#two days ago on the train home from work there was a woman next to me with three very young kids.

[anonymusbosch]

sometimes i feel like extending the kindness you can, when you can, is the only thing there is

[bet-on-me-13]

The Villains Daughter

So! Years ago, back when the Justice League was only just starting out, only a year or two after their initial team-up, they had one of their biggest battles to date. A group of Extra-Dimensional Beings had burst into their reality, hellbent on destroying a Government Facility and the nearby small town in Illinois.

They barely managed to beat the Invading Army back, although the Government Facility and a part of the nearby Town had been destroyed in the battle.

Later, they would learn about what had happened. Apparently the Government Base, called a GIW Facility, had managed to finally Crack the secret to Interdimensional Travel a few days earlier. Unfortunately, they had opened a Portal into a Dimension known as the Ghost Zone, ruled over by a Tyrant King who wanted to enslaved all world under him. Their Breaching of the GZ had alerted the Tyrant King to the existence of their Dimension, and he had launched an immediate Invasion to try and take it over.

And the evidence supported this.

Wonder Woman shared Legends of her People, telling that their Founding Ancestor had fled the rule of a Tyrant King when she passed into the Afterlife.

Zatara shared his Magic Tomes, showing them passages detailing the horrific Rule of the Tyrant King of the Infinite Realms.

They even asked Boston Brand, the Deadman and resident Ghost about it. He hadn't been the the Ghost Zone in Years, but even he told them that he had personally fled the Tyrant King.

And they also learned that when the Tyrant King set his eyes on something, he did not falter on his Warpath to acquire it. The Tyrant King, Pariah Dark, would be back for their World, again and again.

And they needed to be prepared. This Battle was what kickstarted their true Commitment to the idea of a Team. They knew they could not defeat Pariah Dark alone, so they needed to remain as a Team.

But there was another thing that came about from the Battle.

While the JLA had been helping clean up, Wonder Woman came across a strange sight. A Baby had been left in the rubble of the GIW Building.

She asked around, investigated, and did all she could to find the babies parents. At first she thought that one of the GIW Agents had brought their kid to work that day, but their records indicated that none of the Agents had children of that Age. And Neither did any of the other workers who worked on the base, like the Janitors or the Kitchen Staff. And of they did, all of their children were accounted for.

She eventually came to the conclusion that the Baby must belong to somebody in the nearby Town, but that lead led nowhere either.

She finally came to the conclusion that the Baby's parents must have died in the Invasion, a very unfortunate but very real possibility. She was going to place her into the System, but over the course of her investigation she had grown fond of the Child.

She decided to Adopt the baby herself. She didn't know the child's name, so she had to come up with a new one.

"How do you like the name, Stella?"

The baby gurgled in delight.

...

Over the next decade of their Teams Existence, the Justice League had to fend off the Legions of the Ghost King's Army many more times. It seemed that Pariah had grown wise to the fact that they were the ones defending the Human Realm, as almost all of the later attacks were directed on them personally.

It made sense, they were the First Line of Defense against his Armies, if he managed to defeat them, their World would soon fall.

But they dealt with the attacks as they came. They had made it their mission to defend their Home from the Forced of Pariah Darks Army, and they would not falter now, or ever.

In the case of Wonder Woman, he Daughter had grown to be a fine little lady. Stella had eventually developed Powers similar to her mother, in that she could fly and had super strength, and had begged to be trained as a Hero.

And who was Diana to deny her Daughter her greatest wish? Over the next 5 years, Diana trained Stella in the ways of the Amazon's. Then, when Stella was 15, she had her join the newly formed Young Justice.

She made a great group of friends on that Team, and even started going by Ellie as a Nickname. Her best friend was by far Conner, though she didn't know why she felt such a strong connection to him? It felt like she could relate to him, but her situation was completely different?

Ah well, her Mom wouldn't mind having another kid, would she? She always wanted a Brother!

...

Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, the Ghost King was getting anxious. After 15 years, his Agents in the Human Realm had finally managed to set up the Ritual needed to Summon Him into the Human Realm.

Who knew that accepting the Ghost King's Throne would bar him from entering the Human Realm through normal Means? He couldn't even use the Portal, he needed to be summoned or he simply wouldn't be able to leave his new home dimension.

But now, it was almost time. Just another year or two, and he would finally be able to enter the Human Realm. He would finally be able to Find Her. His Daugther.

Danny would finally be able to reunite with his daughter, Ellie.

[sinner-as-saint]

I'm insane, but I'm your baby

Dark!Bucky x Reader (age gap au) 

Run-through: You broke things off with Bucky shortly after you realised that he was quickly becoming overly emotionally reliant on you. And you were not ready for that kind of commitment. Besides, when you and Bucky first got together, the rule was no emotional bond at all. It was all just transactional, exciting, and fun. But then he changed. And you didn’t realise just how much you meant to him… until he showed you. 

Themes: ex-sugarbaby!bucky, dark!bucky, obsessive!bucky, sugarmommy!reader, mild MDLB (nicknames only), possessive!bucky, switch!bucky, smut, brief somno, bondage, praise kink, reader gets referred to as “mommy” a lot, dub con, manipulation, age gap (Bucky is in his twenties, Reader is in her late thirties), gun play, mentions of stalking and violence

a/n: warning – dark fic, pls read the themes carefully and do not consume media that makes you uncomfortable.

You knew he was already in your house the moment you walked in. 

Firstly because that was his car outside, parked near the driveway fountain. Secondly, because he’d been doing this for a whole week now. Ever since the two of you broke up, he’d show up at your house whenever he wanted. 

He still had copies of the keys you’d given him. And he acted like a brat each time you asked for the keys back. What if I left something and I desperately needed it? He’d argue. You were a busy woman, head of and handling family businesses and some of your new ones as well so you rarely had enough time to argue over keys with a young man who refused to act his age. 

Part of his bratty behaviour was your fault, you knew that. He was already spoiled when you met him – typical rich boy who rebelled against his rich parents whenever he wanted. But then when he met you, he became a total brat. You spoiled him even more than his family did – cars, trips, jewellery, a penthouse in whatever city he wanted, everything he’d asked for, you gave it to him. 

In return, he was at your beck and call. He often joked about how you trained him like a loyal puppy. You laughed, because it was true. Whenever you called, he came running to you. 

Your ‘relationship’ was perfect in the beginning. It was fun, and an amazing way for you to unwind and get away from the hectic work life. But then, Bucky got clingy. Emotionally clingy. And you tried to talk to him about it, but he would just act up and refuse to listen. Or, most of the time he’d just distract you with his amazing body. 

So you went with the flow for a couple of more months, before about a week ago you sat him down and broke things off. Of course it wasn’t easy. Bucky was especially bratty about it and was having none of it. But eventually stormed out of your house. 

He was back the very next day, begging and pleading for you to take him back. You asked him to leave. Then he was back the following day, same old story. Then the day after that, he’d let himself into your house while you were still at home. You’d asked him to leave. 

And he’d been repeating this bullshit for a whole week now. You were tired. Your days at work weren’t particularly easy. You had a huge staff to manage, meetings to attend, everything rested on your shoulders. All you wanted was some quiet time when you got home but no. A certain blue eyed young man, previously your sugarbaby, wouldn’t leave you alone. 

You sighed as you walked further into your house. Dropping your keys and shoes in the foyer as you walked towards the kitchen. And there he was. 

Wearing nothing but dark grey sweatpants. Smooth, tatted skin exposed. With his bare, muscular back to you, cooking something like he was completely at home in your space. Well, he did live here with you for the last few months. 

You watched him for a moment as he moved with ease in your kitchen. Fuck, why did he have to be so irresistible? Especially in this kitchen, where you’d fucked countless of times… 

“What are you doing?” You asked, once you were done eye-fucking him. 

Bucky turned to look at you with a sly grin on his face. He lowered the flame, wiped his hands on a nearby tea towel and made his way over to you. 

You couldn’t even push him away as he held you in his muscular arms. You could feel the dampness on his skin, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Surely he even used your gym as well. 

He nuzzled your cheek, “Hi mommy,” He whispered, “How was your day?” He kissed along your cheek, then down your neck. So slowly you felt yourself slipping under his spell again. 

But then you recovered and carefully stepped out of his embrace. Ignoring the hurt on his pretty face at you pulling away, you asked again, “What are you doing, Bucky?” 

“Making you dinner.” He answered, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist again, “Your favourite pasta.” He smiled down at you, then leaned in to kiss your nose. “Want some wine while you wait for it to be done?” 

You sighed, pulling away again. “Bucky, I don’t like having to kick you out all the time.” You stated, looking him right in those puppy dog, ocean blue eyes. “But enough is enough. Give me my keys and please,” You tried not to sound too harsh, “Please leave. You and I, we’re done. I can’t… I can’t give you what you want, and we agreed on that. So please, leave.” 

He was quiet. So were you. It was tense, heavy, emotional silence. You were tired of always breaking his heart like this. Why couldn’t he just understand? 

“But I thought…” He crossed his arms, his muscles looking even bigger this way. “Did you never love, or care about me?” His tone suddenly softened. 

You sighed for probably the tenth time. “Bucky, this again?” 

He gave you the innocent, puppy dog eyes again. “I just… I thought we had something, mommy.” He whispered, sounding like a lost puppy, “Didn’t we?” He inched closer, his body heat wrapping around you. “Didn’t we, mommy?” He whispered into your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t you remember how good we were together?” 

You almost gave in again… almost. “Get out.” You said. 

He pulled away, surprised and frowning at the coldness in your calm tone. “Wha… what?” 

You almost felt bad. “You heard me. Get out.” You repeated. “Don’t make me call security.” 

He reluctantly left. 

You heard the purring of his car engine gradually fade, and the alarms signalled that the gates were shut again. 

You went to the stove and turned it off, the food already ruined. You cursed under your breath because you knew this wasn’t the last time. Bucky could be adamant when he wanted something. 

Or someone. 

— 

Much to your surprise, he didn’t show up the next day. Or the day after that. And just when you thought he was finally out of your life… you dreamt of him one day. Even in your dreams he was not ready to let you be. 

You dreamt of him in your room, in your bed. His soft hair brushing against your face as he kissed all over your jaw and neck… nibbling on your skin. 

He chuckled when you let out a sigh of pleasure. “I know, mommy.” He kissed along your exposed neck. “I know you didn’t mean it when you said we were done the other day,” He whispered, brushing his lips against yours, “See? Even in your sleep your body still wants me.” He sounded pleased. Mischievous. 

“So beautiful… and all mine.” You felt his phantom hands brushing against your thighs… like he always did whenever he woke up in the same bed as you. 

He always took full advantage of the fact that you slept in the nude. And you lived for those moments, those slow mornings filled with endless kisses and caresses and cuddles, and him being brat and not wanting you to leave the bed, or him. You dreamt of his lips kissing down your neck, down your chest, down your torso… 

He chuckled again, his boyish laughter echoing in your head. “You’re all wet for me, mommy.” He noted. He was right. You could feel it. Dreams always heightened every sense so you were fully aware of the wetness in between your thighs. 

He kissed your hips, whispering, “Your baby boy is hungry, mommy…” He kissed right above your clit, warm breath making your body come alive even in dreams. He always had a talent of making your body sing whenever he touched you. 

Then his warm tongue licked along your slit, his hands spreading your things apart to give him better access. Your hand moved lazily, fingers ready to slide into his hair… even in your dreamy fantasies you assumed his hair would be silky soft… but you couldn’t quite move your arm. 

That was the equivalent of warning bells ringing. You opened your eyes, no longer dreaming, and gasped in surprise as you not only found Bucky in between your legs but your hands were tied to the headboard. With one of his expensive ties. 

“Bucky…” His name sounded more like a soft moan as he shamelessly tasted you, eating you out passionately, giving you his all. 

At the sound of his name, he looked up. Held your stare as he lazily circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, then said, “Morning, mommy. How did you sleep?” 

“What…” You sounded breathless as his finger slowly slid inside you, stroking that spot inside you that he knew all too well. Fuck, this was sweet torture… “What are you doing?” 

He chuckled, finger-fucking you lazily. “Waking you up, of course.” He frowned playfully. “What does it look like I’m doing? Hmm?” He pressed another kiss to your throbbing clit before he nuzzled the space between your hips, “How dare you keep this away from me, huh? How dare you keep yourself away from me, mommy?” 

You were too overwhelmed to speak. Hands tied above your head, his finger and tongue in between your legs… each time you opened your mouth to speak, only moans escaped. No coherent sentences. 

“Bucky!” You cried out when he made you come the first time. He just chuckled and showed no sign of stopping. He added another finger and kept stroking that spot inside you, his tongue kept teasing your clit until you came a second time. “Bucky, please…” You begged. 

He looked up this time, smiling like a devilish, blue-eyed, young god. “Yeah, mommy?” 

“Please just… untie me.” You whispered, breathlessly. 

He chuckled, in that boyish way of his. “No? Cause then you’ll just pull away from me.” He reasoned. “I like you like this, all nice and open for me.” He said, “I really missed this, I didn’t even touch myself because… because that’s your job, isn’t it?” He rambled, fingers still slow fucking you. “You can’t just kick me out and stop caring for me just cause you feel like it, mommy.” He frowned, in a way you’d always found both bratty and adorable. “Don’t you see? Don’t you see I need you?” 

You sighed and whined as he made you come once more before removing his fingers from you. 

“Did you hear me?” He asked, kissing his way up your body, “Your baby boy needs you, mommy.” He whispered as he nuzzled your neck. 

You had no choice but to play along, ignoring the way your body, traitor that it was, craved him still. “Baby,” You whispered, “I need you to untie me, okay?” 

“No.” He said in that bratty voice of his. 

You groaned internally. This is what you get for fucking around with clingy, younger men. “Baby, please.” 

He pulled away to look down at you. His glorious body hovering above yours. Bare chest, only black sweatpants today. “You won’t pull away?” 

“No.” You answered, truthfully. 

“And you won’t ask me to leave?” 

“No, baby.” You were beginning to hear that familiar bratty tone in his voice. He could get whatever he wanted when he got in moods like these. 

He smirked, with nothing but a glazed, determined look in his pretty eyes. “Good,” He said, then reached behind him and pulled out his silver handgun. A very familiar handgun. Damn you, another silly purchase. This one even had his initials engraved on it. Bucky chuckled when he saw the look on your face, “Oh I would never hurt you, mommy. This is just… precaution.”

You nodded, holding his stare. You said nothing as he brought the gun closer to your chin. The cold barrel pressed against your skin as he dragged it downwards. Your heart raced faster than it ever had. Bucky’s eyes followed the trail of the gun as yours remained fixed on his face. 

Then he said, “Do you remember when you gave this to me?” He stopped the barrel right in between your breasts. “Do you remember how much fun we had that night?” He smirked, dragging the barrel further down your body. 

You hissed as the cold barrel pressed against your wet folds. Bucky had a heated look in his lust-drunk, now hooded eyes as he slid the tip of it up and down your folds, coating the barrel with your wetness. 

You squirmed under him, instinctively grinding against it. It felt immoral, chasing that feeling. Fuck. 

“Look at you, mommy.” He mumbled. “All of this for your baby boy, huh?” He brought the now wet barrel to his mouth, opening his mouth to let his pink tongue out. He held your stare as he licked it clean. That sinful tongue of his tasting you again. “You always taste so fucking good…” He tossed the gun aside once he was done proving his point. 

Your mind was a mess. Torn between giving in to desire and lust, or side with rational thinking. 

“Open your mouth, mommy.” He whispered, leaning in until his face was just inches above yours. 

When you did open your mouth, he spat in it before leaning in to give you an orgasmic kiss. Messy, wet, warm… your body tingled under him. His warm skin pressing against yours. Bucky reached up and untied your wrists. 

Instead of trying to put some distance between your bodies, you found your hands reaching for him. Your fingers sliding into his hair as he moaned into your mouth. “Fuck… mommy,” He whimpered, holding you closer and kissing you deeper. “More,” He groaned, “I want more.” 

Your bodies moved into position instinctively. Your legs spread just enough for him to settle in between them. 

You had forgotten just how sensitive you were from earlier, so you hissed in pleasure and pain as he slid all the way in. 

You saw panic in his eyes for a moment as he calmed you down, cradling your head and kissing your face. “Shh, shh, hey,” He whispered softly, “It’s just me,” He said, kissing your lips, “It’s just your baby boy, mommy. Open up for me, that’s it, there you go…” He moaned as he pulled out and pushed back in again. 

You swore as Bucky moved his hips expertly, slipping in and out of you with ease. Soon, he was slamming into you, his movement animalistic and unrestrained much like his feelings. He was relentless, taking what he wanted, how he wanted. 

“Buck…” You whined, giving up and just letting him pleasure you. 

Bucky slammed in and out of you continuously, moaning and grunting in the process. “You feel so good, mommy.” He murmured as he increased his pace, fucking into you mercilessly as your legs locked around him. 

Your thoughts were a mess yet again as you felt your vision getting blurry with each passing second. You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pulling you into him, hard, each time he filled you up. “Baby…” You moaned. 

“I know, I know,” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “Tell me I feel good inside you,” He whispered, “Tell me I fuck you good, mommy.” Damn him. He knew just what made you lose your mind and he used them all to his advantage, making you fall under his spell just like that. 

He sped up, rocking his hips harder against yours when he noted that you weren’t doing as he asked. His hand reached around to grab your throat carefully. He squeezed gently, speeding up into you as he looked straight into your eyes, your soul. “Tell me I fuck you good.” He said, jaws clenching and a vulnerable look in his eyes. 

You gripped the bed sheets as he pounded into you. “You… you feel so good, baby.” You mumbled, Bucky leaned down and pressed his soft lips against yours as you whispered, “You fuck me so good.” 

He smirked. “I know.” He sounded cocky as he said, “I know only I can make you feel this good, mommy.” 

Your walls constricted around him, hard enough to make him go faster. Bucky pounded into you harder than before, the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. He took you higher, and higher, and higher until you felt tears escape your eyes. 

“Baby…” you were breathless, unable to form coherent words as he fucked you silly. 

“Come for me, mommy.” He groaned, giving you a messy kiss as he moaned some more against your mouth, “Come for me…” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before letting go, unable to hold back. More hot tears streamed down your face as Bucky kept pounding into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, chasing his own. 

“Fuck, mommy,” He came with a loud groan, filling you up with his cum yet again. You caught your breath as he leaned down to kiss you again. Kissing all over your face, down your neck and your shoulder. “That was so good,” he whispered, “See how good we are?” He caressed your face, “Why do you want to throw this away, huh?” He kissed your forehead. 

Then he looked over at your bedside table and chuckled. 

“Look at the time,” He sounded calm and normal again. “You’re gonna be late for work, mommy.” He giggled, kissing your cheek, “Want me to drive you? We could grab breakfast on our way.” 

Your brain was too foggy for you to string together words or sentences so you just nodded and whispered, “Okay.” 

— 

After that morning, it was back to being as if you’d never broken up in the first place. 

Each time you even try to say something regarding your relationship, Bucky would shut you up with a mind melting kiss. His skilled tongue and hands could make anyone forget anything. 

You’d wake up each day to find flowers on your bedside. Breakfast was always already made. And Bucky was always ready to drive you to work. 

You decided to bring this whole situation up one day while he was driving. “You know we can’t keep doing this, right Bucky? We can’t… you can’t keep acting like this.” You looked at him, sunglasses hiding his pretty eyes, jaws clenched, that tight black t-shirt hugging his muscular body… 

Bucky sent a quick glance your way, smirked, placed his hand higher up your thigh and asked, “What are you talking about?” He was so fucking good at acting oblivious. 

“This, Bucky!” You gestured to all of him. “All of this. You refusing to leave, you driving me to work.” You listed. “We ended whatever was between us,” You stated. “Why are you being like this?” You lowered your tone, realising that reasoning with him was futile. 

He didn’t say a word. He kept driving, kept his warm hand on your thigh. His touch was as electric as always. His calm demeanour was nothing but a façade, and you knew. He was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. 

And he did. 

When he pulled into the underground parking lot of your office building, he grabbed your wrist before you could get out of the car. 

“Let go, Buck. I’m getting late for a meeting.” You told him. 

He took his sunglasses off, tossed them aside and said, “You’re the boss. There’s no such thing as the boss being late.” 

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine, what do you want?” 

“You.” He answered, leaning closer as he tugged on your arm to bring you closer to him. Fuck he smelt good. “You’re all I want, mommy. No expensive gifts, no trips, no cars, nothing.” He whispered, brushing his lips against your cheek. “Just you. All of you.” 

You groaned, pulling away a little. “I can’t give you that.” You explained. “I have a busy life, I can’t commit, I cannot be in a normal relationship, I can–,” 

He cut you off, tightening his grip in your wrist. “Is there someone else?” He questioned, again with that glazed look in his eyes. “Hmm? Is there some… Steve?” 

You frowned, “How do you know Steve?” 

Bucky smirked, “I went through your phone after you fell asleep last night.” He confessed with no shame. “He texts you quite a lot, doesn’t he? He’s a bit too flirty to be just an employee, mommy.” Bucky spoke, low and deep. “Who is he?” 

“No one.” You answered truthfully. Sure, Steve could be a little flirty sometimes. But he was amazing at his job and you couldn’t lose him so you ignored his flirty comments and texts as one does. He was indeed no one though. “Just an employee, Buck.” You said, quite annoyed. “Don’t fucking touch my phone again.” 

