in the gang, knowing that he’d never be able to get out.

Those hopes and dreams he had were gone. He didn’t care about going to culinary school anymore - the one thing he was focused on was providing for his siblings. The one way he knew how to ensure they had a future, to ensure they had a roof over their heads and clothes on their bodies was by joining the gang.

Camila remembered the fight that they’d had when he joined - a lot of words were said, a lot of yelling was done;

“You don’t get it, Camila! You grew in a stable house with two parents. You never have to worry about how you’re getting your next meal, or how to pay the bills. I don’t have that luxury! I’m doing what I have to do to make sure that Cesar and Sofia have a least a little bit of a good life. They deserve that and I don’t need you giving me shit!”

The two of them hadn’t talked for a week or two after that but she eventually went around to his house, littered with a bunch of Santos. She told him that while she didn’t like that he joined the gang, she’d be there for him because he was her best friend, because she wasn’t gonna leave him to raise his siblings alone, she wasn’t just gonna leave him alone to deal with it all.

That tanned skin of his became inked with a Santos cross on his neck, and soon he started adding more tattoos to his collection. The teardrop tattoo was the most startling one of them all because Camila knew the meaning behind it. She just knew. The Oscar that she once knew was gone, but she never turned her back on him.

After Oscar had joined the gang, her parents had been less than thrilled at her affiliation with him. They hadn’t wanted her to hang around him anymore but they knew better than anyone that Camila and Oscar were practically glued at the hip. Nothing could tear those two apart from each other.

She had been fresh out of high school, 19 years old and saving up money from her little job at the grocery store to get herself her first car. Oscar, at the time of his arrest, was 20 years old and she still remembered that day like it had just happened. It was fresh in her mind. The tears, the crying, holding Sofia and Cesar in her arms and trying to figure out where to go from there on out.

He’d been arrested and charged with a felony drug possession that landed him an eight year sentence in Corcoran. She’d been devastated - she was angry, heartbroken, and more than anything she wanted her best friend back.

Now, here she was 4 years later, 23 years old, and on her way to pick up Oscar and she was practically buzzing with a nervous excitement. Due to good behavior, the Santo was being released early and she couldn’t have been more thankful for that. Of course, during his extensive time in prison, she’d visited him and talked to him on the phone but.. it wasn’t the same. She saw him in that orange jumpsuit, handcuffed, behind a thick glass, only speaking through a telephone. She was actually gonna see him in person. She was gonna be able to touch him and hold him.

“You okay?” Camila spoke up as she spared a glance at Cesar, who was sitting beside her. They were in Oscar’s cherry red impala, driving down the vast open road that she’d driven down before to go and visit him. She could just barely begin to make out the looming building up ahead. Cesar was fiddling with his thumbs, looking out the window. She could practically sense the nerves radiating off of him.

“Hm? Oh yeah.. yeah I’m good.” The youngest Diaz looked to Camila and offered her a small smile.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know. I’m actually pretty nervous myself.” She admitted, giving him a warm smile. “It’s gonna be fine, okay? He’s coming home, Cesar. Your brother is finally coming home.”

Sitting in the backseat wearing her headphones, blasting music louder than hell, was Sofia. The middle child. The rebel, as Camila had taken to calling her. When Oscar had gotten arrested, it hit both siblings really hard but it hadn’t hit Cesar quite as hard as Sofia. Camila had taken responsibility over the two and she saw the downfall of the young girl - her grades began slipping, she began going out more and more, partying and getting drunk. Mila knew there was resentment towards Oscar because of his arrest, she knew it stemmed from the fact that their parents had abandoned them as well. Despite the drastic change in Sofia’s attitude and personality, the two females found themselves getting close, despite the age difference. Sofia looked at Camila like an older sister - always there for her, always calling her out on her shit even though it pissed Sofia off sometimes. They fought and argued but it was Camila that kept Sofia from really going off on the deep end.

“Has he.. has he changed?” Cesar piped up. It was Oscar that said he didn’t want Cesar visiting him in prison. Cesar had went once - it was when he had just barely gotten locked up. Camila had gone down to see him with Sofia and Cesar and when the hour was up, she remembered hauling away a crying and screaming Cesar. Oscar had called her the next day and told her that he didn’t want her bringing him out anymore. He didn’t want his little brother to have to see him like that. Camila also knew that Oscar really couldn’t handle seeing Cesar cry out like that for him.

“He’s still bald,” She chuckled. “Um, he’s gotten taller too. More muscular. But um.. I think prison kind of hardened him up. I think this life hardened him up, changed him.”

“Do you think he’ll ever go back to how he was? Before everything?”

“I don’t know. Only time will tell, right?”

Another 15 or 20 minutes and the three were anxiously waiting outside of the looming gates. Camila stood leaning against the car, Cesar beside her on her left and Sofia on her right. The younger dark haired female still had those headphones on, blasting music, looking down at her phone as she scrolled through her instagram. Camila sighed, nudging the female Diaz.

“What?” Sofia asked with a bored tone, looking at her. But Camila had grown to know her better in the last four years that Oscar was gone, she had learned to read her, gauge her facial expressions and reactions. She was just as anxious, she just hid it better.

“Take those off.” Camila said. “Please?”

Sofia sighed but did as told, removing her headphones. She leaned thru the window and tossed them into the backseat before straightening up, resting against the cherry red car, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t see why I had to come. I could’ve stayed home.” She spoke.

“Because he’s your brother? Our brother?” Cesar spoke, looking over a his older sister. “And he’s finally getting out. Why are you acting like a bitch for?”

“A bitch? Shut up, little boy.”

“Basta! Enough! Jesus Christ, you’re worse than the twins, and those little shits stay trying to glitter and fight each other all the time.” Camila spoke up, exasperated, recalling the many many incidents where her younger twin siblings fought each other mercilessly. “Looks I know you don’t wanna be here but.. Oscar’s coming home, Bambii. He’s finally coming home, okay?” Mila’s words were soft, hopeful and caring. “Just.. don’t look so miserable. Please, for me?”

Sofia gave the older girl a small little smile. “Only for you, and because you said please. And because you’re buying me a michelada after.”

Camila chuckled, turning to face the gates once more. “Alright fine, bitch.”

It seemed like hours had gone by when really, it was only just minutes. Camila swore she felt her heart stop beating in her chest when she heard a buzzing sound. She could’ve sworn her heart jump started once more at a hundred beats per second when she saw Oscar, flanked by two correction officers, walking over to the gates. It was like the breath was stolen from her body when the gates slowly rolled open and Oscar walked forward.

Camila couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t contain her excitement or emotion. She ran forward quicker than lightening and jumped into Oscar’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Oscar gave a deep chuckle - she could feel his chest vibrating against her own. His arms strong arms wrapped around her small frame and held her close. Both of them, they stood there holding each other for a few good second, just savoring the feeling of each other.

“Dios mio, I’ve missed you Oscar.” She said, unable to keep the emotion from her voice.

“I’ve missed you too, Tiny.” Pulling away, she looked at him, at his face. He looked older now, hardened, just like she’d said to Cesar. The teardrop and Santos cross tattoo stood out against his tan skin, and his eyes shone brightly under the bright, blistering sun.

“I’m gonna forgive you for calling me Tiny, just because of how much I’ve missed you.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek before unwrapping herself from around him. Her feet planted themselves on the floor, her head barely coming up to his shoulders. He looked down at her, smirking.

“Not my fault you’re so short, Mila. Four years and you still haven’t grown at all.” Then, his eyes fell on his siblings, on Sofia and Cesar.

Cesar took a few hesitant steps forward, and Oscar motioned him over. “Come here, kid.” The youngest Diaz sibling walked forward and fell into his brother’s arms. Oscar wrapped an arm around Cesar, leaning down to press a small kiss to the top of Cesar’s head. His face was serious, but Camila could see the emotion shining in his eyes, she could see a thousand emotions swirling in them. So many emotions that he didn’t know how to convey or say. “I’ve missed you.” He spoke firmly, voice hard.

“Um, yeah.. yeah me too.” Cesar spoke, giving his older brother a small smile. Oscar’s eyes then came up on his unenthused sister, still leaning against the car, arms still crossed across her chest.

“Bambii.. look at you, you’re all grown up.” Oscar said. “I can’t get a hi or a hug?” He asked.

Sofia gave her brother a sarcastic smile, sarcasm simply dripping from every single pore. “Hi, Oscar. Welcome home. I’ve missed you.” She walked over, wrapping a single arm around his muscular torso. “It’s just so good to have you back home.” The tall Santo clearly wasn’t amused or impressed, giving his sister a deadpanned look. Mila simply sighed, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay! Let’s go, yeah?” Camila spoke up, clapping her hands together. She dug the car keys out of her pocket and dangled them on her finger up at Oscar. “Did you forget how to drive or do you want me to?” She teased.

“Gimme those.” Oscar snatched the keys from her finger and walked around the vehicle, eyes taking in every little minuscule detail. Everything he missed in the last four years. Sofia climbed back into the backseat, with Cesar following beside her, occupying the spot next to her, meanwhile Mila sat in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t crash your car Oscar, there’s not even a scratch!” The brunette said to her best friend as he finally got in the car.

“Yeah, four years later and I still remember how you ran over the curb when you were trying to park. Fucked up the rim.” Oscar put the key in the ignition and started the engine. A little smile came to his lips, dimples just barely poking through. “Sounds the same..”

—————

Sofia had just put the finishing touch on her makeup when she heard the front door open and shut in quick succession. She sighed to herself, pursing her plump lips, deep chocolate eyes surveying herself in the mirror. She had a party that she’d been invited to and she certainly was not gonna miss it. Yeah, her brother was home, finally, but truthfully, the last thing that she wanted was to be near him.

“Don’t you own anything that goes past your knees?” Cesar asked as he leaned against the doorframe, watching as his sister put on the sandals that went with her outfit. She wore a cute spaghetti crop top, a form fitting short denim skirt with a little slit on the side, showcasing her smooth, tanned legs. The female Diaz turned and looking at her younger brother, shooting a sarcastic smile his way. “You know Oscar’s not gonna let you go anywhere like that.”

