#(....i can already feel the pot stirring and i am SIGHING.)

[magnusmodig]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 pieces of this puzzle that thor had put together on his lonesome . omerta nostra was one of them . it were as though he had been chasing a boar in wake of the great horn's bellow . only the tracks became more obvious the further into this forest of mystery he had ventured . IT DISTURBED THOR GREATLY .

❝ our venture into that mad realm was in late summer . ❞ as though his hand held the answers and was simply being coy with them , thor frowned at his own hand disapprovingly as he turned it over in slow observation . the summer months were sweltering this past season , and no summer before had e'er AGREED very much with loki . only — ❝ you'd adjusted by then , ❞ he continued , brow furrowing .

surely thor would have noticed anyone stalking his brother like prey since the summer and long before . except he hadn't , had he ? the thought nagged the back of thor's skull . and so the hunter's spears had been thrown , and loki's blood had been spilt for the oversight .

❝ what quarrel had he with you , then? ❞

Thor always managed around the question whenever Loki asked. A quick glance up and down revealed to Loki that Thor had seemed largely unscathed. As always. he knew that there was more to Thor's mind than what he spoke of.

Thor was more than trifles to him...

❝ ... He is called the 'Conductor.' ❞ Loki sat up straighter in the bed, staring down only at the ice pack in his hand. The condensation dripped off of the sides, and his hands became wet from it.

❝ Leader of the Omerta Nostra... the highest power in the Sonare Isle. ❞ Loki had recognized the symbols they had come across from that disaster of a mission quickly enough, even if his grasp on the full scope of the situation was vague at best.

❝ He has followed me for quite some time. ❞ Loki added in a quiet murmur. ❝ Only I did not know it was him until... now. ❞

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Fever

Summary: You're ovulating- It's that time of month where you find yourself turning into an unspeakably horny monster with just one problem that Javi knows exactly how to help you fix.

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also, who am I to say?) oral (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, an unspeakably explicit breeding kink (I ain't sorry about it), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Javi "Daddy" and meaning it (help), the sweetest softest sex, yet somehow the filthiest, nastiest sex at the same time??? god these two love each other so much it makes me SICK

A/N: ... If you know me, no you don't. I'm so sorry y'all, I am ovulating and absolutely FERAL, I am truly thinking that someone may need to come put me down at this point because.... yeah... raise your hand if you're surprised Madeline has yet another story with Javier Peña and a big, fat, nasty breeding kink?! Oh look!! It's no one!!! ANYWHO, don't mind me while I foam at the mouth for the next 24-48 hours, BYEEEEEEEEEE

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing that you knew about Javi, it was that he was one of the most handsome, attractive men you had ever met. 

His dark, curly hair. 

His mustache. 

His sweet brown puppy dog eyes. 

His absolutely incomprehensible shoulder to waist ratio. 

Your husband had it all. That, you knew for a fact. 

Truth be told, there wasn’t really much that you ever thought Javi could do to be hotter than he already was. 

That was until a few months ago, when you had recently stopped taking your birth control and you could quite literally feel yourself morph into the insatiably feral, horny mess that you became when you were ovulating. 

And when that was the case, not only was he the hottest man you had ever laid eyes on in your entire life, you were quite literally ready to rip his clothes right off of him at every single opportunity possible. 

You could practically feel the change in your body when you woke up this morning- the soft sunlight of Saturday morning spilling through your curtains as you rolled over to see Javi, mouth slightly agape as he snored, face buried in his pillow and messy brown curls flopping over his head. 

God, does he always look this hot when he sleeps? You thought to yourself, slowly stirring awake, stretching your arms over your head before creeping out of bed to make yourself some coffee to bring back upstairs with you while you waited for Javi to wake up. 

As the bittersweet aroma and quiet, rhythmic drip of the coffee hitting the bottom of the pot began to gently rouse you from your sleepy state, you couldn’t help but shake the warm, stirring sensation in your stomach from the image of Javi sleeping next to you in bed. 

Elbows propped up against the counter, chin resting in your palms, you closed your eyes, picturing him- His sweet soft smile as you kissed his plush lips, the way his big hands roamed across your hips and back as he pulled you closer to his chest, the bulge of his cock pressed against your thigh before he- 

“What are you doing up, cariño?” Javi’s soft and sleepy voice cooed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back as he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his presence enough to snap you out of your daydream, but not enough to shake the dull ache that had been growing between your legs from the moment you woke up. 

“I was just gonna make some coffee and bring it back up to bed. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby.” You sighed, a smirk growing between your cheeks as you turned around to face him, Javi now caging you between his body and the counter as his hands splayed planted on either side of you. He looked down at you with his half-awake gaze and sleepy smile, still in nothing but his boxers, his tanned skin and barely there freckles glowing in the morning sunlight creeping through your kitchen window. 

“Don’t apologize, mi amor. Just wanted to know where my wife was. Glad I found her.” He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, only pulling away to quietly whisper, “Good morning, hermosa.” 

And while it was nothing but a simple good morning kiss, the way Javi’s lips met yours sent a spark off inside you, quickly leaning back to pull him closer to you as you draped his arms around his neck, a soft moan escaping from your parted mouth, feeling a grin growing across Javi’s face in response. 

“Mhmmm, well, a very good morning to you then. My bedhead and morning breath really doin’ it for you, huh?” Javi smirked, lowering his hands to rest on your hips, gently toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

“Sorry, I uh- you just, God, you look really good this morning. Can we, um, ya know, maybe go back upstairs?” You stammered, so enamored with Javi’s presence that you could barely get a coherent thought out as you stared up at your husband, already feeling a damp patch beginning to grow in your underwear, stomach churning with arousal. 

“Yeah? Mi esposa muy dulce (my sweet wife), you want me to-” 

Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggggg

“Who the fuck is calling me this early…” 

Javi’s face scrunched in frustration at the sound of his cell phone ringing on the kitchen counter, reaching over you to see the expression in his face shift to concern as he read the caller ID, quickly opening up his phone to answer. 

“Hey, Pops. What’s goin’ on? Everything okay? Again? Fuck… Yeah, just um- shit, yeah, I’ll be over in 30. Okay. Yup. Yeah, bye Pops.” Javi let out a deep sigh, running his hands over his face and through the sleep curled ends of his dark hair, his grumpy pout telling you that your morning was not going to go the way you thought it was 30 seconds ago. “The gate that Pops had installed last week fell down overnight and now all the cows are loose in the pasture… I gotta go over there and help him put it back up before it gets even worse. I’m so sorry, Hermosa.” 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged, trying your best to mask your horny disappointment. 

“It hopefully shouldn’t take that long. I should be back before lunchtime, okay? And when I get back, if you still want,” he paused, letting his palm slide along your jaw, cradling your cheek before pressing another soft kiss onto your lips, “We can pick up where we left off.” 

“Promise?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Yo prometo (I promise).” 

Wanting to give Javi any chance of leaving the house without trapping him in your bedroom, you tried your best to keep yourself busy while he quickly got ready and grabbed his things to head to the Peña Ranch, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before watching him back out of your driveway in his truck, the image of him with one hand behind the passenger seat at the other with his palm to the steering wheel making you just about drop to your knees for reasons you thought you couldn’t explain. 

You hoped that with Javi gone, you could at least be a little productive in getting some things done around the house before he returned, but it seemed like with everything that you did and anywhere you went in your house, you couldn’t help but find more reasons to add to the insatiable desire building in your core. 

While you were trying to make breakfast, you couldn’t help but stare at Javi’s favorite coffee mug, the Empire Strikes Back cup he had claimed as his at your apartment when you had first started dating.  You couldn’t keep yourself from imagining the width of his huge hands wrapping around it, dwarfing the mug in his grasp, thinking about how good those same hands would feel all over you. 

After that, came trying to do the laundry, where you caught yourself sniffing Javi’s shirts, the overpowering and familiar scent of his cologne and sweat seeping through the fabric, driving you absolutely crazy, wishing you could find a way to drown in his scent. 

Finally, in your very valiant effort to try and make your bed, you found yourself laying face down in Javi’s pillow, somehow leaving the sheets and comforters tangled and tossed about worse than you had found them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me today…”  You whispered to yourself, now sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on your TV, somehow still even hornier than you were when you woke up this morning. You let your gaze wander away from the TV, examining the walls of your family room until you landed on your wedding photos hung across your wall, smiling to yourself as you looked at the portraits, reliving the moments of the happiest day of your life. 

It wasn’t until you glanced at one of the photos of you and Javi surrounded by your family in a candid moment where Javi had hoisted your niece on his hip to dance with her during your reception, the image making your stomach flip with an overwhelming need. After doing the quick math in your head, it hit you like a thousand pound ton of bricks why you had been so worked up all goddamn day. 

You were ovulating, and you needed Javi to put a baby into you right now.  

As if the universe had magically heard your prayers, you turned your head to hear your garage door opening and the familiar stomp of Javi’s boot covered footsteps trudging down the hallway. Like a moth to a flame, your heart began to race as you watched Javi’s broad body approach you, your jaw practically dropping at his appearance. 

Javi was now glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his curls sticking to his damp forehead, and the sleeves of his button down shirt now rolled up past his elbows, the buttons once done up to near his neck before he left now trailing open to the middle of his chest, exposing the warm glow of his tanned skin underneath. 

“Hey hermosa, I’m home! Ended up being a way easier fix than Pops thought and- Oh!” 

Before Javi could even get out the rest of his sentence, you were trapping his words in your own mouth, feverishly bringing your lips to his as you grabbed fistfulls of his shirt, kissing him like every bone in your body depended on it. 

Javi stood there for a moment, almost dumbfounded and frozen, wondering what had warranted such a greeting before leaning in to reciprocate, snaking his hands to your sides and grabbing your waist, pulling away only to try and understand the reason for his passionate welcome. 

“H-hi baby. Everything okay?” 

“Mhmmmmmm.” 

“Not that I’m mad about it, but I feel like you’re greeting me like I’m coming home from war.” Javi laughed to himself quietly, looking down at you with a smirking suspicion. 

“I missed you. I need you so bad, Javi.” You moaned, pressing up to lock your lips to his again, this time Javi matching your intensity as your mouths crashed into each other. 

“Is this all from this morning?” Javi managed to ask between parted kisses, his grip tightening around you as he pulled you closer to his chest. 

“This morning,” you paused, beginning to kiss him between each thought, “right now,” your hands began to roam up his chest, sneaking under the fabric of his shirt, “all the time,” fingers now working at frantically undoing the buttons, “fuck, everything about you. You’re so fucking sexy, Javi. Do you know that? God, I’m so lucky.” At this point, it felt like the words were flowing out of you in a horny and unstoppable stream of consciousness, babbling between desperate kisses pressed against Javi’s lips. “I need you so bad. I want you fuck me, Javi. Fuck, I- I want you to put a baby in me.” 

Your last sentence had Javi frozen in place once again, pulling away just to make sure he had heard you correctly, even though the boyish grin growing ear to ear across his face seemed to be enough confirmation. The two of you had been trying ever since you had gotten back from your honeymoon, but now that you were to the point that your birth control was out of your system and your cycle was back to normal, it felt just a little more real to the both of you. 