He subtly flinched at the coldness in your tone. “Sorry, mommy.” He murmured. He looked genuinely apologetic for a moment. “I… I saw someone kept texting you late at night and,” He let go of your wrist and slid his hand in between your thighs, “I had to see who it was.” 

Yeah. Pencil skirts around him? Bad idea. 

But his hand felt so good. His fingers sliding up and down the flimsy material of your thong. You gasped as he slid a finger into you easily. “Oh damn you, Bucky.” 

He chuckled darkly into your ear. “Do you like him?” He asked, sliding another finger inside you, making you roll your hips, thrusting into his hand. “Do you let him touch you?” 

“No,” You whined. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping his hand in between your legs as you moaned. “He’s… no one.” 

“He better be no one,” Bucky whispered, kissing down your neck as he finger-fucked you. “Otherwise…,” He gently nibbled on your skin, “You know I always keep my gun on me, mommy.” 

You gasped in shock and pleasure. “Bucky, please.” 

“I will never hurt you,” He whispered. Then chuckled almost maniacally. “You know I will never hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get rid of whoever tries to come between me and my mommy,” He said, thrusting his fingers rapidly in and out of you. “You’re mine.” 

The interior of the car was heating up. The air was dense and hot, your heart was racing as he touched you, taking you higher and higher… until he stopped abruptly. Pulled his fingers out of you and popped them in his mouth, shamelessly moaning at your taste. 

You almost came at the sight of it. 

You didn’t realise your hand had subconsciously started making its way in between your legs, seeking to alleviate the sweet pain there, until Bucky slapped your hand playfully and said, “Stop that. That’s my job.” 

That broke you out of whatever spell you were under. “Why’d you… why did you stop?” You questioned, breathing heavily. 

Bucky smiled, kissed you on the forehead and said, “I have to keep you wanting more, mommy.” He kissed your mouth, gently. “I’ll pick you up later. Just give me a call, okay?” 

And just like that, he avoided confronting the situation at hand. Again. 

—

A few days later, by some miracle, you’d managed to talk Bucky out of dropping you and picking you up from work each day. 

But of course, he didn’t agree to that out of reason. No, he needed to see something. 

You were unaware of it but Bucky had gotten access to most of the security cameras placed in your office building. The underground garage, your personal office, your assistants’ offices, the lobby, everything. 

He did it to keep an eye on you at all times. All because he wanted you safe all the time. And anytime you were out of his sight, his heart was restless. This was the only way he could be at peace. 

But also, he needed to keep an eye on this Steve. 

—

One evening you came home, and the house was eerily quiet. 

No dinner cooking. No extravagant flower arrangement waiting for you in the foyer. No cheesy notes. Nothing. 

The silence was the opposite of peaceful. You walked cautiously inside your own home, looking for the cause of this tension in the air. The kitchen was empty. So was the sunroom. And that left… 

There he was. Sitting in your lavish living room. Manspreading on a sofa with a drink in his hand and… his gun in the other hand. 

You stopped and froze immediately. “Bucky?” You called out, given he was staring at the ground rather than at you. He didn’t reply so you tried again, “Baby? What is it?” 

He looked up this time. Whatever his moods were, he could never resist those nicknames coming from your mouth. He took one last sip of his drink, whiskey it seemed, placed the glass on the carpet and said, “I thought you said he was just an employee.” 

Your heart sank. You knew who he was referring to. “He… he is.” 

“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side as he pulled his phone out, tapped a few times before turning the screen towards you and there it played. Footage of you and Steve from earlier, saying goodbye to each other. 

In the video, you could clearly see yourself smiling and laughing at whatever Steve was saying. Then out of nowhere, Steve leaned in and kissed your cheek before whispering a goodbye and wishing you a good weekend. 

You looked back up into Bucky’s eyes. They were empty. Like there was no soul behind them, nothing just betrayal, anger, and hurt. “It’s not–,”

“You said he was just an employee.” Bucky repeated, leaning back against the sofa. “Then why the fuck was he touching you? Hmm? Kissing your cheek? Why did you let him touch you, mommy?” His calm voice made you shiver. 

“How did you… have you been watching me?” You asked, taking a step closer to him, only the coffee table separated you. 

He was quiet. Cocky pout on his pink lips. You noticed the slight stubble on his cheeks and how much older they made him seem. More broody even. 

“You can’t do this.” You spoke softly, trying not to aggravate the situation. “You can’t invade my privacy like–”

He cut you off. “Oh please,” he pouted like the brat he was. “I’m your baby boy, aren’t I, mommy? Can’t I care about you? Can't I keep an eye on you when you’re away?” 

“Bucky… this is too far–” 

He cut you off again. “Too far?” He chuckled in that humourless way. “You think I’ve gone too far?” He stood up, he was in no way drunk. 

His movements were calculated, steady, and commanding. He walked around the expensive coffee table and stopped just inches away from you. 

“You’re lucky you couldn’t hear the thoughts that crossed my mind when I first saw him kissing you, mommy.” He leaned in and breathed in your scent. “He was this close to you, wasn’t he?” 

“Bucky,” You tried not to let your voice sound shaky. “Please… 

“Tell me why I shouldn't go back and…” He brought his gun up in front of your face, “mess with him a little.” He scoffed. “How dare he touch you? Hmm?” Bucky brought the barrel up to your face and trailed it down your cheek. “Doesn’t he know you’re mine?” He whispered. “Doesn’t he know only I get to touch you?” He scoffed. “Or am I your secret, mommy? Huh? Do you not tell people about me?” 

You gasped as the cold barrel trailed down your neck, and disappeared into your shirt, lightly grazing the tops of your breasts. His lips brushed against your neck next, kissing his way leisurely up and down. 

You were a mess. You were scared but you knew he would never hurt you. You thought, maybe if you hadn’t been so harsh when it came to breaking up with him out of nowhere, maybe he wouldn’t be like this right now… right? 

His hands quickly undid your top buttons as he kissed his way down to your cleavage. He let out a soft, vulnerable moan as he tasted your skin. The sound of it almost made you slide your hands into his hair to tug on it. Almost. 

“Bucky,” You whispered breathlessly, “You can’t do that. You can’t hurt him just because he kissed me goodbye.” 

He scoffed, pulling away to look into your eyes. His pretty blue eyes were still vacant. “I can. I might.” He said, “You know I would do absolutely anything for you.” He brought the barrel of the gun and tapped it against your parted lips. 

“No.” You insisted softly, “You can’t.” 

“No?” He gave you his signature puppy dog eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn't? Give me one good little reason, mommy.” He leaned in, his free hand touching you down your side. He knew your body too well. He knew you would be dripping for him if he just checked. 

He went to do it, but chose to tease you instead, dragging his fingers up and down your inner thighs through the fabric of your skirt. 

Oh damn him. Him and his intoxicating touch.

“Because I love you.” You finally slid your fingers into his hair. He closed his eyes momentarily, as if relishing the feeling of your touch against his scalp. “Just you.” You said, “It’s just you for me. He’s no one.” 

For once, his eyes lit up. “You promise, mommy?” 

“I promise baby boy, I promise.” You repeated. “Put the gun down.” You instructed. And when he did as you asked, tossing the gun aside, you said, “Now how about we forget about all of this and have one of our lazy nights, hmm? Just dinner, a movie, me and you?” 

Bucky smiled, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly. You couldn’t help but hug him back. The familiarity of his body made you burn. The touch of his skin against yours like the electricity you craved. 

He whined as he nuzzled your neck. “I’ve missed you…” He whispered, unbuttoning the rest of your shirt before taking it off slowly. “Can I please have you? I need to feel you, mommy. Need to taste you… need to make you feel good.” He breathed into your ear, making your body shiver. “Please?” He begged. 

You nodded and let him guide you over to the sofa. He sat down and pulled you onto his lap. He chuckled once you straddled him, pulling your skirt up as you undid his pants. 

“I won’t let anyone come between us, mommy. No one. Ever.” He whispered, sliding his fingers between your legs and rubbing you where you needed him the most. He watched in awe as you gasped and moaned. Was there a prettier sight? He wasn’t sure there was. “You won’t leave me, would you?” 

“No…” You gasped as he slid two fingers into you, stroking you until he brought you right over to that edge, and kept you there. 

“Good.” He said, “‘Cause I’m crazy about you.” He chuckled, “You can’t blame me, though. Love does that to people.” He leaned in to kiss your neck, biting down on your skin playfully. “You know there’s nothing I won’t do for you, right?” He sped up his fingers, fucking you a little faster until he began to hear you make those soft little sounds he loved so much. The ones where you tried your hardest not to moan. “I will beg, worship, and plead…” He trailed off, stopped finger-fucking you for a moment, just to get your attention before adding, “...and I won’t hesitate to even kill for you, mommy.” 

You whimpered. Fear and pleasure. There was a warning in his eyes. His glassy blue eyes, there was truth in them. And manic love. Obsession. 

There was no other way for you to go about this situation so you took on your role. You reached up and carefully wrapped your hand around his throat, pushing his head back just a little. You stared into his eyes as you lifted your hips and positioned your hole to the tip of his hard cock. 

“No killing. None of that, you hear me?” You said as you slowly sank down his cock. His lips parted as he exhaled shakily, your walls clenching around him for emphasis. “Do you hear me, baby?” 

He let out one of his pretty whimpers and mumbled, “Yes, mommy.” Then he whined and cursed, “Oh fuck you feel so good.” 

“Good.” You whispered, lifting your hips up and sinking down on him again. Repeating the movement until the two of you were groaning and gasping for air. 

Meanwhile, his thoughts raced as you took his cock so perfectly. His perfect mommy. The love of his life. The woman who controlled every move, every emotion, every thing of his. 

He smirked as he looked up at you, how you were riding him. Nice and slow, and passionate. 

Bucky had to suppress a scoff. You really thought he’d let Steve go just like that? 

Silly mommy… 

Bucky might be the rebel son of his family, but his last name and generational wealth still spoke volumes. He had a little army of his own that he could command into doing anything. And they were currently… taking care of Steve on his behalf. 

Not that you would ever know. 

All you would know would be that on his way to work on Monday, Steve would have an unfortunate, terrible accident. 

“Just you and me, right mommy?” He whispered in his lust-drunk haze as he looked up at you. You looked like a goddess. One he wouldn’t mind worshipping for the rest of his days. 

You agreed. Unknowingly fueling his obsession. “Just us, baby.” 

---

Fin. 

a/n: [dials number rapidly] Freud my good man, listen–

[papercranesandpride]

It’s very funny to me when TERFs and transphobes talk about how fake and ugly neovaginas are because I know exactly how full of shit they are. I’m a certified nursing aide. If you’re not familiar, 90% of our job is toileting. We also help with feeding, dressing, cleaning, and transferring, but if you think of how many times a day you need to pee versus the rest of that, you can understand just how much time your average CNA spends looking at genitalia. I haven’t even been doing this for two years and I’ve seen way more vaginas than I could count. 

Anyway, when I was doing some training, I overheard two CNAs from a different facility saying this:

CNA 1: Did you know that [patient] is transgender?

CNA 2: Wait really? 

CNA 1: Yeah, she was telling me about it. I never would have guessed.

CNA 2: Oh yeah I definitely couldn’t tell.

These people look at vaginas for God only knows how many hours a week with the amount that most CNAs pick up shifts. Plus they work in a nursing home, so this was an elderly woman. She could have gotten her bottom surgery 40 years ago when surgical techniques weren’t as advanced as they are now. These people who professionally work with genitalia still had no clue she wasn’t born with hers until she told them. 

So next time you see someone talking about how neovaginas are don’t look real or are just open wounds or whatever, please know they’re just wrong. If a CNA can’t tell a neovagina from before current advances in vaginoplasty apart from the cis ones they look at every day, neither can they. 

(Obvious disclaimer that a) with absolutely any surgery, some people will get bad results, so not every single neovagina is impossible to tell apart from a cis one, and b) being indistinguishable from a cis person is not every trans person’s goal, we shouldn’t have to pass to be valid, and some surgical techniques like zero-depth or phallus-preserving vaginoplasty won't be identical to a cis vagina by design. Neither of those detract from my point)

[luvknow]

sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

--

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill’, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

--

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ’”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn’t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

--

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

--

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers. 

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The… The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights. 

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. “Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

[skipper1331]

Butterfly // Alessia Russo

Brody Armstrong once said: "When you meet someone for the first time, that’s not the whole book. That’s just the first page" and she’s totally right. When you first met Alessia you didn’t know that quote, you could barely speak let alone read but over the years, when got older, you started to understand it. The day you met her, the first page was written and your story began. Now, Alessia and you have been together for 9 years, 3 of them married and it‘s still not finished.

age 4

You have known each other since you were 4. The two of you lived in the same street and played at the same playground.

You were building a sandcastle with 3 towers, two of them already finished when a little girl ran towards the sandbox you were sitting in. As clumsy as the girl was she stumbled over the edge of the box, falling on your towers, smashing them under her body. With wide eyes you looked at the blonde, her face full of sand "i‘m sowwy" she apologized immediately. You looked to your mother who was talking to a stranger. "That‘s my mum." the sandcastle smasher pointed at the woman next to your mother. "You broke my castle" she looked at you before filling your bucket with sand, ready to build a new castle. "I‘m Alessia"

"My name is y/n"

That day Alessia and you became friends.

age 6

Less was standing at the table, drinking something while she watched you. You were running around in the Russo garden, trying to catch a butterfly. But not only her eyes were on you but also the eyes of her mum and your mum. "She‘s my butterfly" the blonde admitted without thinking. "Lessi, she’s not a butterfly, she’s a girl." her mother said to her, not liking that she referred to you as an animal. "Then, she‘s my girl!" she put down the glass of water and ran back to you with the intention to help you catch the butterfly. It didn‘t work. Either it was too high to reach or no longer in sight so you decided to kick a ball instead.

age 10

The two of you were in training when one of your teammates stood on your ankle. It wasn’t on purpose but when the italian saw you go down, holding your ankle, crying, she ran up to you, pushing the girl away from you. She didn't want her around you any longer. "Please stop crying, butterfly" Lessi begged as she wiped the hair out of your face. "It hurts" by now the coach joined you as well, taking of your boot. You winced, Alessia instantly put her arm around shoulder, trying to comfort you and sort of protect you. Your ankle was red, surely there was going to be a bruise "Let’s get you to the sidelines, okay?" Coach said as the helped you up but you couldn‘t put weight on your foot. "I got it from here, coach" the blonde grumbled as she took your hands. "You sure?"

"Yes" when the coach walked away to the others girls Less took the matter in her own hands. "I‘m gonna carry you to the side" she stated as she picked you up with an ease. She carried you out of the way and sat you back down slowly. She sat beside you, glaring at the girl who hurt you. As a thank you you laid your head on Lessi‘s shoulder.

In that moment, Alessia promised herself to protect you forever.

age 14

When Alessia was 14 she realized she liked girls. That she liked a girl, a special girl. You. She loved the way your laugh sounded, she loved the way you smiled. She loved the way you would take care of her if she had been clumsy, she loved your kindness. She loved your eyes, the way they shone. She loved that she could make you laugh and blush. She loved you, you‘re her butterfly.

You fell in love with Alessia a long time ago, probably to a time where you didn‘t know what love was. She made you feel special.

It was after a home game when Alessia first kissed you. Alessia scored a hattrick and you scored as well. It was afternoon as her mum picked you up, "see you in 30 minutes, butterfly?" the striker asked as her mum dropped you off. She loved to call you butterfly and has done it for years now. Everybody knew. "Yes. Thanks for the ride, Carol!"

"No problem, honey"

Later that day, you met at your spot. It was a bench at the small lake your town had. "Your hattrick was amazing!" you stated proudly as she got off her bike. "Your goal was a banger though" she smiled as sat down next to you, her hair still wet. You blushed under her gaze, the tip of your ears turning red "no need to get shy, butterfly" the italian smiled while she pinched your cheeks "stop it" you whined as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "I- i can‘t" her hands cupped your cheek as she gazed in your eyes, getting lost in them. "Lessi" you breathed as her face inched closer. You could feel her breath against your lips. Her gaze flicked to your lips before she looked back in your eyes. As she made the final move with pushing her lips against yours you rested your hands on her knees, not knowing where else to put them. It was your first kiss with Alessia and your first kiss in general, you didn‘t even know how to move your lips so you didn‘t and neither did Lessi. "Oh my god," she whispered as she pulled apart "i‘m so sorry." Quickly, she grabbed her bike and cycled home, leaving you alone at the bench. Dazed, your fingers touched the spot where Alessias lips had been a minute ago. "Wow"

age 15

Behind closed doors, you kissed multiple times a day. It was one of your favorite things to do yet you were not offically together. Sometimes she asked you to take you out on a date and sometimes you asked her but the girlfriend question has never been asked, both of you too shy.

You were hanging out at her house, sitting on her bed while she sat on the bean bag. "You don‘t know what happened today"

"Tell me, butterfly"

"You know, Josh, the dark haired guy. He asked me out" you laughed, letting your head fall into her pillow. "What?!" the striker shouted, jumping off her seat. She didn‘t find it funny at all that Josh asked you out. You, her girl, her butterfly. "What did you say?" she asked as stepped closer to you. "I said no," a sigh of relief left her body "did you think i would‘ve said yes?"

"I don‘t know?" she admitted, you weren‘t fully hers yet. "Lessi," you pulled her on to you, your fingers playing with the hem of her shirt "I want to be your girlfriend"

"Be my girlfriend, butterfly."

The two of you shared a sweet kiss, the first one of many as girlfriends.

age 16

"Do you want sleep at mine, tonight?" your girlfriend of one year asked. "My parents and brothers won‘t be home until sunday afternoon" her face turned bright red as she played with your fingers. "I would love to"

You didn‘t know why you were nervous, you had stayed at Alessias house multiple times but this time it felt different, for the both of you. "Hi, butterfly" the blonde smiled as she opened the door. "I hope you‘re hungry because i made lasagna" you stepped into her home - your second home - as she closed the door. Pressing a kiss to your temple she pulled you into the kitchen. "It looks perfect, baby"

Your girlfriend and you ate dinner on the couch while watching Mamma Mia. After finishing the dish, the empty plates rested on the coffee table. Alessia was hugging your smaller figure with her head hiding in the crook of you neck, the movie long forgotten. Your legs were tangled together while you played with her hair as she started to press kisses along your neck. "Baby" you breathed, only encouraging her to leave some hickies on your neck. Her kisses trailed up your jaw and then to your lips which she kissed passionately. Her hands held your neck while your hands made their way under her hoodie, scratching her back, occasionally running your fingers over her abs. It made her go crazy. "Do you wanna go upstairs?" she asked, wanting to take steps further with you. Her lips were just as swollen as yours. "Yeah"

In her room, she immediately started to kiss you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you in to her. Your arms looped around her neck as she walked you back against her door. She pulled on your (her) hoodie, asking If she could take it off. Within seconds you got rid of it. "You‘re so beautiful" the italian whispered as she looked over you. "Take yours off, too" - she did.

On her bed, she was hovering above you, the two of you only in your underwear. "Are you sure you want this?" she questioned, just to be sure. "Yes, lessi. Yes" you smiled at one another before you leaned up to re-connect your lips.

"I love you"

"I love you, too"

age 18

Long distance. With Lessi being at unc and you being in England, it was hard but you managed. You had to.

"Were gonna be okay even when i‘m at unc, don’t we?" Her voice was quiet, afraid of your answer. She was playing with your hair while your head rested on chest "of course we will" you stated confidently. Yes, it would be hard, maybe even horrible at times but you loved her and she loved you. "You won‘t find another girl, promise me." Your head snapped in her direction as she looked so vulnerable. "Lessi, i love you! There‘ll never be another girl, okay?" your girl nodded shyly as you whispered "i promise you" before kissing her forehead.

To be honest, your relationship had it‘s problems with her being far away. Jealousy, and longing were the two biggest problems on both sides but you communicated your feelings and worries. And in the end, it made your relationship grow stronger.

age 21

Lessi was nervous. For months, she had planned this day. Ella was her savior because she couldn‘t talk to you about it like she normally would. The italian was about to propose to you. For years, you have been her girl, her one and only. She knew you were the one, she wanted to spend forever and longer with you. The plan was simple: the two of you would visit your hometown and her brothers would distract you as long as she needed them to so that she can prepare everything at your spot. She had the blessing of your parents, from everyone that was important to you.

As she finished preparing everything, she texted in the siblings group chat.

Less

ready.

"Lessi is waiting for you" Luca said as she scanned her text. "What?" you asked confused, not understading anything. She told you she would get food. "Go to your favorite spot" Gio stated as she pushed you gently out of the door. And you did.

You saw her standing near the lake, she looked beautiful under the sun light. Rose petals were spread on the floor, music playing softly in the backround. "Baby, what’s this?" you asked, admiring everything around her. "Butterfly," she grabbed your hands, pulling you in front of her "when I was 4 I met you for the first time and when I was 14 I first realized that I liked you, I kissed you for the first time, too. In that decade you became my butterfly. I‘ve never told you why or how but that changes now. It was a summer day, you were at my house. I remember drinking some water as you chased after a butterfly. Then you became my butterfly. You‘re my biggest supporter, my number one fan, you bring the best out of me as a football player and human and I love you so much. I couldn’t have wished for a better friend, best friend and girlfriend" you were crying by now while she took a deep breath before she continued. "I want you to be my wife." As she went down on one knee, she pulled a velvet box out of her pocket "I promise you to cherish you and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy so will you make me the happiest person alive, will you marry me?"

"Yes!!! A thousand times yes!"