“Hm, well Cesar, unlike you - I don’t live to kiss his ass. I didn’t even know that you could kiss anybody else’s ass other than Monse’s until Oscar got back.” She snickered. Cesar’s face went serious, eyes giving her a nasty look. Meanwhile Sofia went about her business, grabbing her purse and stuffing her phone side, as well as her house keys and other necessities.

“Bitch.” Cesar muttered as he walked away.

“Pussy.” Sofia called back out to him. After making sure she had all her things, after spritzing a little bit of perfume on, the ebony haired female walked out of room, shutting off the light in the process, and walked down the hallway. She reached the living room and found Oscar sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels on the t.v. Upon hearing her enter, Oscar turned his head to look at her and nearly did a double take.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He asked, sitting up straighter. She rolled her eyes, heading for the door.

“Did you suddenly go blind in prison? I’m wearing clothes.” She said. Oscar stood up quicker than lightening and blocked her path to the door, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.

“And where are you going?”

“A party. Move.” She said, trying to get past him but he still stood in her way, not budging. Sofia sighed deeply, looking up at her older brother with those intense eyes that mirrored his own. Perhaps it was a Diaz trait.

“A party? Dressed like that? Nah. You ain’t going anywhere.” He said, shaking his head. The female scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest in an act of defiance. Oscar really realized then how much she’d changed in the four years that he’d been gone. It was thing seeing her every other week for an hour at a time, but now that he was back, he noticed the difference.

“Uh, claro que si voy a ir. I’m 19, Oscar. I’m not a little ass kid anymore. In case you forgot when your ass was locked up - I grew up. I don’t need your permission.” Sofia could see the annoyance, anger beginning to shine in his eyes, but she didn’t back down. Oscar took a step forward, running a hand over his face.

“You live in my house, so yeah - you gonna go by my rules. I ain’t letting my baby sister go out to some party with a bunch of dirty putos.” He spoke, voice deathly serious. She chuckled bitterly.

“Your house? It hasn’t been your house for the last four years.” Using Oscar’s momentary lapse of surprise, Sofia skirted past him and pulled the door open, stepping out into the slightly humid night, the warm breeze blowing her hair back. As she walked down the front steps, she spotted Camila climbing out of her car and walked up the path.

Camila noticed the incensed look on the young woman’s face and raised an eyebrow. “Sofia, get over here.” Oscar called out to his sister, walking past the threshold. Sofia didn’t stop though, she kept going, in fact.

“What happened?” Camila asked as the two walked past each other.

“Your best friend is an asshole. And I have a party to go too.” She said, turning back around, beginning her walk down the sidewalk. The older of two merely gave a deep sigh, knowing that there was nothing she or anybody could say that was gonna get her to come back or stay - especially when she harbored some resentment towards her brother.

“Don’t get back too late, Sofia. I’m serious!” She called out. Sofia raised an arm up, signaling that she’d heard her. Turning back around, Camila walked over to where Oscar stood, leaning against the house, watching his sister walk away. She walked up the steps and took a seat on one of the chairs that decorated the small porch. She set the brown paper bag in her hand down on the small table, looking up at Oscar.

“What’s her problem?” He asked, occupying the chair across the brunette. He reached up and grabbed the blunt that rested behind his ear. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, lighting it up and taking a hefty drag, after which he offered the blunt to Camila. She took it from him, bringing it up and wrapping her lips around it. Oscar eyed her, watching as she took a drag, holding the smoke in before letting it billow out of her mouth.

“I told you; she’s not the same Bambii from four years ago.” She said, grabbing the brown paper bag. She pulled out two beers, setting one in front of Oscar, grabbing the other for herself. She opened the cool can and brought it up to her lips, taking a drink of the bitter liquid. “She’s angry, Os. She took it hard when you got arrested. Started partying, going out, drinking - I’ve been there for her and Cesar but, there’s only so much that I could tell her before she get’s all pissed. Like you.” Mila nudged Oscar’s leg with her foot, shooting him a little smirk.

“You sayin’ I have a bad attitude, nena?”

“Nah, I’m just sayin’ you don’t like people telling you shit. Fia is the same way.” Camila said. “Just give her time. You’ve only been out for a few hours, she’s still not used to you being around again.”

Oscar said nothing, just gave a little ‘hm’, bringing the blunt up to his lips again. For a few minutes or so, the two said nothing - cars could be heard driving room, music playing from a block or two away, crickets chirping. Mila suddenly felt like she was a teenager again, hanging out with Oscar. Sneaking out of her house to meet up with him and drink some cheap beer and smoke some weed. But they were older now. Things had changed, shit was different. “Are you mad?”

“Hm?”

“At me. Are you mad at me?” He asked her. Oscar was looking at Camila, the same way he always did - like he was reading her, her body language, gauging every expression or movement. He knew better than probably anyone else. She stayed silent for a few seconds, bring her beer up to her lips and taking a drink. After she’d gulped some down, she set it back down and shrugged.

“I was. I was pissed at first. I always told you that that would happen if you joined the Santos. That or worse. So I was pissed but I can’t say I was really surprised either. Pero, overtime I got past that anger - there’s no point in being angry all the time. You’re back home now.” She smiled, eyes shining brightly. “Besides, if you ever get your ass arrested again, I’ll kill you my damn self.” She said. Oscar chuckled, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah? How you gonna reach, with your short ass, Tiny? You gonna use a step stool like them little kids?” Camila scoffed, but ended up laughing towards the ends.

“Asshole!” She reached her foot out and just barely missed her foot against his leg.

“See! You can’t even reach me.” Oscar teased her furthermore.

“Callate pendejo. This is what I get? Years and years of friendship and you’re still clowning me? Fuck outta here, with your rude ass. I’ll still bust your kneecaps.” Mila pouted, trying hard to keep that smile at bay, but she couldn’t hold it. She felt complete now, as cheesy as it was to say. When Oscar was in prison, they talked almost every night, but it wasn’t the same as actually speaking to him in person. As being able to touch him, to hug him.

“Nah seriously though,” Oscar’s expression and tone turned serious, blowing some smoke out. He looked at the brunette, their eyes meeting. “Thank you, Mila. For taking care of Sofia and Cesar. You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Mila cut him off. “And you don’t have to thank me. You’re my best friend, Oscar. You know that I’d do anything for you. For you, Sofia and Cesar. Just like I know you’d do anything for me and my family.”

Oscar cleared his throat, sniffing slightly. He nodded his head at her, unable to really say anything. He looked away from her, looking out across the street. “How’re your parents? Abuelita, Mario, Ruby?” He finally asked, changing the topic.

“Mom is good, dad is good. Abuelita too. Mario is up Angelica’s ass, como siempre. And Ruby can’t wait for him to go to college so that he can finally get his own room.” She chuckled, running a hand through her dark, thick hair. After graduating high school, Camila had decided that she didn’t want to go off to some big university. At least not yet. She knew that she’d disappointed her parents when she told them - they wanted her out of Freeridge, wanted her to make something of herself. But they supported her nonetheless and supported her decision to stay back, to attend the local community college nearby.

Now, she worked a steady job, had her own car and her own place. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for her. It was something and she was thankful for it.

“Sad Eyes said the Santos wanna throw me some welcome back party,” Oscar said, finally opening his beer to take a drink from it. “You down to come?”

“Is that even a question you need to ask? Of course I’ll come.” She said. “Maybe I’ll finally meet a fine ass Santo.” She snickered, eyes shining with mischief. Oscar let out a little ‘tsk’.

“Mamas, you got me right here.”

Sitting there with Oscar, drinking and smoking, Camila felt like things were gonna be good, back to normal. Simple again. She finally had her best friend back. But nothing could’ve prepared any of them for what was to come.

—————

tagging: @spookysmujer @ugh-jalynn @lovleyajoitee @curly-haired-holland @babienay @harringtoncastle @spookysnena @eggshaustedd @firebenderwolf @clemmingstylins0n @xiomarlyn @lana-loves-stuff @dolanackles @briskiiat420 @lossantosprincesa @princesstiffxoxo @xbrujababyx @juul4jesus @audreydiane96 @angelreyesgirl100 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @poppaxannie @deviilbby @mrs-spookyd1az @eriksjournal @socialistavocado @pananegra @demure-doll @skathan-omaha @kingbouji3 @animesstuffsposts @moanlightbaby @thenameishayley248 @cheshirecat107 @bellaguarneri @liaari @cedricheart @amethyst09 @flamingweasley @littlxmiss @mellisophilia @fairygardenss

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offtopicoverload · 3 years

Text

Hope Dumps Noah

I have no logical explanation for what this is, but @bubblybabynailpolish had an anon bring up Noah + Hope = Jade + Beck from Victorious a while ago, and it’s been living rent free in my head for weeks so here’s some bullshit. It’s loosely based on that one episode where Jade gets Tori to win back Beck except gayer and more litg and exists purely to appease the gremlin that is early 2010s me yelling in the back of my mind. And thanks to Anne for answering my weird asks, this is what they were for lmao

T Rating (fluff and angst, some elements of the show kinda? i tried at least)

Hope x MC (Rosie)

~10k (got super carried away but didnt wanna make multiple parts so take it as you will. on the bright side, it'd be longer if i edited properly but im tired so no)

Rosie’s front door shakes on its hinges, a pounding, thundering sound echoing from the other side, berating the wood as it quivers and quivers. Her head flies up in surprise, half expecting an army to spill into her flat, battering ram in hand as they shout orders. But no such event occurs, and she leaps up from the sofa in the corner, pocketing her phone and hurrying across the room before yanking the door open. She immediately freezes in place, meeting bewildered, watery eyes standing on the other side of the threshold.

Tears are streaming down splotchy cheeks, a throat bobbing as it fights to maintain some sort of composure, even as bones tremble beneath skin, shivering regardless of the heat of the building. “Um, uh, hey?” Rosie tries awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and gripping the knob with pale knuckles.

“Can I come in?” the words waver as they leave messy, tear-muddied, brightly stained lips, pouring out like broken shards, creating their own trail alongside tears. Red eyes glance down the hallway, paranoid as they search for something, even in the late night, “I don’t - I don’t want to be out here where -” a sniffle “- where people can see.”