“You want me to put a baby in you, mi amor? That what you want?” Javi groaned, his voice rumbling low in his chest as a hungry glaze painted itself across his chocolate brown eyes, making your pussy throb at hearing him say it back to you. 

“Mhmmmmm.” You nodded frantically, too caught up in your own desire to find any words to string together into a coherent sentence. “I think I’m ovulating, so it could really happen this time. Please, baby, I-” 

This time, it was Javi’s turn to cut you off, his arms scooping below your legs to hoist you up around him, legs locking around his hips as he carried you down the hallway towards your bedroom, your bodies banging and bumping against the walls and door frames in a frantic race to your bed without any regard for spatial awareness.  

As soon as you were close enough, Javi was tossing you on the bed, frantically stripping himself of his shirt and working his way down to his jeans before he realized you were sitting up, already toying with his button and zipper. You pushed his pants down his legs, followed by his boxers, revealing his cock, fully erect and weeping with precum at the tip. It wasn’t long until you were scrambling off the bed and dropping to your knees in front of him, licking the salty tang of spend off his tip before he could protest that he needed to take care of you first. 

“Hermosa, I- Oh fuckkkk-” He groaned, feeling your jaw go slack as you took his length into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him in the back of your throat, pulling back to look up at him with batted lashes as you kissed him up and down his shaft. 

“I wanna suck your dick, Javi. Wanna show you how much I love it. Wanna feel you down my throat before you fuck me.” You moaned, rubbing your legs together to try and ease the ache between your legs, your pussy so wet and puffy that slick and arousal were dripping from your cunt and coating the inside of your thighs. 

“Fuck me…” Javi muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut to regain his composure before looking back down at you, slowly sucking at his tip, your tongue swirling around the sensitive ridges of his cock. “Okay, baby. Show me how bad you need me before I put my dick in your tight little pussy, huh?” 

Inch by inch, you took him back down your throat until you were brushing up against the curls at his base, the sweet and musky scent of him filling your nostrils as you inhaled. “Oh fuck, Osita. Holy shit.” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching your mouth fill with his cock. His fingers ran through your hair, tugging a little tighter as your pace began to quicken, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull. “Fuck, such a good girl taking me so well. So fucking pretty when you suck my cock baby, holy fuck.” 

For as much as Javi wanted you to keep going until he was spilling down your throat, he needed to save every last drop for when he came inside you, fucking you full of him until he knew it took. Feeling his balls begin to draw up into his stomach, he forced himself to pull you off him, panting to catch his breath before he spoke. “I don’t wanna cum yet, baby, and if you keep going like that I’m gonna bust.  Fuck, you’re so good to me. Lay down on the bed, Hermosa. Let me take care of you. Need to taste you.” 

Instantly, Javi was pulling you up and sitting you on the bed, letting your back hit the mattress as he settled between your legs, tugging your bottoms off until they were in a crumpled pile on the floor. his hands slide down the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart to reveal the wet, slick, and puffy mess your pussy had already become without even being touched. Javi chuckled to himself, awestruck by the sight in front of him, kissing and nipping at the meat of your legs, teasing you with how dangerously close he was to your cunt and finally giving you what you needed. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet, cariño.” Letting his hands shift down, his fingers ghosted across your core as his thumbs slid through the lips of your pussy, spreading it open even further, making you whimper in anticipation. “Goddamn, she’s so pretty. Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Who’s pussy is this, baby girl?” He smirked, barely kissing your clit, driving you absolutely wild as you squirmed beneath his touch, desperate for him to do something, anything, to ease your ache.  

“Y-yours, Javi. It’s all yours, baby. Only yours.” You whined, gazing down at him with a rampant need in your eyes, fisting at your bedsheets to find somewhere to try and release your tension. 

“Fucking right it is.” 

His head then dipped between your legs, arms draped across your stomach holding you in place as he began to eat you out like a man being served his last meal on this earth. Broad, flat strokes of his tongue slid between your folds, pressing against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure he knew would have you crumbling beneath him. 

You couldn’t help but rithe under his touch, instinctively bucking your hips at his face, overwhelmed by the way Javi was relentlessly drinking you up, his fingers gripping tighter to the meat of your thighs to hold you in place as you could feel the tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine, your back arching in desperate anticipation. 

Almost as if he could read your mind, Javi easily slipped two fingers inside you, curving in just the right way to bump against your g-spot, fucking in and out of you to fill the emptiness in your pussy he knew you craved. 

“J-Javi, oh fuck- don’t stop baby, please, don’t stop.” You whimpered, your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head as you felt your orgasm begin to build, cunt clenching tighter around Javi’s fingers and beginning to flutter while he sucked on your clit. You could feel his smug smirk pressed against your heat as your hand shot down between your legs, grabbing and tugging on fistfulls of his thick locks, your tell tale sign that it was only a few more moments before you were about to come undone. 

“That’s it, hermosa. Say my name, baby girl. Let me hear you.” 

And there you were, chanting his name like a prayer, over and over again until you reached your breaking point. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi, J-Javi, J-aaaahhhhhh, oh fuck-” 

In an instant, you could feel a wave of pleasure crashing through you in toe curling delight, your orgasming ripping through every inch of your body with undeniable intensity, your slick soaking Javi as he drank up every last drop of you, savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue. 

You sat there for a moment, back against the mattress as your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, blissed out of your mind as you sat propped up on your elbows, staring at Javi, proudly wiping the slick covering his face with the back of his hand. 

“Javi, holy fuck, baby.” You gasped, swallowing hard as you watched Javi begin to hover over you, making his way up your body one slow, wet kiss at a time, nipping at the soft skin of your stomach before cupping your breasts, taking one in his mouth, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples with his tongue while he rolled the other between his fingers. The whimpers escaping from your lips were damn near pathetic, but considering how worked up you were, you could have probably cum again just from this alone. 

“You still want me to fuck a baby into you, Hermosa?” Javi asked all too knowingly, tongue darting between the smirk of his parted lips, trailing languid kisses along your collarbone and up your neck.  

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes.” You moaned, breath hitching at the back of your throat as Javi sucked at your pulse point. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, pretty girl.” Javi whispered, his voice rumbling low in his throat as he nipped at your ear. “Tell me how much you want me to give you a baby.” 

“F-fuck, so badly Javi. Please, baby. I want you to so bad. I want you to more than anything. I wanna make you a daddy, Javi.” 

If Javi had any ounce of self composure left, that alone was enough to make him crumble, letting out an audible groan, his dick even harder than he already thought it could be. 

“Fuck me…” Javi groaned, sucking you in for another electric kiss. “Turn around, baby.” 

Scooching yourself further up the mattress, you laid with your stomach to the bed as Javi climbed behind you, swiping his cock through your folds before sinking into your heat, bottoming out against your cervix and whimpering at the sweet sting of his stretch, sucking him in with your warm, velvety walls. 

Slowly, Javi began to thrust in and out of you, taking his time with each stroke as he laid his chest against your back, interlocking his fingers with yours outstretched above your head on the bedspread, head buried in the crook of your neck. 

Each push and pull of his hips elicited more lewd sounds than the last- you were practically dripping at this point from how worked up you were, and could hear the wetness pooling in your pussy, filling the room with obscenely filthy sounds. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. You hear that, Momma? You hear how wet you are for me? Hear how badly your tight little pussy wants me to fill her up? Pump her full of me?” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper, his grip around your hands even tighter than before, biting down on your shoulder trying his best to keep from falling apart at just how good you felt around him, coating every inch of his length in your arousal.  

“I want you to cum so deep inside me, Javi. P-please, baby.” You begged, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the wrecked expression painted across Javi’s face that mirrored yours. 

Suddenly, you could feel Javi grabbing your hips, flipping you over as your back bounced against the mattress, now staring up at him. He ran his hands up the back of your thighs until your knees were against your stomach, spread open as wide as you could be for him. 

As he sunk back in your heat, he caged himself over you, devouring you in a desperate and hungry kiss of mangled tongue and teeth, catching your moans in his mouth as he bottomed out inside you. 

“Need to see that beautiful face when you cum for me, cariño. Wanna see you when you soak my cock, w-watch, oh fuck- you when I fuck you so full of me, I’ll knock you up tonight.” Javi moaned between kisses. 

The new angle had Javi pounding into you in the way that had your jaw going slack and your cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around his length, once again feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten with arousal. 

“P-please, Javi. F-fuck- You feel so good, don’t stop, baby.” You whimpered, your eyes locking with his, your heart racing as you stared into the deep chocolate brown of his gaze.

“I won’t stop, hermosa. Won’t stop until I fill this perfect pussy up. Fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days. Won’t stop until I fuck a baby into you, get you pregnant, watch you give us a family- Jesus, fuck- Fuck, I love you so much.” 

Snaking his hand between your bodies, he reached between your legs to rub at your clit, rhythmically circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you, knowing at this rate, you weren’t going to last much longer, and that meant neither was he. 

“I love you too, Javi. More than anything.”  

 Each thrust of his hips sending you closer to the brink of collapse than the last, the noises of your wanton moans, skin slapping against each other and the wetness of Javi’s cock sloppily pumping in and out of your cunt had the room sounding borderline pornographic. You could feel your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as the coil in your belly was about to reach a breaking point until the firm grasp of Javi’s palm around your jaw forced your gaze up at him once again. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me when you cum. Need to see you when I fuck a baby into you, Momma.” 

That was all you needed to finally send you over the edge, your body exploding with pleasure as your orgasm overtook you, your thighs shaking and voice trembling with wrecked pleas of Javi’s over and over.

“J-Javi, Javi, Javiiiii, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, oh God, fuck, baby, fuck!” 

As you gushed around his cock, your pussy gripped him like a vice as you came. Javi’s hips began to stutter, his pace now becoming frantic and sloppy knowing how close he was to following suit, losing all inhibitions as you sobbed out in ecstasy. 

“That’s it, baby. Mierda- Fuck, I’m close. Gonna fill this pussy up- oh shit- so full it’ll f-fucking take. I know it will. I p-promise, I- oh fuck!” 

With one final stammer of his hips, Javi’s orgasm consumed him, his spend coating every inch of your walls as he spilled into you, milking himself of every last drop as he came. His body slumped into yours, chests rising and falling in sync as both of you laid in post-orgasmic bliss, completely lost in the sensation of each other. 

After a moment, Javi finally pulled out his softening cock, making you whine at the loss. Sitting back on his haunches, he couldn't help but admire the absolute mess between your legs- your pussy so puffy and swollen, covered in your shiny slick, and dripping with his cum. A satisfied smirk spread across his face as he watched his spend begin to leak out of you, knowing that you were overflowing with him. 

His fingers traced down your thighs, dragging his cum back to your cunt, making sure a single drop didn't go to waste. You couldn't help but sob as his curved fingers push back inside your pussy, making sure you stay stuffed full of him so he knew it took, because God, did want it more than anything to take. 