A year later, the two of you got happily married and you could proudly call yourself Y/n Russo.

age 23, summer 2022

"We‘re champions!" you shouted as you jumped on Lessi who hugged you like her life was depending on it. "We did it" she mumbled into your neck, still completely in shock. When your feet touched the ground, you didn‘t let go of your wife and neither did she. Surrounded by your own little bubble, you only cared for one another in this moment. As Alessia pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead your little bubble was broken by an Ella Toone. She jumped on both of you, one leg around Less' hip and one around yours as she hugged you in a death grip.

Each lioness was drunk as hell. Everyone had their jerseys on and their medal around their necks as they danced. "I‘m so proud of you" you whispered against your lovers lips. "I love youuu" she replied in her drunken state, twirling you around. "My name on your back always does things to me" she almost moaned, her fingers tracing over the letters of her - your - name.

Both of you felt at peace, surrounded by each other, your family and friends. It was a night to remember.

age 24

The world cup dream came true. Less and you were in the squad. As you heard the news you squealed, jumped up and down, ran through your home. Your bodies were filled with pure joy.

The first night in Australia was wow. You couldn‘t believe that you were actually here. Also that the two of you shared a room was amazing; waking up and going to sleep in each others arms.

When your off day came by you slept a little longer than you normally would. Lessi had her arm around you, already awake as she traced her finger over your tattoo. Shortly after the euros, you decided to get matching tattoos so now there rested the 23 on your collarbone while she got a butterfly at the same spot on her body. It was nothing big but it held so much meaning behind it.

Your story began 20 years ago and still hasn't come to an end nor does it intend to end as you promised one another in your vows.

Each day, the story of the 23 and butterfly will continue.

—————————

[anemonelovesfiction]

10 ~ Cowgirl

Tonowari x Avatar! Reader x Ronal

Warnings ⚠️: Eating out, Riding, cowgirl, slight suffocation if you squint, passing out

Not Proofread

MDNI 🔞

This one goes out to whoever sent me this ask I apologize for it being late, but better late than never? And I used camera instead <I’m so sorry but I hope you like it still>

Holy crud it’s been ten whole days of this event and I couldn’t be happier to spend them with you guys!

Translation Station

Tsahik: Shaman; Healer; Interpreter of the will of Eywa

Marui: Home (in the Metkayina Language)

Olo’eyktan: Male clan leader

Paysyul: Water lily

Tawtute: Sky person (Human)

Yawne: Beloved

Word Count: 3k

It had been tough news to choke down when Jake had called your brother, Norm, to come help with Kiri after she had remained in a comatose state after having connected to the spirit tree. I’d actually been the one to deliver the news to Jake that it had sounded like Kiri had suffered a seizure, but what was an even harder pill to swallow was the gorgeous pregnant Tsahik coming into the marui - a word I’d learned meant home for the Metkayina- I could have sworn her gaze had lingered on me slightly but it could have been my mind playing tricks on me. Her gaze breaking as she finally looked around the room and avoided eye contact with Neytiri.

“I see that I am not needed here.” She stated in Na’Vi, although I had been mesmerized by the difference in her pronunciation in the words to make my hands work as quickly as I’d wanted them to -out of respect for her and the title she held- I’d learned Na’Vi alongside Norm back on Earth and we often studied together, testing one another until we nailed the language.

She had been carrying a basket filled with things she would have used on Kiri had we not been occupying the space in this Marui, my gaze still caught on her as her beauty was starting to make me nervous, had we overstepped out bounds with her? Was she upset with us at the moment? I attempted to slap Norm’s hand to catch his attention so we could start removing ourselves from her way but he’d written me off as him, Max, and Jake continued talking amongst themselves, I fought to roll my eyes as I capture Neytiri grasping the woman’s arm.

“You are Tsahik!” Neytiri almost growls at the woman and as soon as she turns I realize she is heavily pregnant, I attempt to knock some sense into myself but she speaks before I could move.

“Remove these things.” The woman holds her head high and I feel like I’m about to start shaking from having upset her. Her eyes look over to Neytiri as a means to get her to translate but I’d already stood up at this moment, grabbing my bag, capturing the tsahik’s gaze once more, flinching once Neytiri had opened her mouth as I scooted past her.

“Out! You have done nothing.” I didn’t bother watching the guys scramble as I hear Jake muttering something about them taking a break. I’d taken a liking into Mo’at’s training of the next Tsahik for the Omatikaya and stayed close enough to watch what this Tsahik had been doing but far enough away to give them their privacy if they needed, but with her sturdy work and continual chanting, she’d managed to get Kiri to wake up.

Kiri’s immediate response was to start crying and as Neytiri began to comfort her daughter I could feel the tears welling up in my own eyes. I’d always been a bit sensitive since I was younger, but to have witnessed something like this was like a miracle in and of itself.

That had happened about two months ago, Jake ended up having to talk to me before we left as the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan had wanted to speak with me personally, at that moment I’d believed I’d done something wrong and started feeling nervous, had I been in my human body I would have started sweating profusely but I was metaphorically shitting bricks.

To my surprise the Tsahik had done all of the talking as her husband just watched me, Jake had been there to translate if I needed it but more as my safety cushion, I was surprised to hear that she was straightforward with how I’d managed to capture her attention, how easily I’d followed her instructions without being asked, and how emotional I had been upon seeing Kiri waking up, but she absolutely floored me when she stated that she and her husband had wanted to court me because of a pull she felt for me.

_________

That wasn’t the last time I had been nervous around her, she was rather rough with her words but I understood that part of it was her placing boundaries between herself and her privacy, but nothing would have prepared me for what would happen when I came into our shared marui with a polaroid camera as it was a human contraption, but my intentions had been set to seeing this as a positive thing, although I wasn’t sure how the conversation would go.

Tonowari would be the most understanding out of the two as he was soft spoken, very kind, and usually won over with a kiss or two, but even then I wasn’t sure how he’d handle this either, I’d actually pulled back the flap of the marui and held the camera behind me as I walked in to the beautiful scene before me.

Tonowari had been gingerly rubbing a fragrant oil on Ronal’s belly carefully, it was the kind that helped ease her pain with the burden of having to carry such a large child, it also smelled very sweet, but I knew better than to think I’d be undetected as the woman had eyes all over her head.

“What have you got there, Paysyul?” She asks without turning her head to look at me and I stiffen my body at the thought of having been caught, I let out a sigh as I remove the object from behind my back and bring it forward instantly, knowing I couldn’t hide this thing behind my back forever.

Tonowari is the first to turn and tilt his head in curiosity, but his nose crinkled as he saw what I had been holding, they had both become familiar with being able to tell what tawtute contraptions were and from the look on his face he was leaning more toward not wanting to know what it was. Ronal easily capturing her husbands disapproval is quick to lift her gaze and settle it on mine, bypassing the camera in my hand and immediately talking to me.

“What have you brought into our home, paysyul?” She asks with a flick of her tail, ears going back as her head tilts slightly, one arm going to stroke the oil on her belly as the other planted on the floor to support her as she leans back a bit.

“A camera.” I stated stupidly as I comment on the device in my hand but feel frozen in fear as I’ve never really had an argument with them before, but I knew I was overstepping an invisible boundary by having brought this thing in here in the first place.

“And why have you brought this into our home?” Tonowari is quick to chime in as one of his hands goes to Ronal’s lower back to give her some support as the two are sitting on the floor, his other just settled on his lap.

“I- I wanted to- to tell you-“ I stopped talking at that moment as my nerves had started getting the better of me and I could feel my throat closing up, my eyes were starting to get wet but not to the point that I would cry- at least not yet.

“Take a breath paysyul, we are not mad, just curious.” Ronal stated sweetly and I could feel the tension leaving my shoulders as I drop them.

“Take a breath and start again.” She encourages and it honestly helps as I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling my heart beating back to normal and my eyes drying up, my vision no longer slightly blurred.

“This is a camera, we used it back in my home to capture a moment in time, and we saved it forever.” I responded once I’d gotten out of my own head.

“Thats what our stories and song cords are for.” Ronal adds in but is given a look from our mate, I could only bite my lip nervously and looked back down.

“Does this hold a sentiment to you?” Tonowari asks sweetly and waits for my answer, all I could do was nod wordlessly.

“I can- I can show you how it works if you want.”

_________

“Th-this isn’t what I had in m-mind-“ I moaned as I slowly slid down Tonowari’s member, my hands placed on his muscular abdomen as I lowered myself even more, still having a hard time taking all of him in, I could still feel a slight sting of pain as I was not used to having to ride him as Ronal usually took that roll. But she was busy stuffing his mouth with her cunt as she rode his face instead.

Although she was on his face she was facing me, placing her hand under my chin to keep me form looking down and closing my eyes, I wondered how a woman as pregnant as her could keep such balance but never questioned it as I’m sure she’s had practice after her first two kids, these two were truly insatiable.

I could feel her snaking her arm around my back and grasping my braid, giving it a sensual tug and hearing a moan rip out my lips, she’d brought my kuru close to her mouth and before I could question what was happening, I can feel her tongue on the tendrils of my kuru, having caught me off guard with doing that I slide all the way down Tonowari’s length, taking him to the hilt and moaning with pain and pleasure as Ronal continues to tongue fuck my kuru.

“She’s squeezing around me already,” Tonowari was strong enough to have lifted Ronal off his face just to speak only for her to shush him and slam herself back down onto his mouth.

Whenever I first had gotten my Avatar, I was eternally grateful to be a driver, but once I had to learn the ways of the Metkayina I noticed my Kuru would purposely split in two before the tendrils started going crazy. I even had to ask Norm and Jake if theirs did the same thing as I never recalled anyone else’s doing this, but to my surprise theirs didn’t, it wasn’t until I’d first mated with Ronal and Tonowari that I noticed theirs did the same, it was fashioned in such a way that the three of us could connect ourselves together while being intimate.

Just as Ronal had been done teasing my Kuru, she’d brought it over to Tonowari’s, connecting the two together and allowing me a second to feel everything he had been feeling at this moment, the gentle calmness that washed over me once connecting to him reminded me of sitting at the beach while listening to the waves lap in the distance, closing my eyes as I feel the warmth of the sun. Right when I lifted my hips from his, I could feel a newer connection, as if it were a windy almost stormy day on the beach but every fiber of my being knew everything would be alright, thats what it felt like when connecting to her.

“Oh paysyul you feel incredible, why don’t you try sliding back down on him hm?” Ronal asks as she lets go of our intertwined kuru, knowing that even if they fell to the floor they wouldn’t disconnect unless we willed them to or pulled them off one another.

Right as I slide back down I could feel Tonowari swipe his tongue over Ronal’s cunt and her hips bucking against his mouth, I let out a whimper, tossing my head back as I let out a strangled moan silently thanking Eywa for allowing us to experience what the other was feeling before a sudden flash of light stirs me out of my thoughts.

I raise my head upright, opening my eyes to find Ronal with the camera near her face as she continues looking through the lens of the camera, she then removes the camera from her face as the picture prints out, she gently takes the slip of paper and removes it from the bottom, airing it out to get the picture to develop.

“Look at you,” She coo’s, turning the picture around to let me catch a glimpse, my eyes closed in pure ecstasy, my hands still settled on Tonowari’s abdomen but you could see through the space between my arms with his teal cock buried deep inside my cobalt blue skin. I could feel the purple blush settling on my cheeks at this moment before feeling Tonowari thrust his hips upward, causing a yelp to leave my lips.

“That feels nice, ‘Wari,” Ronal states as she places her hands on his chest, still holding into the camera as she grinds herself all over his mouth. I sneak my hands past hers and grasp the camera, taking a steady hold of it and looking through the lens, snapping the picture right when Ronal had started coming.

Her eyes slightly opened but only the whites were showing, indicating her eyes were rolled to the back of her head, which often happened as she was sensitive from her pregnancy. Her bottom lip sucked in through her teeth as a sinful moan had escaped, her knee’s coming closer together toward Tonowari’s face and her hips slightly blurred due to the speed at which she had been grinding his face with, her tail raised behind her stiffly. A groan coming from the man below her, whose arms had been wrapped around her thighs in an attempt to keep her placed where she was.

I could feel everything through our bond and felt myself tighten around Tonowari’s length once more, stopping to readjust myself, i stead of having my knee’s straddling him, I’d placed the flats of my feet on the floor of the marui, giving me the best position for me to ride him better.

Ronal has a drunken expression on her face as she has felt fulfilled, she gently slides off his face and once she does I can see most of it from the nose down glistening in our mates juices. I smile down at him and use my arm to extend the camera above our bodies, since I was naked and my breast were perked up it was obvious what position I was in, I snap the picture and wait for it to print out, refusing to tear it off and handing the camera to Ronal, having her take a look at the picture as a smile frames her gorgeous face.

“This one is a moment worth savoring, paysyul.” She smiles at me and places the camera down, leaning over toward me and placing her lips on mine, I couldn’t help but grind my hips in an attempt to get closer to her, hearing our groaning partner below, who desperately grasps my hips. Ronal gently places her hand on my cheek and forces her tongue inside my mouth, as I moan I hear the click of the camera, opening my eyes, slowly sucking on Ronal’s tongue and disconnecting from her mouth fully only to see Tonowari holding the camera with a smug smile on his face.

I could only grow hotter at the scene before me as the two of them had now been paying full attention to me, Ronal placing her hands on my breasts and running her thumbs alongside my nipples, a rush of excitement running through me. Understanding what they wanted I lifted my hips up, with the help of my feet, and slid back down forcefully, coming into contact with Tonowari’s hips and moaning loudly, doing that motion once more as I felt Ronal kissing my neck.

“Goodness Paysyul, I’m closer than you think,” Tonowari growls out as he places the camera on the floor, now fully grasping my hips as he lifts me up himself, watching where our bodies were connected as he slams me down, his hips rising to meet mine, and a lewd moan slipping through my lips as Ronal plays with my nipples.

He keeps the same motion going, making me feel like I was seeing stars, accepting my fate as I screwed my eyes shut, allowing my legs to do some of the work as I rose up and slam back down on his hard cock. I swear I could see flashes going off in my vision and other was at this moment I’d no longer felt Ronal’s light touches on my breasts, I couldn’t bear opening my eyes as I felt the same heat spread across my cheeks.

“Fuck I’m close!” I yelled in English and felt Tonowari set a faster pace as I slam i to his cock without faltering.

It felt as though each slam of his cock was taking my breath away and I was struggling to catch it, I could hear my breaths coming in short shallow huffs as his iron grip on my hips keeps me at bay between losing myself and reality.

“Thats it paysyul, why don’t you be a good girl and come for us?” Ronal coo’s from whatever corner of the marui she had been standing in, another flash going off from the camera.

“I’m fuckin’ close-“ I moan out as I attempt to grasp Tonowari’s abdomen for some sort of stability, feeling as though I was dipping down low in a hole that would be impossible for me to dig myself out of.

“Come Paysyul. Paint my cock white with your juices,” He barely manages to get those words out and I can feel my pleasure toed up in a tight strong that knotted right in my stomach. I could feel it taught in my abdomen ready to burst.

“Thats it,” He coo’s at me in an encouraging manner.

“Come for us yawne,” He speaks once more and thats when I reach my limit.

Everything seems to have frozen in time and all I can feel is my orgasm fast approaching completely knocking me out cold.

[hayakawalove]

Wisteria and Ciabatta

Part Two

Summary: Traveling merchant Suguru has led a relatively tame life thus far. Growing his flowers, baking his bread. One day, when he ventures out further than normal he comes across something more beautiful than all the flowers in the world. You.

A/N: I'm not really sure where this came from. I don't expect it to get a huge reaction, just because it's like way niche. But I couldn't get this out of my head. I am like pretty certain there will be a part two with smut, but this first chapter is just very sweet. This chapter can be read alone, you won't need to read the next one if you don't want to. Suguru is a loserboy in this but I like him that way. Enjoy!

CW: SFW, food, fluff

W/C: 5,608

The forest was quieter than usual today, he couldn’t help but notice. Suguru had become well acquainted with the sounds of the forest over the years. He traversed them for work often, always traveling from town to town to sell his flowers and bread. Flowers from his own backyard, and bread made to perfection from his own two hands. He enjoyed the way people's faces lit up when they saw the beautiful flora or when the food passed their lips. Suguru had to go out of his way today, venturing out further than normal. He didn’t sell as much as he wanted to in the towns near his home, so he figured he may as well see if anyone else would be interested. 

Lavender, Hydrangea, Yarrow. 

Suguru ran the list through his mind repeatedly. The basket he carried beside him held heaps of flowers, all trimmed to perfection. Along with the flowers he had several loaves of bread. 

Dutch, Rye, French. 

His footsteps slow when he notices a cluster of homes come into view. It was a small town, one he had never been to before. There couldn’t have been more than 50 buildings, but they were all full evident by the smoke rising from each chimney. His feet fall onto the stone path as he makes his way to the first house. When he knocks, he plasters a smile on his face. He had danced this routine many times before, always donning a careful mask when interacting with potential customers. 

“Hello?” An old man opens the door carefully. He must have been twice as short as Suguru. 

“Hello, I’m selling flowers and bread. Would you be interested in buying any?” 

The man opens his mouth to decline when a woman’s voice sounds out behind him. 

“Who is that?” 

She hobbles into view, situating herself beside what Suguru can only assume is her husband. 

“This fellow is selling flowers and bread, I was just going to-“ 

“You never buy me flowers anymore!” 

Suguru averts his gaze, training them on the floor below. He doesn’t mind being there while they argue, but he’s learned that an unwanted ear can make people uncomfortable. 

The old man grumbles before walking away further into the house to grab his money. Suguru can feel her eyes wandering over him. He digs his hand into his basket and produces a Hydrangea. 

“On the house.” He speaks quietly, winking at her. 

Her face flushes as she takes the flower, admiring the color. Her husband comes back and counts his cash before handing it to Suguru who doesn’t bother counting it. He grabs a heap of flowers, all three types tossed in, before handing them to the man. 

“Thank you, sir.” Suguru smiles before stepping back, watching him give the flowers to his wife. 

An adorable moment by nature. It almost feels too vulnerable to see the look of love on the old woman’s face as she receives the gift. 

Suguru continues on to the next house, selling flowers and bread as he goes. He went to every house in town until there was only one remaining. 

He walks up to the dwelling, knocking on the door and waits patiently for whoever’s living there. 

The door opens, your body standing there. 

If you asked Suguru a day ago what he thought the most beautiful thing was he would say a dicentra or maybe even tulips. That was before he saw you. Your cheeks like petals, soft and plump. You also had eyes that shined brighter than the early morning dew that clung to his garden. You were magnificent. You were the most beautiful flower he had ever seen. 

“Hello?” 

Suguru never found himself speechless. Throughout his life he had found himself in a multitude of situations that would warrant it, but he wasn’t, not even once. He had trained himself on how to smile and talk to people, he prided himself on it. No one was too hard to talk to. 

Until he met you. 

His lips refused to cooperate with him, throat muddled up. You look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. 

“I’m selling homemade bread and flowers.” 

Idiot.

That’s what he decided to say? Not even a proper hello first? 

“Oh, lovely. I was hoping to make something for dinner but didn’t have anything around the house. How much for the bread?” You ask, digging in your pocket for money. 

Suguru tears his eyes from you, a painful task, and opens his basket. Most of his inventory was gone. He did have a loaf of Dutch bread at the bottom of the basket, the sight of it mocking him. He couldn’t give you that. It was no longer fresh, and it was cold to the touch. He couldn’t give you it. 

You pull out your hand, palm cupped with money. 

“I’m out of bread.” He finds himself saying. 

Your brow raises. A beat passes before you speak. 

“Okay, what about flowers?” 

He wordlessly thanks your graciousness. In his basket he finds two Yarrows. All of his flowers were beautiful, but he found himself cursing God for not making anything more beautiful. 

Suguru holds them up to you, fighting back a whimper when your hand grazes him as you pluck the stems from his grasp. 

“How much?” 

“You don’t have to pay.” 

He would never force you to pay for anything, especially not something that could never rival your beauty. 

He watches your lips slowly morph into a smile. 

“You’re an interesting merchant.”

He’s sure you’re making fun of him, but he doesn’t care. His cheeks feel hot as he looks into your eyes. 

“I was planning on visiting this village again tomorrow, I will bring more bread then.” 

He wasn’t planning on visiting this village again until now. It had been a random stop he never was going to make again. 

Your eyes flit down to the Yarrow, admiring them. 