Rosie blinks a few times, her mind still slowly working to process the situation that’s just presented itself to her. But dark eyes are glimmering with shed and unshed tears, pleading beneath lashes and shadows from poor corridor lighting, and she startles into action, “Yeah! Yeah, er, yeah,” she mumbles, moving aside and holding the door open in invitation.

The threshold’s crossed, hurrying inside the flat with arms crossed, making a beeline for the upholstered sofa backed against the wall and dropping down onto it. Rosie closes the door, locking it carefully, neurotically, slowly, just to give herself time to think, to make sense of what to do with one of the last people she ever expected inside her flat: Hope.

Hope’s sitting on her sofa, curled in on herself to take up as little space as possible, cheeks covered in the remnants of despair that Rosie can’t even explain, let alone prepare herself for. Hope’s sniffling in her living room, palms running up and down her biceps to calm herself, her throat struggling to stifle sobs she’s ashamed of. Hope’s crying in her flat, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid the world, makeup streaked and smudged on all of her features, features wracked with inexplicable pain.

Rosie turns from the door, brushing her clammy palms on her sweatpants over and over again, a distractionary stimuli to calm the nerves slowly bubbling beneath her skin. Nerves she hasn’t felt in months, and was determined to never feel again, not after weeks and weeks of the constant feeling of insects crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and biting and squirming. She glances up, finding Hope’s eyes trained on her, hesitant and terrified from across the room, the flat’s lights reflecting in them, her damp cheeks shimmering in the warm colours.

Rosie forces her lips to curl in a tiny smile as she approaches, somewhat slow and cautious, until she can fall into the cushions beside Hope, bloodshot eyes never straying from her movement. Rosie risks a hand on her back, gently skating up and down her spine, an attempt at comfort she doesn’t have a reason to provide. But she provides it anyway, praying it’ll help, it’ll keep the tears from dripping down Hope’s jaw and dampening her top.

Only it doesn’t, only Hope begins to crumble, falling against her and burying her face against Rosie’s shoulder, sobs shaking her shoulders, trembling like the door on its hinges. Rosie wraps her arms around the quaking body clinging to her, murmuring a few quiet assurances, an offer of a lifesaver in the raging sea drowning her. Her hands draw circles on Hope’s vulnerable back, shapes to distract herself with, to ground herself with.

Hope bawls and whimpers and sobs and shakes for what feels like forever to Rosie, a forever that’s odd and uncomfortable, a forever that she doesn’t know what to make of. It’s not that she’s necessarily upset with it - she’s done this for girl friends in the past, she knows how to help a heartbroken woman - it’s just who she’s helping. She hasn’t seen Hope since the finale, since she walked away with her hand clasped in Noah’s, since Rosie split the money with Arjun, just to appease the audience.

He was sweet, sure, but they just didn’t fit. She didn’t feel like he was her other half, her perfect match, a missing piece in the puzzle that constructs her life. She didn’t see herself sacrificing things for him, didn’t see herself working for her relationship with him, didn’t see herself with him, point blank. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

Which is exactly why she has no idea what to make of the woman dampening and wrinkling her sweater, face pressed to her shoulder and hands fisted in her shirt. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs against Hope’s head, her breath hot where it brushes skin, a shiver running through Hope at the exhale.

This is unfamiliar territory to Rosie, unknown ground as she slowly steps into no man’s land, wary of land mines sitting beneath the dirt. Land mines of glares and scoffs and dismissals, land mines that sat in every corner of the Villa. Maybe in another life this would be normal, be commonplace, but not in this one.

Not in the world where Rosie kissed Noah in the Villa’s lounge that fateful day, that day that she’s regretted ever since. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, it was only supposed to help Priya and Bobby. It wasn’t supposed to cause the end of the world or hurt Hope as much as it did. It wasn’t supposed to confuse Noah as much as it did or leave him dragging things on for ages. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all, anything but a blatant mistake.

But it was, it was so much, and now here they are, months and months later. Hope hasn’t spoken to Rosie since the finale, and Rosie didn’t even mind. She’s barely kept in touch with anyone, the only people she speaks to being Chelsea and Priya, since they’re always first to reach out. Even in the Villa, Hope would barely speak to her, and it hurt for a while. It hurt that they had been so close and were suddenly so far, but she always forced that hurt away. It was her own fault, it was her actions that led to Hope hating her guts.

Except, maybe she doesn’t hate Rosie’s guts. Maybe she doesn’t want her dead or wish she was never born. Maybe she still thinks about when they were friends like Rosie does. Maybe there’s a reason she’s crying in Rosie’s arms in this moment, that she showed up at Rosie’s door, that she sought out something only Rosie could presumably offer.

Hope swallows thickly, her head turning until her cheek’s resting against Rosie. “We broke up,” Hope croaks, stifling another sob as she forces her voice out again, “I - I dumped Noah.”

“Oh, um…” Rosie fumbles, her hand tracing the length of Hope’s spine beneath her heavy, navy, patterned sweater, “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words still warm as they settle on Hope’s skin.

“It’s my fault,” she whimpers, turning her face back to Rosie as another tremble courses through her, a barely suppressed noise of anguish dying in her throat.

Rosie resumes her reassurances, her small whispers into Hope’s scalp, her tight hold on Hope’s quivering body. She cycles through every calming technique or phrase she can think of what must be a hundred times over, until Hope quiets, until Rosie stops feeling tears on her neck, until steady, even breathing fills the flat.

She swallows to stabilise herself before asking the all important question, one she’s a little nervous to hear the answer to, “Can I - Can I ask why you’re here? And, uh, so upset? If it was your decision?” she trips over her words, a flower of nerves blossoming in her stomach, and she wants to stamp it out, to stop it from pulling her in once more.

Hope pulls away from, her face set in malleable stone even with tears glistening on her cheekbones, sparkling in the overhead lights Rosie had on, diamonds tumbling down her skin, soft enough not to cut. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I - I didn’t know what to do,” she confesses, her head bowing and eyes staring into her lap.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, a palm still skating up and down the length of Hope’s upper arm, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You can just stay here if you want?” she offers uneasily, shifting awkwardly in her spot.

Hope’s eyes flicker up to meet Rosie’s, a cautious hopefulness in them, “I can? It’s not, like, weird?” she mumbles, averting her gaze once more.

“Not if you don’t think it is,” Rosie counters as coolly as she can manage.

Hope shakes her head adamantly, “No, no, I’d… I’d rather not be on my own right now.”

Rosie smiles in what she hopes comes across as encouraging, “That’s cool. You want me to stay out here? We can watch a movie?” she proposes with pinched brows and squinted eyes.

A gentle, hesitant smile quirks Hope’s mouth, “Yeah.” She pauses, contemplative and nodding distractedly, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Rosie rises from the sofa, crossing the living room to flip off the lights and grab the remote and a pile of blankets sitting in the corner. She drops them beside Hope in a heap, crashing onto the opposite side of the sofa a second later. She flicks through streaming services until Hope points out some random romcom, Rosie turning it on as Hope relaxes into the sofa with one of the blankets.

Rosie doesn’t pay much attention to the film, playing with her box braids distractedly and only having a loose grasp on the cheesy plot, but she notices every time Hope laughs, the sound becoming more and more relaxed as time goes on. Rosie sinks into the cushions, her legs folded and arms wrapped around her torso, head lolled against the back of the sofa.

It’s hard to tell when her eyelids fall shut, or when the movie ends, or when Hope moves, but Rosie wakes up to a dark screen flickering through backgrounds and ads for streaming exclusives. She wakes up to Hope’s head resting on her shoulder and a blanket splayed across her lap, as if Hope was worried she’d be cold without it.

She blinks a few times in the dark, taking in the scene around her and slowly processing what her night has become. She only wanted to sit on her phone before going to bed early after her long day at work. She didn’t expect a crying woman to show up at her doorstep or to watch a bad movie until too early in the morning, or to fall asleep in the living room. A sigh shakes her chest, and she reaches for the remote, turning off the telly and settling back into the sofa, Hope shifting beside her with the adjustment.

---

Rosie wakes up to sunlight pouring into her flat and a deserted sofa, blankets the only remnants of Hope’s night spent in the living room. She slumps forward, head in her hands as she adjusts to the too-bright sun and the noise of London already filtering inside, honks of car horns and a hum of people on the streets providing a familiar soundtrack to her wake up.

“I want to get him back,” a voice declares, the words wavering slightly as they fall from lips set in a frown.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lifts her head, blinking to clear her vision. She finds Hope standing across the room, arms crossed and expression determined as she meets Rosie’s gaze.

“I want to get Noah back, I want to tell him I’m sorry for the breakup,” Hope repeats, her voice sturdier now.

Rosie nods, her mind still foggy but the haze slowly clearing, “Okay. That’s good,” she rationalises slowly, rising from the sofa and stretching her muscles; she’s made a point to avoid sleeping on the sofa normally. She stalks into the kitchen, falling into her usual morning routine easily.

Hope follows behind her, eyes widening, “It is?” she sounds surprised, stopping a ways away from Rosie, feet on the wood.

“Yeah, if you were happy together,” Rosie nods again, turning to her kitchen appliances. She starts with coffee, collecting beans and supplies meticulously as always, setting them out in a particular pattern beside the fridge.

Hope crashes into a barstool at the counter behind Rosie, her voice coming out softer now, “We were,” she confirms.

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs. “So go get him back,” she turns, forearms dropping to the counter beneath her to support her weight. She watches Hope curiously, expecting some explanation or excitement or something of the like, but Hope’s gone silent, her lip slipping between her teeth to worry the skin. Her gaze is trained on the pale countertop, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Hope?” Rosie asks gently.

Dark eyes fly up to meet her own, snapping up too quickly, “Yeah?”

“You okay?” Concern wells in Rosie’s gaze before she can prevent it, her upper body unconsciously leaning forward to inspect Hope and find what’s suddenly irking her.

“Yeah,” Hope nods.

Rosie isn’t quite convinced, her brows knitting together, “You sure?”