Gently pulling back out, Javi couldn’t help but lean down to kiss you again, grabbing your face as he peppers you with kisses, making you squeal in a ticklish delight. 

“I love you so much, mi amor.” Javi cooed, his forehead resting against yours as he softly stroked your face, your heart swelling with joy and excitement at the man you hoped from 9 months from now, would be the father to your child. 

“I love you too, Jav. You’re gonna be such a good Daddy.” You smirked, teasing him just enough to make him let out a sigh, biting down on his lip. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me with that one. You know that?” 

“Well it’s true!” You laughed, giving him a playful nudge, running your hand through the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck. “You think this one will be the one?” 

“I hope so. If not, guess we’re just gonna have to keep trying every day till it is, huh?” 

“If you keep fucking me like that, we’re gonna have 12 kids before you know it.” 

“I mean… wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” Javi grinned, rasing his eyebrows at you with a boyish glow. 

“Javi! We are not having 12 kids!” You protested, rolling your eyes at your husband. 

“Osita, if you keep coming on to me like you did today, we may not have a fucking choice.”  

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare through the window as hammering echoes through the glass. Despite the muffling of the barrier between you, it’s loud enough to put you on edge. Or maybe that’s because of the man calmly bringing the iron down on the nails. 

As if he can sense you, he looks up, his dark hair flopping back. You quickly spin away. You have to be going stir crazy. Bucky was just concerned. A lot of people come up this way and get freaked out by the wilderness. You used to when you visited as a child. 

You go back to the kitchen and take out the ingredients for your grandma’s classic turkey stew. It’s always a comfort as the temperature starts to drop. Still, it’s never as good as she made it. One day, you might figure out the secret. 

Cooking is a good distraction. There isn’t much to do up here. Often, you enjoy that facet of your existence. You work then disconnect and just do your own thing. Now you can’t help but feel the desolation. 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The hammering continues. You put the turkey into roast. It’s always better to season and cook it first then shred it up for the stew. You set the broth to simmer with the chunked veggies and pace the kitchen as you wait for it all to come together. 

You use a fork to pick the meat of the turkey legs and dump it all in the boiling pot. Another hour to meld together and it’ll be ready to serve. The longer you let it, the better. It’s always best the day after. 

The silence doesn’t hit you until you hear the back door. The smell of pine follows Bucky inside. You put your attention to the pot and stir it. 

He sniffs and sighs loudly as he enters. “Ah, smells delicious. Chicken?” 

“Turkey,” you correct him as he twists on the faucet and squirts soap into his hands. He lathers up and looks at you. “It’s funny. Back in my day, not to sound like a crotchety old geezer, women cooked. They had recipe cards on the counter. These days, half the girls I talk to can only use some app to order pizza that tastes like ketchup on cardboard.” 

“Oh, yeah? I kinda miss fast food,” you say dully. 

“Huh. ‘Cause I miss the home cooking. It’s just... simpler.” He shuts off the tap and shifts closer, drying his hand on the dishcloth as he looms. “If it hadn’t all gone to shit, I probably woulda found a good woman. Settled down, lived the good life.” 

“Right,” you nod awkwardly and set the spoon down.  

He clicks his tongue and turns, putting his hand on the counter as he leans on one foot. His other hand goes to his hip. “But then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair,” you say, distancing yourself as you step around him to get to the fridge. “I got some cider left over? Want some? It’s mulled. Julian down by the Rocks makes it--” 

“Think I’m good,” he says. 

You put the large glass jug on the counter and open the cupboard. Bucky catches it and shoves it closed with a snap. You face him in surprise. He’s strong. You know that but feeling it is something else. 

“Sorry, I... I’m in your way?” You wonder. 

“No, you’re right where you should be,” he says. 

You try not to lean away from him. Your heart is racing. You swallow and peer over at the dimming window. 

“I could help you cover up the lumber before--” 

“Already did that,” he interjects. “You know, I think I’m where I need to be too,” he edges closer. “Think after everything, I did find that good woman.” 

You blink, speechless. You can barely think above the tempo behind your ears. 

“I hear it.” He puts his fist to his chest and knocks on it. “I know you feel it too.” He stills his hand and holds it over his heart. “I was pissed when Sam brought me up here. Dropped me off like some stray dog. The longer I’m here, the more I realise he did me a favour. He didn’t dump me on you...” you wince as he pulls his hand away from his chest and opens it to cradle your face, “he gave me you.” 

“Bucky,” you latch onto his wrist but can’t move it. “I think we need some space. Don’t you?” 

“No,” he says flatly. 

“You spend too much time in the same proximity, and it starts to get weird--” 

“No,” he repeats. “I’m right. It’s perfect. You’re strong, you cook, you’re handy, not afraid to get a little dirty,” he slides his hand down to cup your chin. You flinch but can’t pull away. “And you got a nice ass.” 

“Bucky,” you breath and gently shove his chest. “I’m saying to you that you’re wrong. I’m flattered and all but no.” You push harder as he squeezes tighter. You whimper, “ow, let me go. I’m calling Sam-” 

“Shh,” his other hand swoops up to back of your skull. He lurches you closer, bringing you to your nose as he snarls down at you. “You’re not calling anyone.” 

“Bucky--” 

“It’s the way you say my name,” he growls. 

“Please, you’re hurting me--” 

He hushes you again as his thumb rubs behind your jaw. He turns you so your penned in against the counter. You splay your fingers across his chest, dragging them down to his stomach as you push on him. He stands unmoving. 

“Let go--” 

“You. Let go,” he insists calmly. “You built this wall around you. Let it down,” he drops his hand from your head and lets it trail down your back, “let me in.” 

“No, I’m telling you.” You squirm against him. “Stop this, right now.” 

“I know you want me. I found that toy. The little flower, hm?” He tickles along your side, your jaw aching in his grip. “You wanna feel the real thing? Huh?” 

“Please,” you clasp the fabric of his shirt in your fingers. 

“Doll, I want you think about this,” he buries his thumb behind your jaw until you whine. “You’re up here all by yourself. Lonely days, lonelier nights. Anyone could catch on. They could figure out just as fast as I did.” He leans in until you’re nearly bent backwards. “You need a man because any old beast could snatch you up.” 

Your eyes glisten and you search his face. He doesn’t look human. He’s animalistic. His eyes are dark and dilated and his jaw is set with slathering hunger. Your lip trembles. 

"Wouldn't you rather have the beast on your side, doll? Instead of tearing it down?” He purrs and shifts his hand around your chin, bringing his thumb up to poke at your lower lip. “I can be good for you, all you gotta do, is the same.” 

[bybobbysbeard]

First Rise

Day 2 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: cooking together. read on ao3

God, what a long day.

It’s shifts like these that make Tommy feel every one of his 45 years. None of the calls were particularly brutal, but they were long. He should have been home hours ago. He definitely put in enough flight time to warrant every second of the 48 off he’s about to share with Evan. The nylon strap of his overnight duffle digs into his shoulder. His feet hurt. He’s got a headache. All he wants to do is crash on Evan’s couch, snuggle, and watch some trash TV. 

He opens the door to the loft and catches the tail end of a frantic sentence. Maddie’s face is tiny on Evan’s phone, propped up against a pile of cookbooks. Even from here, Tommy can see her cheeks are flushed, and she's gesturing wildly with a free hand. Evan has his hands up too, but he’s making soothing movements, trying to bring her energy down.

Tommy’s frazzled brain tunes back into the conversation. 

“It’s fine Maddie, we didn’t have plans to go out tonight, I promise. And you know I’d do anything for Jee. Oh! Tommy just got here. Let me get some food into him, and then I’ll get started right away. Will Chim be able to pick them up tomorrow morning? If I set it to run overnight, I can probably squeeze out an extra loaf. Maybe… four in total.” Evan waves a distracted hand at Tommy, already turning to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. A few sticks of butter, a block of bright orange cheddar, and a glass tupperware of last night's chicken stir-fry are gently placed on the counter. 

“Oh Buck, are you sure? I am so sorry for the late notice, I swear, pregnancy brain has me forgetting my own name.”

“I am one-hundred percent sure. In fact, I have a bag of flour that’s been hanging around that I should really finish off, so honestly, you’re doing me a favor.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I have to run, but I’ll make sure Chim knows. I’m sure he’ll text you in the morning.”

“Anytime Mads. Have fun tonight!” Buck waves, adorably, at the phone before Maddie pokes at something on her end and it goes back to Evan’s lockscreen. It’s a snapshot of him and Tommy, all smiles and sunglasses, bare shoulders in the summer sunshine. They had hiked for hours, up and down Mount Wilson. Tommy had gotten such a sunburn. It gives him a strange feeling in his gut when he looks at it; guilty, but heavy with relief. 

It’s from months ago. Before he ran. Before he got his head out of his ass and realized he was sabotaging the only chance at real happiness he would ever have. Before they came back together, had an honest conversation full of shouting and tears, and decided to try again. 

Tommy steps into the kitchen, brushing a kiss over Evan’s cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist in a quick hug. Evan leans into him, humming softly and releasing a blustery sigh.

“Let me drop my bag upstairs, and you can tell me what all that was about.” Tommy murmurs into a stubbly cheek. Evan nods.

He drags his tired body up the loft stairs, and leaves his duffle at the foot of the bed. A quick trip into the ensuite to wash his face and grab some aspirin has him feeling moderately more human.

When he makes it back downstairs, Evan is still getting ingredients out, but he’s moved onto the pantry. Bread flour, salt, sugar, and yeast are spread over the counter. In the next second he’s bent at the waist, digging under the counter and sending pots and pans clanging. He straightens up, biceps bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt, before setting a chrome monstrosity of an appliance on the counter. Evan flips the lid, pulling out a squarish pan with a handle.

“I didn’t realize you had a breadmaker.”

“Yeah, I bought it a while ago.” His gaze stays focused on the appliance, but his shoulders are creeping up towards his ears. He’s defensive. Probably bought it when they were on their break. When they got back together, Tommy heard plenty from Howie and Hen about Evan’s baking escapades. He’s still weirdly embarrassed by it, but Tommy thinks it's sweet. His boyfriend missed him enough to nearly start a side business. Meanwhile, Tommy just wallowed. Evan is still talking. “It’s surprisingly useful, and super easy. I guess Jee’s daycare is having a bake sale, and Jee was telling her group about the cheese bread I made over the holidays, so Maddie said I would bake a few loaves for them to sell, but then forgot to tell me.”

“And the bake sale is tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Evan pops the p, plugging in the breadmaker. “And she promised Sue from Dispatch a visit with Jee tonight. So, Uncle Buck to the rescue. Alright, let’s see. It’s two o’clock. I could probably make two loaves in the machine before bed, including cooling time, and then it can do another overnight. And I could make one by hand too, I guess.” 

An electric thermometer joins a pyrex measuring cup next to the sink. “Is there anything I can do?”

Evan scoffs, “Tommy, come on. I can see how exhausted you are. Why don’t you sit down, I’ll heat up these leftovers for you, and then you can nap while I make bread. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t offer to help if I didn’t want to. At least let me help get the machine going. You said it yourself, it’s super easy.”