“You know where to find me.” 

~~~

Suguru’s feet hurt when he finally arrives back home. He wants to go to bed but he can’t. Not when he needs to make bread for you. Usually he had extra dough laying around, but he didn’t. Even if he did, he would’ve preferred to make it fresh. He works tirelessly as he prepares the dough, pouring all his love into it. Flour cakes under his fingernails, his palms hurting from kneading the dough for so long. 

He wouldn’t dream of complaining. Not when he knew who this was for. He didn’t even catch your name. Once he knew it, he would spell it in the stars so everyone did too. 

Suguru barely gets any sleep. It was a concoction of baking and nerves. His house smells like bread while he walks around, preparing for his long journey ahead. He searched in his kitchen before finding a small jar of homemade strawberry jam. One of his neighbors, a kind elderly widow, had made it for him. They often traded breads and jams, occasionally sharing them outside when the weather was right. 

Once everything was ready, he placed it all in his basket before setting off into the forest again. 

The walk was way faster than he remembered it being. His mind was too clouded with thoughts of you. He enters the town, making his way directly to your house first thing. He wasn’t even really sure if he was going to go to the other houses after. 

The door rattles with his fist, and he wills the butterflies going off in his body to settle down. 

If he had at all been worried your beauty was a fluke, which he wasn’t, his worries certainly died down the moment he looked at you for a second time.

You’re just as beautiful the second time around as you were the first. 

Your chest was heaving with sweat lining your forehead. You must’ve been hard at work. Doing what, he wondered? 

“It’s you.” 

“It’s me.” He responds with a smile. “Much more prepared this time, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t want to tell you he stayed up until the sun rose to prepare your bread.

A sly grin breaks across your face. You lean against the door frame, your eyes sliding down his figure. Suguru can feel his skin tingling with each inch your eyes covered. 

“What have you brought for me today?” 

Suguru holds up his basket and reveals the fresh bread. It was a simple loaf of wheat bread, and although it was basic, it was renowned as his best selling one. He feels his heart flutter the second the scent reaches your nose, your face lightening up. 

“That smells wonderful.” 

“Tastes wonderful too, or so I’ve been told.” 

You open the door a bit more, revealing the rest of the house behind you. It was humble, an aboad that was probably common in these parts of town. 

“Why don’t you come in and share it with me?” 

The offer stops Suguru in his tracks. Out of all the things you could have said to him, he wasn’t expecting that. 

The first thought that crosses his mind is flattery. You want to eat with him? 

The second feeling that follows after is worry. You want to eat with him, and he’s a stranger. 

“You hardly know me.” He speaks. 

The idea that you would open your door to just anyone frightened him a bit. What if it was someone with bad intentions? 

“What’s your name?” 

You don’t look afraid, even though Suguru feels you should be. 

“Suguru.” 

You toss his name across your brain several times. You say your name back and step away, letting him come in. 

“Now you know my name and I know yours. Share it with me?” 

He's touched by your kindness, but still mildly unnerved at the idea you might do this for someone with unsavory motives. 

It’s hard to refuse your offer, so he finds himself stepping in after you. The close proximity whisks his breath away but you hardly notice. You don’t even spare him a glance as you head over to your table. 

You sit down and look up at him, waiting for him to join you. He places the basket on the table before rummaging around, pulling the loaf out.

“I also brought more flowers, in case you were interested.” 

“Will you let me pay this time?” 

“Maybe.” No, he wouldn’t. 

Suguru didn’t need any form of payment. As long as he got to see the joy on your face again, that was all he needed. 

You grab a knife and begin to slide through the loaf, slicing several pieces for the two of you. He wondered if you were able to tell he made the bread fresh for you. Did the warmth of it tingle your fingers? Could you feel the love that seeped from it? 

Suguru pulls out the jam and sets it aside. 

“What’s that?” You ask. 

“My neighbor made it. It’s strawberry.” 

You pick up the jar, eyes gliding across the glass in amazement. 

“Where do you live? The people in this town don’t bake bread or make jam. Maybe I should move to your town.” You joke. 

Don’t say that, he thinks. If you say that, he might beg you to. 

He hardly knows you, yet he’s finding himself completely entranced by you. He aches to learn more. 

“A town further South. A couple hours at most.” He keeps his eyes trained down on your hands, watching as you spread the jam on the bread. 

Only when the silence stretches on for too long does he rip his eyes from your fingers, looking up. 

He doesn’t know whether he should be startled or not at the face you’re making. Your eyes are open wide, like you’re looking through him. 

“Hours?” You repeat. 

Suguru nods, his brows raising. 

“I didn’t see a horse.” 

“I walked.” 

You stutter a bit before placing the knife down, pushing the plate in the middle of the table. Suguru’s eyes drift down, the intimacy of sharing a dish not lost on him. 

“I could never walk that long.” You murmur, picking up a piece of bread, raising it to your lips. 

Suguru tries not to stare at the way your lips part, but it’s difficult. 

“It’s not that bad.” He pulls his piece up to him, taking a bite. 

“Not everyone has such long legs.” You say around the food. 

Suguru’s mouth perks up, a smile gracing his features. He was used to people commenting on his height, but he felt an extra ounce of pride when you were the one saying it. 

You mumble around the food, hand flying up to cover your mouth. 

“Suguru, this is wonderful!” Excitement seeps from your words and Suguru’s heart jumps. 

“Thank you.” He dips his head down, suddenly bashful. 

The two of you share the meal, words flowing flawlessly between you. 

“It’s a shame that my father isn’t here, I’m sure he would love this as much as I do.” You comment. 

Suguru leans back, not sure if this is a touchy subject. 

“He’s just out of town today, I’ll share some with him when he comes back. Maybe.” You smirk. 

“What does he do for work?” 

“He helps people get their farms up and running. I think he traveled to help a young couple get theirs set up.” 

Suguru begins to daydream about owning a farm with you. Would you adore his flowers as much as he did? Would you let him do all the work? He wouldn’t mind it, he preferred it. 

He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help the infatuation that grew in his heart. 

Besides, Suguru never was one to love normally or calmly. 

“I was trying to clean the house before he returns, but I must admit I’m having a hard time reaching things.” 

“Would you allow me to help? I’ve got long legs, you know.”

A song floats over to his ears, a song built on your laughter. He could get used to that. 

“I couldn’t make you do that. I already dragged you inside to eat with me. I’m sure you have much more important things to be doing.” 

Never, he thinks. Nothing would be more important than this. 

“It’s okay.” He says plainly. 

He watches as you seem to be debating inside your head. You give up, standing up to carry the dishes to the sink. 

“I would love help changing out the candles.” You say sheepishly. 

Suguru waits as you leave to go find the extra candles, his head racing with thoughts. After you finished, there would be no reason for him to stay. He would have to go back home. He wanted to stay and talk with you more. Your words facisnated him. He felt like a child, the way he longed to hear you tell him stories. He didn’t want to go home. Not when being with you felt more like home than his own ever did. 

“I found them.” You speak, snapping him out of it. 

You guide him around the house, showing him every spot that needed a new candle. 

It should be a simple task for him. He finds it increasingly difficult, however. He feels your eyes bore into him each time he reaches up, making his heart pound. Even though it’s easy to do, he’s just replacing old candles, he almost feels like he’s never done anything so hard before. He can feel the way your eyes track his movement, almost making it impossible to focus. His linen shirt suddenly feels too hot, as he tries to keep his eyes on his hands. 

“There, how does that look?”

You stare at the metal candle holder for a minute before nodding, a soft hum coming from your lips. 

“It looks wonderful, Suguru.”

He decides no one has ever said his name as beautifully as you do. 

He steps back, following you towards the kitchen. He can tell that he needs to leave, but a small part of him is upset at that fact. 

“Will you be in town anytime soon? I’d love to purchase more bread, if that’s alright.” You stare at him as he gathers his things. 

He nods, and looks down at you. 

“I can come back in several days.” 

“Fantastic, I’ll be looking forward to it.” You say happily. 

So will I, Suguru thinks. 

~~~

Suguru leans back, watching you chew a new recipe he tried for bread. So far, so good, he thinks. Your lips are played in a smile as you taste it, swallowing it with a sigh. 

“I don't think you can make something bad.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Suguru jokes. 

“One you’d fail, I’m sure.” 

Your flattery causes his heart to race, a throb settling deep in his chest. 

“I wish I could bake like you.” You say. 

“I could teach you, if you’d like. It isn’t that hard.” 

Your eyes flash with excitement and Suguru has to swallow the knot that forms in his throat. 

“You can?” 

Yes, anything for you. 

“Sure. I can bring the ingredients tomorrow.” 

You jump up and down in your seat, chattering away to him about all that you want to do with the bread. Are you aware of how you make his stomach twist? He thinks there’s no way you are. 

~~~

When Suguru comes the next morning he has a burlap sack filled to the brim with ingredients, all for your bread. You open the door the second he knocks it, taking him by surprise. 

“I apologize, I didn’t sleep much last night.” You say all giddy, opening up the door more. 

Suguru steps inside and follows you to your table. You already have it set up according to how he told you. There’s bowls and spoons, all perfectly set. His hair is already tied back, so all he needs to do is roll up his sleeves. 

He stands next to you, reading out what ingredients to add next. He watches over your shoulder as you eagerly mix, chuckling to himself when some of it spills out the sides. 

“Slowly, sweetheart.” He murmurs. 

You apologize quietly, following his order of slowing your hand down. 

It was looking good, but now was the time to start getting your hands dirty. 

“The next step is to knead it. You do this by placing it on the table, and pressing your hands into it.” Suguru explains, watching you scrap the bowl and plop the dough in front of you. 

“Mmm like this?” You ask, folding it over itself. 

“Just like that, a little more pressure.” He adds. 

Without even thinking, he reaches his arms on either side of you, correcting your form to knead it harder. His hands hover over yours, pressing your palms down more against the plush dough. 

“You have big hands.” You chuckle, and suddenly Suguru’s aware of what he’s doing. 

“Oh, my bad. I shouldn’t have-“ 

“No, it’s okay. You should keep your hands there, so I don't mess up.” You correct him. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, looking at him. His face is unbearingly close to yours, heat from your cheeks radiating off and scorching his face. He looks deep into your eyes before you’re quickly looking back down, watching the bread below your hands. 

Suguru berates his heart as he helps you, hoping it slows down. That moment with you kept repeating in his mind, over and over again. 

He snaps out of it when you squeal, pulling the bread from the oven. The top of it is perfectly golden, the smell of it filling your tiny kitchen. 

“Look, Suguru!” You say, placing it down. 

He looks over the top of your head and smiles. 

“It looks good, let’s wait for it to cool before we try it.” 

He would have liked to wait a little longer, afraid it would burn your tongue, but he couldn’t say no with the way you were tilting back and forth, begging to cut into it. Suguru takes the liberty, pouring the bread from the pan before sliding a knife down the side of it. It cuts smoother than butter, steam wafting up from it. 

“Okay, let’s try it.” Suguru raises a small piece, holding it in his hand as he lifts it to your mouth. 

The heat soaks into the pads of his finger tips, but he’d much rather get burned than you. You look down and blow on the bread, Suguru has to force himself not to gasp at the air caressing his skin. You look up at him and take a bite, smiling as crumbs dust your lips. 

“It’s so good!” You murmur around the mouth full of food. 

Suguru uses his other hand to lift up a separate piece, taking a slight nibble. It was fantastic. Sweeter than the bread he made, he wondered if that was just because you were the one who created it. 

“You may put me out of business.” He jokes.

You pull your piece from his hand, holding it tightly next to your face. A shame, he thinks. He would’ve preferred for you to keep eating from his palm. Did that say something about him? 

“I might, you better watch over your back.” You say, eating the rest of your bread with a grin. 

“I will.” Suguru says back, treasuring the way the food melts on his tongue. 

~~~

“Hey Suguru?” 

The two of you have settled into a comfortable routine, as he had visited a couple of more times, always sitting in your kitchen to share a plate of bread with you. 

He flicks his eyes up to you before looking back down. 

“Is the forest dangerous?” You finish. 

Suguru takes a moment to think. He’s never thought about it before. His feet have carried him through the trees for countless years. 

“Not really. The only thing you have to look out for is bandits.”

He takes a moment to appreciate the way you’re gaping at him. 

“I’ve never seen any though. Just know they’re out there.” 

“They’d be a fool to try to rob you.” You mutter under your breath. 

Suguru lets out a quiet chuckle. Any reason to point out his height, you’d take it. 

“As children we’re warned not to go in too deep.” You mumble. 

“I can bring you if you like? They have some Gardenia’s there, not too deep in. We can go and get them if you want?” 

“You’d keep me safe from bandits?”

Yes, you don’t even have to ask. He’d go toe to toe for you.  

“Of course.” 

The more he got to know you, the more Suguru grew to like you, really like you. It was no longer infatuation, it grew into something more beautiful and large. 