Hope’s eyes flicker around the kitchen for a minute to avoid the deep eyes watching her before her shoulders slump, defeated and exhausted, “No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

“What’s wrong?”

A heavy sigh lifts Hope’s shoulders, twitching them lightly “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, not after yesterday.”

Rosie pauses. She hadn’t really considered that, just assumed Noah would be as torn up about the breakup as Hope had been, that he’d been jumping in place if Hope said it was a mistake. Her fingernails tap at the counter as she considers, weighing her options before diving right in, “Do you want me to try?”

Hope’s eyes dart to Rosie again, still just as surprised as earlier, as if everything Rosie does is entirely unbelievable, “You’d do that?”

“I guess?” Rosie gives an awkward shrug, averting her eyes and turning around to continue making coffee. She grabs milk from the fridge before finishing the process, pouring everything into a mug, “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles when she faces Hope again, swirling the dark liquid in a whirlpool.

It’s a long, almost painful amount of time before either of them utter another word. “Thank you,” Hope whispers the words, a tiny break in the quiet of the flat, of the bubble that’s formed in the kitchen.

---

The next day, long after Hope leaves her flat, long after Rosie made eggs and coffee for the both of them, long after Hope gave Rosie a quick hug in thanks, Rosie grabs an Uber to the other side of the city, to the library Noah works at. She strides into the building with her hands knotted in the pockets of her jacket, nerves clamming her palms as she scans the open area she’s found herself in. It’s relatively empty, only a few people sitting and working or browsing shelves idly in the middle of the day.

She searches a few aisles, glancing down empty passageways and passing shelf after shelf loaded with books. A few patrons give her odd looks, some outright glaring at her for her behaviour, but she eventually finds Noah in a back corner, restocking a few shelves in practiced motions, a cart loaded with books parked beside him.

“Hey,” she greets from down the aisle, waving slightly with an uneasy smile when he glances at her in surprise.

He adds the books in his hands to the shelf before turning to face her properly, his expression slightly stunned, “Hey,” he greets back, his tone puzzled as one hand falls to the book cart to lean against.

Rosie ventures further into the aisle, her eyes darting around as she attempts to figure out how to broach the tender subject of a breakup from only two days ago. She stops before him, folding her arms and rolling up and down on her toes, “So…” she starts, looking up at him from beneath her lashes in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s getting at.

He doesn’t, only blinking as he looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation for her presence. She sighs, one hand fiddling with the tips of her braids nervously, rolling them between the pads of her fingers, “You and Hope broke up?” she eventually asks, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as she can muster.

His eyes go wide, his jaw falling open, “Um, yeah, but I - Look, you’re really amazing but I think I need a little time, you know, and if you’ll wait, that’s great, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything, but again, you’re amazing, I just…” he trails off as he takes in the confusion on her face, a blush growing on his cheeks.

Then it clicks, “Oh!” she startles. “No, no, I - mate, I didn’t come to hit on you,” she clarifies, somewhat taken aback by the conclusion he so quickly jumped to. “I’m not here to ask you out, no,” she reiterates.

He nods swiftly, muttering a few apologies under his breath before clearing his throat. “So, um, why are you here then?” he asks, careful and wary of saying something else wrong.

Rosie shifts on her feet, hands falling back to fidget in her jacket pocket’s, “Well… I kinda got the impression that Hope regrets the way things went down and wants to try again,” she forces, drawing herself to her full height, still a few inches shorter than the man before her.

Confusion flickers on his face, “How’d you get that impression?”

“I talked to her.”

The confusion grows, a crease splitting his eyebrows, “She talked to you?”

“She showed up at my flat,” Rosie answers casually.

“Why?”

She shrugs, mumbling out an “I dunno” in response.

“And you’re fine with that? And you’re helping her?” his arms cross over his chest as he asks, staring down at her intently, intimidatingly.

“Yeah,” she shrinks under his gaze, drawing her jacket tighter to block out the sudden chill coursing down her spine.

Noah’s lips twist, though in frustration or anger or upset, Rosie can’t tell. “Why?” he repeats.

Rosie sighs, shrugging again at the lack of a better answer, offering her best explanation, “She was really torn up about it.”

“She dumped me,” he states calmly, matter-of-factly, dismissively.

“I know.”

He watches Rosie carefully for a moment, taking in her appearance as she shuffles on her feet, unable to conceive of where this conversation is going next. “Do you know why?” he finally asks, Rosie stilling at the question.

“No,” she admits reluctantly.

“I got lunch with Priya, alone.”

“Well, yeah, that’s not great,” sarcasm soaks her words, coating her throat as the syllables escape.

Noah blinks at her, still stern and calm, “Because Ibrahim and Marisol had to cancel.”

“Oh,” Rosie freezes, her body tensing uncomfortably. That changes things. She swallows thickly, eyebrows raising and curving together, “Does she know that?”

“I tried to tell her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen now.”

“She never does,” Noah shrugs, his demeanor unchanged and unaffected.

She looks to him in disbelief, “That can’t be true.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, his guard finally cracking as his arms fall back to his sides, disappointment radiating from him like warmth from a fire, “For my birthday she got me The Old Man and the Sea,” he looks at Rosie as if he expects her to understand what that means.

“Okay…” she squints. She knows enough about literature to know it’s a classic, that most students have to read it at one point, herself included. “Why’s that bad? You’re a librarian.”

Noah’s lips curve in a slight frown as he straightens impossibly taller, “I hate Hemingway,” he nearly spits the name, a frown splitting Rosie’s own lips at his obvious displeasure.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

---

Hope shows up at Rosie’s flat again that night, her features fraught as she hurries in, hugging herself tight with her coat. She drops onto the sofa after she enters, Rosie following a beat behind and folding her legs on the cushions, Hope nearly vibrating in her skin as she watches Rosie expectantly.

When Rosie only meets her gaze, she sighs exasperatedly, “Well? What’d he say? He didn’t text me or anything,” she leans forward, eager to learn.

Rosie shifts under the excitement presented to her, excitement she knows is about to die, “He, uh, he wasn’t really on board with you guys getting back together,” she mumbles, avoiding shining eyes.

Hope visibly deflates in only a heartbeat, her bottom lip poking out as tears well in her eyes, every part of her depressed and hurt, “He wasn’t?” Her voice is small, painfully so to Rosie’s ears.

She forces herself not to cringe at the tone, at the way Hope’s fighting tears once more, “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’ve done a lot,” Hope sniffles, wiping at her nose and blinking back tears to calm herself, to prevent another onslaught of sobs on Rosie’s sofa. “You’ve done a lot,” she repeats, eyes trained on the fabric of the cushions beneath them, staring intently just to have something to focus her energy on. “Did he say why?” she finally asks after a minute, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.

“Er -” Rosie squirms, fidgeting nervously, “He said he didn’t think you really listened to him,” she draws out the words, not wanting to speak them.

Hope is absolutely appalled, her jaw falling open in horror, “That’s - That’s not true!” she eventually manages the words, her mouth fumbling them.

“I know, but -”

“I listen!” she insists, hands flying up to grip Rosie’s forearm desperately, in search of confirmation that she’s a good person, a good partner, “Why would he say that, Rosie?” she’s panicked as her grasp tightens, falling away only a second later, “Why would he say that?” she repeats, softer now, a whisper.

“He said for his birthday you got him a Hemingway book,” Rosie chances.

Hope’s arms fold over her chest protectively, “He didn’t have any Hemingway.”

“‘Cause he hates Hemingway,” Rosie explains as gently as she can, Hope immediately slumping again, any retorts or defences forgotten.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, Hope staring at nothing and Rosie staring at Hope, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to get sad or angry or maybe just leave all together. But she doesn’t, meeting Rosie’s eyes with a fire inside her own, “I need something else.” She’s determined as she sinks into the cushions, thinking raptly of some solution. “What if I get him a gift?” a lightbulb seems to explode above her head as she sits up again.

Rosie blinks at the quick change in mood, taken aback at the grin sitting on Hope’s lips. “Like what?”

“He likes Greyhounds?” Hope proposes with a tilt of her head and a quirk of an eyebrow, “He always said he’d love to have one.”

“You’re gonna buy him an entire dog?” Rosie asks in shock, her tone stunted and sharp.

Hope scowls at her in irritation, “He likes them!” she defends, “He’s talked about them a lot, and it’ll show I listen, right?”

“I guess?”

“What do you mean you guess?”

Hands fly up in self-defence and attempted placation, “This is your relationship, I don’t know him or what goes,” Rosie gestures in the air separating her from Hope, working to diffuse the tension.

Hope huffs, crossing her arms and collapsing into the cushions behind her, “Fine.”

---

Hope spends the next few days looking up shelters and breeders, trying to decide on a puppy or an adult or even an elderly dog, researching proper care for a Greyhound and what they need. Rosie doesn’t see or hear from Hope until her phone’s ringing incessantly as she gets out of the shower, scrambling to answer it and silence the buzzing, “Hello?” she asks without even reading the Caller ID, fumbling to turn on speakerphone.

“Hey!” Hope’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and energetic. “I found one!” she announces, clearly pleased with herself and her findings.

“Hmm?” Rosie questions distractedly, tightening her towel wrapped around her body and grabbing skin and hair products to set them on the bathroom sink.

“I found a dog! I went to a shelter!”

Rosie nods, only realising afterwards that Hope can’t see her, sighing as she coats her face in moisturiser. “That’s great,” she hums again.

“Can you come over tonight? And we bring him to Noah’s flat? Please?” her voice is begging as it rings through the phone, Rosie glancing to it as Hope draws out the vowels of her plea.

“Uh, yeah, I think I’m free,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting as she applies products.

She’s reaching for the end call button after a long silence when a quiet murmur surprises her, “Thank you,” Hope whispers into her phone from the other side of the line.

A small smile curves Rosie’s mouth, “No problem.”

---

“You’re the worst,” Hope groans as she tugs on a leash, glaring at Rosie and her amused smile beside her.

“Says the one that dragged me into this,” Rosie grins, popping her eyebrows for effect. She’s refused to assist with the dog the entire time, forcing Hope to try and wrangle the full grown animal.