Evan stares, visibly weighing his fatigue against his honesty.

“Okay.” He slides a paper index card across the counter. “Make sure you layer everything according to this. It can change how the yeast activates.”

Evan’s chicken scratch is messy, but legible. The instructions are detailed, nearly overly so, but Tommy’s tired enough to appreciate it. He doesn’t want to have to do any improvising tonight. Evan’s got his mixer out, and is carefully measuring out warm water and yeast into the bowl. Tommy grabs the thermometer. A cup of water, warmed to eighty degrees, goes into the baking pan, followed by butter, chopped into cubes, and salt and sugar.  Evan hands him the cheese grater before he can ask for it. Tommy yawns his way through grating a cup full. They trade ingredients. Evan needs the sugar, and it's time to spread the flour in the baking pan.

Soon the kitchen smells like blooming yeast and melted butter. It’s domestic; takes him back to slow Sunday mornings with his mom. If Tommy wasn’t so tired, he would enjoy it more. They dance around each other, Tommy stumbling more than once when Evan moves unexpectedly and his slowed reflexes make him lag a half step behind. Nonetheless, they pass off tablespoons and cup measurers until Evan carefully tips his dough into a greased bowl and lays a tea towel over it. He sets a timer on his phone. Tommy taps out the last of the yeast grains into the little divot he made in the final layer of shredded cheese. He caps the jar, and yawns so widely his jaw cracks. Evan’s watching him and wincing.

“Okay, thank you for helping, but you are done.”

“Baby, I’m–” another jaw-cracking yawn, “--fine. I can keep going.”

“I know you can. But this pan is ready to go in the machine, my dough needs its first rise, and you need to eat.” 

A steaming plate of chicken stir-fry is set in front of him. Maybe he is more tired than he thought, he didn't even notice Evan putting it in the microwave. He makes his way through most of the meal while Evan tidies up and loads the breadmaker. He leaves the last few mouthfuls, totally distracted with watching his boyfriend. He’s so at home in the kitchen. At ease. He has everything he needs within reach, and he’s done all of the motions so many times, they seem like muscle memory. It’s a privilege to see him so comfortable. 

Soon, Tommy’s resting his chin on a palm and his eyes are closing without his permission. It's toasty in the kitchen, and the breadmaker makes a soothing rumble as it kneads. It lulls him into a doze. Eventually, a heavy palm lands on his back and makes him blink. Then there’s a muscled shoulder sliding under his arm and leveraging him to his feet. He leans heavily against the warm body keeping him upright.

Soft lips press against his temple and the arm around his back jostles him to wakefulness. “You want the couch or the bed for your nap?”

“Hmm. Couch. Wanna be close. And the bed's too far.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll wake you in a few hours.” A few uncoordinated steps before they find their rhythm, and then Tommy is being lowered. Well-worn leather meets his back. A fuzzy blanket is shaken out and smoothed over his legs and a calloused hand strokes over his hair. Tommy’s never felt this cared for in his life. Evan smells like flour, like fresh bread. Like a warm kitchen, and handmade food for a loved one. 

He smells like home.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Curiosity Killed the Cat (+18)

Pairing: Massacre Soldier Killer x Female Reader

WC: 2600

Summary: You’ve never seen Killer without his mask. It’s a secret that you can’t help but need to be a part of. Your curiosity gets the best of you and Killer catches you peeping. 

TW: !SMUT PURE SELF INDULGENT SMUT! Porn with VERY LITTLE plot! fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, filthy talk, praise kink good girl etc, size difference. it's just porn.

**Minors DNI!!! 18+ only!!***

— — 

You had been with the Kid Pirates for half a year now and during these six months you’ve learned the inner workings of the crew and the Victoria Punk herself. You knew that the best place to take a nap was in the storeroom next to the kitchen. You knew that Heat and Wire have had a game of Dungeons and Dragons going on for the past 6 years and they play every Friday evening. You knew that Killer hated when you left food on your plate at the end of a meal claiming that “a girl needs her strength.” You knew that every morning at 10:00 AM sharp, Captain Kid would render the ship’s only bathroom unusable for at least the next hour. 

There was something that was still a mystery to you. 

You had never seen Killer without his mask. 

It was something you had wondered about ever since you first met the crew’s first mate. Was he horrifically ugly? Maybe covered in scars? Why did he hide himself from the world? He was always the kindest to you of all the Kid Pirates, making sure you were fed and had supplies you needed when you first joined the crew. Your crude captain left a lot to be desired in terms of intelligent conversation, but in contrast, Killer would inquire about the book you were reading or if you needed a late night snack. 

Tonight you were drawn into the kitchen by the delicious smell of garlic and onions being sautéed in oil and butter. You enter the galley and can’t help but flit over to the stove where Killer was diligently working. You lean over the pot of boiling pasta water and the steam feels nice on your dry, salt-worn skin. 

“Mmmmm, smells so yummy, Kil!” He was nearly a foot taller than you, so it was easy to sneak in-between him and the stove to get a better whiff of his decadent culinary creations. 

You feel his massive chest behind you vibrate as he chuckles. 

“Thank you, little one. I hope you’re hungry.” 

*SLAM* 

“Hey, that shit smells good!” Kid exclaims as he barrels into the kitchen, slightly drunk already. Killer whips his head around to look at his captain. You take this moment to lean your head back and try to peek under the gap between his chin and his mask. You strain your eyes but all you can see is darkness. Your efforts are quickly thwarted as Killer returns his attention to the stove to stir the pasta. 

“Are you making that thing I like? The spaghetti cars banana?” Kid asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

Killer sighs. 

“Carbonara. It’s carbonara, for the last fucking time.” Killer looks down at you. “Dinner’s almost ready, why don’t you wait at the table?”

You smile up at him, searching the holes in his mask for any clue at his expression. You nod and proceed to set the dining table for the evening meal. 

— — 

After you had your fill of wine and pasta (making sure to gesture to Killer and show him your clean plate to which he gives you a playful thumbs up), you decided you’d treat yourself to a hot bath. You were sure that the rest of the crew would spend the rest of the night drinking themselves stupid so you could enjoy a quiet bath in peace. 

You stroll into the bathroom with your towel and lay it next to the tub. You put the plug in and get the hot water started. You search the cabinets for some sort of bubble bath, but end of having to settle on an unmarked bottle of body wash. You pour the soap into the bath and white, fluffy bubbles start to form on the surface of the water. 

Once the tub was full, you shut off the water and stripped yourself of your filthy, ocean-smelling clothes. You step into the steaming water one foot at a time and gently lower yourself into the bathtub. As soon as you’re settled with your head leaning against the edge of the tub you release a deep sigh. 

After a few minutes of soaking, you find yourself almost drifting off. The doorknob clicking open snapped you out of your daze. The wooden bathroom door creaked open and Killer stepped inside the bathroom. 

You instinctively cover your breasts with your hands, but it goes unnoticed by the intruder who went straight for the sink and counter on the opposite side of the room. You realize that he hasn’t even noticed your presence so you hold your breath, not wanting to startle or upset him. He stands at the sink for a moment with his hands gripping the counter. 

He then raises his hands and reaches for the back of his head. 

Oh my god. He was taking his mask off.

You were paralyzed, breath caught in your chest, eyes locked on the golden locks spilling from behind the mask. He leans down and pulls the mask off and leaves it on the counter to his right. You involuntarily slap your hand over your mouth in surprise. 

You eyes are fixed on the bathroom mirror when you see a pair of angled, sharp blue eyes staring back at you in it. 

“I know you’re there, little one.” 

You gasp. You still can’t move, stuck staring into those enchanting eyes. The only other things you could see were worn white bandages and messy blonde hair cascading from atop his head. 

���Come on out now… I want to show you something.” Killer says without turning around. 

You were mesmerized by his sweet voice, so you obeyed and stood up and stepped out of the tub. You dried off quickly and wrapped your towel around your torso before Killer interrupted you. 

“You won’t need that. Leave it. Come here.” 

You drop the towel and hesitantly approach the man at the sink, his muscles rippling in his back through his blue tee shirt. 

“Jump up here. I want you to help me take the bandages off.” Killer pats the counter to his left. 

You were frozen in place and your eyes were glued to the floor, so anxious about seeing his face. 

“Be a good girl and listen. Up.” Killer pats the counter again, more forcefully this time. 

“Yes, Kil…” You squeak and turn around and use the heels of your hands to pull yourself up onto the counter. You still would’t look up. 

“It’s ok… you can look…” Killer puts his hand over yours as it rested on the counter. You slowly raise your head and see a face covered in bandages, the only parts exposed being a thick pair of dark plum lips and those piercing eyes you saw staring at you from the mirror. You suck in a breath. 

“Here..” Killer pulls your hand and places one of the edges of the bandage in it and helped you begin to unravel it. With each pass of your hand across his face, Killer strokes up and down your bare thigh, causing you to open your legs involuntarily. 

With no sounds other than your own heavy breathing, you finally reveal Killer’s face. You gasp as you pull your hand to back your chest. He was so beautiful. His bright eyes such a contrast against his olive tanned skin. His chin was chiseled and his nose was pointed so sharply. You also notice faint scars littering his cheeks, similar to the ones on his left arm. You didn’t care, he was still handsome to you. 

“Killer… you’re… so pretty…” You reach a hand up and gingerly touch his cheek. He smiles softly. You curse him silently for keeping that smile from you for so long. He laughs and nuzzles into your hand. 

“Not as pretty as you, little one. Will you let me see you, too?”

“W-what do you mean?” You question. 

“Put your legs up, spread yourself for me.” He states as he starts bending your knees to place your feet on the counter at your sides, widely exposing your most intimate area to him. You feel blush fill your cheeks and the tip of your nose. 

“Mmm… now that’s pretty…” Killer coos as he slides his huge hand down your inner thigh to stroke up and down your slit with his thumb, sticky slick coating his digit. You find yourself shivering in anticipation under his touch. He begins focusing his movements on your clit as he rubs it in agonizingly slow circles, working you up at a painful pace. 

You can’t do anything but pant heavily and stare at his hand caressing your naked sex. 

“Look at me.” Killer demands. You oblige and look up at his exposed face. Your mouth hangs open as you keep his gaze, his rough thumb on your clit driving your crazy. 

“Killer…” You whimper up at him. 

“You’re so wet, sweet girl. So ready to get stretched out, hmm?” His lips curl into a devious smirk. 

You nod dumbly without breaking eye contact. 

Killer plunges two large fingers into your soaked hole and immediately curls them up into your spot. 

“Shit, Kil!” You cry out and grab his bicep with one hand, supporting yourself on your other palm. He pulls and tugs his fingers repeatedly inside of you while grinding the base of his hand into your clit. 

“I can’t hold it! I’m gonna! Fuck, Killer!” You whine loudly as you feel the coil in your belly tighten dangerously. You slam your eyes shut and grab onto his arm with both hands, leaning forward into him for support. 

“That’s good little one, hold onto me, just let go for me…” 

“OH FUCK!” You cry out and fluids spray out of your body onto both Killer and the bathroom floor. Your core squeezes and spasms, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Killer helps you through your orgasm by whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

Slumped over into his shoulder, Killer removes his fingers from your core and scoops you up in one arm off the counter.