He notices you dip your head down at the tone of his soft voice. You have a few habits he’s picked up on. One of them is every reaction you have to his words. You like to poke and prod him, but the second he pushes back or uses a specific tone you look away, teeth nibbling on your lip. It’s adorable, he thinks. 

~~~

You both decide to go to the forest tomorrow. He decides to stay in your town overnight because there would be no point in making the long trek back to his only to come back tomorrow morning. You offered a bed in your house, knowing your father would not have it, but Suguru declined. It would be improper, he told you. He had never felt his body fight so hard against him before. Even though it’s hard for him to say no, he doesn’t relent. He ends up staying at the only Inn in town. It was a normal house, with five extra rooms spread out. His host was a sweet older woman who insisted on helping carry his bags to his room. The act pained him, but he knew better than to tell a woman no.

As he lay in bed that night he stared up at the ceiling, thoughts of you curling around his mind. 

You were here, in this town. 

Suguru wakes up earlier than you do. His eyes crack open the second the sun shines through, his body restless. There was so much to show you, he didn’t know where to begin. Along with that, he felt the early onsets of fear begin to take hold. He had never thought about bandits before, but now that you mention it he couldn’t shake the idea. What if there were some when you went out? He wasn’t afraid of taking care of you. He knew he could do that. He just didn’t want you to see something ugly. He feared he would never forgive himself. 

Suguru walks to your house, stopping a short ways away outside to linger near a bunch of trees. He didn’t want to intrude, and he had no idea what you’ve told your father about your relationship with him. 

What was your relationship with him? 

Friendly, he thought. You had always welcomed him with a smile. However there were lingering touches and stolen glances over fresh bread, conversations floating across your tongues easily. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. There was a chance you thought nothing of him, treating him as you would anyone else. 

“Suguru!” 

His head shoots up the second his name falls from your lips. 

“I apologize for making you wait.” You say, stopping short in front of him. 

You look like you got together hastily, sleep marks imbedded in your flesh with several of your hairs out of place. 

Did you know how perfect you were? 

“I wasn’t waiting long, are you ready to go?” 

Suguru smiles at the excitement spreading across your face. He knew the flowers were in bloom, but he wasn’t sure they could rival you. 

As the two of you walk, you take careful calculated steps as you notice the weather. It was sunny without being too temperamental. You could hear laughter of the village children carrying over the wind to you. Suguru listened to you as you rattled on, occasionally dropping his input, but he much preferred to listen. 

When the trees started to get thicker Suguru noticed you start to walk closer to him. It was cute, the way you looked towards him for shelter and protection. 

“I think this is where I saw them last time.” Suguru says aloud, stopping to the side and looking around. 

“They’re bright red, so they're easy to spot.” 

He sees excitement curl in your eyes at the prospect of finding some hidden treasure, even if that treasure was just flowers. 

Suguru locates them after several minutes, grabbing your hand and leading you towards it. There were several bushes laid together, all of them overflowing with the red petals. 

He smiles to himself at the gasp you let out, your fingers tentatively reaching forward to kiss the leaves. 

“Pretty, right? I always think about taking some home with me so I can plant them but I can never bring myself to do it. They look much better out here anyhow.” 

Suguru sits next to you as you stare at the bush. He finds it cute that you’re interested in his interests. If you asked, he would tell you anything you wanted to know about plants or baking. Suguru wasn’t an expert in everything, but he was an expert in those. 

“Suguru, thank you for showing me these.” Your voice trails off, still focused on what was in front of you. 

He smiles and picks a red Gardenia, careful placing it behind your ear. 

“Anytime.”

Your hand trembles as you reach up to touch the flower on your ear. The forest was silent, save for the sounds of birds and bugs, complete serenity falling over you. 

The only way Suguru’s able to tell that time is passing is by the view of the sun, now completely overhead, shining through the canopy of trees around you. Neither of you wanted to leave, so instead you lay on your backs, looking at the trees above you. The leaves and sun paint beautiful pictures, yellow shapes being shined upon your skin. 

“Hey Suguru?” 

Suguru hums, turning his head to the side to look at you. 

Your arm is outstretched, holding the flower he gave you in front of you. Your fingers are twirling it around, spinning the flower over and over. Suguru’s dizzy at the sight, but he can’t tell if it’s because of your beauty or the the spinning. 

“They say flowers have a language of their own, don't they?” 

Suguru’s lashes flit as he memorizes the lines on your face, wanting to capture this moment. 

“They do.” 

“Do you know the meanings of flowers?” 

“Some of them.” 

Suguru sits up and pulls the tie from his hair, letting the black silk cacoon him. He looks over his shoulder back at you, but you’re too preoccupied with the sight of the twirling. 

“What does this one mean?” 

Suguru ponders for a moment, unsure whether or not he should tell you. Would it come off too strong? He couldn’t bare the thought of lying to you though. He’s a strong man so he fights the urge to look away from you when he says, 

“Secret love.” 

He swears the forest ceases all sound at that moment, that or the beating of his heart is far louder than anything else. 

“Is that so?” You ask, peeking around the bright flower to look at him. 

He hums, waiting to see if you would have a negative reaction. Would you get up and leave him here, never to allow him back into your home? He wouldn’t blame you. 

A demure smile spreads across your face, sitting up until you’re laying on your elbow. You bring the flower to your face, taking in a deep breath before you sit up completely. Suguru tracks your movements carefully. 

“In that case,” you say, sliding the flower behind Suguru’s ear, the bright pop of red constrasting with his dark hair. 

Suguru swears his heart stops beating in that moment, his body completely rigid with surprise. You knew the meaning of the flower, and you were giving it to him? 

A silent understanding flows between you two, Suguru no longer on edge as the seconds pass. You both are aware now, your feelings as out in the open as they could be without physically saying it. It was funny, the flower meant secret love but his admiration for you was no longer a secret. 

“It’s a shame we can’t stay out here forever.” You say.

You lay back down, closing your eyes. 

Suguru silently agrees, leaning back until he’s laying next to you, much closer this time. He wonders what’s going to happen next. Would he be able to court you properly, would your father accept him?

He hears you shuffle around before your face pops into view, blocking out the sun above him. His brows raise in surprise as he looks at you. You looked nothing short of an Angel, golden light haloing around your head as you smile down at him. 

“I know you’re busy where you live, but why don't we meet in this forest once a week?” You say. 

“Or I can walk down and meet you closer to your village, that might be easier.” 

No, he couldn’t handle the idea of you walking these forests alone, or walking that long at all.

“Let’s meet here.” Suguru agrees, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. 

Neither of you want to be the one to look away first. So instead, you just continue to gaze into the others eyes. 

Suguru hears an older man call your name just outside the sanctity of the forest. It must be your father, and by the sounds of it he was angry. Probably upset that dinner hadn’t been made yet, if Suguru had to come up with a reason. He didn’t want to dislike your father, after all he had a hand in creating you, but he didn’t appreciate the way he treated you. 

“I suppose I’ll have to leave now…” you trail off, your voice caked in sadness. 

Suguru’s grip on your cheek tightens, and he resolves to do something he’s never done before, yet dreamed of countless times. 

He sits up and leans in, his lips ghosting yours. 

“Suguru…” You whisper, looking into his eyes, the movement of your lips tickling his. 

“May I?” Just this once, he wants to beg. Let me taste you just this once. 

He waits for an answer that doesn’t come. Instead, you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him softly. It was everything he had dreamed of. Your lips were soft, the lingering taste of the sweet strawberry jam he always brought to you mingling with his own. 

If only he could stop time. 

If only nothing existed but the two of you. 

As soon as it starts, it’s over. You’re pulling away, your eyes flickering open to look at him. He can hardly breathe under your gaze. His fingers itch with the need to grab you, press you against him, show the love he’s been feeling all this time but has been too afraid to say aloud. 

Suguru’s lips tingle as he watches you slowly rise to your feet. You dip your head in acknowledgment, tossing over your shoulder. 

“Coming, father!” 

Stay, he thinks. Stay. 

“Goodbye Suguru.” You murmur, giving him a smile. 

He watches you scamper out of the forest, feeling like you took his heart with you. 

He isn’t sure he’s ever going to want it back. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @constawrites

If you would like to be added to the taglist let me know. Please specify what you want to be tagged in such as only this series, all my works, all my jujutsu kaisen works

[darylbae]

Pls could you write daryl dixon x fem!reader at the kingdom? carol and ezekiel took in a worn out and struggling woman and have been helping her get back on her feet. daryl comes along and teaches her to hunt and maybe r lost some memory but got a bit back when she shot her first animal w daryl maybe she’s actually a vvv good hunter

crack shot — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you find the kingdom, and an archer who's willing to train you.

note: love this, going to make a lil drabble of this.

You'd been alone for a long time. You'd survived with your stealth and trusty knives, but it was getting harder. Your backpack of supplies were low, you hadn't found a proper place to settle down, and you'd recently injured yourself trying to hide from a horde of walkers. Until you'd been found passed out from blood loss sat on a branch in a tree. A man, who spoke as if he'd been pulled from a fantasy book, and a woman, who seemed the exact opposite of him. And yet they worked together well enough to get you back to wherever it is they call home. The Kingdom.

That was almost a month ago. You'd spent a long while recovering, getting to know the Kingdom and it's people, and helping out with your very minimal mobility. Turns out your injury had been worse than you or anyone had thought. When Carol, the woman who found you, had sat at your bedside to question you, you appeared to have lost any knowledge of what's happened. Memories muddle into one, not being clear enough to decipher. You'd forgotten a lot of your life before this, but you assumed that was because the world had changed so drastically. You remembered some long-term things, like family members you had, what was happening in the world at this point in time, and where you were born, but everything else had fallen short. It was time to start building you back up. Carol would visit you a lot, bringing you things to eat, taking you around on walks to show you how things are going, and today she had other ideas in mind. "So," Carol sighed, sitting next to your bed once again, "I think you've recovered enough to start doing something. I've asked a friend to train you in dealing with walkers. Just to make sure you can defend yourself still." You nodded, finishing lacing up your boots and getting out of bed. "Who? Jerry? Because I love Jerry." Carol laughed. "No, an old friend of mine offered to help actually. He's waiting outside."

Carol had taken you outside, and stood in front of the both of you, was God himself. Everything you'd liked in a man, he was here. But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your brain, focusing on learning. "This is Daryl," Carol introduced him, and he held the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder, giving you a quick look up and down, and a nod. "He's going to take you hunting today."

The two of you had left the Kingdom, quietly walking towards the woods. "Carol said you forgot everythin'," he mumbled, his voice gruff but it pushed a few buttons for you, "that sucks." "Yeah. It's a strange feeling. I don't really remember much except the family I had, and how the world turned out like this." You explained. "So you're a hunter?" He nodded. "I'm good at it. Been doin' it all my life." "Well I hope I catch a good deer or something for Carol and Ezekiel."

It had been a long, slow day. You'd spent a long time just walking through the woods silently, trying not to scare any wildlife away. With the occasional "come 'ere" from Daryl. But you'd finally found a deer; stood gracefully between two trees, sniffing at the ground. Daryl raised his crossbow, explaining how to use it. "Wait," you exclaimed in a whisper, "can I do it?" Daryl handed you his crossbow, and before he'd opened his mouth about how to hold it, you'd fired the arrow and it landed perfectly into the deer, killing it in the most humane way. He was in shock, analyzing your features for any signs of shock. "You done this before?" He asked, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder again before following you towards the deer. "Maybe? I don't know. It just felt natural to me." You answered, and he was still reeling from how impressed he was. "Have to take you huntin' with me all the time now, crack shot."

[esmedelacroix]

Romeo e Giulietta[a mafia love story] pt.1

mafioso!miguel x f!mafioso!reader 🂱

cw: suggestive

first part | miguel masterlist

prev ←→ next

The prevailing belief was that once Antonio Romano was too old, the Romano family's dominion over the Italian Mafia would end. Although he had a daughter, his wife had died during childbirth, so he had no son to take over. His daughter didn't take 'no' for an answer when it came to taking over the Mafia. With extensive training, she finally became the leader of the Mafia after her father's retirement...

—

You're the most powerful woman in all of Italy. Everyone assumed you couldn't be as good of a Mafioso as your father. But, they were so wrong; you are pretty reckless and never have a plan. But your carefree attitude only added more fun to your line of work.

You have a few rules in your familia. Never go out unarmed. Never be transparent about your affiliation. Don't let others read you. Blood is thicker than water. Never trust the O'Haras.

Another rule that could easily be added is: don't ever mention the head of the O'Hara Family Mafia, Miguel O'Hara. You hate each other so much, but anyone would think that, right? Your family feud dates back centuries, it's so old that no one really remembers why you're supposed to hate each other in the first place. But that doesn't matter because you do. Anytime your families have to meet to make a negotiation, you would always get into heated arguments with one another and request privacy.

When you were in private, you would argue even more. Your bodyguards would hear vases and glasses shatter onto the floor. They wondered how fostering so much hate for a single person was possible.

If only they knew what was happening in there...

Miguel would slide everything off the table to place you on it as he trailed wet hot kisses down your neck, leaving marks in areas only the two of you could see. If only they knew how hard you tried to stay quiet when Miguel had your legs spread across the table. You would resort to pulling at tufts of his hair as he feasted between your legs.

No one would ever really know the true nature of the intimate looks you exchanged when no one was looking, and they would most certainly never know that when Miguel claimed to be bringing women home from the club, it was really their biggest competitor in the Italian mafia scene in his room.

But you hate each other so much...

—

You woke up to the sun beaming through the floor-to-ceiling window that gave a beautiful view of the city. You had gotten so used to waking up in Miguel's bed. That morning you had a breakfast with your father that started two hours ago. You had to hurry and sneak out. You slowly got out of bed, trying not to wake him. Your attempts were useless, though, because, in a matter of seconds, you felt his big warm hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back onto the bed with your back flush against his chest.

"Per favore[please], Miguel, I have a hectic morning," she said as she removed his hands from around her waist and got out of bed to change back into her clothes.

His lazy eyes watched you as you walked around the room naked, gathering all your clothes from the night before putting your pants on. He was mesmerized by everything you did, even when you've been together for eight years.

He slowly crept behind you when you were about to put your blouse on and buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Can you just stay for five more minutes? What are you so busy doing today?" he asked as he rested his head on your shoulder, his voice still raspy; if you had no self-control, you would have folded from his voice alone.

"Well, I'm too busy kicking your ass all day as usual," you replied as you put your earrings on, smiling at him through the mirror. He rolled his eyes playfully, accepting defeat.

"Please, baby, just five minutes," he said lowly in her ear, knowing the effect he had on you. He slowly started to trail kisses down your neck. You leaned into him and hummed in pleasure, tilting your head back into his shoulder to give more access to your neck. You heard your phone buzz snapping you out of the trance he put you in.

"Mio amato[My love], seriously, I have to go, so help me sneak out of here," you said eagerly.

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed as he looked around the hallway to confirm that no one would see you; but he was always armed, just in case.

You successfully snuck to the back door without running into anyone. You draped your arms around the nape of Miguel's neck and kissed him.

"Will I be seeing you at the charity event tonight?" you asked hopefully.

"Of course, sweet stuff; now get out of here," he joked. You rolled your eyes and blew him a kiss. The moment you turned away, he landed a firm smack on your ass, causing you to yelp, turn around and shake your head at him.

"Watch it," she warned playfully before disappearing into the streets.

—

You opened your front door hoping that your father would be off at the range or playing polo with friends despite you missing breakfast plans.

"Giulietta Bianca Romano," you heard your father's stern voice call from the living room couch. you were almost fully up the stairs when he caught you trying to sneak back in. Shit.

. . .

→ next part

taglist: @dei-drei @starrygetou @decentsoupperson

[cybunii]

YOU NEEDED LOVE, I NEEDED YOU !!

a/n: i got sad and wrote this LOL but people wanted a part two to the other one so i hope this one is just as good !!

pairing: Leon kennedy x Gn!reader

cw: sad leon, maybe ooc?

-

Leon didn't like being alone after he met you. 

He clung to you as soon as he met you, doing everything in his power just to get an ounce of your attention. It's almost like a puppy begging their owner for treats or toys, he needed you, it was simple.

He’d walk to the ends of the earth for you, maybe even haunting you after death.

Even if he was cranky, or didn't understand the little things you did. He still loved you with every single piece of him, his heart belonged to you. 

And that was enough. 

Holidays have always been odd for him, his work never let him off around these days and he's so used to all of the stress that comes with the job. 

He felt almost empty, or maybe useless. 

He put that energy into almost everything he did with you, helping with baking and decorating. Even taking the time to decorate the outside of the house. It made him feel content, at least it made you happy. 

After helping you bake the first time, he was practically hooked. One bite of the desert you made and his fate was sealed, you had baked his heart and served it up for him to eat. 

He didn't think he minded that thought that much, maybe it was self-destructive or obsessive- But he would let you do anything to him, then again cannibalism always had weird hints of romance in those books he picked up. 

Decorating was fun at times, your pushy nature about how certain things needed to be done made you seem cute. 

He didn't understand the hype behind real christmas trees or specific ornaments on them, then again he didn't celebrate christmas growing up. Not that he never wanted to, but Santa and presents were off the table from a very young age. 

The way the ornaments lit up when the lights were plugged in was stunning. 

He decided that was his favorite part, well maybe one of them. Seeing your face break out into a smile once you stepped back from the finished tree may as well be burned into his memory. He wished he could've taken a picture.

-

He knew the holidays would be different this year, he was warned about a dangerous mission about a week ago, and the possibility of him coming back was less than none. 

He didn't like those odds. 

Not that he feared death or his job, but the first thing that came to mind was you. I mean he fought for you, secretly laid on his deathbed a few times, and thought of coming home to you later. 

He could never tell them no though, who was he to go against them? He was at their beck and call, a mindless robot who goes on missions and returns with less and less of his sanity intact. 

You weren't the jealous type, or at least he didn't think you were. He could handle you hating him, but he didn't want to feel the hatred at the moment, coming up with a desperate plan at the last second. 

He used Ada as an escape plan, thinking chasing after a woman on christmas would make you hate him, that way it was easier for him to leave. 

You didn't give a reaction, just staring at him with a blank expression. 

Every silent minute felt like hours, the seconds slowly shattering his heart the longer he stood there. Not like you knew that, he had been trained to keep a straight face, this was nothing.

-

He knew what nothing felt like when he left you. Leaving out the door with nothing to his name, no car, no clothes, and absolutely no money. Only a throwaway phone he used. 

He didn't want to look back at you, even if you showed no reaction, he didn't want to break down crying at the sight of your blank face. 

His only destination was the location they gave him, punching the place in and groaning when its hours away. 

He made it there the next day and to his surprise? 

They no longer needed him, the mission was a success by some other agent who was able to get there quicker and finish the job. They didn't know what he did to get there, and quickly ushered him out, saying they'll call if they ever needed him for something else. 

If leaving you didn't break him, knowing he could've come back to you absolutely crushed him. I mean even to the point of dry heavy sobs in some random hotel that he managed to get a room at, grabbing at the sheets as the tears ran down his red face. 

He never was the type to show his true emotions, always bottling them up until they turned to anger wasn't exactly the best thing for him to do. 

They always led to moments like these, a bottle exploding under the pressure and going everywhere, unable to be fixed or glued back together. 

It took him hours to stop crying, only because nothing else would come out anymore. 

His puffy eyes and disheveled hair made him frown, he never was one to look so pathetic, at least not in these situations.

He just wanted to lay somewhere, letting all of his emotions out and not having to do anything else. He never was the best type to be alone, his thoughts never made it easy.

-

He never did leave the state, coming back to your town with the promise of a small job at some weird office. Didn’t matter to him, it made decent money. 

He was observant of his surroundings at all times, his broken heart controlling his eyes as he walked the town, hoping to even see just a glimpse of you. 

He never did. 

He wondered if you had moved away. 

He hoped you didn't, with enough money he didn't mind going everywhere to find you. There's no limit to what he would've done to find you. 

There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of you, or how sorry he was for leaving. He would look out the window at night just staring at the moon, hoping you were too, at least you'd be doing the same thing he was. 

That would be enough for him. 

With the extra money he had, he would just walk around the town for hours. Going to the most popular restaurants and parks. Supposedly those were fun things to do, but he knew he only went there because he went there with you. 

He couldn't even shop without thinking of you, buying the small snacks and not thinking about it until he got home, leaving them sitting in the cabinet for months because his mind tricked him you were still around. 

It was sad, and he knew that. 

It was heartbreaking to know christmas was next week. How had time slipped by him that fast?

He may not have had his own traditions, but he’d never forget what he did with you. Practically burning a hole in his wallet as he bought a real christmas tree, buying the same ornaments and lights, and every single ingredient for the stuff you baked. 

The finished tree never did look as pretty without your smile paired with it.

And the deserts tasted empty, it wasn't like they weren't good- But they could be so much better if you had made them. 

He had bought you something too. 

It may have been corny, and also pathetic- He seemed to like that word, being hard on himself had to be his favorite pastime at this point. 

But he bought you a ring, one you had pointed at on a random day saying you wanted it. It hadn't even been a week since you started dating when you said that, and he remembered it ever since. 

He was definitely using that memory for later. 

But now it sits under the bright, but also dull tree, the lights bouncing off the shiny wrapping paper. He dreamed of giving it to you, maybe even placing it in your mailbox with no return address. 

He decided that was creepy, a good call on his end.

He wasn't a stalker, maybe not in a bad way. 

That’s beside the point. 

He missed you that night, maybe more than any other night. His mind decided to be real nice to him that night, creating a dream of you being together again and being happy, celebrating christmas like old times. 

He may have woken up that next morning and bawled his eyes out, but that was okay.

It felt real to him. 

And that was enough for now. 

-

word count: 1.5k

[angel2el]

Blackened Haze (Elvis Presley) - PART ONE -- "Sunset"

My gosh I'm so excited to share this with you all. It's a story that explores a possibility where a reader, Elvis's longtime girlfriend, is there to help him through his mother's death and work towards happiness and peace. This is a bit sad at first. I will say I felt a little solemn at times. But I am proud of it and I love it and I hope you all do too. I love you all so, so much. I do not have a taglist but if you would like me to tag you at the next parts I will. The colonel is mentioned but is not a villain due to the fact that at this point, he and Elvis had good relations.

“I came as soon as I heard you were here,” you say softly as you enter the hospital’s private waiting room Elvis is in.  He’s sitting on the blue couch with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands when you first walk in, but he lifts his head up when he hears your voice.

“Hi, honey,” he says, voice raspy and weak, waving his hand for you to come over.  You approach him and set your flowers on the table in front of you two before sitting down.

“How is she?” You ask.  His mother was admitted three days ago, and he’d arrived around twelve hours ago.   It’s 4 in the morning now and Elvis doesn’t look like he’s slept a wink yet.  You put a hand on his forehead to brush his hair out of his face.  He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but he’s pale and his eyes are bloodshot from a lack of sleep.

“They haven’t told me nothing,” he says.  His voice is still low and glum.  You move your hand to his cheek.

“Have you slept at all?” You ask, moving your thumb up and down his cheek.

“Not yet,” he says.

“Lay your head on my lap and try to sleep some,” you say, scooting away so he has enough room to lay down.

“I..I can’t.  What if somethin’ happens to her while I’m asleep?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ll wake you up if anything happens.  I promise,” you say.  “You need to get some sleep or you’ll barely be able to make it through tomorrow.”  You put your hand on his waist and gently start to ease him down.  He hesitates at first, but eventually complies, resting his head on your lap.  “Just relax,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder.  You feel his body heave with a shaky sigh.  You can feel his nerves, how hot he is from the stress, the cold sweat on the back of his neck.  He can’t even be with his mother right now because Vernon is with her.  That must be the hardest part.  She’s everything to him.

You can’t imagine what life would be like without her.  You both know she’s very, very sick.  But your heart won’t let you think about losing the sweet, loving woman who welcomed you with open arms into their home when you and Elvis first started dating, and again welcomed you into Graceland when you moved in.  The woman who always cared for you, and more importantly, for Elvis.  She’s his best friend.  The person he’s closest to in the whole world.  He wouldn’t be able to go on without her.

You calm yourself out of the thoughts of losing her by closing your eyes and rubbing his shoulder up and down, trying to think more positive thoughts.  Gladys is going to live.  She’s going to get better.  You blink slowly, tiredly as you keep your touch on him, feeling him start to fall asleep.  He’s exhausted.  He may have been up for over 24 hours at this point, considering he’d been in the car most of yesterday, stressing about Gladys.  Your chest aches with sympathy at the thought of his suffering over the last few days.  Luckily, he’d been granted leave from army training to see his mother.  But that didn’t do much to ease the fear and pain.  You look at his hands, which were shaking slightly.  His nails are bitten down well below his nailbeds, a nervous habit he’d developed as a teen.  You hear him sigh softly.  He was asleep now.  Thank goodness.  You lean your own head back and close your eyes, letting your breathing slow.  You hadn’t been up nearly as long as Elvis, but you’d barely been able to sleep these past few days knowing Gladys was suffering and Elvis was too.  A call had come at 3am this morning telling you Elvis was at the hospital now and had been for eleven hours, so you drove as fast as you could to the hospital to meet him.  Exhaustion and fear wracked your mind, just like him.  For Gladys, and for Elvis.  You put a hand on your forehead and try to calm yourself.  Gladys was going to live.  Everything was going to be okay.  You keep repeating that until deep, dreamless sleep welcomes you.

When you wake up to the waiting room’s door opening, Elvis is still in your lap.  You can tell it's been a long time because you’re absolutely starving.  You put your hand on his head and pat it as you watch a nurse with a tray of food approach the two of you.  Elvis shifts, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Honey?” he says, turning to you.

“I’m here.”  Your hand goes to his shoulder.

The nurse sets down a tray with two bowls of oatmeal in front of you, pushing your pink flowers – Gladys’ favorite color – aside.  “You two need to eat something.  Haven’t had a bite since you arrived,” she says sweetly.

“Is there any news?” Elvis asks.

The nurse shakes her head.  “I’m not your mama’s nurse, Mr. Presley.  I just got assigned to bring you food.  I don’t know anything.”

Elvis swallows and nods slowly.  “What…what time is it?”

“6pm.  You slept nearly fourteen hours.”

Elvis nods again, but he looks a little guilty.  “You needed it, baby,” you say, handing his spoon to him.  “You need to eat.”  The nurse leaves.

Elvis looks down at his oatmeal.  He doesn’t seem that interested in it, but you pick it up and set it in his hands anyways.  “I know you’re not hungry, but you gotta have something.”  You take a bite of your own oatmeal.  It wasn’t delicious, but you were starving.  

Elvis shook his head.  “My stomach’s in knots.  I can’t eat a thing.”

“I know.  You have to try.”  You take his spoon to scoop up a bite for him, putting it up to his mouth.  He eats it.  You can tell it instantly makes him realize how hungry he’d been.  “Eat the whole bowl,” you tell him, handing him the spoon and getting back to work on your own food.  Slowly, he nods and starts eating again.  It takes a great weight off your chest to see him eating.  You were a little worried about his state, but as he eats, a lot of color comes back into his face.  By the time he’s finished the bowl, you’re almost done with yours.  You take the last few bites and set down the empty bowl.

He looks a thousand times better now that he’s eaten.  “You feeling better?” You ask him, and he nods.

“It’s gonna be ok,” you say, pulling him into a hug and putting your hand on the back of his head.  You can feel his body relax against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

“I know.  I know, Elvis.”  That’s all you can bring yourself to say, feeling emotional as he pours his feelings onto you.  You pull away from the hug and put your hands on the side of his face.  “We’re gonna get through this, ok?”

He nods.  “Ok.  Ok.”  You move your hands down to hold his, squeezing them.  His eyes look into yours.  He looks so tired and scared.  Younger than usual.  You smile at him, and he manages a weak smile back.

“Promise…promise me you’ll stay with me,” he asks, his voice trembling a little as he puts a hand on your cheek.

You nod.  “I will.  Forever.  I’ll stay with you no matter what.”  He visibly relaxes a little at this, like he’d been afraid of you leaving him.  You rub the side of his shoulder.  “You have nothing to worry about,” you promise, and he nods, sighing.  You open your mouth to talk more, but as you do, the door opens and a different nurse comes through.