It darts forward down the street, yanking Hope along, “Hey!” she chastises, Rosie laughing unabashedly from behind her, jogging to catch up. “You could help, you know! He listened to you earlier!”

Rosie smirks, “Oh, I know. This is much more fun, though,” she teases, falling into another fit of laughter as Hope digs her heels into the pavement, working to pull the dog back.

He doesn’t listen, carrying on in the direction of the library. Noah wasn’t at his flat, so they’ve been forced to take a short detour to find him without waiting. “At least he knows where he’s going,” Rosie comments, still grinning.

Hope shoots her a scowl, “How lucky,” she spits through gritted teeth, her jaw tight as she uses all her strength to keep the dog from running off into London’s streets.

Rosie sighs as Hope nearly trips over her own feet, crouching down and whistling sharply. The dog turns, bolting for her, nearly tackling her to the ground until she grips his fur to keep upright, cooing over him the entire time. Hope’s gaze is a mix of disappointed, annoyed, and mildly impressed as Rosie grins up at her, scratching the dog behind his ears.

She pops back to her feet, stealing the leash from Hope in one smooth motion, “You’re welcome,” she hums, setting back off on their path, the dog following obediently on her heels.

She hears Hope groaning about it behind her until she catches up, muttering a ‘thanks’ under her breath, much to Rosie’s enjoyment. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet, only a few good natured ribbings from Rosie or complaints from Hope filling the space as they work their way to the library, street lamps illuminating much of their path in the dark evening.

Noah spots them before they spot him, the pair distracted as Rosie laughs at Hope’s grumbling, Rosie nearly walking into a post as she struggles to stay upright. “Stop it!” Hope chides, slapping her shoulder, which only makes Rosie laugh even harder.

“Um, hi?” Noah calls out to them, earning their gazes simultaneously. Hope stiffens, Rosie sobers, and the dog slobbers onto the pavement beneath their feet.

Rosie passes the leash back to Hope, taking a step back and away from their reunion, much to Noah’s confusion. “Hi,” Hope greets back, his eyes settling back on her.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, his tone slipping into something adjacent to wariness, maybe light caution.

A bright smile curves Hope’s mouth and she sticks her hand out, offering the leash and the dog attached to it, “I got you a dog!” she announces eagerly, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one, so…” she trails off at his expression.

His eyebrows are drawn tight, lips working to form some words, “You got me a dog?!” he balks, his expression soon slipping into anger, almost a snarl, with his eyes blazing. Hope taking a step away from him, blinking rapidly as her mind audibly whirs.

“You always said you wanted one!” she explains, a spark igniting in her own dark eyes, threatening to start a fight.

“That doesn’t - What were you thinking?!”

Hope’s jaw sets tight, but it’s not enough to hide the shimmer in her eyes, “You like them, I know you do! And you don’t think I listen, but I do, so I’m proving that to you!” she counters, her voice raising.

Noah looks baffled, his hands flying and mouth opening and closing as he searches for words, “He won’t fit in my flat, Hope! He’s big and - and has a ton of energy!” he gestures wildly to the dog that’s found his way to Rosie, sitting in front of her as she scratches behind his ear.

“I thought that’s what you liked about them!” Hope’s own arms are waving, in both exasperation and irritation. One hand rises to fidget with her braids, tugging on and fiddling with a few.

“Yeah, for when I’m in a house, not a tiny flat!” Noah shouts back, “I can’t have him! I don’t want him!”

Any fire that had been blazing in Hope’s dark eyes dies out at that, at the way Noah’s glaring at her, at the way he’s dismissed her peace offering, her attempt to fix things between them. “But -”

“You can’t just -” he huffs sharply before trying to school his expression into something calmer, “You can’t just do these things without asking, it’s like you don’t even care what I think.”

Hope looks horrified, like her world is turning to ash right before her, and maybe it is, maybe this is the end of everything for her, “That’s not - I care! This is how I care! I - I pay attention and try and do things for you!”

“I don’t want you to do things for me!” Noah counters, hands balling into angry fists at his sides.

“Why not?” Hope asks indignantly, head tilted back to meet Noah’s gaze directly, her chest puffed out in a show of confidence.

Noah flounders, his jaw snapping shut, visibly rolling with tension as he searches for a reason, exploding when he can’t find one, “I just don’t! I can do things myself, Hope, I don’t need you railroading me like you always do! I’m tired of it, it’s not worth it!” he accuses, his last words effectively severing any chance at reconciliation.

Hope slumps, her shoulders sagging and face drooping, every muscle in her body going lax, as if she’s melting from heartache. Noah exhales sharply, his own shoulders dropping, losing some of the tension keeping them upright as he drags a hand through his hair, playing with it to calm himself further.

Rosie keeps to the side, not sure of her place, not sure if she’s meant to intervene, and only watches Hope stand with her head turned to the ground, braids blocking her face from view as she remains frozen, unmoving, her feet stuck to the ground and her body tense. “I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, fractures of the typical strength in her voice, before she turns on her heel, dropping the dog’s leash and running away with tears in her eyes.

Noah deflates as she leaves, his hands balled up tight to steady himself, his face scrunched up in thought and frustration and likely a dozen other emotions as he struggles to process them. He slumps forward, his previous fight and irritation dissipating into the air, the dog still sitting at Rosie’s feet, tongue lolling and a whine echoing from him.

All the while, Rosie struggles for words, for a reaction, for something appropriate, but all she can think about is the way Hope collapsed before him, like the sight is imprinted on her mind. “Come on, mate,” she finally breaks the quiet, “You didn’t have to be that harsh,” she comments, deep creases in her own forehead and between her brows.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Noah mumbles, head down in shame as he stares at the ground, blank and empty save for the rise of his chest with each breath.

Rosie steps closer as the silence drags on, scooping up the abandoned leash and glancing over her shoulder and finding Hope long gone as she does. Her hand rises to his shoulder, gripping it loosely, “I know,” she shrugs weakly, squeezing the muscles beneath her palm. “Sorry about the dog,” she offers.

Noah laughs a little, but it’s splintered on the edges and lacking any real joy or amusement, “It’s fine. My mum’ll love him, I’m sure.”

Rosie nods sagely, retracting her hand carefully before gesturing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna, uh, go after her,” she mutters, turning on her heel and hurrying after Hope.

She finds her slumped against a wall half a block away, staring at nothing with tears streaming down her face as her lip quivers with barely restrained sobs. Rosie skids to a stop beside her, earning Hope’s attention momentarily, before she turns back to staring at nothing. She’s hollow, her gaze empty, barely there as she drifts through her mind and the storm that must be filling it like a hurricane. Rosie doesn’t say anything, only leans against the wall beside the destitute woman, eyes trained on the glimmers coating her cheeks, lit by street lamps around them.

“I just,” Hope finally begins after a long, painstakingly silent moment, “I don’t get it.” She sniffles, “I - I know we weren’t perfect, but I just… I thought we meant more than we must have.” Her voice falls apart on the last few words, cracking and splintering into a tiny, fragile whisper.

Rosie nods in understanding, pulling Hope into her arms without uttering a single word, holding her close and letting her fall apart once more, shaking under the weight of Rosie’s arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. Her hands fist in the fabric of Rosie’s shirt, an anchor to attach herself to as the hurricane blows and wrecks and destroys her insides.

Hope’s tired of letting go, of giving in or giving up, of letting her world dissolve in her hands because fighting’s too much of a risk, a hazard, a danger to her. She’s tired of ignoring the things that rub her the wrong way, that send a cold chill down her spine, that fill her skull with a swirling mass of dark and awful thoughts. She’s tired of all the hurt and the fighting, of the way her skin turns a sickly green every time someone gets too close, of the headaches and nausea that accompany one of his unbothered shrugs.

She’s tired of it, she’s done with it, she’s not going to fight anymore, not when he doesn’t fight for her. Not when Rosie is the one she’s been leaning on, not when Rosie is the one that’s been consoling her, not when Rosie is the one that’s been nice, and caring, and sweet, and gentle, and there.

Hope shifts, freeing her face from Rosie’s top as the tears come to a stop, but keeping her head resting against her shoulder. “Why couldn’t it have been like this?” she whispers into the air, a quiet pondering that’s directed more to herself than the woman wrapped around her.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums, pulling back to look down at Hope, finding her gaze distant as she stares into the space before her, eyes piercing into the street stretching before them. “What do you mean?” Rosie murmurs down to her, finally drawing dark eyes to her own.

They’re averted just as quickly, Hope pressing her cheek even further into Rosie’s shoulder, and Rosie swears she sees some colour rush to Hope’s face. “I dunno,” she mumbles, gaze trained on nothing in particular. “It’s just… easier. Comforting. You let me do this and you’re sweet about it.”

“Noah seems pretty sweet,” Rosie mumbles awkwardly, still unsure where the line is, how Hope feels about him, how she wants to feel about him and their relationship.

Her shoulders raise in a miniscule, half-hearted shrug, “Yeah, but he doesn’t really get it. He doesn’t get it when I’m upset or mad. He’s too calm,” her lips twist at the statement, displeased at the memories.

Rosie snorts, above her, Hope’s eyes darting upwards, “What, and I’m a raving madwoman, is that?” she grins, the tension of the moment falling away with ease.

Hope’s mouth curves at the edges as she slips from Rosie’s grasp just enough to slap her arm, a common reaction to the older woman’s antics, Rosie feigning pain and rubbing at the spot instantly. “No!” Hope chides, “But you get it,” she settles back against Rosie, “Or at least you get what to do. Noah would try and fix it or tell me to ignore it or whatever, but you just let me be.”

Rosie shrugs, some heat rising to her cheeks as she glances towards the empty street beside them, fumbling for a response. She defaults to finding somewhere that will bring Hope some sort of solace, “Okay, let’s get you home,” she sighs, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck to the best of her ability.

Hope removes herself from Rosie’s hold entirely this time, stepping back and folding her arms while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks with a twist of her lips, looking to Rosie from beneath her lashes.

“Sure,” Rosie grins, slinging her arm over Hope’s shoulders to guide her through the streets to her car, Hope leaning into her with ease as they trade some small conversation.