“You did such a good job, cumming so nicely for me. Think you can take my cock now?” Killer asks as he hikes you up in his grip, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Yes, I want it, please…” You say softly, still coming down from your previous high. 

“Perfect.” Killer chuckles and turns to carry you to the table that you usually used for folding laundry. He lays your naked, flushed form gently down on the surface of the table and rips his shirt over his head. He quickly unbuckles his belt and shuffles his jeans down his legs and steps out of them. His huge dick bobs in your direction, uncut tip red and leaking. 

“It… it’s not gonna fit…” You breath out as you stare in awe at his member while sitting up on your elbows. 

Killer grins again and steps between your spread legs, slapping his cock on your abdomen, showing exactly how deep it was supposed to go inside of you. You audibly whimper at the thought. 

“Sweetheart… you like being a good girl, right?” He coos down at you, his massive frame eclipsing most of the light in the room. He rubs soothing circles into your hip with his hand.

“Mhmm…” You sheepishly nod. 

“So you’re gonna lay there and take this whole cock in that tight little cunt of yours like a good girl, hmm?” He teases as he pulls back and guides his tip to rub up and down on your clit. 

“Mmmmhmmmm” You whine and buck your hips up into his touch. Killer uses this permission to press his heavy cockhead into your soaked opening. Inch by inch he splits your body open, the stretch causing you to moan out. 

“That’s right, little one… feels good, doesn’t it?” Killer reaches up a huge palm to squeeze and pinch your sensitive nipple. 

“Fuck, Kil! So full!” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to relax on his giant member. 

“Oh, my sweet baby, I’m not even all the way in yet!” Killer gives you a sinister laugh. He takes his opportunity to push his hips flush against yours and your writhe and cry from the sensation. You had never been this full in your life, he was truly stuffing you to your limits and it felt so good. He rubs your clit with one hand as he pulls back out, groaning lowly as he feels your cunt desperately cling to him and try to suck his member back in. 

Killer begins thrusting his hips, keeping most of himself sheathed deep inside of your walls and his hand gripped your waist to pull you back into him with each thrust. 

“Ah!” You moan and whine, grabbing and scratching at Killer’s broad chest as he molds your insides to the shape of his cock. You could barely breath, the man inside of you so large that you felt like he was in your chest. Killer speeds up his ministrations on your swollen clit. 

“Come on sweetheart… I feel you squeezing me, you’re close again…” Killer picks up the pace of his thrusts and you shriek out at the force of his hips slamming into your ass and thighs. “Fucking give it to me!” Killer presses harder into your clit and you scream and explode for the second time that night, for the first time on his cock. 

Tears were now freely flowing down your red cheeks and you could no longer form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. You were a babbling, bouncing mess being speared by Killer’s massive girth. You were so dick drunk that your eyes were rolling back in your head. 

“More, more, more, more!” You slur out from your helpless state, spread out on the laundry table. 

“What a greedy little pussy… so fucked out and you want more? Want me to fill you, my sweet girl? Make sure you feel me for days…” Killer punctuated his last sentence with a push to your lower stomach. 

“Uh huh! Kil, please! Cum inside!” You try to nod your head but the force of Killer’s strokes made it nearly impossible. 

“Hnnnggg…” Killer slams his hips deep into yours and blows his heavy load into your wet, waiting walls. He leans down and buries his head in the crook of your neck as his cock still twitches inside of you. As his orgasm subsides, he sighs and slowly pulls out of your spent cunt, leaving a heavy stream of semen to pour out of your hole. He holds himself up above your head and looks down at you and smiles. 

You smile back. You lift a shaky hand and cup his cheek. 

“It’s you…” You whisper as he gazes affectionately into your eyes. 

“It is me. And you’re mine now.” Killer says. Before he pushes himself off the table and grabs your towel to wrap around his waist. After fastening the towel securely he grabs you by your sides off the table and throws your nude body over his shoulder. He carries you out of the bathroom, presumably to his bedroom. 

“What the fuck Killer?” Kid calls from down the hallway, spotting you both. “Why is y/n naked? What the hell are you doing?”

“Going to enjoy my dessert.” He calls back at his captain. 

It was going to be a long night. 

— —

xx

[desperate-gay]

mearps, "i can't believe after 3 years together this is the first time i'm ever learning this", kitchen at home

Family Recipe

Mary Earps x fem!reader

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’” Mary’s booming voice startles you, making you jump and almost drop the sharp knife you’re using to slice the food. “I scared ya didn’t I?” The taller girl chuckles, placing her hands on your hips and a kiss on your cheek.

“Yes, yes you did.” You huff in fake annoyance while playfully giving her a scolding look.

“Awe you’re so adorable all pouty.” Mary moves in a baby voice as one of her big hands reaches up and squeezes your cheeks. You quickly smack her hand away and mumble something under your breath as you turn your body back to the food.

“How was training?” The goalkeeper sighs, leaning against the counter while watching you do your thing.

“Exhausting, annoying, smelly, and any other adjectives I have missed. Besides that what are you stirring up over there, love?” Your girlfriend quirks an eyebrow and attempts to look over your shoulder only for her sight to still be blocked.

“I am starting to make my uncle’s signature pasta sauce so we can have some tonight.” You say, smiling at her giddy state when she starts clapping her hands in excitement.

At every family function your uncle brings his homemade pasta along with his sauce. Mary is always the first to get a plate and the first to get seconds. Nobody in the family knows the recipe besides your uncle, you, and your mom which makes Mary very jealous when you won’t share it with her.

The taller girl reappears behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and hugging you along with placing random kisses either on your shoulders, head, or cheek. You smile at her clingy behavior, enjoying being close to her after not seeing each other for most of the week.

“Y’know what?” You ask, turning around to face her.

“What?”

“Do you want to help me cook?” Mary looks even more confused considering she doesn’t know anything about how the dish is made.

“I can’t help because I don’t know how.” Your girlfriend huffs while crossing her arms, annoyed that you’re basically rubbing it in her face.

“I think it’s time I can teach you.” You let out a big squeal when the goalkeeper’s arms lift you up into the air and spin you around in glee. “Okay okay, calm down there, cowboy. I gotta be conscious to do so.” You tease which the other girl doesn’t notice from being too caught up putting on an apron she jokingly got for you one day.

“Chef Mary reporting for duty.” She stands tall while fake saluting, making you giggle at her determination and silly nature.

“Alright you goof, you can start by cutting those tomatoes over there.” You point over to the free area with the knife.

“I can’t believe after 3 years together, this is the first time I’m ever learning this.” The taller girl speaks with a certain eagerness and reaches for the veggie and fruit bowl.

“Mary, those are apples.”

A little while later all the ingredients are already in the pot and formed into the signature sauce. You scoop up a little with the wooden spoon and hold her hand under it in case anything spills while blowing to cool it off.

“Time for the final test. Try and see if it’s good.” You hold up the spoon, gesturing for her to open her mouth. Once she does, you angle it up into her mouth in an attempt to make it all in but some drips down the corner of your lips.

“God, that’s so delicious I’ll never get over it.” She groans at the taste immediately wanting more.

“You got a little something right there.” You smile while wiping the remains of the dressing off her chin. While trying to gather it off her face, you don’t notice the loving expression she has while staring down at you. “There you go, my love.” You say, sucking it off your thumb before you swiftly get pulled in for a time-stopping kiss.

The kiss is so unbelievably tender and sweet that you almost faint. You can tell how much love is being poured into it just by the feeling of her lips and her hand cradling your face. Once air becomes a problem, you pull away reluctantly while staring at each other in awe.

“Wow.” You whisper, placing your hands over hers that still rest on your face.

“I love ya. I love ya so so so much.” She finalizes her statement with another big kiss on your lips. In your head, you know that this is forever. No one besides family can know the secret recipes and now she’s your family.

[hockey-fics]

That Week in Vancouver ~ Quinn Hughes

(Pt. 2 of That Night in Michigan)

"You can just keep believing whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better about the way you treated me."

Word count: ~11,800

Warnings: some toxic behaviours (primarily arguing), drinking, language, smut.

A/N: there is a small potential for a part three, I have an idea for it but it depends on how motivated I am to keep going with this as a series. It's already gotten much longer than I ever intended it to.

“Do you have time to talk?”

There’s a silence that falls over the line that makes your heart race, your hands growing clammy. He had answered the phone at the very least, you had to hold onto some hope that he would be willing to have a conversation. It wasn’t a big ask, you didn’t need all day. You just needed a few minutes, a few minutes that could determine the outcome of your entire relationship.

“Quinn?” you whisper, unable to sit in the silence for any longer. 

“I don’t really have time,” Quinn tells you, his voice distant and cold. 

“Oh,” you mumble, your eyes prickling with tears. “When, um…when would you have time?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn replies quickly. “Things are kind of busy right now.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you blink quickly, trying to stop the onslaught of tears coming to your eyes. “Quinn, please,” you plead. 

“Sorry,” Quinn mumbles. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he croaks, the first indication that this wasn’t as easy for him as he was making it seem. 

Before you have the chance to say anything else the call ends, your heart sinking with it. Pulling your knees to your chest you feel a few tears slip from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. Wiping the tears from your face with your sleeve you struggle through a few deep breaths, your breath catching in your throat each time. Was this really how it was going to end? A lifetime of friendship. Years of feelings. All of that to end without so much as a conversation. 

You don’t know how long you sit there until eventually your body is so exhausted from crying that you climb off the couch, heading straight to bed. At least if you were asleep you could silence the never-ending stream of thoughts about you and Quinn. It doesn’t take long till you fall asleep that night, sleeping till late the next morning. 

When you finally pull yourself out of bed you take a shower, your body numb as you go about some sort of normal routine, unsure of what else to do. Standing in front of the coffee maker in your kitchen you stare at the drops of coffee splashing into the slowly filling pot. Your phone vibrates on the counter beside you and you glance over at it, opening the text message from Luke. 

‘if I get a dog would you look after it when we’re on the road?’

Sighing you read the message before locking your phone, setting it back down again to pour yourself a mug of coffee. As you’re stirring some cream into it you hear your phone vibrate again. 

‘at least turn your read receipts off if you’re going to ignore me’ 

Picking up your phone you quickly send him a message back. ‘sorry, just not having a great day’.

A second later your screen is filled with an incoming FaceTime call from Luke. Groaning quietly you slide to answer it as you walk into the living room. “Hi,” you say quietly, flopping down onto the couch. 

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, skipping past a greeting. 

“Nothing,” you mumble, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket that was tossed over the back of your couch. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright,” Luke drawls, clearly not convinced. “So will you look after my dog?”

You can’t help but giggle, rolling your eyes. Luke was always there for you when things weren’t going well, even if he didn’t always know the appropriate responses to your emotions. “I don’t know if you’re even responsible enough to take care of a dog when you are home.”

“I am,” Luke defends quickly. “I just have to feed him and walk him.”