“Mr. Presley?” she says.

“Yes?” Elvis turns to her, taking his hand off of you.

You turn to look at him.  His eyes are wide.

“Uh…your mother…she went into cardiac arrest,” the nurse says, tears starting to fill her eyes.

“What?” you ask.

“Her heart gave out.  She’s…gone.  I’m so sorry,” the nurse says, her voice breaking with sadness.  Gone?  The world stops for a moment, and you can’t feel anything, blinking over and over again until you snap out of it. 

You turn to Elvis.  He’s staring at the wall in front of him.  He swallows, but doesn’t move a muscle.  His eyes are wide.

You bite your lip to keep from crying.

“Would you like to see her and say goodbye, Mr. Presley?” the nurse asks.

Elvis’s lip starts to quiver and his brow furrows as he continues to stare at the wall.  You run your hand up his back.  He looks numb.  Incredibly disoriented.

“Elvis, honey,” you say, but he interrupts you.

“No.”  His voice is weak, but firm.  “She–she can’t be gone.”

You don’t know what to say, inhaling a shaky breath from your nose.  “I’m sorry,

honey,”  you say.

“She can’t be gone,” he repeats, turning to you.  You grab his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

“Mr. Presley, if you’d like to see her now, you can say your goodbyes,” the nurse repeats.  Elvis shakes his head.  It’s like he doesn’t believe this is real.

“Come on, honey,” You say, standing up.  He shakes his head, but you tug on him and he stands. He numbly follows, keeping your hand in his and his eyes on the floor.  As you walk out of the room, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but all that comes out is a shaky gasp.  You squeeze his hand.  “You’re okay.”

His jaw is shaking still as you follow the nurse into a private suite.  When she opens the door, Gladys is lying on the bed.  She looks peaceful.  She’s not breathing.  She is still.  Utterly lifeless.  It really hits you then, and you start to feel tears come down your cheeks.  Your eyes glance at the other side of the room, where Vernon is sitting, sobbing, with his head in his hands.  You look up at Elvis, who approaches the bed slowly and reaches for his mother’s hand.  When he feels her skin against his, reality smashes into him and he breaks.  He takes several fast, gasping breaths before he starts to cry.  He can’t stand anymore, dropping onto his knees with a thud and keeping Gladys’ hand in his.  His head is down but you can see the stream of tears and hear the violent, anguished, gasping sobs you’d never heard someone make before.  He mumbles something between his cries, but it’s unintelligible.  You squat beside him and put your hand on his back, feeling him shaking over and over again as cries wrack his body.

You can’t help but cry quietly beside him, feeling his grief.  Glancing over at Vernon, you see still has his head in his hands, unable to look at his wife or son.  You don’t know how long you stay like that.  Next to Elvis, listening to him cry and rubbing his back.  You’ve never seen someone so sad.  His sobs eventually turn to gasps and whines, and you look out the window and see the sun is starting to set.  Your feet are starting to go numb.  Elvis starts to quiet after a while, and the nurse speaks softly, gently.

“We have to take her to the morgue now, Mr. Presley,” she tells him.

“No,” he cries, squeezing her hand tighter.  You stand up a little and put your hands on his waist, trying to get him to stand up by pulling.  He’s stubborn, but weak, and you’re able to pull him to his feet.  He takes one look at his mother’s face and starts sobbing again.  He turns to you and you put your hand on his cheek.  His eyes and the area around them are red, contrasting his pale, tear-soaked face.  His breathing is too fast.  He’s not getting enough air.

“Elvis, sit down,” you tell him.  “You’re going to make yourself pass out, honey.”  You ease him towards the chair opposite Vernon’s, and he all but collapses into it.  “Breathe.  Slower,” you tell him as he bends over, putting his head in his hands.  You pat his back in a slow rhythm to try and get him to relax and regulate his breathing.  Vernon has stopped crying now and shakes hands with the nurse as she apologizes to him.  You don’t watch, but you hear the footsteps and the wheels start to roll as they take Gladys out of the room.  Elvis can’t hear it over his cries and gasps, but after a few minutes of you whispering to him and patting him gently, his breathing evens out and he looks up to see that she’s gone.  Vernon comes over.

“Son, we need to go now,” he says quietly.  You can see Elvis’s eyes are welling up with tears again.  “There’s—there’s a car waiting for us outside.”

You nod, taking Elvis’s hand and helping him up slowly.  You guide his arm around your shoulder.  There’s no way he can walk in this state on his own.  You follow Vernon to the exit of the hospital.  He’s silent, keeping his head down and shuffling slowly next to you as you make your way into the backseat of the car outside.  Elvis puts his head in his hands as the car takes off, and you keep your hand on the upper part of his back, pressing your other hand on his thigh.  The ride is silent save for Elvis’s small gasps between cries, and it goes by quickly.  As you pull up to Graceland, Vernon gets out of the car on his side and comes around to you and Elvis’s side, opening the door for the two of you.  Elvis looks up and takes his father’s hand to get out of the car and you follow, letting him put his arm around you again.  You silently take him upstairs and into his room, lowering him to the bed gently before sitting to the left of him.  He’s still crying, much quieter than before, but you can hear his shaky breaths and soft whimpers.  He’s on his side, trembling, with his back facing you. 

“Elvis,” you whisper softly.  It’s hard for you to keep your composure.  You’d known Gladys for six years, being Elvis’s girlfriend since senior year.  Losing her was painful for you, too.  But it was a million times more painful for Elvis, and it hurt you to see him suffering so much.  “Elvis, honey, you’re gonna be ok.”  You put your arm over his waist, resting on his stomach, and your other hand combs through his hair gently.

“I c-can’t live wi-without her.”  His stuttering cuts a hole in your heart, a reminder of the shy, nervous boy who was bullied for his speech impediment when he was younger.  He still stutters occasionally now, especially when he’s upset or tired.

“You will, baby,” You say.  He has to.  Your hand that was in his hair moves to his face, to his soft cheeks which are stained with tears that you wipe away.  You have a decent view of his face.  You’ve never seen him so sad in your life.  You’ve never seen anyone so sad.

“I can’t,” he cries, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.  You wipe them again.

“You can.  You’ll go on,” you tell him, leaning down and kissing his temple.  “You’re gonna be ok.  I promise.”  It doesn’t stop his crying, but he does lean into your touch a little more.

The door bursts open, and you turn to see the Colonel and Vernon in the doorway.

“Elvis,” the Colonel says, “There’s some people who want to take some photographs outside.  The press.”

“N-no,” Elvis says, keeping his back to the door.

“Elvis…” Vernon says. 

“Just a few photographs.  They’re not going to do anything to hurt you,” the Colonel reassures him.

Elvis seems a little calmed at the Colonel’s words, and he slowly sits up and wipes his eyes.  “I’ll…I’ll go out f-for a few minutes,” he says.  You help him out of bed and walk with him behind the Colonel and Vernon down the stairs.  As he walks out the door with Vernon, you sit down at the bottom of the steps and put your head in your hands, letting yourself cry.  Gladys is gone.  Forever.  You hadn’t seen much of her over the past few months, temporarily moving back into your parents’ house when Elvis left, but when you came to Graceland to check in on Elvis’s parents while he was away, she was always sad, drinking or taking pills.  She was heartbroken when Elvis left.  She’d lost her first son and couldn’t bear the thought of losing her other.

As you cry, you feel a tap on your shoulder and look up to see the Colonel holding a glass of water.  “Thank you,” you mumble, taking a drink and wiping your mouth before handing the glass back to him.  He wordlessly nods sympathetically and walks away.  After a few minutes of staring at the door in front of you, it opens and Elvis comes back in.   You stand up and he comes into your arms. 

“You did good…you did good,” you tell him, rubbing your hand up and down his back.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s still shaking from head to toe, weak with grief, barely able to breathe from the pain clenching his throat and pressing on his chest.

“Come on, honey,” you say.  “Let’s go upstairs…”  You pull away from him, wrapping an arm around him, and guide him up the stairs and back into his room.  He collapses onto the bed, curling on his side again.  He’s stopped crying for now, numbly looking out the window and taking labored breaths with his arms over his chest.  He looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

There’s no point in trying to get him to change.  After everything that happened today, you worry that the effort could be too much.  You can give him a bath tomorrow and change him into something more comfortable.  At the very least, you’ll take off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers for the night.  Leaning down, you easily unbutton his pants, and he lets you slide them off.  Getting his shirt off is harder.  You have to pry his arms away from his chest to unbutton it and pull it off, setting it on the floor.  He crosses them again, still keeping his eyes in straight ahead.

“You’re gonna be ok.”  Your voice is soft and gentle, as reassuring as you can make it.  He looks up to you and shakes his head, his face crumpling and chest shaking visibly as he draws in a breath.  It’s the only night he’s ever spent in his life without his mama.

“I…I c-can’t sleep knowin’ she’s not here,” he whispers.  “We slept in the same bed till I was thirteen.  And now…” Tears start to stream down his face again, and you lay down behind him, kissing the nape of his neck.

“I know.  I know…” that’s all you can say.  He starts to sob again.  You don’t even know how he has it left in him.  He must be exhausted at this point, having cried for some five hours at this point, seeing as the sky is black now.

Your hand gently rubs his side back and forth, trying to soothe him, but you’re exhausted too.  “It’s gonna get better, baby,” you say softly, but he continues to sob and shake.  

“I can’t….I can’t live without her…I can’t,” he repeats over and over again between cries.  The pain of seeing him like this is palpable and exists on every level, aching in your chest, pounding in your head, gripping your throat.  

“It’s ok.  You’re ok.”  Your hand gently goes under his shirt, feeling the bare skin of his side.  He doesn’t feel like he’s the wrong temperature in any way.  That’s a good sign, but it does little to ease your worry for him as you closely feel his desperate breaths under your hand.  “Breathe, baby, breathe,” you urge him.  It’s like he physically can’t, like it’s not just grief that’s attacking him, but panic. 

“You have to calm down, Elvis.  You’re going to hurt yourself.  Please.”  Your begging does nothing.  He can’t stop crying.  He can’t relax even for a moment.  You resolve to continue rubbing up and down his side and whispering gently to him, reminding him that you’re there and you’ll stay.

When you look out the window, the stars are out but there’s no moon in the sky. Memphis is quiet save for Elvis’s raspy sobs and desperate gasps for air.  You put your head down on the pillow.  The only thing you can do is continue to be with him, praying that tomorrow will bring some form of peace to your troubled hearts.

But it doesn’t.

thank you for reading <3 I love you!

[whatisthatmae]

Promised

“Promised” || Avatar:TWOW

Synopsis : You & Neteyam have been promised to each other since you were born. Little do you families know..

Warnings: There’s a little angst at the end, fluff,kisses, mentions of Injuries (let me know if there’s anything that I’ve missed!)

A/n: this was a request,but I wanted to give a new clan of the Na’vi a try! Thank you Anon! 💛 Also this reader is a female, Ill try to write more of other genders. Hopefully there’s no spelling mistakes! Enjoy!

Neteyam x Tawkami! Reader

You were the daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan of the Tawkami Clan. The clan that focuses around the wild life and biology of Pandora. You were training under your mother, Saniel (I just came up with that) to become the next Tsahik after her.

You were growing into the age of where you will have your ceremony to be reborn into a woman,after that you must be mated for life. You didn’t have to go through the struggle of finding a mate however,you had been promised to someone long ago ever since you were in your mothers womb.

You see,during the war almost 15 years ago with the Na’vi and the Sky people,you clan helped heal the injured after the battle since they were specialized with plants. During that time Jake & Neytiri had met your mother while she was healing them. Neytiri was very impressed with your mothers work. Neytiri adored your clan because they knew all about the nature of Pandora, which she was fascinated with.

The Tawkami clan has stayed with the Omatikaya for a few days and Neytiri and Saniel and grew a close friendship. During that time your mother was also pregnant with you (it wasn’t visible so she didn’t know) Neytiri was pregnant as well.

Soon enough when they were farther along in their pregnancies, Neytiri & Jake had made a deal with your parents that if their child was a boy then he would be promised to you. Since your clan was specialized in plants,she thought that if their child was a girl then she would make a great Tsahik for their son.

Soon enough you were born, and you were a beautiful baby girl! Soon enough after you Neytiri’s and Jake’s child was born..and he was a boy. That means you two are future mates. When you two grew up wanted you two to meet at the age of 7. So the two clans met up every once in a while to see each other. Little do they know you two were doing that already.

You first met while Neteyam was hunting for fish. You stumbled upon him while exploring for new plants. Then you heard a voice and quickly hid behind a bush to where you could see him. When you eyes finally focused you saw that it was a young Na’vi boy.

You relaxed only a little,still having your senses heightened. Then he turned around because he heard a noise from the bush behind him,so he slowly walks over to it and you were panicking so you just froze in place. He pushed back the bush only to find you,though he had never seen you before she didn’t attack you. He actually held out his hand to help you up from the bush.

Hesitantly you took his hand & you introduced yourselves getting to know each other better. From then on you two were the best of friends always going out in the forest during the day just to see each other secretly. You both knew which clans you were from,but you could not stay with each other long.

One day before you both left to do your hair evening chores you kissed him on the lips. You didn’t know what it truly meant but you only saw you parents do it & they love each other. So in your little head you just thought that you do it to a person you love. In this case you were only 5, so what did you know?

Neteyam’s parents had a talk with him the day before you clan were arriving. “Neteyam,we must have a talk” he was playing at the pond when his mothers voice caught his attention, so he had to leave “Yes, mother?” “Me and you father have to have a serious talk with you,come” Neytiri said as she walked towards their home with her son.

One they got there, Neytiri and Neteyam sat down in front of Jake. He cleared his throat “Neteyam, we have important news to tell you.” He glanced at Neytiri and she nodded for him to continue. “We have chosen a mate for you, long ago actually. You will be meeting her today. No if’s and’s for but’s about this.” With a stern look he looked at Neteyam who only had a look of worry.

A mate? Who was it? Was it someone from his clan? Is she at least nice? He was thinking all of these things at once but only nodded and left and he went to the forest. He sighed as he looked on the ground. He wanted his parents to at least give him the chance to pick his own mate,but no. It was ruined.

He was sure that whoever it was, he would not love her. He only had eyes for someone else. You. You both had grown into almost mature 13 year olds, and recently he’s began to see how you’ve become more of a woman each time he sees you. So he couldn’t help it. He was sure that he was going to tell you his feelings after he meets his future “mate”.

You and your parents arrived at the Omatikaya home on your Ikrans. While landing some of the plants gathered on you fell off so you picked them up. When you look up you see the whole clan with Jake and Neytiri at the front with their youngest kids Lo’ak and Kiri.

You look around for a moment because one sully is missing, where is Neteyam? As soon as you were thinking that here he comes, looking as handsome as ever. You blush a little bit as you see him but you quickly tried to hide it. Then the conference started between the Omatikaya and the Tawkami clans.

You were escorted to the “room” it was being held in and you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Who was your mate going to be? Why is Neteyam and his family here? Why are YOU here? So many questions quickly shut out as the conference started.

“We are gathered here today for the meeting about my son, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan & ____ Te Sìpxkxaym Iptoya'ite.” Jake has a stern look on his face, which you think is also mixed with proudnesses? You didn’t know, you were too shocked at the fact that this meeting involved you and Neteyam.

“We have mostly come together to announce to them,that you two will be Tsahik and Olo’eyktan together.” Jake sat there with a smile on his face. You and Neteyam looked at each other for a brief moment before nodding and looking back at the adults. The rest here will reside with the adults upon this decision, you two may be dismissed.” You fathers gave you two a look to leave and you did as such.

Then you felt a tug on your wrist and you looked up to Neteyam looking at you. “Follow me.” He gave you a look and you nodded as he lead you far into the forest. “Where are we going?” Then he made a stop, you two were at the tree of souls and it looked beautiful.

“____, I’ve wanted to talk with you about something.” You look at him in his eyes waiting for him to continue. “I see you. I’ve seen you for a long time and today I thought I would’ve been promised to someone else but ik her relived that it is you, Ma ____” he said all of that with a smile and a little blush on his face. You looked at him shocked for a moment but shook it off and said “ I see you too, Ma Neteyam.” With a soft smile that he loves so much.

That was almost three years ago, your both now 16 years old & still promised to each other of course. Your relationship with each other has been getting stronger every day and you two explore with each other more and more.

Today Neteyam had went on the Raid with his brother and father while you, his Tsahik in training stayed behind to help the people when they come back. You and Mo’at were just grinding up some minerals when you heard the hunting party had came back. All of them looking injured but your eyes landed on a certain Ikran and there he Neteyam was with his family. Jake scolding him and Lo’ak,while Kiri and tuk came to see what was going on.

As soon as Neteyam saw you, you were jogging up to him to look at his wounds. You didn’t care that his father was telling you and Kiri to go heal the wounded while still scolding his sons “ My boyfriend is wounded” you hand a scowl on your face as you looked at him.

He looked shocked as you walked away to your tent with Neteyam to heal him. You were getting your ointments and Medicines ready to treat him with “What have you been doing out there?” You said that with a newfound anger in you. “Neteyam,do you realize that you could have died today!” You raised your arms glaring them in the air with anger.

He sighed and looked down at the ground ashamed, now getting scolded by you aswell. But after a while he just started staring at you, like you were just beautiful whole yelling at him. Once you calmed down you just sighed and say ok his lap ready to treat him. “Love, I just don’t want you to get hurt. You know how much you mean to me and you almost lost your life..I wouldn’t have known how to feel.” You looked down at your lap as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Hey, hey” he had a soft gentle tone as he lifted your chin up to look at him. “I see you Ma ____. I’m not going anywhere. You are my love,my girlfriend,my future wife, my Tsahik, my everything. I will not let Eywa take me away so soon from you.” He planted a gentle kiss to your lips after that. You smiled up at him and continue to treat his wounds “Don’t hurt yourself like this ever again Neteyam, I meant it.” You looked up at him with your eyebrow muscles raised. “I cant make promises I cannot keep my love but I’ll try.” He said with a light chuckle from his chest.

© 2023 whatisthatmae - please do not steal my work,upload, nor copy any of it on any other websites. All of the rights of my work goes to me. If you have any inspiration please tag me as well!

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

The following is a case file from Harry's ledger that seems to have been cut from the game. The text and audio is all still there in the game files, but the option to read it is inaccessible.

>Read a case file.

LOGIC - It takes about half an hour to piece one together, using the system you've devised. Which one do you want?

>COLLAPSING TENEMENT

DAMAGED LEDGER - This one's bad. Not that far from Precinct 41 -- in Central Jamrock -- there is an eight story apartment building with two hundred residents inside. It's the dead of winter, January. Snowing. Someone's beating their wife. It's half past midnight.

You get a complaint -- no one's there to take it. So you do call duty. The beating is taking place on the eighth floor. You take the elevator up. The building's creaking around you. Cold as hell. It's a run down old place. Concrete panels, rats everywhere.

And it's not pretty in the apartment either. By the time you arrive the husband's left. His wife has got her lip busted, face swollen. Eyes shut. Can't leave him, they're a *financial unit*. Enjoying this beautiful life in this beautiful tenement.

So anyway -- you take a leak before you leave.

In the apartment I got the call to?

DAMAGED LEDGER - Yes, cops do that. *While* you're taking a piss, you see a big crack in the wall. In the outer wall of the building. You can *feel* the cold air blow in. You take the elevator down, look up -- a big crack runs on the outer wall of the whole building.

Right from the foundation -- up to the eighth floor.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] - Oh god...

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - No, no, no, no...

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] - Fucking hell.

The tilt is beyond the point of maximum deviation from the gravity bearing perpendicular. This means that the building is falling -- and will fall no matter what.

DAMAGED LEDGER - That's right. They trained you for this in cop school. Everyone has to pick a civil specialization so they can keep the city running: fire safety, first aid training, and so on. You took *building safety regulation*. And it tells you that this one -- is coming down.

+5 XP

Maybe not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. Maybe not the day after, but it's coming down. In a matter of days. It is physically impossible for it not to. And the two hundred people in there? They are all going down with it. The woman with the busted lip, the husband who beats her, their kids in the other room...

The drunk in the hallway. The girl in the elevator when you were going up. The youths on the stairs, laughing, smoking. The couple next to the apartment -- who made the call. They're all going to die.

But, you see, it's *freezing* outside. And there is no municipal government in Revachol. Nowhere to put these people. Two hundred people can't go to their *aunt's for a couple of days*. And above all -- there is no one to *tell* the building is coming down. No authority but you.

I'm gonna have to knock on every door and explain them how load bearing perpendiculars work?

I'm gonna have to go home and do nothing, not think about this ever again.

I'm gonna have to find my captain somewhere, first thing tomorrow. Maybe even *tonight*.

DAMAGED LEDGER - Bad, bad thoughts go through your head. So what you do is -- you call your partner. JV (only initials available) is up. He comes immediately. He didn't take building safety, but he believes you. He brings five more officers. Together you knock on *every door* and explain the situation.

The load bearing perpendicular. The maximum deviation. All of it... Some people believe you. Most don't. Some you have to *forcibly* remove. Some even pull guns on you. It takes 20 hours to evacuate the whole building. 200 people stand outside in the cold. Children cry.

Your captain puts them in a half-burned building 10 km South. It's got black mould and no roof, but hey -- it's better than death.

And then what?

DAMAGED LEDGER - And then the building doesn't come down. And it still hasn't. That was 52 days ago. BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT. The point is -- it *will* come down.

+5 XP

Am I *absolutely* sure?

And when it does, everyone in there will die.

If it hasn't, it won't. I was wrong.

Oh god, I don't know...

DAMAGED LEDGER - 100000000000%

2. And when it does, everyone in there will die.

DAMAGED LEDGER - At the end of the day -- no one knows. The math says it *must* collapse. And the optics show that it doesn't. It's as if some kind of *evil spirit* is holding the tenement together, like the jaws of a trap. Luring the people back in. One by one. Already they're going... At least 40 of them are living there now.

As we speak. And you can't *keep* them from going back, because they all hate you. They despise you. They think you threw them out of their homes. Every day they despise you more -- and every day, more of them go back.

And every day is a day closer to the day the building will fall.

DAMAGED LEDGER - Exactly. These notes have been very clear. Seems you have been thorough with documenting this one. So -- which one of these do you want to read *next*? (Because there is nothing you can do about THE COLLAPSING TENEMENT).

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Pairing: Steve Harrington x afab!reader

W/C: ~7.2k

TW: 18+ MDNI, smut Teehee. Face riding, oral (both m and f receiving), foul foul language, mentions of depression, smoking weed, impulsive decisions, self-deprecating thoughts, self-image issues, upset Robin Buckley, mentions of the Upside Down, scars, boobs, mentions of trauma

Notes: Yall, this one got away from me but I’m not mad about how it came out at all. She’s not edited but I sure as hell enjoyed writing her. I really wanted to write a reader who isn’t afraid to sass Steve since so much of the fan fic I see is a headstrong woman becoming some shy girl when she likes Steve, and as someone who literally bullies the people she loves, well…anywho. First time writing for Steve, second time writing and posting fan fic, and first time writing smut. Constructive criticism and comments are HIGHLY appreciated since I’ve rediscovered my addiction to writing. I really hope y’all enjoy it!!!

GIF not mine

Steve Harrington was so over everything in his fucking life. He was sick of shitbag father. He was sick of his emotionless mother. He was sick of going to work every day, sick of Hawkins, sick of Indiana, sick of his life. 

He was over it—truly. 

Eyeing himself up and down and up again, Steve stood in front of his bathroom mirror, critiquing every inch of his body: his scrawny arms, his too skinny shoulders, the bags under his eyes, the scars along his abdomen, even his hair felt flat and volumeless. Steve was just over himself. 

Which is why he almost didn’t feel bad when he drove up to Indianapolis to take a train to New York City, and told no one. He did leave a note in case his parents showed up at home, but the chances of that were slim to none. He knew it stupid of him not to tell anyone where he was going, and he knew that he was going to get the scolding of his lifetime from his friends when he eventually called them from New York, but for now he simply just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet that the train had brought him. 

He had brought his walkman with a cassette that was made for him a while ago. Currently, Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears played in his ears as the city pulled into view. He had only been there a couple of times before, but each time the sheer volume of it seemed almost overwhelming at first. It was so different from Hawkins, from Indiana as a whole really, which is why he loved coming to visit so much. He knew that since it was a week before the end of the school year for college kids, he would be back in Hawkins eventually, but truthfully, he just wanted a week or two with you all to himself. 

So imagine his surprise when you were actually in your apartment, and not in the library a block away, where he had assumed you’d be. He waited patiently in the lobby, watching the elevator doors, hoping that the next time it opened, it would be you. And it’s true, the third time really is the charm, since you walked out of the elevator in an oversized yellow sweatshirt (that may or may not have been Steve’s), and the sleep shorts you had owned for the past couple years, declaring they were your favorite. 

Your eyes lit up at the sight of him, shock and pure joy sprang across your face as your pace immediately picked up. The slippers you decided to wear down to the lobby were more or less halfway off your feet by the time you threw yourself into Steve’s arms. 

Steve dropped the duffel bag he had hastily packed next to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, as tightly as possible. 

“Hiya sweet girl.” He whispered into your hair, kissing your head softly. “Did ya miss me?” 

You snorted into his chest. “That’s a stupid fucking question Steven, we both know you’re smarter than that…fishing for validation I see.” You pulled away and placed a hand on his cheek, the smile never leaving your face. 

“Of course I missed you.” You whispered to him, as if it was a secret only meant for him to hear. “Why don’t we head upstairs, yeah? I can show you the billions of boxes I’ve acquired from moving in.”

Steve kissed your forehead before letting go of you to grab the duffel bag that was now on the ground. You moved towards the desk, and filled out the visitor log on the counter before taking Steve’s hand and bringing him towards the elevator. He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed  his thumb back and forth. 

“I forgot that fancy miss NYU needed an elevator to get alllllll the way up to her new fancy apartment.” You had been extremely lucky. Your grades and work ethic both in high school, and in your first two years of college had paid off in scholarships and work studies, meaning that you barely even paid for your education. But this past semester, for the next consecutive school year, you had won a housing scholarship, which meant you got to move into the brand new apartment style dorms for upperclassmen for almost nothing a month. 

“Oh please Steve.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed playfully. “It’s an elevator that barely works, and I’m only on the twelfth floor. One of the girls I was telling you about, Jenna? She lives on the twentieth floor. It’s fucking hell when the elevator stops working.” 

The elevator door opened, and a couple other students came out, passing the both of you. Steve watches as you smile and say hi to them. 

“They’re my neighbors.” You explain and you push the button to your floor, and the doors close. 

As soon as they do, Steve’s lips are on yours. Your back hits the elevator wall as his knee slotted between your legs. You hummed softly as your arms snaked around his neck, one hair finding a way into his hair, fingers pulling gently on it. 

“I missed you too Handsome” You sighed as Steve slowly started to kiss up your jaw. You tugged on his hair again, and he let out what could only be described a one stop short of a whine. 

The elevator dinged, and he moved away from you, grabbing your hand. 

“Lead the way, gorgeous.” 

Steve would follow you to the ends of the earth. Hell he’s followed you to hell, and back again. He’s watched the very hand he’s holding swing an ax and chop off the head of demon dogs that had taken over Hawkins. He’s seen you rip apart a demobat with your bare hands simply because it looked at him. He’s watched you comfort the kids countless times, holding them when they needed more than just words. He’s watched you try to drink and smoke away the nightmares the two of you shared for years. But he’ll gladly settle for following down the carpeted hallway, stained with things he will never want to know about, towards her apartment.

It was just you, which means the entire apartment was pretty bare. The walls only had a few things hanging up on them, and you didn’t even have a couch yet. There were boxes everywhere, but not as many considering you had little to nothing that you brought to New York. But, it made Steve happy to see your personality shining through, despite the vicious nature of your high school experience. 

You took his bag from his hand and pointed towards the phone. 

“How’d you know?” 

“Well, Baby, don’t take this the wrong way, but while you’re never one to run away from those you care about, you are absolutely one to run away from your feelings.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and started to protest, but you just gave him a quick kiss to silence anything he might have to say. 

“Besides, I’d rather you call Robin and deal with her antics, then have her calling me and screaming in my ear for something I didn’t know about. Call her.” 

You kissed the side of his head before leaving the bedroom, to go to the bathroom, decidedly getting ready for bed now, even though it was barely 5 pm since you knew doing your nightly routine once Steve was here was barely going to happen. 

Steve had watched you leave before picking up the phone and dialing Robin’s house. It didn’t even ring twice before it was answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Rob–”