---

A day later and there’s a knock on Rosie’s door from across the flat, a short, sharp knock. She sighs, grabbing a dish towel and dusting off her hands before exiting the kitchen and the mess of ingredients within it. Another knock sounds on the wood, impatient as it continues on and on, Rosie hurrying to reach the door.

She jerks it open to find Hope on the other side of the threshold, beaming with her fist still poised in the air and a bottle of wine in her other hand. “Hi!” she greets, stepping past Rosie into the flat and scanning the open area curiously.

“Hey?” Rosie tries, shutting the door behind Hope and leaning against it, arms crossed and towel in hand. “Should I have been expecting you?” she asks, cycling through her day in her mind to double-check.

“Nope!” Hope turns, still grinning, “But I brought wine!” she offers the bottle proudly, swinging it for emphasis.

Rosie nods, one brow raised, “I can see that.”

Hope’s smile dims, slowly falling away as Rosie doesn’t say anything more, evidently a sign of annoyance. “Sorry,” she bows her head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do tonight,” she confesses, her words rushing in a hurry to explain herself.

Rosie pushes herself upright from the door, stepping away from the threshold and closer to Hope, “I take it you usually spend evenings with Noah?”

Hope only nods in response, head still down in embarrassment and resignation. Her arms are slack at her side, the wine bottle dangling loosely in her grasp as she awaits Rosie’s harsh words telling her to leave and not come back.

“Well, I’m making dinner right now and I always make too much,” Rosie states, no edge in her voice, no malice in her words, “Take your shoes off and it’ll be done in about a half hour.” Rosie turns, striding back into the kitchen and leaving Hope to collect herself.

She joins Rosie a few minutes later in her socks, her smile repaired as she drops into a barstool across from Rosie, placing the wine bottle on the counter, a glimmer in her eyes as she presents it, pushing it across the counter. Rosie laughs in response, nicking it and pulling out wine glasses. She pours a drink for each of them, Hope draining hers rather quickly as she talks about her day, Rosie stealing a few sips as she cooks.

Rosie presents the finished dinner with a flourish to Hope, earning a laugh as she takes the plate. Rosie rounds the kitchen, dropping into the stool beside Hope and taking a swig of her wine. “So what’d you do today?” Hope prompts curiously, cutting into the chicken Rosie made and taking a bite.

“Usual stuff. Trained today, the new player’s are adjusting pretty well, and then ran a few errands. Usual stuff,” she shrugs, taking a bite of asparagus.

“That’s fun,” Hope hums encouragingly, smiling wide when Rosie glances to her. She nearly chokes on her food at the sight, coughing and laughing at the same time as Hope watches in confusion and concern, “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she turns in her seat to face Rosie directly, hands hovering, unsure of where to land.

Rosie waves her off, still working to catch her breath and stop laughing, something made infinitely more difficult by Hope hitting her on the back to presumably help her dislodge something. “I’m fine!” she croaks, working to suck in deep breaths.

“Are you sure? What happened?” Hope asks again, hand on the back of Rosie’s seat, just in case.

Rosie chuckles briefly before pressing her lips together, forcing neutrality that barely holds together, “You were just very serious in your excitement over groceries.” She bites her tongue to keep from laughing again.

“Is that really it?” Rosie nods to confirm, suppressing more giggles. Hope’s eyes roll, a groan escaping from her throat, “You’re the worst.”

Now Rosie can barely hold it back, dissolving into giggles as Hope scowls, picking at her meal as Rosie struggles to find air. “Says the one eating my food,” she grins when she finally catches her breath.

“What’s that mean?” Hope turns with a glare.

Rosie draws herself taller, even sitting down she’s got some height on Hope, “It means you showed up at my door unannounced and stole all my hard work,” she accuses coolly.

“I brought you wine!” Hope frowns, gesturing to the bottle in her defence.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips, “Who’s the one drinking it all?”

That shuts Hope up, Rosie earning a scowl as they turn back to their dinners, Hope staying quiet until Rosie brings up her job. Then she’s beaming and telling every detail of her workplace she can think of, every coworker that’s weird or mean or nice or funny, every aspect of career that she loves.

The conversation flows alongside the wine, until the bottle’s empty and the pair’s slouched on the sofa, facing each other on opposite ends. Hope fumbles for her phone, pulling it out and wincing at the time, “I need to go home.” She turns, standing up what must be too quickly because she drops back to the cushions.

Rosie shifts forward too, folding her legs before her, “Did you drive here?”

Braids jangle as Hope nods, her eyes falling shut as she slowly leans back into the cushions again. Rosie sighs, finding it much easier to stand than Hope, and grabs a blanket, draping it across her lap, “Just stay here.

Hope’s eyes squint open, looking up at Rosie with dilated pupils, “You sure?” she mumbles, her words slurring together from the alcohol that had coated her tongue.

“Yeah, you’re not getting in a wreck on my watch,” Rosie hums, collecting their glasses and the empty bottle before striding into the kitchen. She puts the glasses in the sink and the bottle on the counter beside it to deal with tomorrow, then retraces her steps to the living room.

Hope’s curled up on the sofa already, the blanket tucked under her chin, and Rosie smiles at the sight and absurdity of a drunk Hope asleep in her flat. She shakes her head, turning to her bedroom and stalking inside, collapsing on the bed as soon as she can, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

---

Hope continues coming to Rosie’s flat a few times a week, sometimes with an offering of wine or takeaway in hand, sometimes with nothing more than herself. They watch movies and talk and laugh about stupid things from the Villa or stories from their lives until their tired from long days or it’s three in the morning and they still don’t stop talking.

Sometimes Hope sits in an armchair and responds to emails while Rosie paces the length of the flat with her phone pressed to her ear, talking down one of her players or fighting with managers. Sometimes there’s not a single word spoken between them, sometimes all they do is talk, sometimes Rosie makes dinner, sometimes it’s late enough that they’ve both already eaten, sometimes Hope shows up after Rosie has already gone to bed, sometimes Hope even beats her home in the afternoon.

There’s no pattern to any of it, there’s no rhythm, nothing concrete to Hope’s appearances, but Rosie soon finds that she doesn’t even mind. It’s actually kind of nice, to have someone around without any expectations. It’s kind of nice that Hope brings her soup when she gets a cold, or how Hope somehow always has wine on hand for when they need it, or how Hope tidies the flat when she’s especially busy.

It’s a casual night tonight, popcorn and drinks sitting on the coffee table as a movie plays across from them in the dark. Rosie picked tonight, a drama about a hockey team one of her players always recommends, since she couldn’t think of anything else but was not definitely not watching another of Hope’s romcoms twice in a row. They’d been snacking all night, splitting a pizza in the evening as Hope worked on some project and Rosie scrolled her phone, a silence seeping into the flat.

Rosie watches the film in a similar silence now, watches the flickering of light as it reflects and refracts off every available surface in the room. A contented sigh vibrates in her throat as she settles further into the sofa, pulling the blanket she’s enthralled within tighter. She sinks into the cushions, shifting her legs and letting her knees brush against Hope’s thighs.

Speaking of, she can see the other woman watching her in the dark, eyes trained on Rosie’s features, inspecting them carefully as blues and yellows and reds and dozens of other hues play in her dark irises, glinting off and mixing with them. Rosie glances over, finding a crease between Hope’s brows as she stares at something below Rosie’s eyes that she can’t quite place. She smiles softly in the dim lighting, teasingly, “What?” she asks, “Something on my face?”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to ask the second question, because suddenly there is absolutely something on her face, something that she doesn’t think should be there and was not at all anticipating, but honestly doesn’t entirely mind. Hope’s lips are on hers, soft and nice and there.

Hope’s kissing her. Hope’s kissing her, and it’s tentative and cautious and careful, like Hope’s gaze was a moment ago, and it all makes sense in an instant. She blinks, stunned and shocked, until her lashes flutter shut and she’s kissing Hope back. She melts into her, a hand rising to cup Hope’s cheek and draw her closer, a hand fisting in the front of her shirt to close the space between them.

When they finally break for air, a sigh slips past Hope’s lips as their lips separate, still brushing against each other, their breath mingling in the small gap. “Um, what…?” Rosie whispers against the lips on hers, unable to find a conclusion to the question.

“I - I don’t know,” Hope whispers, just as quiet, “Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back.

Rosie watches her go, hurt welling inside her gut at the regret evident on Hope’s face, “Why?”

Hope shakes her head, like she’s frustrated with something, though Rosie doesn’t know what. “Didn’t ask,” is all she says, leaning away and turning back to the film still playing.

Rosie’s following her retreat without even realising, chasing after Hope unconsciously. “Didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Hope’s eyes snap to her, wide with clear surprise at the admission.

“I mean, maybe a little warning next time, but…” Rosie shrugs, unbothered.

Dark eyes glimmer, lit by the films rainbow of lighting, “Next time?”

“If you want.”

Hope shifts, facing Rosie head on, “Do you want a next time?” she asks carefully, emphasising the importance of the question with wide eyes.

A smirk lifts the corner of Rosie’s mouth, “First time was pretty good, so yeah.”

“Only ‘pretty good’?” Hope teases, leaning closer again, close enough for Rosie to see faint specks sparkling in her irises.

“Yep,” Rosie nods, resolute as her face solidifies into sharp stone. “Not about to stroke your ego.”

Hope groans, “You’re the worst.”

“Says the one that kissed me first,” Rosie teases right back, her smirk only growing at Hope’s annoyance, however played up it may be.

“Shut up,” Hope whines.

“No thanks,” Rosie grins, ready to start a spiel about everything she’s learned annoys Hope in the past few months, everything that earns a groan or a sigh or an eye roll, everything that makes her glare or scowl or slap Rosie’s arm even though it doesn’t hurt. “I think I’m -”

Hope’s kissing her again, only this time it’s deeper, filled with fire as Hope’s hands slip around to cup the back of her head, pulling Rosie ever closer and holding her there. Rosie’s own hands slide along Hope’s body, landing on her thighs and tugging her forward on the cushions, until their bodies are pressed together, with lips locked together. A groan slips from Hope’s throat, Rosie humming at the noise and sending her hands exploring in search of more sounds, palms grazing Hope’s exposed navel, muscles twitching beneath skin.