“And train him and brush him and take him to the vet and the dog groomer and make sure he’s getting enough exercise.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do all that,” Luke says with a shrug. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” you say with a quiet laugh. “I’ll look after him when you’re on the road if you get a dog.”

“Thank you,” Luke replies, smiling happily. “Now tell me why you’re so sad.”

Sighing loudly you toss your head back dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. “Quinn won’t talk to me,” you state quickly, knowing that if you didn’t just say it you wouldn’t be able to get the words out. “I called him last night, he won’t talk to me.”

“What did he say?”

“Literally nothing,” you mumble. “He said he didn’t have time to talk and he’s too busy to talk later.”

“He’s just upset about you and Holtzy,” Luke explains, as if you were completely in the dark as to why Quinn didn’t want to talk to you. 

“I know, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” you exclaim, eyes flooding with tears again. “Sorry…I just…I don’t know what to do. I miss him.” Reaching up you quickly wipe away the tears that had pooled under your eyes. 

“I know,” Luke mutters, nodding slowly. “Are you doing anything today?” 

“Not really,” you tell him honestly, shrugging it off quickly. 

“Get ready, I’m going to pick you up.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Luke,” you mutter, sighing quietly. 

“You just want to sit there and cry alone all day?”

“Oh my god,” you whine, shaking your head. “Leave me alone.”

“I’ll be there in like forty-five minutes,” Luke tells you, hanging up before you can argue against it. 

Sighing you pull yourself off the couch, finding an outfit for whatever this mysterious outing was. You busy yourself getting ready until Luke texts you, telling you he was there. Hurrying out of your apartment you find him idling on the street in front of your apartment building, hopping into his car. “Hi,” you greet, pulling your seatbelt on. 

“Hey,” Luke replies, waiting till you were situated in your seat before pulling back out onto the road. “Do you want like a coffee or something?”

“You’re trying really hard, aren’t you?” you tease, giggling quietly. 

“Yeah, I don’t want you to be sad,” Luke tells you. “But if you keep making fun of me I might stop.”

“No, please don’t,” you laugh. “Yeah, I’d love a coffee.” 

Luke takes you to your favourite coffee shop, after you gave him step by step instructions of how to get there. With a latte in hand you climb back into Luke’s car, still unsure of where he was planning to take you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“It’s a surprise,” Luke tells you with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m scared,” you joke, taking a sip of your coffee as you look out the window, trying to figure out where you could possibly be headed. 

Shortly after Luke pulls into the parking lot of a large building, your eyes focusing on the sign out front. “You’re unbelievable,” you laugh, looking at the animal shelter in front of you. 

“Come on, you know that seeing dogs is going to cheer you up.”

You follow Luke out of the car and towards the building. “We’re not leaving here with a dog, Luke,” you warn, stepping inside as Luke holds the door open for you. 

After talking briefly with the woman at the front counter she guides you through the building to the dog kennels. “Looking to expand the family?” she asks with a friendly smile.

“What?” Luke asks cluelessly. 

“No…we’re not, um, we’re-,” you begin. 

“Ew,” Luke mutters. 

Looking over at him you narrow your eyes, scoffing. “Well you don’t have to act like it would be disgusting,” you joke. “We’re just friends, he’s looking for a dog, I’m just the designated pet-sitter.”

“Well it’s always good to have a pet-sitter lined up,” she says uncertainly. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two to take a look, let me know if you have any questions.”

Walking over to one of the kennels you look at the tag on the door, reading it over. “Muffins,” you gush, looking at the small dog in the kennel. “His name is Muffins,” you repeat. 

“Muffins is ugly,” Luke mutters from behind you, staring at the little dog with scraggly fur, bulging eyes, tear stains on his white fur. Reaching over you playfully whack Luke’s arm. “Don’t be mean to Muffins,” you scold. 

“Look at this one,” Luke says, drawing your attention away from Muffins and to the large lab in the next kennel over. 

“You’re so predictable,” you tease, reading the description of Dewey the lab. The two of you wander along the rows of kennels, fighting against falling in love with each and every one of the dogs. By the time you were leaving that afternoon you were covered in dog fur, no longer quite as sad as you had been when you woke up that morning. 

Sitting in the car with Luke he scrolls through the pictures that he had taken of the dogs, clearly wanting to go back in and adopt one right then and there. Leaning over you look through the pictures with him, stopping him when he gets to a picture he took of you and one of the puppies. “Can you send that to me?” 

“So you can post it on instagram?” Luke teases. 

“Shut up,” you wine, rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

Luke chuckles, sending you the picture before setting his phone down. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who dragged me out.” Saving the photo to your phone you open instagram, adding the picture to your story with the caption ‘puppies really do make bad days better’, tagging Luke in the corner. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Luke says, pulling out of the parking lot. “Are you still going to pretend you didn’t have fun?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Thank you, Luke…I do feel a bit better.”

“Good.” Luke turns down another street, seemingly on the way back to your apartment. “Quinn’s just an idiot,” Luke says suddenly. “He’ll come around, I promise.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, glancing over at Luke. “I think this is different.”

“Why?”

Shrugging you look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. “Because he’s never been like this before. He’s never been mean to me before, he’s never said things like…that.”

“What did he say?”

“He basically called me a whore…I mean, not directly, but it was easy enough to figure out what he meant. He said that I don’t think about anyone other than myself and that he’s done with me.”

Luke is quiet for a few seconds before looking over at you when he stops at a red light. “What?” he finally mutters. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling quietly. “Maybe it really is just time to move on. I just…I love him so much, I don’t know…it’s hard.”

“He’s an asshole,” Luke mutters under his breath. “I didn’t know that’s what he said to you,” Luke admits. 

“I didn’t really want to talk about it,” you tell him with a shrug. “I mean, I guess maybe he’s right, maybe I was flirting with everyone, I don’t know. I’d take it all back, it never even meant anything to me, I didn’t realize it was affecting him like that…I just…I just want him back. Maybe things will never be more than they were before, maybe we’re not meant to be together or anything but to lose him altogether, as a friend…I can’t handle that.” You hadn’t even realized how quick your breathing had grown, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping the tears from your face. 

“You’re fine,” Luke assures you, glancing over with a smile so full of pity that it makes you want to hurl yourself out of the car. “Can I, um, can I do anything to help?”

Choking out a breath of laughter between your shaky breaths you shake your head. “No, I don’t think anyone can do anything to help.”

Luke turns into the parking lot of your apartment building, pulling into one of the visitor spots. “Well can I at least come hang out for a bit?”

“I’m not going to say no,” you tell him, picking your purse up from the floor of his car. “But you really don’t have to stay just because I’m sad.”

“You know that I actually like spending time with you, right? I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m doing you a favour.”

“I just don’t think that I’m that fun to be around right now.” Climbing out of his car you fish your keys from your purse, guiding Luke into the building. 

“Remember when I had the flu and you spent like a week taking care of me?” Luke asks as he watches you press the button for the elevator. “Was I fun then?”

“I mean it was kinda funny,” you say with a playful smile. “I would never have expected a little flu to take you down so easily.”

“It was bad,” Luke defends, chuckling as he leans against the wall of the elevator. 

A few minutes later the doors slide open and you guide Luke to your apartment, kicking off your shoes and heading for the couch. Luke joins you a minute later, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “What do you want to watch?”

“You’re actually going to let me pick?” you ask in shock. 

“You’re the one who’s sad,” Luke reminds you, handing the remote to you. 

You pick your favourite show on Netflix, pulling your legs up onto the couch and curling up in the corner. You watch the show in silence for a few minutes before looking over at Luke, watching him type something on his phone. “Do you think he ever loved me?” you whisper, a feeling of shame washing over you for even asking the question, of wanting that reassurance. 

Luke is quiet for a minute, as if he wasn’t sure how he should reply, like you were a ticking time bomb waiting for the next thing to set you off. “Yes.”

Nodding slowly you turn your attention back to the tv, your vision blurry as you stare through a layer of tears. You didn’t know what else to say, didn’t want to talk about anything else yet you didn’t want to talk about it either. So you remained silent, watching episode after episode till you were beginning to drift to sleep. 

“Hey,” Luke whispers, gently shaking your shoulder. 

Inhaling sharply your eyes fly open, glancing around in a tired shock. “Hm?” you hum. “What time is it?…How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours,” Luke tells you with a shrug. “I’m going to go home now though, I have practice in the morning. Do you want to come? I’ll give you my bed again.”

Shaking your head you sit up, blinking tiredly. “No, no, that’s okay…thank you though.”

“Are you sure? Are you going to be okay alone?”

“Luke, I’m fine,” you assure him, swinging your legs off the edge of the couch. Standing up you pull him into a hug, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming over today. Text me when you get home, okay?”

Luke waits for you to pull away first before saying goodbye, heading out to drive back to his place. After waking up a bit more you find something for dinner, calling your best friend to talk, needing to get out of your head. You end up talking with her for most of the evening before heading to bed rather early, the intense emotions of the last couple days catching up with you.

The next morning you wake up early, trying to keep yourself busy so that you didn’t fall into the same sadness that you felt the day before. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life wallowing. After having breakfast you take your coffee and grab your laptop, heading to the living room to sit on the couch. You pay a few bills before opening your email, your eyes narrowing in on one email from 1:46am. 

Flight Confirmation. 

Nervously clicking on it you scroll down, confusion building when you see that it was indeed a flight booked under your name. Then your eyes fall to the destination. Vancouver. Glancing at the date you realize it’s for next weekend, your heart racing. 

Picking up your phone you dial the number of the only person you thought would be buying you a flight to Vancouver. You listen to the dial tone for so long you begin to wonder if he wasn’t going to answer at all. 

“Hi?” Quinn mutters, his voice groggy and tired. 

Looking at the clock you realize how early it still was in Vancouver. “Shit, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“It’s fine,” Quinn mumbles. “Did you get the email?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your eyes not leaving the screen of your laptop. “Why?”

“Because I’m sorry,” Quinn says quietly. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you, I shouldn’t have treated you like that and I want to see you. If the date doesn’t work I can change the flight, just let me know when, I figured you have weekends off so I thought it would be better to pick a weekend but I know the flight is Friday morning so if you can’t leave that day I can just-.”

“This weekend is perfect,” you interrupt. “I’m sorry too, Quinn, I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn assures you. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you reply, not expecting your voice to grow shaky in the way it did. “I can let you get back to sleep now.”

“No, it’s okay, I was going to get up soon anyway.”

“Okay,” you whisper, still staring at the flight details on your laptop screen. “You didn’t need to buy me a first-class ticket, Quinn.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Quinn tells you quietly. “You’re going to let Luke get a dog?”

You can’t help but laugh at the question, pushing your laptop off your lap and curling up on the couch, staring out the window across the room. “I can’t really stop him…you’re his big brother though, maybe you should talk him out of it,” you tell him. “How long has he been talking about this?”

“Not long,” Quinn mumbles. “We talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” you whisper, wondering if wanting a dog was the only thing that Luke talked to Quinn about. “About a dog?”