“Steven Harrington I am going to DROWN you. What the fuck Steve we have been so worried about you, especially when you didn’t show up to drive Dustin and Lucas and Max to school, and then didn’t show up for work two days in a row. I mean Steve, you were missing for over twenty-four hours! Your car wasn’t at your house and we could hear the phone ringing in your house when one of us would call—Eddie even went and led a mini search party around Lover’s Lake. Steve we thought, we….” 

Steve pinched his nose while listening to Robin, letting her ramble before she tapered off. “Robs I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anybody but I just need to be alone and just…”

“Where even are you Steve?” 

“....I’m uh, I’m…in New York.” 

“WHAT. Steve you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, that like, an eighteen hour train ride, let alone–”

“Rob–”

“The drive up to Indianapolis. I mean Steve we thought you died and instead you were just going on a long distance booty call? Are you fucking insane? Do you know how many people get kidnapped on trains–”

“Robin–”

“Why couldn’t you have just told us where you were going? It’s not that hard top pick up a phone I mean literally exhibit A right now–”

“Robin! Look, I'm sorry. I know what I did was kind of fucked but I just…It’s not a long distance booty call, you know that. I just needed to not be in Hawkins. I needed to be near her…” He could hear her roll her eyes. 

“Look Steve, I get it. I miss her too. But you couldn’t have waited another like, two weeks like the rest of us?” 

Just then, you walked back into the room; face washed and teeth brushed. You smiled and kissed his check. 

“No Robs. I couldn’t. I’ll see you in two weeks, or something.” 

“Ste–” He hung up the phone and turned to face his girlfriend. 

“How pissed is she?” You asked, turning to face him, watching him take a few breaths. Steve moved towards the windows, and opened one of them up. 

“Extremely, but they’ll all be fine.”

“When’s the last time you slept Steve?” You walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing the spot in between his shoulder blades. He let out a grunt of disapproval, but didn’t move since he enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his back. He breathed in the city air, and it was by no means the fresh air Hawkins used to once have, but it was different and that’s all that matters. 

“Do you still have any of the rolls Eddie gave you during Spring Break?” He muttered before turning around and holding you in his arms, kissing your head. 

“Oh so you only came up here to get free drugs?” 

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “No baby, that’s not–”

“To answer your question, yes I do. But I have some stuff from the guy who lives a couple floors up, and you cannot tell Eddie but it’s ten times better.” 

“You sneaky sneaky girl. Can’t believe the city turned you into such a deviant. Valedictorian of her high school class turned into a big city pothead. What would your mother say?” He fake scolded, giving you one of the looks he frequently gave to Dustin or any of the other kids when they did something even remotely out of the rhetorical line Steve had created. 

“If you want any, you could’ve said so Stevie.” 

The nickname made his heart flutter a little bit. “That’s not what I said.” 

“Yeah well now you owe me for calling me a delinquent.” 

“Actually it was deviant so now I know you don't even listen to m–” You cut him off by kissing his lips, except the smile on your face was too bright to give him a full kiss. 

“Do you want the goods or not Harrington…” 

Steve nodded and kissed your head one more time. “Yes please.” 

You pulled away from him, much to his dismay, but he watched as you went under your bed. Almost your entire body was completely under the bed, and he heard you moving a couple of things around. 

“Are you trying to get back to the Upside Down under there?” He joked as you pull yourself out from under the bed, a ziplock bag containing a couple of blunts in your hand. “Ha ha. Very funny. Hold this handsome.” 

“Aye aye Captain.” He gave you a mock salute and took the bag from your hand while you got to work. You grabbed the towel off of the back of your door, rolled it up, and shoved it against the bottom of the door before standing up, pulling a lighter off of your desk. 

“Okay gorgeous, get that sexy ass of yours out on the fire escape.” 

“Yes ma’am” Steve smiled at you before he clambered onto the fire escape. It was these moments he so desperately craved with you. If he could sit on a fire escape and watch the sunset with you every single night, he would go back to the Upside Down and fight Vecna all over again just to have this moment with you. He sat down against the railing, and let his legs dangle off the side. It seems they weren’t the only ones with this idea, but Steve sure as hell didn’t mind once your thigh was against his. The warmth of the sun mixed with the warmth of your body was more than enough to quell whatever had been going on in his mind. Once he noticed you were staring at him, a light blush tinged his cheeks. 

“What.” He grumbled, looking down through the grate at the people below. 

“Oh nothing, just observing my very handsome boyfriend, and trying to figure out what was clouding his head so badly that he literally dropped everything and disappeared for twenty four hours because he needed to be near me.” 

“What are you getting at lady.” he grumbled, pulling one of the joints, and carefully closing it back up before he chucked it back into your room. He reached behind him and almost closed your window all the way, just enough to squeeze some fingers under to get back inside. He placed the joint in his mouth, and turned to you. You flicked the lighter on, the flame reflecting in both of your eyes before you lit the end of it. 

Steve took a deep drag. He let it fill his lungs. He needed it to push away all of those doubts from before. After a moment, he slowly exhaled and handed you the joint, still looking forward. The view was really something, considering the fact that  if he stared directly across, it was into some elderly woman’s apartment with at least three different cats. But if he turned and looked down the rest of the street, he could see so much more of the city than he ever thought he would be able to. 

You looked at him, taking your own slow inhale of the joint. You placed it on the ashtray near the window and took his hand in yours. 

“Want to tell me what’s running through that pretty head of hair?” 

Steve scoffed before looking down at you. Your eyes were swimming, drowning really, in worry. You kept looking over all of his face before settling back on his eyes. “Steve…” Your voice had gotten softer, and you rubbed your thumb against his hand. “I need you to tell me why you’re here. I promise I’m not mad. I’m actually super relieved that you’re here, if I’m being so truthfully honest Steve. But I know you–I’m actually quite proud of how well I know considering you’re basically a brick wall—sorry. I’m rambling. But the main point is that you just up and left Hawkins. You traveled halfway across the country for me, and I am so flattered but baby, what’s going on?” 

Steve kissed your hand, before reaching back and grabbing the joint. He took another hit of it, enjoying the ambiance of the city surrounding him. 

“Baby please talk to me.” 

He placed the joint back in the ashtray before placing his hand on your thigh. The sun was getting closer to the horizon, and the temperature was slowly starting to cool, but just enough to make it bearable. If he looked at you, he might just break. 

But you weren’t having any of it. You took your free hand and gently guided his chin, subtly forcing him to look at you. 

“Steve. I need you to tell me what’s going on or I can’t help.”

“Maybe it’s nothing you can fix.” He rasped out, taking in a gasp of breath. The tears quickly started to build up behind his lash line. And he tried so hard to keep them at bay. He didn’t need to cry in front of you, he didn’t want to cry in front of you. “Fuck. Sorry.” He quickly wiped at his eyes a couple of times, desperately trying to keep it together in front of you. 

You quickly grabbed both of his hands and pulled them away from his face. “Try me baby. At least give me the chance to try and help with whatever is going on.” 

Steve bit his lip and looked away from you. “It’s so stupid. Fuck. It’s so fucking stupid. I just had this moment.” He started, “I had this moment yesterday and I was in the bathroom and I was just looking. I could see every single fucking thing wrong with me. It’s like I was making some sick fucking list or some shit. And-And I needed to get out so badly. I couldn’t stay in that house. That stupid house. I needed to leave Hawkins. If I stayed I–” He stopped himself, tears rolling down his cheeks, he finally looked at you. Steve took a couple of breaths before finally continuing. Her felt himself focusing on the way your thumb rubbed across his cheek, despite the light stubble adorning his chin. He looked at your eyes, which were patiently waiting for him to continue.  “I needed you. And I just couldn’t wait two weeks for some three day visit where I was barely going to get maybe three hours alone with you. I just–Fuck.” He placed his hands on your wrists, turning his head and kissing the palm of your hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m still not sure what you're sorry about Steve.” You smiled sweetly at him, saccharine in every single way possible. He didn’t understand what he had done in the world to possibly deserve someone like you, but he was sure as hell not about to let you go. How could you just sit there and listen to him, and love him so sweetly, when he was so fucked up, inside and out. His body was marred with reminders of everything they had been through. His mind was thoroughly fucked up, and he quite literally runs away from himself and his friends and–

“Steve.” 

His eyes refocused on you. 

“Why don’t we go inside and lie down. I have a gut feeling you haven’t slept in at least twenty-four hours.” You had managed to kneel next to him, and still kept a hand on his cheek. Your thumb was wiping away any stray tears left over. Your other hand was slowly rubbing your thumb across his thigh, it could not have been the most comfortable of positions but somehow you made it look like it was nothing. 

Steve shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine I promise, shit.” He turned away from you, getting up. 

“Steven, I am not doing this right now. You ran away from your house, and traveled halfway across the country to come see me. You haven’t slept in a couple of days, clearly. I’m done being the kind loving girlfriend because that's not working. I need you to climb back through that window and change into whatever you need to for sleeping because you are not okay right now, and I’d rather be a little bitchy just to get you in my bed, then sit here while you pull away from the one person you came to see.” 

Steve pursed his lips and looked over at you. “You’re not gonna stop until you get me in your bed are you?” his joke only landed slightly flat as you huffed at him, the ghost of a smile on your face. 

“Move it or lose it Harrington.” 

He nodded and leaned down to grab the ashtray for you, but you had beat him to it. “You’re getting slow, old man.” 

Steve rolled his eyes before opening up the window back into your room, and climbing through it. You followed him through, placing the ashtray on your dresser. You turned around to close the window and the curtains, while Steve just sat on the bed and watch you. 

“I know you’re staring at me creep.” 

“Can’t help it. Sorry.”

You huffed at his antics before turning around and making your way towards him. You found yourself between his legs, arms wrapped around his neck, hands playing with the edges of his hair. “Steve you are far from perfect–”

“Gee thanks.” He gave you a weird look, but you continued anyway. 

“But, you are not some fucked up…thing, that can’t be fixed. In fact, you’re not some toy or whatever that is supposed to be fixed. You’re not a shattered figurine in your moms stupid little china cabinet or a bent golf club in your dad’s honestly weirdly large putter collection. You are just someone trying their best to get by and it is enough. Being fixed means there is this ideal of perfect that you have to be, but there is not stupid goal that you need to always be at Steve. You are absolutely amazing the way you are. You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. You are sometimes too kind for your own good, constantly giving and giving to others when you have nothing else to give but parts of yourself. And you are one of the most selfless people on this earth. You have sacrificed so much Steve, and that doesn’t make you any less, or make you this broken…thing. It just means that you have lived a life that most people couldn’t even imagine, and you are still more than enough for the people who love and care about you.” 

Steve kissed you. 

And it was enough. 

“I love you.” He muttered against your lips, pulling you tighter against his body as he continued to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue sweep across your bottom lip. Hands roaming across bodies. Soft gasps for air. Neediness pouring out from the both of you.

You couldn’t get enough of his lips. It had only been a month since you had seen him last, kissed him last, but that was just far too long ago. You had been thinking about him while you wandered around your nearly empty apartment. Something felt like it was missing, and with Steve here, kissing you into bliss, the apartment felt full. It felt like everything was where it was supposed to be–always connected to his, giving life to one another.. Your body flush against as much as his as you could, hands pushing against his neck, to try and get impossible closer to the boy who holds your heart in his chest with his own. 

“I love you too Steve.” You manage out once the both of you part for more than  a semblance of breath. He smiled at that and kissed your jaw softly. “I missed you so much babygirl.” 

A soft hum left your mouth, enjoying the warmth of his lips as they slowly moved towards your ear, your neck. His hands had made their way to your hips, fingers gently pushing into the soft flesh.

“You have no idea how much I missed having you in my bed every morning.” Lips finding the soft spot behind your ear. “In my car.” He nipped at your ear, earning him a soft exhale that fell from your lips. “On my couch. In the pool.” He started to slowly kiss down your neck, sucking a bit harder in certain spots he had spent so many hours memorizing. “Mostly. I missed coming home, and getting to fall asleep in the same bed as you.” He sucked on the soft spot of your neck, right above your collarbone, and a soft moan tumbled from your lips as he did. You felt the smirk on his lips, but it was quickly replaced with Steve marking your neck, a hickey that would take too much concealer to hide.

“Fuck Steve.” Your body was glued to his, a slow heat rising through your veins. You shifted slightly, trying to squeeze your legs together, get some friction down where you needed it the most. “Please baby.” 

Steve blew softly on the mark he just left before kissing back up your neck to your lips. “Please, what, babygirl.” 

“Stop being such a tease.” You grumbled, running your hand through his hair, before grabbing some of it and gently tugging, eliciting a throaty moan from Steve’s pretty lips. He fucking loved when you did that. “When am I not?” He bit his lip as the two of you looked at each other. 

You shoved his chest just enough to get him sitting back down on the bed, so that you could climb up and straddle the boy. “If you want to be a tease, than I can do the same thing.” You whispered in his ear, earning a strangled sound coming from Steve’s throat. 

You slowly rolled your hips, feeling the bulge in his jeans grow larger at the contact. “I can tell how much you missed me Stevie.” There was that fucki9ng nickname again. It had him preening as you rolled your hips again. His hands immediately went to your waist, pushing you down and helping you grind against him. 

Your lips made their way to his neck, to his collarbone. “Baby take your shirt off.” You muttered at him, stopping your movements for a second to help him pull it up and over his body. Your hands immediately found their way to his chest, lips crashing back to his, desperate to get your hands all over his body as if you were touch starved, maybe you were. And Steve would completely agree with you. His was just not touching you enough. 

One of his hands made it around your waist to your back still guiding the way your clit rubbed against the bulge in his jeans. His other hand went in between the two and he slid it under your shorts. 

Your breath hitched and your hips stuttered, losing their rhythm a bit as Steve rolled his middle finger around your clit. He smirked as you closed your eyes and let out a moan, grinding your hips a little harder, starting to ride his fingers, his hand. 

“Stevie please.” You mumbled, resting your forehead on his shoulder, letting out another moan as he pushed your underwear to the side, letting his fingers ghost over your throbbing clit. 

“What Babygirl. What do you need? Tell me what you want. I want to hear it from you.” He whispered in your ear, slowly pushing two of his fingers further south to feel just how wet you were for him. 

“Oh baby…” 

You whined at his words. 

“I want you t-to touch me Stevie.” You moaned into his ear as he shoved his fingers further down. Your hips jolted as he ran his fingers up your pussy, letting him feel just how wet you were. He brought his hand out from under both of you and you whined again, this time in protest at the loss of his hand. 

“Is this all for me, sweet girl.” He squeezed your waist, making you sit up slowly and look at him, grinding a little more desperate now that he pulled his hand away. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. Your jaw opened slightly, and your eyes darkened as he moaned, tasting just good sweet you were. 

“Fuck Steve. Stop being such a fucking tease.” You barely managed out before you shoved his chest hard enough that he fell backwards onto his elbows on your bed. He looked up at you, eyes blown wide with the thought of fucking you sensless. “Get all the way on the bed Steve.” 

Steve, with little to no hesitation scrambled back onto the bed so he was fully laying down across it. His elbows reach your pillows as he barely holds himself up, watching as you eyed the strained denim where his dick was practically screaming to be touched. 

Once you had decided he moved far enough away, You took off the yellow crew neck revealing the lack of bra underneath. Steve groaned as your nipples pebbled from the contact to the air, regardless of how warm it was in the apartment. He moved to sit up but you just shoved his chest, and he fell back on his elbows. Your body rolled slightly, unhappy at the loss of contact from Steve, but you wanted something, and you knew that if you asked Steve to get you the moon, he would steal a couple extra stars just in case, which is why you wanted to suck him off before you asked him. 

“Baby I wanna taste you.” 

Steve’s eyes closed and his breathing became staggered. “U-Uh yea baby, what..um. Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to watch me. But..” His heart started beating faster as he felt you palm him over his jeans. He let out a breathy moan. “You can’t touch me.” 

Steve’s eyes flew open and as you pulled any of the hair that had fallen in your face, out of it. “W-What. Baby I-”

You kept your hand slowly palming at his bulge as you moved up along his body to kiss hip lips. Your tits ghosted over his chest making him shiver at the faint contact, and making your breath hitch at the way the contact felt on your nipples. “If you don’t touch me baby, You get a prize.” You kissed him softly, a contrast to the way you had been talking to him before. You were asking him to trust you. He kissed back and nodded. “Y-yeah, baby. O-Okay.” He managed out before leaning up on his elbows again, to watch you. 

You let your hands rake down his chest, your touch leaving chills down his body, and made his dick jump, causing goosebumps all over his body. 

“Fuck gorgeous.” 

You smirked up at him before kissing the little line of his V that was peeking out from above his jeans, using one of your hands to pop the button. You managed to pull off his jeans and boxers in one pull, something you bragged about to your friends whenever they asked about your sex life, but that was neither here nor there. 

You both watched as his dick sprang free, hitting his stomach. The movement caused Steve to whine a bit. “Baby I’ve got you summing before I’ve even touched you.” You muttered to him, spitting into your hand before grabbing him. 

Steve lifted his hips into your hands, unable to stop himself. “F-Fuck babygirl.” He exhaled, watching as you licked the precum dripping down his dick. You moved your other hand down to his balls and squeezed them gently in your hand, watching as he tilted his head back and moaned. 

“You like that Stevie?” You smirked as he bucked his hips up, trying to resist the urge to fuck himself with your hand. You paused, waiting for him to make eye contact again. Once he managed to gain some semblance of his mind back, he titled his head up, chest rapidly rising and falling, looking into your eyes. The sheer control you had over him just made you hotter than possible. 

Slowly, you started moving your hand up and down, watching as he squirmed,  trying not to rush you. Eventually, you moved one of your hands up your body and slowly started palming at your own tits. Slowly rolling your nipple between your thumb and pointer finger, moaning at the feeling. Steve was about to lose his fucking mind. 

You were getting off watching yourself fuck him. 

You smirked at him once he realized what you were doing. “Tell me what to touch next baby.” 

Steve moaned loudly, and tilted his head back for a moment, trying to focus on anything other than the feeling of your hand on his dick and your hand on your tits, pleasuring yourself. 

“Tell me where to touch next Steve.” 

He managed to look back up at you, his hips slowly quickening as you continued to touch your chest. “W-Where do you–fuck princess–where do you want to be-be touched.” His eyes couldn’t leave your form as you licked your lips and slowly kissed down his dick, before slowly licking all the way up it again. 

“I wanna see how wet you are.” He managed out before he moaned again. “B-baby I’m not….” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not gonna last much longer if you..” 

“I know baby.” You cooed as you continued to move your hand up and down his length. “But you’re such a good boy, you’re doing so good for me. Keep your eyes open.” 

Steve’s jaw dropped and his chest was rising and falling faster and faster. You were moving just slow enough, teasing just enough, to keep him on the edge. 

You let go of him, making him panic and open his eyes. “Baby please, fuck I’m so close pl—” But the words froze in his throat once he watched as you slowly trailed that same hand down your own body and rub your clit with your thumb, letting out a moan, just for him. His mouth went dry as you slowly stuck two fingers into that pretty little cunt of yours, moaning slightly as you did, before pulling them out, covered in your pretty little wetness, just for him. 

The sound that left Steves mouth was not human, as he watched you slather yourself around his dick, just to then slowly put him in your mouth, letting him almost bottom out in your throat. 

“Oh my god.” He moaned out. “Fuck, baby, fuck I’m gonna–” He cut himself off with a moan as you slowly started to bob on his dick, choking slightly everytime you took him all the way in. You squeezed his thigh softly to let him know it was okay before you moved your hand back to his balls, squeezing them every time he bottomed out in your mouth. The sight alone was enough to make him cum right then and there, but what did him in was the way you kept twisting your tongue around the tip, just making him sensitive enough. You felt his dick twitching as he fucked up into your mouth. 

“Baby I–I–, Fuck Baby I’m gonna cu–” His orgasm hit him like a fucking freight train as he came in your mouth. Steve moaned your name loudly in between the rest of the moans he could barely contain. You felt the cum dripping down the back of your throat as you held his hips down, still moving your head, letting him let it all out into your mouth. 

Once he had been pushed to the brink of overstimulation, and his dick started to soften, you sat up and slowly crawled over him, raking your eyes over the wreckage you caused. His hands found quickly wrapped around your body and pulled you flush against him. Steve was sure you could hear his heart beating out of his chest. You slowly raked one of your hands through his hair. 

You slowly kissed his jaw, waiting for him to come to. 

Steve eventually was able to open his eyes, and look down at you. “What’s my prize you fucking deviant.” He managed out, voice still wrecked from the sheer amount of sound that came out while he fucked your mouth. His hands were slowly roaming over your body, touching every inch of you. 

You laughed softly and kissed his jaw again as he squeezed your ass with his hand. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you kissed his lips softly. 

“You’re fucking beautiful.” he mumbled against your lips, listening as you sighed so prettily. 

“Baby if you’re too fucked out, I can save your prize for tomorrow morning.” You whispered against his lips, slowly rubbing your thumb across his pecs, humming as he squeezed your ass again. 

“No fucking way because if that’s what I got to earn a prize, then I want the fucking prize.” Pressing you against him, watching as you still squeezed your legs together. 

“I want to ride you...”

Steve looked at you, almost cautiously, “Of course baby…But We’ve…We’ve done that bef–”

“—Your face.”  

A quiet ‘oh’ left his mouth, while a blush spread across your face. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now princess.” His hand reach down and tilted your chin uo, forcing you to look back at him. 

“If you’re sure then who am I to deny such a fucking prize.” He licked his lips, lust blown eyes met yours as you let out the breathe you were holding. 

Steve watched as you nodded and lightly tapped against his chest, signaling for him to lay back down. You maneuvered out of your pajama shorts and underwear, tossing them across the room–finding them was a later problem. 

Your legs straddled over Steve’s chest, and his hands slowly slid up your thighs, letting his thumbs rub against the soft doughy flesh. Everytime he moved his thumbs up closer and closer, your hips would start to roll ever so slightly. 

“Steve…” You sighed out as he kissed up your thigh, before switching to the other one whenever he got too close. Except this time, you couldn’t reprimand him for teasing you, since you were his prize, and he could fuck you seven ways to heaven if he wanted. 

Frustration was starting to build up as he kept ghosting his lips over your cunt. Steve watched as your thighs started to shake, your chest heaving up and down, and your hair messily framing the most hypnotizing eyes, watching his every move, begging him to touch her. 

Steve could spend the rest of his life worshiping you–your thighs wrapped around his face, kissing up your stomach to reach your lips, leaving hickies spread across your chest like stars. So when he hooked his arms under your thighs, and pulled you down towards his mouth, he felt as if he was in heaven, hearing the yell of excitement leave your lips, quickly replaced with a moan as he slowly licked up your entire cunt. Flicking his tongue around your lip, and feeling your whole body react. 

Your hands shot out and clung to the headboard as Steve used his tongue to slowly draw figure eights across your clit. 

“Oh my god. Fuck. Steve—Baby please–” You let out a load moan when Steve shoved his tongue up into you, his nose brushing your clit. 

Your hips were moving as you began to ride his face. Steve just continued to lap up into you, moaning once he realized you were fucking yourself on his face. 

The vibrations ran straight through your body and to your tits. “Fuc-Fuck Stevie Baby.” 

Your moans only made his tongue move faster, before he brought one of his hands down and started rubbing your clit with his thumb. 

Your orgasm was quickly building in the pit of your stomach. You felt it grow as he moaned again when your thighs started to squeeze his head.

Moans and swears and gasps continued to fall from your mouth as you rode his mouth. 

Steve was completely drunk on you, lapping up your wetness as if he was a man starved. The noises you were making were borderline pornographic as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. 

“Fuck—Steve, fuck baby. I’m–Can I come Stevie fuck.” 

His brain short circuted for a moment as you continued to beg him to let you cum all over his face, make a mess of his lips and chin and chest. 

He looked up at you, eyes connecting with his. Just as you did, Steve quickly shifted your hips and sucked on your clit, while rolling it around with his tongue.

It was too much. 

You screamed his name as you came all of his face, hips spasming and he continued, pinning you down with his arms, not letting you move away from his mouth. You were the prettiest sight to see, cumming over him, like a goddess. 

He shifted slightly and started to fuck up into you with his tongue again, forcing you to start riding his mouth again, nose hitting your clit causing you to moan his name over and over again. Before the first orgasm was even over, the pressure of another one forced its way through your body.

One of your hands flew down into Steve’s hair, yanking on it roughly, causing him to moan into you. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you gushed into Steve's mouth, pushing through your second orgasm, and him gladly drinking it up. 

This time, it was too much and your hips jerked away from his face, and onto his chest, soaking it. 

The two of you were panting as your body seized and shuddered, letting the pleasure roll over and over and over until it was bearable enough to look down at steve. 

His face glistened with your cum, dripping down his lips—it was the hottest sight you had ever seen. 

Neither of you said anything as you sat on his chest, body still shifting everytime another wave of your orgasm hit you, cum leaking down his chest. 

He just slowly placed kisses along your thighs, watching you come down from the intense high, thumb gently rubbing against your hip. 

“Don’t look at me..” You manage out quietly, a soft laugh following it. 

Steve kissed your thigh again. “Want me to let go of your legs baby?” 

“Not yet.” was his answer, and he complied, just watching as you slowly finished coming down. 

“Mmmkay.” You whispered and slowly lifted yourself off of his chest, and moved your leg around so you could lay down next to Steve. 

Steve sat up quickly, and kissed you, fervently but softly, letting your body relax. His lips didn't leave yours as he slowly finished laying you down. 

Eventually steve broke off the kisses and got off the bed to wipe you off his chest. 

The second your head hit the pillow, your eyes were closing and sleep was edging closer and closer.

Steve watched as your breaths started to even out and kissed your forehead before wandering off and locating the bathroom. He smiled as he switched on the lights, and the mirror in front of him lit up. He dug through one of the boxes, eventually finding a towel and using it to clean up your messy adventure, but looking at himself in the mirror.

Maybe everything was just the way it was supposed to be, maybe he was fucked up and flawed and his body was wrecked with scars, but—

“Steve?” He heard your voice carry through the apartment, pulling him from his moment.

You watched as he walked back into the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” You had made your way under the covers of your bed, eyes narrowing at his prolonged a scene from your bed.

“I’m okay babygirl. How are you doin’?” He slipped under the covers and pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped snuggly around your back.

Your lips kissed his neck softly before you Redred your forehead on his collar.

“You should move in.”

Steve is sure he misheard you, but when you look up at him with those eyes, he knows you’re dead serious.

Maybe everything was perfectly fine, maybe he was perfectly okay.

“I’d love nothing more babygirl.” He whispered, kissing your forehead, watching as you smiled contently, starting to drift off to sleep.

And suddenly, it was quiet, except for the soft inhale and exhale of your breath. But this time, instead of everything wrong, all he could think about was how right everything was.

And for the first time, in a long time, Steve Harrington was looking forward to what his everything could be.

[sunshine-theseus]

Always The One | Sam Kerr x Reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: you have a huge fight but she’ll always be the one for you.

Warnings: angst, sorta some fluff?

I’m not sure if it was because I was tired from my shift, or the fact I’d waited at the restaurant for over an hour and my girlfriend hadn’t bothered to show, that had my crying in Jessie’s apartment at 9:03pm on a Thursday night.

Jessie Fleming was possibly the sweetest person to ever walk the earth, and my closest friend.

“Still nothing from her?” she asks softly from the kitchen.

I let out a slow hum, indicating Sam had seemingly not noticed her girlfriend of 3 years was missing from their shared apartment on such an important date. Then I quickly check my phone again to make sure I haven’t unknowingly shut it off or somehow just missed a text or call from the woman.

“Well, you still have a spare uniform you left here a couple months ago if you need it for your shift tomorrow. But now, we eat ice cream and watch Fantastic Mr Fox until you fall asleep.” She plops down on the couch next to me with a pitying smile gracing her face.

“Wait. Before we do that.” I grab my purse from beside my feet and pull out two small items.

“Are you kidding me?! You’re fucking joking, you’re pulling my leg. Are you serious!” She rushes out questions before snatching the items to get a closer look.

“These are really real!?”

I chuckle at her, trying to stop the tears that are forming behind my eyes.

Sam and I had begun the IVF process a few months ago after some encouragement from Katrina, Sam’s national teammate, and I’d missed my period a few days ago so I took a test. I thought it would be a nice surprise for our anniversary. That, and the small black band with a simple diamond that sat snug in a red velvet box in my bag for three months now. But obviously she didn’t show, and I wasn’t sure what to do now.

“Yeah… they’re real. I wanted to propose and show her the test tonight. But, well, you know.” I start crying again before I can stop myself, and I’ve fallen asleep not long after Jessie starts playing with my hair.