Hope splits them apart, her forehead pressing against Rosie’s gently, her panting breaths sending a shiver down Rosie’s spine. “What are we now?” her words only amplifying the effect.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Rosie answers easily, the question seeming unnecessary, “You’re kinda taking the reins here.”

Hope pauses, her hands clasped behind Rosie’s neck and thumbs brushing her skin idly. “Are we already dating?” she asks after a long moment.

“What do you mean?”

“We do a lot of coupley stuff,” Hope shrugs a bit, her lips twisting in contemplation, “We hang out all the time and I stay over and you make dinner and we watch movies,” she lists off.

Rosie pulls away, putting enough space between them to take in all of Hope, “Do you wanna carry on like this?”

Hope blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that question, “Yeah,” she answers, a little indignantly.

“Okay,” Rosie nods along, “Do you wanna call it dating?”

Hope stalls, eyes falling away as she considers, her voice coming out smaller than before when it finally does, “...Yeah.”

“Then we’re dating,” Rosie smiles sweetly at her, Hope’s expression softening at the sight.

Until it sharpens quickly, determination building in her eyes, “We have to go on a date,” she states evenly, matter-of-factly.

“Does that make it official?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs, falling back against the arm of the sofa casually, a wicked grin splitting her lips, “But you’re taking me out,” she warns.

Hope’s brow furrows at the declaration, the surety of it, “What? Why?”

“You started this, now it’s your problem,” Rosie smirks as Hope frowns, her eyes narrowing into a glare in the dark of the flat.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Says the one taking me on a date,” Rosie wiggles in her spot, falling back further and slipping her feet into Hope’s lap, Hope harrumphing and shoving them off with a scowl, much to Rosie’s amusement.

---

Hope drags Rosie out to a cafe in the morning, grinning the entire time she avoids telling Rosie where they’re even going, laughing at all of Rosie’s off-base guesses and humming ‘warmer’ when she gets something right.

She holds Rosie’s hand the entire time, occasionally swinging their interlocked digits between them or fiddling with Rosie’s fingers, as if they’re the most fascinating thing Hope can conceive of. And maybe they are. Maybe the way their hands fit together is strange, maybe the way they’re so close in size is odd, maybe the way Rosie squeezes her hand or traces circles along her knuckles idly is puzzling.

She pulls Rosie to a stop at the mouth of an alley, earning a confused expression in turn as Rosie looks around, “What are we doing here?” she spins in a slow circle, taking in the desolate street around them, a backroad with a small boutique, a pawn shop, and an auto body place. “Are you going to mug me?” she asks with twisted lips when she faces Hope again.

A laugh bubbles out of Hope and she swats at Rosie’s arm, a pleased smile curving Rosie’s mouth. “No!” Hope chastises, before pausing, her jaw clamping shut. “Close your eyes,” she demands a beat later.

“Okay, you’re definitely mugging me.”

“Just do it,” Hope whines. “Please?” she smiles, sweet as candy, Rosie immediately giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Perfect,” Hope squeezes Rosie’s hand tight, gently tugging her further into the alley.

“This is a very elaborate ruse to mug me, you know,” Rosie comments, eyes still squeezed shut, a hand on her lower back leading her.

Hope huffs exasperatedly, “Would you stop it?”

“Just saying. You already know where I live and when I have work, you don’t have to mug me.”

“Stop it or I really am gonna mug you.”

Rosie grins victoriously, reveling in the way she doesn’t even have to see Hope’s face to know how irritated she is, that she can tell from voice alone, “Knew it.”

“Shut. Up,” Hope’s teeth are gritted as she glares at Rosie with her dopey smile and closed eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Rosie concedes, “Just leave my money alone.”

“Just your money?”

Rosie faces Hope regardless of sight, “What’s that meant to mean? You want my phone, too?”

“Just checking if you’re available then,” Hope teases playfully, still gently leading.

Rosie pauses to consider, “Depends,” she finally lands on.

“On what?” Hope challenges.

“What you want out of me,” Rosie answers carefully, “I’m not mugging people with you.”

Hope barely suppresses an eye roll, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you really care,” Rosie coos, her hands clasping above her heart dramatically.

“I care about your money.”

Another victorious smile, “Knew it. Golddigger.”

“Arsehole.”

“Says the mugger.”

A sigh’s Rosie’s only response as they come to a stop somewhere, Hope’s arms draping around Rosie’s shoulders and her lips pecking Rosie’s. Her hands instinctively land on Hope’s hips, “Okay, open your eyes,” Hope hums.

Rosie obliges, blinking a few times to adjust to the sunlight, smiling down at Hope as her vision clears. “This it? Lotta theatrics. Coulda just stayed in for this view,” she teases.

Hope shakes her head exasperatedly, but it’s not enough to hide the smile on her lips, “Look around.”

She does, lifting her head away from Hope and finding them on a busier street the alley emptied onto. There’s a little café right in front of her, somewhat secluded from the rest of the street, with fogged windows and blurs of colour inside. No one’s moving in or out of the building, and it’s small enough that only a few patrons could possibly be inside.

Rosie’s eyes fall back to Hope and her smile, “What is this place?” she asks softly, bewonderment lessening the edge of her tongue at the quiet little escape she’s been led to.

“My favourite café. It’s really small and has the same regulars and everyone’s super nice and wonderful.” Hope bites her lip, as if she’s hesitating or nervous about something, “I found it after the show, when there was so much attention everywhere I went, and no one even knew me, so I started coming all the time.”

Rosie nods along, staring into Hope’s eyes intently to ground her, to show she understands. And she really does. She understands how hard it was with the editing and the pressure of the show. She understands how bad the backlash online was at times, when people would shit on them for anything. She understands how necessary it was to find a place to withdraw, to have people that didn’t care and just let her continue on with her job.

“Well, let’s go,” Hope’s arms retract from around Rosie’s shoulders, hands sliding down to grip Rosie’s and pull her along to the café. She swings the door open with a grin, a bell ringing above their heads. Not a single patron glances their way, most typing away at laptops or scrolling their phones as they sip drinks and slowly pick at food.

Only an employee takes notice, waving at Hope with a welcoming smile as he wipes down a countertop. She gently leads Rosie to the till, immediately falling into a conversation with the man as Rosie scans the menu and the shop. There’s booths on one wall, most empty, small tables filling the front, and a mural of different climates and natural environments on the wall opposite the booths.

“What do you want?” Hope asks, turning to Rosie as the employee stands waiting, his hands on his hips and a slight smile curling his mouth.

She smiles back before glancing at the menu and the dozens of items written across it. “Um,” her eyes scan over drink after drink, the letters whirring together. “Iced vanilla latte for now?” she tries, meeting the employees eyes.

“Ooh, me too!” Hope chimes, squeezing Rosie’s hand excitedly.

The employee - Chris, on his name tag - smiles even brighter, “Coming right up.”

Hope tugs Rosie away before Chris has even turned all the way around, pulling her along to a booth and collapsing into one side. Rosie follows, settling across from her, their hands still loosely linked together on the table, Hope’s thumb tracing the lines of Rosie’s palm.

Something sparks in the back of Rosie’s mind at the contact, in the pit of her stomach, in the thump of her heart, and she can’t quite place it, but she knows she likes it. She knows she likes this moment, too, the way Hope looks so at ease and relaxed, the way Hope brought her to her hidden spot, the way Hope tried to make breakfast before opting for the café. She likes the way this is going, they way they work together, even from before they realised there was something more to them than platonic movie nights. She likes how casual it was, how easy it came about, how relaxed she is as long as Hope’s there.

And she likes the way they just fit. They fit like one another’s other half, their perfect match, the missing pieces in the puzzles that construct their lives. And she can see herself sacrificing things for the woman sitting across from her, can see herself working for this relationship and all its inevitable flaws, can see herself in this moment forever, without a doubt in her mind. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

But she can see Hope’s smile, can envision countless Sunday mornings spent at this little café, can rationalise the way her heart flutters at every laugh. This makes perfect sense, every detail and every second is reasonable and real and means so much more than Rosie ever thought they’d mean.

#litg fanfic #litg hope #litg noah #hdn #hopefully this shuts the gremlin up #that bastard #but deadass that anons a genius #id also like to make it very clear that i have no problem with noah he seems chill its just hard to write a breakup without making someone #seem like the bad guy #yknow?

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onyxiana-is-obsessed · 4 years

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Ello! I dont know where to request since i'm stupid but i usually use this place to request! I saw those two 1A scenarios/drabbles and since i loved them, can you please make another 1a (with the characters Bakugou/Tokoyami/Mina/Todoroki and Aizawa plus Monoma) scenario/drabble with fem!reader where Monoma keeps pranking her and one time it got to reader and almost killed him, but BTMTA (the characters) stop her and calmed her down and Monoma got scolded! ❤️❤️ Love your writing btw 😌

Hiya lovely! You’re not stupid, this is exactly where you send requests! I’m glad you liked them and I really hope you liked this one! Ugh, I love a sassy reader at times xD Thank you so much!! Btw, I aged them up here, so they’re all 3rd years because Baku needs work before he’d ever be this friendly lmao.

Length: 1.9k words

Warnings: Mild swearing

Your Name: (y/f/n)

Quirk: (y/q) - preferably one that increases strength and speed.

Age: 17

“Good morning, (n/n),” Tokoyami greeted as (f/n) walked towards him with a bright smile.

“Morning, Fumi! Sleep well?” She inquired, making him nod. She walked around to her desk and pulled her chair out.

“I did, yourself?”

“Eh, could’ve been better. You know-” As she went to sit, the legs of the chair broke, making her squeal as she fell flat on her butt. The loud racket garnered more attention as worried classmates ran to her, including Bakugou and Mina.

“(f/n)!” Todoroki and Tokoyami yelled as they ran to her, making (f/n) groan as they helped her stand.

“What happened?!” Mina exclaimed, her hands landing on (f/n)’s shoulder.

“Th-the legs broke,” (f/n) explained, rubbing her back, “h-how? I thought these were brand new chairs…”

“What happened?” Aizawa’s voice came through as he walked into the classroom and saw the broken chair with a few students gathered around (f/n).