Quinn is quiet for a little too long, your palms growing clammy, realizing that the answer probably wasn’t yes. “About you,” Quinn finally admits. “I um, I saw the Instagram story and called him. I just, uh…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And he told you I’m not?” you ask, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Not exactly,” Quinn replies. “He did make sure that I knew I was an asshole…not that I didn’t already know that.”

“If you already knew that why have you been refusing to talk to me, Quinn?”

Quinn sighs heavily, silence falling over the line. “Because I was hurt,” Quinn mumbles. “I was hurt and jealous and I don’t know…I just didn’t want to admit that. I’m sorry.”

You wanted to forgive him, wanted to tell him that it was okay. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay the way he treated you in Michigan, it wasn’t okay the way that the situation had played out since. Dismissing it, telling him it was fine, you knew that wasn’t going to help the situation. You needed to talk about it, to really discuss it. Maybe he was right in booking you the flight, maybe this just wasn’t a conversation that you could have over the phone. 

“What should I pack for Vancouver?” you whisper, doing your best to change the topic. 

Quinn hesitates a moment, clearly taken aback by the 180 degree change in the conversation. He tells you the plan for the weekend, primarily just that he had a game on Saturday, though he assured you that you didn’t need to go if you didn’t want to. You told him you did, making a mental note to add an outfit to wear to the game to your list. 

You talked on the phone for nearly an hour before Quinn had to go, not wanting to be late for practice. You spend the rest of the day preparing for the week ahead, grocery shopping, meal prepping, laundry, all the chores that kept your mind busy. 

The week went by slowly, each work day feeling never-ending. The closer you got to your 6am Friday flight the closer your anxiety gets to overtaking your excitement. Of course you wanted to see Quinn, wanted to make up for the months of not even speaking to each other. But you also knew that the point of this trip was to talk about what had happened, a conversation you were dreading having. 

Friday morning you wake up at 4am, collecting your luggage and climbing into an Uber half asleep. You’re not fully awake till you’re on the plane, the six hours ahead of you seeming like they were going to stretch on forever. 

By the time you landed in Vancouver your heart was hammering so heavily you were worried you might just drop dead of a heart attack right then and there. Your hands were shaky and clammy as you wiggled your carry-on out of the overhead compartment. You follow everyone off the plane, down the long hallway and to the arrivals area of the airport. 

Weaving your way through everyone around you stopping to greet their loved ones your eyes scan the crowd of people still waiting. When your eyes land on Quinn you nearly stop walking altogether, your heart stopping for a moment. Three months of not even talking to him made it feel like years of not seeing him. Hesitantly you force yourself closer, not knowing what to expect when you get to him. But as soon as you’re close enough Quinn has his arms around you, pulling you close against him. 

“Hi,” you whisper, fingers curling into the fabric of Quinn’s hoodie. 

“Hi,” Quinn replies, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “How was your flight?”

“Really good,” you reply. “I’ve never flown first-class before.”

“I’ll make sure you only ever fly first-class from now on.”

“Stop,” you giggle, shaking your head. “A seat on a flight is good enough for me…especially if it means I get to see you.”

“I love you,” Quinn whispers in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. You had been telling each other you loved each other since childhood. In the same way that you told Jack and Luke that you loved them. But your love for Quinn was so different and you weren’t sure what his admission of love entailed. “Should we go get your suitcase?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, nodding quickly, thankful that Quinn had said something to break you from your train of thoughts. Heading to the baggage carousel you wait till you see your suitcase, dragging it off the carousel. 

Quinn swoops in quickly, taking your bag from you. “Ready to go?” Quinn asks, gesturing towards the door. 

Nodding you follow Quinn through the airport and out into the cool air outside, rain drops hammering onto the sidewalk. “People weren’t lying about how much it rains here,” you comment. 

“You can wait here, I’ll bring the car around,” Quinn offers. 

Shaking your head you step closer to Quinn. “No, it’s just rain, I’ll survive.”

Quinn slides his jacket off quickly, wrapping it around your shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your eyes locking with his as he keeps his hands on the jacket wrapped around you. You slide your arms into the sleeves when you realize Quinn is not about to take the jacket back. “Thank you,” you tell him, pulling the fabric around your body. The jacket smells like Quinn, his body wash or cologne or maybe just his laundry detergent, but whatever it was it was it felt comforting, familiar. 

Quinn picks up your suitcase again and you follow him through the parking lot, quickly climbing into the dry car. Quinn is in the driver’s seat a moment later, starting the car before looking over at you. “Thanks for coming.”

“I just want to figure this out,” you say quietly, pulling your seatbelt on. Glancing over at Quinn for a moment before you turn your attention back to the drops of rain landing on the windshield. “I can’t lose you, Quinn.”

Quinn reaches over, his hand sliding into yours, squeezing it gently. “I know I fucked up, but I promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

Sniffling quietly you nod slowly, not entirely sure you believed him. Sure, you were here with him now. But it seemed so easy for him just weeks ago, to tell you that he simply didn’t have any time to talk. 

“I’m sorry,” Quinn adds, squeezing your hand again before shifting the car into drive, pulling out of the parking spot. 

You remain silent through the entirety of the drive, your mind racing with thoughts that brought tears to your eyes. You knew what was coming. You knew you needed to have a real conversation about what had happened in Michigan, about what was going to happen now. But you didn’t know how it would go, didn’t know what Quinn would say about it, and you were scared that somehow, someway, it would only make things worse. 

When you get to Quinn’s apartment building you follow him inside, sliding his jacket off your body and hanging it in the closet by the door. You had never been to his apartment before, almost all of your time together was spent in Michigan. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat or drink?” Quinn asks, walking into the kitchen.

Shaking your head you rest your hands on the counter, looking over at him. “I think we should talk.”

Quinn nods, sighing quietly. “Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding towards the living room. “Should we go sit down?”

“Sure.” Turning around you walk to the living room, sitting on one end of the large couch. Lifting your legs onto the couch you pull them to your chest, wrapping your arms around them in an attempt to comfort yourself. “I don’t really know what to say,” you admit. 

“Me neither,” Quinn agrees, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward, eyes focusing on the living room floor. “I know it’s not an excuse but I was so drunk that night,” Quinn begins, glancing over at you. “And I see the way people look at you, the way everyone just falls for you, which I get, but, I don’t know…it’s hard. Seeing you with Alex that day, on the dock, I was jealous,” Quinn rambles.

Nodding slowly you dig your fingers into your legs, forcing deep breaths into your lungs. “But you didn’t have to be so mean to me, Quinn. We could have just talked about it.”

“I know,” Quinn replies quickly, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I don’t have an excuse, I was hurt and drunk.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you whisper, your eyes prickling with tears again. You had never cried so much in such a short period of time, had never expected to. “You know that, right?”

Quinn shrugs, his elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward to stare at the ground. “Yeah, I mean, I guess.”

“Quinn,” you croak. “What do you mean you guess? I promise the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”

“Then why did you do it?” Quinn snaps, turning his head to look over at you. 

“I-,” you begin, shaking your head. “I don’t know, I really didn’t mean to, nothing I said or did with them meant anything, it was just-.”

“No?” Quinn interrupts with a scoff. “Nothing you did with Alex meant anything?”

“It wasn’t-,” you begin before getting interrupted again. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Quinn interjects. “I’m not that fucking stupid. I saw your stories with him, I know when you were going out with Jack and Luke that Alex was there too. I know you went home with him after you guys went out drinking. If you’re going to sit there and tell me that none of that meant anything then maybe none of the stuff you said to me meant anything either.”

“That’s not true,” you plead, eyes glossy with tears. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Quinn. I’m sorry, I really am. Yeah, Alex and I were hanging out but that doesn’t mean what I said to you wasn’t true.”

“If it was true you wouldn’t be fucking one of my friends,” Quinn mutters. 

Swallowing heavily you wipe away your tears, shaking your head. “You’re such an asshole,” you mumble under your breath. 

“I’m the asshole?” Quinn snaps. 

“Yes,” you exclaim, dropping your legs off the couch and standing up quickly. “You called me a whore, Quinn. You said such horrible things and now you have the audacity to get mad at me when I started spending time with someone who actually was nice to me after all that.”

“I did not call you a whore,” Quinn defends, staring up at you from where he was still sitting on the edge of the couch. "I would never say that."

“Maybe you didn’t use that word but how do you think I would take you telling me that I’m flirting with everyone, that I want the attention of every single man around? Do you know how bad that hurt, Quinn? You’re telling me that you’re not sure if you believe I didn’t mean to hurt you but you’re not acknowledging how much you hurt me.”

Quinn is quiet for a few seconds, his eyes falling back to the ground, not looking you in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Maybe you should have thought about someone other than yourself then,” you tell him, repeating his words from that night in Michigan back to him. Maybe you shouldn’t be so petty. Maybe you should have been the bigger person. Maybe you should have let it go. But your heart was racing, your hands clammy, your mind scattered in a million directions and a part of you selfishly wanted him to feel the way you felt that night. 

Quinn visibly flinches in response to your words, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” Quinn breathes out. 

You were already on your way towards his front door, body moving faster than your mind. Grabbing your purse you toss it onto your shoulder, yanking the same jacket Quinn had let you wear earlier off the hanger in the closet. 

“Where are you going?” Quinn asks, hopping up from the couch and hurrying over to you. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, spinning towards the front door. Your hand lands on the door handle just seconds before Quinn is wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Don’t,” you mumble, yanking your hand away from him. “And for the record, I didn’t sleep with Alex. I’ve never fucked any of your friends. But you can just keep believing whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better about the way you treated me.” Yanking the door open you head out into the hallway, finding the stairs and hurrying down them. 

Outside the rain is still pouring heavily from the sky and you begin walking quickly, continuing till you find a coffee shop. Inside you pull the soaking jacket from your body, laying it over your arm and heading to the till. After ordering yourself a coffee you find a seat tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, watching the cars passing, the rain drops bouncing off the sidewalk. 

You’re not there long before your phone begins vibrating. First with a call from Quinn. Then a text message. Then a couple more calls and a few more texts. Sure, you probably should have replied, but your mind was still racing a million miles an hour. All of your thoughts were so incredibly cloudy that you didn't even know what to say if you were to reply.

Eventually, long after your coffee cup is empty, your phone rings and this time it’s Jack. Sighing you slide to answer it, bringing the phone to your ear. “Hi,” you say quietly. 

“Hi,” Jack replies with an audible sigh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him honestly, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on your paper cup. 

“Where are you? What’s going on? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m in a coffee shop, Jack, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Quinn is freaking out,” Jack tells you. “Can you please just call him?”

“No,” you mumble, watching a man walking by with his dog, the dog’s hair plastered to their body with rain. “I want to come home, Jack.”

“Oh my god,” Jack groans. “You two are so fucking annoying.” 

“Fuck you,”  you whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody in the quiet coffee shop could hear you. “Why would you say that? I haven’t done anything.”

“Both of you need to get over what happened in Michigan,” Jack tells you. 

“Tell him that,” you mutter, rolling your eyes to nobody but yourself at that table. 