~~~~~~~~~

Work the next day did not help take my mind off the events of last night. Being a paramedic was obviously a difficult job, but I hadn’t had this amount of bad luck on a shift in a long time, and the calls just seemed to keep getting worse.

Our first call was an elderly lady whose grandson had accidentally pushed her down her front steps, she’d hit her head pretty hard, and her knee was dislocated but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t fix and get her help for at the hospital.

Later in the day we’d gotten called to a collision on the A3 motorway, 2 women and their daughter in one car and a drunk man in a large truck. One of the mums had passed away before we’d gotten there, the other fractured her clavicle and some ribs and had a broken leg. The daughter had been knocked unconscious, a broken nose and arm and a fractured C5 and C6. The man got out with barely a scratch.

That’s when I had to take a break and try to call Sam. Holding the hand of the woman and her daughter became harder when I pictured Sam and our daughter in their place.

She didn’t answer. That call or the 3 others I made before I clocked off at 6pm, uniform stained with blood.

I’d zoned out the whole drive home. I wasn’t even sure I was heading home until I’d pulled into the driveway.

I also didn’t notice the now filled space where Sam’s car sat, or the dirty Airforce 1s by the front door that were missing when I’d left yesterday morning (I’d gone straight from my shift to the restaurant), and I didn’t notice the figure slouched on the couch watching the AFL game she’d clearly missed during training today, a beer already in hand.

I went straight to the shower to wash off the blood and cry. Then I got changed into an oversized jumper and shorts, avoiding any of Sam’s jumpers I’d usually curl up in after a hard day, sat on our bed and cried some more.

I don’t get to cry for too long before the bedroom door slams open and Sam beings to yell.

“When the fuck were you going to tell me!?” I just groan in response and cover my ears with a spare pillow, but she grabs it and stands in front of me, forcing me to look at her and the pregnancy test she held tight in her hands. I’d fucking forgot to throw the other ones out.

“When were you planning on fucking telling me this round had worked hmm? That we’re going to have a baby!?” I look my girlfriend in the eyes for the first time in 2 days.

“Last night. At the restaurant. You know… for our anniversary?” and I know it’s sick, but I found joy in the way her face dropped and realisation appears behind her eyes.

“Fuck Y/N! I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry I forgot. How did I forget??”

“I don’t know how you forgot Sam. I sent you a text after you left for training. And another during my lunch break at work. And right as I was heading to the restaurant. And I called, got Jessie to remind you too, which I know she did. How the fuck did you forget Sam?” I get up from the bed and approach her.

“I don’t know, I got carried away hanging with Mills and Guro, but for fuck’s sake drop the attitude.”

Dro- drop the attitude!? She cannot be serious.

“What was that?”

“Drop the attitude Y/N. I’m sorry I forgot but the condescending tone is unnecessary, you’ve forgotten shit too.”

“Yeah! I have! Like if it’s my turn to cook dinner or if you have a physio appointment. Not a fucking anniversary Sam!”

“And this isn’t just about the anniversary anymore. I called you four times during work today and you didn’t pick up. You didn’t think calling four times during work meant I might really need to speak to you? Because when I held the hands of a little girl who had to say goodbye to one of her mum’s and the other mum who had to say goodbye to her wife all I could think of was you and you didn’t answer once. And then I see you for the first time in nearly 48 hours and the first thing you wanted to do was yell at me instead of calmly asking? It’s too much.”

I start running my hands through my hair and pacing around the room. This can’t be happening. What the fuck is happening here? Before I can think about much more, I grab my work bag and start packing a uniform and some clothes.

“Wh- what are you doing? Oh come on you’re not leaving over a silly argument.” We’d made our way to the front door by now.

“No! I’m not! I’m leaving because you can’t seem to see why I’m so fucking upset over any of this Sam. And the fact you got so ‘carried away hanging with Millie and Guro’ to forget your 3-year anniversary and just ignore all my calls. I was really excited to share the test with you, have a family, I’m not really sure what to do about that now. Oh, and here, was going to give this to you too.” I slam the small velvet box down on the counter by the door before grabbing my work boots and rushing to my car.

I hear the door slam behind me, but no footsteps follow, so I hop in and drive to Jessie’s apartment once again.

~~~~~

I’m laying between Jessie and Erin, the latter of whom Jessie had begged to come over to try and make me smile after I’d been crying non-stop, when there’s a banging on the door.

“Jessss! I know Y/n’s there please let me talk to her.” The familiar Australian accent makes me tear up again.

Erin gets up instead of Jessie and tells us she’ll handle Sam, send her away somehow.

3rd pov

Erin opens the door to a very dishevelled Sam Kerr, who’s eyes are red, hair a mess, having finally been let out of the low ponytail so she could run hands through it in a panic.

“Ez. What are you doing here? Where’s Jessie, and Y/n?”

“Sorry Sam, Y/n isn’t here. Jess ‘n’ I decided to have a sleepover so she can take me to training tomorrow because my car’s in the shop.”

“Erin come on I’m serious, she wouldn’t go anywhere else except here.”

“I’m sorry mate I haven’t heard from or seen her since our game against Man City when she had the day off.” Sam let’s out an angered sigh but accepts the idea that maybe her girlfriend had run off to one of the other girls, seeing as most of her friends were Sam’s teammates, either from Chelsea or The Matildas.

“Yeah ok, um, let me know if you hear anything yeah? I really need to talk to her.” Sam’s hand shakes as she pats Erin’s shoulder before turning away, getting back into her car to try Kyra’s or Ann-Katrin and Jess’, both friendships that seemed so unlikely to Sam, yet were some of her girlfriend’s closest friends.

1st pov

I let out a breath of relief when Erin returns to us without a certain striker trailing behind her.

“Maybe you should talk to her. She might fucking crash in the state she’s in.” the thought makes me feel bad for a moment, but she shouldn’t be allowed off that easily.

“No, she’s stupid but not that stupid. And she deserves to worry for a moment.” It was probably really mean, but I refuse to believe she doesn’t deserve a taste of her own medicine.

~~~~~

It takes me 2 more days of her calling before I start to really miss Sam, and decide to head back to our apartment just to see if she’s there, because Jessie told me how she hadn’t shown up to training on Yesterday and she wasn’t on the pitch as I watch Chelsea verse West Ham on Jessie’s tv.

As I walk through the door, the only thing I hear are the tiny meows of our cat Helen, who runs up to me to rub against my legs. I missed her.

But then I start to look around and realise what a mess the place is. Beer bottles are spread across every room and there are takeout containers that clearly hadn’t been put away since they arrived, sitting on the coffee table in the lounge room. I walk further down the hall but trip of some random pair of sneakers. No more than two steps after that, glass crunches under my boots and I frown when I see a photo of Sam with the FA Cup I had taken after their win last season. It was my favourite picture of her in her Chelsea kit.

“Sammy?! Where are you?” my voice echoes throughout the space as I creep towards the bedroom.

As I pry open the door, I’m met with a sight that both warms and squeezes my heart. Sam is covered in blankets, snoring softly. Her eyes are puffy and there are both fresh and old tear stains running down her cheeks. She looked strangely angelic, peaceful. Like the girl I’m in love with.

When I pull the blankets back, I see her hugging the teddy I got for her to take on international breaks when I couldn’t make it, doused in my perfume. I’d got it for her on our 6-month anniversary, and it didn’t take her long to buy me one for when she went away. The same one that is currently sitting on our windowsill, seeming very lonely.

She’s dressed in only a sports bra and some checkered boxers she’s been obsessed with sleeping in, but doesn’t seem to have changed in the past 2 days.

Her eyes blink open as I softly shake her away, but once she catches sight of me, she bolts up-right and scrambles to hug me.

“Hey Sammy.” I’m too tired to be angry at her anymore. I just miss her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry I was so horrible to you. I don’t deserve to be forgiven but I’ll do anything to prove how sorry I am and how much I love you and this baby.” I then catch a glimpse of a ring, the ring, that is placed perfectly on her ring finger.

“Y- you’re wearing the ring?” and she doesn’t get a chance to reply before I’m kissing her.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you! I’m still mad at how you treated me.” I pull back to tell her before she can reciprocate the kiss.

She doesn’t meet my eyes but nods. “I’m so sorry, I love you so much and I want to show you that and show you how sorry I am.”

“I expect you to get me every single thing I crave in the next nine months and give me cuddles whenever I ask.”

Before she can I agree I add. “And that’s only for not letting me give me whole speech about how much I love you before I propose. There’s a lot more ground to cover for the other shit.” But I smile and kiss her again.

“I would have said yes before you could talk any way. Oh! And I have a surprise for you too. I was going to give it to you on our anniversary too.”

Sam gets up and rushes to the drawers, pulling out a familiar box.

“No fucking way were you going to propose on the same day.” She simply pulls out the ring and holds it out to me.

“Will you be my wife? If you say no I might actually drop dead.” I cry before anything else. But then I catch her looking at me expectantly and I just nod before hugging her tight.

“I can’t wait to have a family with you.” I whisper in her ear.

“I bags being the fun mumma!”

“Nooo way!”

“Yuh huh! You’re going to be the safety conscious one. You literally make me renew my first aid with you every single year. I’m definitely the fun one.” I groan but hug her tight. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“SAM I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU ONCE THIS THING IS OUT OF ME HOW DID YOU CONVINCE ME TO DO THIS!?” I couldn’t tell you how long I’ve been in labour by now, but I’m sure Sam’s hand was about to break and everyone in the building could hear me swearing my head off.

“You’re almost there chickee, just a few more pushes I promse.”

“You said that last time and it was not just a few more pushes!”

Before either of us can say anything else I’m pushing again, and 6 minutes later, a baby’s cries fill the room, and Maeve Wren Kerr-Y/l/n joined her twin sister Charlie May Kerr/Y/l/n in their mothers arms.

When I look over at Sam, she’s smiling adoringly down at Charlie, and I see a tear run down her face.

“You’re so beautiful.” I reach to grab her hand while Maeve sleeps in my arms.

I don’t think I could love anyone, or anything more than I love Sam. In 8 months when we get married, I’ll look her in the eyes as we say ‘I do’ and I’ll know she was always going to be it for me. She’ll always be the one.