“(f/n) went to go sit, but the chair broke!” Mina explained, turning to her teacher who was now approaching them. His tired eyes gazed at the chair for a moment before he sighed.

“Class B should have extras. They’re next door, go get one.” (f/n) nodded and quickly left her class to get another chair. When she walked into their classroom, she had to embarrassingly explain that she needed to borrow an extra chair due to hers breaking. She did NOT miss Monoma’s pathetic attempt to cover up his laughter.

“Oh, you’re breaking chairs now? What a surprise, class A has no regard for our school’s reputation or supplies.” He muttered as she walked past him.

“Shove it,” (f/n) glared as she quickly grabbed her chair and left the classroom, returning to her own.

Turns out, Monoma had been responsible for her chair breaking. But that’s not where his stupid pranks ended. For example, her project went missing and she had to completely redo an entire week’s worth of work. He changed the locks on her dorm room so she couldn’t get in until Bakugou broke her door down. Let’s not forget the camp incident (heh), he was also the reason all her white clothes turned blue in the wash making her buy a new shirt for her uniform, and he also sent mean texts from HER PHONE to Bakugou, Mina, Todoroki, and Tokoyami. She had a difficult time explaining those texts weren’t her.

Now, it was starting to get too much. There was no way (f/n) could prove what happened was exactly Monoma’s fault. She never caught him in the act nor did he ever outright admit to pulling those pranks. He’d always make sly comments like towards her situation, but those weren’t enough. She had zero proof.

However, (f/n) was 100% sure that Monoma was behind all of these dumbass pranks and she was starting to get furious. However… that could wait because…

“OI! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!” (f/n) immediately screamed and covered her eyes as she turned away. She was positive this was the girl’s bathroom.

“S-Suki! I-I’m sorry!” (f/n) ran outside, pulling the door shut behind her. Her eyes flew to the sign next to the bathroom and widened. Girl’s bathroom? She backed up, looking around the hall and realized the girl’s bathroom was on the other side. Someone switched the signs?

She frowned and rubbed her eyes. She had been training with Todoroki and Mina all day, so she was a bit tired. She hadn’t even noticed she was on the wrong side of the building. Monoma came all the way to their DORMS to mess with her? Well… it wasn’t the first time. Her frown quickly melted into a look of anger.

“Monoma, I’m gonna kick your ass. Prank me one more time…” She muttered to no one in particular.

~**~

“Hey, (n/n)!” Mina chirped, slinging her arm around (f/n)’s shoulder. (f/n) smiled at her and gave her a side hug.

“Hello, Mina! Sleep well, I take it?”

“Maaaybe! Hey! Wanna go out for dinner tonight? Fumi and Sho are coming too! Not so sure about Suki.”

“Sure! Sounds fun, I’ll talk to Suki and see what he says.”

“Gosh, I’m jealous of that little soft spot he has for you.” Mina pouted. “But then again! A cutie like you probably gets all the dudes, huh?” (f/n) laughed and moved away from Mina, who’d started tickling her sides.

“You’d be surprised. By the way, you’re early today.”

“Yeah, Kiri woke me up early this morning. So, I decided to get ready instead of laying in bed.” (f/n) squinted at her.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” She teased, making Mina giggle and place her hands on her hips.

“I am Pinky! Or wait, no! Alien Queen! Bow before me mortal!” (f/n) giggled and gave her a little curtsey.

“Hello, your highness. Welcome to the halls of UA! Oh! May I introduce you to sir Peppermint?” Mina turned around and saw Todoroki approaching them with an amused look.

“Hello, your majesty. I am sir Peppermint, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello! Sir Peppermint! Oh! Who’s that?” Mina feigned innocence and pointed behind (f/n). The (h/c) haired girl turned around and saw Tokoyami and Bakugou approaching them.

“Oh! That’s sir Tsukuyomi and Knight Kacchan.” Bakugou’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

“The hell did you call me?!”

“Ooh! Hello, Knight Kacchan!” Mina greeted making him groan. As much as Bakugou liked to pretend he hated that nickname, deep down… he didn’t. Especially when it came from his… friends.

“What are you idiots doing?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Well Mina here is Alien royalty and thus, must be treated as such.” (f/n) said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re a royal pain in the ass, that’s for sure,” Bakugou responded, making Mina pout and Todoroki laugh a bit.

“We all know you don’t mean it, Kacchan.” Todoroki teased, making Bakugou glare at him.

“Listen here, you half-n-half bastard, I’m go-” Bakugou was interrupted by (f/n), who shrieked when she opened her locker. The second she opened it, her entire uniform was covered in blue paint. Some speckles even landed on her cheeks, mouth, forehead, and hair. Everyone froze as the paint slowly dripped down her now dirty clothes.

They all turned their heads when they heard laughter and saw Monoma doubled over trying to keep his laughter in. (f/n)’s shock turned into a death glare. She clenched her fists, ready to pummel him into the floor.

“I didn’t know you wanted to die today, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Before anyone could do anything, (f/n) sprinted to Monoma and tackled him down, spreading the paint to him as well. He let out a scream as they both collided with the floor, the paint smearing beneath them.

“KICK HIS ASS, (N/N)!” Bakugou encouraged her, however, Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Mina tried to stop her. Knowing he’d just copy her quirk, (f/n) settled for simple hand to hand combat.

Well…

“L-LET G-GO!” Monoma strained as (f/n)’s arm wrapped around his throat in a chokehold. (f/n) ignored him as her arm tightened around his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he fell on his back, leaning his weight on her. He struggled, trying to stand up but to no avail.

“(f/n), you have to let go!” Todoroki yelled, as he and Tokoyami attempted to pull (f/n)’s arms off of Monoma, but she had a good grip. Todoroki pulled both (f/n) and Monoma up so they would stand. “Bakugou! Help!” The blond rolled his eyes, but complied, coming up behind (f/n) to pull her off. Ideally, he’d let (f/n) beat the shit outta him, but he also didn’t want (f/n) getting in trouble.

All the commotion caused their classmates to pile up at the doorway to watch the fight. Most of them were on (f/n)’s side.

“Goddammit, woman! LET GO!” Bakugou yelled, struggling to pull her off. Monoma was starting to see spots and his vision was getting hazy due to the lack of oxygen. Both Tokoyami and Todoroki noticed, making them pry harder.

“Let go, (f/n)!” Tokoyami yelled as Dark Shadow joined in. He tried to wrap around her, much like he would with Tokoyami, in an attempt to make her loosen her grip.

“NO!” (f/n) yelled back, making Mina’s eyes light up as she got an idea. She quickly ran behind Bakugou, slid her arms around him and tickled (f/n)’s sides. It took a few seconds, but their friend let go, making Todoroki and Tokoyami stand in her way, grabbing her arms and pressing their sides against her as Bakugou held her waist.

(f/n) was a strong fighter and here was proof, 3 fully grown men having to hold her back. Monoma felt his soul leave his body at the sight.

“STOP IT!” Bakugou yelled as she struggled against him.

“Let go of me! Let go of me right now, Kacchan! I’m kicking his ass!” Monoma was currently leaning against the lockers trying to catch his breath as he watched the furious girl attempt to… kill him?! She wanted to kill him! She was trying to choke him to death!

“ENOUGH!” Everyone froze at the booming voice and (f/n) shrank against Bakugou when she saw her teacher standing there with his hair and scarf floating. Her hands reached out to grab Tokoyami and Todoroki’s arms. His red eyes glared at the group demanding answers.

“She tried to kill me!” Monoma yelled, holding his throat. (f/n)’s eyes widened and shot to Aizawa.

“This jerk’s been pranking me for the last three weeks! Everything that’s gone wrong is his fault!”

“You have no proof of that!” Monoma argued, glaring at her.

“No pro- you’re always laughing at me and making snide comments! I know for a fact it’s you, asshole! Don’t even act like your innocent!”

“I am innocent, asshole!” (f/n) shoved Bakugou off and slipped in between Todoroki and Tokoyami, running towards Monoma when Aizawa’s scarf quickly wrapped around her.

“Out of your entire class, you’re the only one who hates us, dumbass!” (f/n) retaliated as she struggled against her teacher’s bindings. “Let me fight him, Mr. Aizawa! LET ME KICK HIS ASS!”

“That’s enough!” Aizawa interrupted their petty squabbling as he approached them. His eyes stopped glowing and his hair fell down. (f/n) was still wrapped around in his scarf but was no longer struggling. “Have you been pranking (l/n) this whole time?” Aizawa asked the blond.

“NO!” The hallway was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. Aizawa glared at Monoma as he grabbed his arm and made him stand up.

“You’re lying.” The scarf loosened around (f/n) and fell off, returning to Aizawa as he looked at the students. Bakugou, Todoroki, Monoma, (f/n), and Tokoyami- not to mention his scarf- were covered in the blue paint. “Go clean yourselves up and come back, we’ll discuss your punishment for starting the fight later, (l/n). For now, I’ll be handling this one.” With that, Aizawa took Monoma away leaving everyone in awkward silence.

Until Kaminari broke it.

“Damn, (n/n)! You really kicked his ass! That was awesome!”

“I think you’re rubbing off on her,” Tokoyami said, looking at Bakugou who smirked proudly.

“And the problem with that is?”

“We’ll have another you to deal with.” Todoroki responded, flatly.

“What’s wrong with me, IcyHot?!”

“You guys are awesome!” Mina giggled, wrapping her arms around both Bakugou and Todoroki. “(f/n)! Get in here! You too, Fumi!”

“I’ll get the paint over you,” (f/n) muttered, looking down at herself.

“Either you come here or I’ll give you a bear hug.”

“You just want to go back to your room so you can lay in bed.” (f/n) argued, as she and Fumi joined the little group hug.

“Maaaybe!”

BONUS:

Later that day, Aizawa had met up with (f/n) and explained that her punishment was going to be detention for 3 days, as well as cleaning up the dorms. Although Monoma got something similar, it was worse.

However, whenever their classes were paired up for sparring matches or mock fights, Aizawa always did his best to pair (f/n) against Monoma, so she could teach him a lesson. Properly.

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