“I did,” Jack exclaims. There’s a few seconds of silence after he says it, unable to think of anything to say. Because he was right, you both needed to be honest. You both did and said things you wished you hadn’t, both made mistakes. “Do you want me to book you a flight home?” Jack finally asks. 

“No, it’s okay…thank you though.”

“So are you going to go back to Quinn’s place or do you want me to book you a hotel room?”

“I could book my own hotel room if I wanted to,” you tell him with a quiet sigh.

“You’re always complaining that you’re broke,” Jack comments.

“I know how much money you make, Jack, I’m broke in comparison.”

“I’m never buying you drinks again,” Jack replies with a chuckle. 

“Please,” you say with a giggle. 

“If you go talk to Quinn and figure out whatever is going on with you two and leave me out it, then I’ll consider buying your drinks when we go out again.”

“Fine,” you whine playfully. “What do I even say to him?”

“I don’t know, just go talk to him. I’m sure you two will figure it out.”

“I’m scared,” you admit. 

“Why are you scared?” Jack asks, a sudden intensity in his tone.

“What if he never forgives me?”

“Just go talk to him,” Jack sighs. “He’s losing his mind right now, just go talk to him.”

“Fine, I’ll go back,” you groan. Standing up you pick up Quinn’s jacket from the back of the chair, pulling it on. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in this,” you tell Jack, picking up your empty coffee cup to toss it into the garbage on the way out the door. 

“It’s fine,” Jack assures you. “Just figure this out, okay?”

“Okay…we’ll try,” you tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck,” Jack says. 

“Thank you,” you say with a sigh, stepping outside. “Bye, Jack,” you say before hanging up. Hurrying through the rain you make your way back to Quinn’s apartment, stopping outside to text him to let him know you were back. 

Quinn is down in the lobby a second later, letting you inside. “I’m sorry,” Quinn says as a greeting, reaching over and pulling you into his arms. Your jacket is soaked, seeping into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Let’s just go upstairs,” you mumble, though if you were being honest the last thing you wanted to do was let go of him. 

Quinn pulls back, guiding you back into his apartment. You’re quiet as you pull off the jacket, kicking your shoes off a second later. Following Quinn back to the living room you slowly sit down, sighing quietly. “I talked to Jack.”

“I figured,” Quinn mumbles, sitting down across from you. “I’m really sorry.”

“Me too,” you mumble, looking across the couch at him. “I-,” you begin, eyes filling with tears again. “I don’t know how to deal with this, Quinn, I can’t lose you. I love you so much. I don’t know…I don’t know what to do.”

Quinn slides closer to you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you too,” Quinn tells you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Nodding slowly you clutch at Quinn’s arms, holding him tight against you. “I’m sorry for everything I did, everything I said. I promise I’ll never talk to you like that again. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, I know what I did was horrible.”

“I do,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him. “I do forgive you, Quinn. I know you’re sorry, I really do. I just need you to stop holding me flirting with other people over me. We weren’t together. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize the way it was making you feel, I really am. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I wasn’t doing it to make you feel bad.”

Quinn reaches down, taking your hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I know we weren’t together, I know you weren’t doing anything wrong and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reaching up to wipe away a few tears that had slipped from your eyes. You weren’t even sure why you were crying anymore. Relief, exhaustion, an overwhelming level of emotions. “What now?”

Quinn shrugs, glancing over at the TV. “Do you want to go somewhere? Or do you want to just stay here and hang-out?”

“Stay here,” you tell him laughing quietly. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your eyes were swollen and red, that your skin was splotchy from all the tears you had shed. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Quinn assures you, reaching over and picking up the remote. He hands it to you before leaning back on the couch, watching as you turn the tv on. “We can order dinner too, just let me know when.”

Picking up your phone you look at the time. It had been a long day but you were still shocked to see that it was nearing 6pm already. You pick a show, watching an episode before the two of you order dinner. The rest of the evening goes by quickly, most of it spent in relative silence as you watch a few more episodes of the show you had put on. 

Eventually Quinn shows you to the guest room and you change into some pyjamas before settling into the bed. You fall asleep easily that night. Maybe it really was just because the bed was so comfortable, but you’re sure there was more to it than that. 

When you wake up the next morning Quinn is already gone for morning skate, a note on the kitchen counter letting you know he would be back that afternoon. The note also told you that there was coffee in the cupboard and to help yourself to anything else you wanted. You were almost certain he bought the coffee specifically for you, something you confirmed when you found it unopened in the cupboard. After making yourself a cup you head to the living room, watching TV while waiting for him to get home. 

The sound of the front door opening draws your attention just a little after 12pm. “Hey,” Quinn greets, walking over to sit on the couch next to you. “How was your morning? I didn’t want to wake you before I left.”

“It was good, I slept in, that bed is really comfortable,” you tell him, moving closer and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his arms circle around you, pulling you closer. 

“It’s not bad,” Quinn says with a chuckle. “My bed is better.”

“Are you bragging? Because I am your guest and that’s kind of rude,” you tease, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. 

“Maybe a bit…but I’m not stopping you from sleeping in it with me so I don't think it's that rude.”

“I don’t know, the last time I slept in a bed with you seemed like the beginning of the whole disaster,” you joke. 

“Too soon,” Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. He stands up and reaches down, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. “Come on.”

“Where?” you ask, though you’re in his bedroom before he has the chance to answer you. You watch him lay down on one side of the bed, gesturing for you to take the other side. Walking over you lay down beside him, rolling onto your side to face him. “It is really comfy,” you admit. 

“I wasn’t lying,” he tells you with a chuckle. "I do need to have a nap before the game though."

"That's why you brought me in here? To break the new sthat you need to have a nap?"

"Kinda," Quinn admits. "And because I did actually want to brag about the bed."

Rolling your eyes playfully you sit up, looking down at him. "Okay, Grandpa. What 24-year-old gets this excited about a bed?"

"It was expensive," Quinn exclaims.

"I'm sure it was," you reply with a giggle. "Do you want me to tuck you in for your nap before I go or are you okay all by yourself?"

"Get outta here," Quinn jokes, shaking his head.

Giggling you climb off the bed, heading back to the living room to continue keeping yourself busy for the afternoon. It wasn't hard, after an episode of your favourite show you head to the bathroom, finding a towel and hopping into the shower. By the time you're out of the shower Quinn is already up, startling you as you step out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

"You scared me," you breathe out, clutching the towel to your naked body.

"It's my apartment," Quinn says with a chuckle. "Why are you not expecting me to be here?"

"I thought you'd still be napping. Must need a lot of beauty sleep to look that cute," you tease, stepping past him towards the bedroom.

"We can't all just be naturally cute like you," he comments before you disappear behind the closed door of the guest bedroom. It was such an insignificant comment but you couldn't stop your stomach from filling with butterflies regardless.

Later that afternoon you're in the bathroom, running your fingers through your hair, fixing it slightly. Your eyes shift over your shoulder, seeing Quinn appear in the mirror behind you. Your lips curl into a soft smile, eyes drifting up and down his body. Quinn was always attractive to you but you were more used to Quinn in a t-shirt and shorts at the lake than Quinn in a suit before a game. 

“You look good,” you tell him, turning around to look at him. Leaning back against the counter you watch Quinn walk closer. “Very handsome,” you add, running your fingers over the lapels of his suit jacket once he’s close enough to you. 

“You look good too,” Quinn mumbles, his hands landing on your hips. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, swallowing heavily. “Can’t believe this is the first time I get to see you play in Vancouver.”

“Hopefully it won’t be the last,” Quinn replies, stepping close enough to cause your heart to hammer heavily in your chest. “You sure you’re going to be okay to get there alone tonight?”

“I’m positive,” you whisper, your eyes flicking down to his lips. Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest you were sure it was about to burst. “Good luck tonight,” you whisper. 

Quinn smiles softly, leaning in a little closer. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against yours. You could feel your breath catch in your throat, your hands running up his chest, resting you arms over his shoulders. Just seconds before your lips touch his your phone rings loudly on the counter beside you, making you jump. 

Laughing you pull back, pressing your hand over your heart. “Oh my god,” you breathe out, reaching over to silence your phone. “Sorry,” you add with a sheepish smile. “Really ruined the moment there.”

Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead quickly. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You couldn’t deny the disappointment you were feeling that the moment really was ending this way. But you knew that Quinn said he was already running late and you weren’t about to make him any later. “Okay,” you whisper, watching him turn around and head out of the bathroom. 

You order yourself dinner after Quinn leaves, hanging out by yourself until you needed to head to the arena. The sky is dark already as you climb into the Uber outside Quinn’s apartment building, pulling your seatbelt on. 

“Going to the Canucks game?” you Uber driver asks you, looking at you through the mirror. 

“Yeah,” you tell him with a nod and a friendly smile. “First Canucks game here.”

“First game ever?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “No, I’ve been to a few before. Never in Vancouver though.”

“Oh, really? Who’d you see play before?”

“Mostly the Devils,” you tell him, realizing the more information you gave the more you would need to explain. “I’m just here visiting a friend.”

“You’re from New Jersey?”

“No, I live in New York now.”

You watch him glance back at you, clearly not following along. “Something against the Rangers?”

“I guess you could say that,” you tell him with a shrug. You’re at the arena shortly after, heading in and finding your seat.

The game passes quickly, your attention on Quinn throughout the entirety of the game. It was different than watching Jack and Luke play. It felt more intense, like the outcome of the game would somehow be an indicator of the outcome of this entire trip.

When the game ends and the Canucks win with a score of 4-2 you can't help but feel a mixture of relief and happiness. It really did feel like a good omen of sorts.

You wait around the arena after the game, doing your best to fill the time till Quinn was ready to leave. You scroll though Instagram, liking post after post till you hit the point of not having a single new thing to look at. Eventually Quinn finds you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Congratulations,” you whisper, not pulling back. “You’re even more impressive to watch in person.”

Quinn laughs at your comment, shaking his head. He had always been humble, refusing to accept your compliments. “Do you want to go out for a drink or something? I know it’s kind of late but you flew all the way up here, I don’t want you to just have to stay in my apartment the whole time.”

Giggling you lean up closer, your hands on his shoulders. “I’d be fine staying in your apartment with you the whole time.” You lean in a little closer, lips almost brushing against his. “Doing anything with you,” you whisper. 

“You coming out with us or what?” someone calls, making you jump back from Quinn, turning in the direction of the voice. 

Quinn places his hands on your hips, pulling your body back against him. “No, I think we’re just going to do our thing.”

The man in front of you chuckles, shooting Quinn a knowing look. “Sounds good, man, see you later,” he says before heading off in the other direction. 

Giggling you spin around, looking up at Quinn. “Well, where are we going for drinks?”

Quinn reaches his hand down, sliding it into yours. “It’s a surprise,” he tells you. Guiding you out of the arena and to his car Quinn opens the passenger door for you. You climb into the car, pulling on your seatbelt. A few minutes later you’re on your way, heading downtown. 

The lounge Quinn takes you to is small and intimate. The table you’re seated at is equally as intimate, tucked away in the back of the restaurant. Opening the menu your eyes scan over the options, more specifically the prices on that menu. Glancing over at Quinn you watch him look at the menu himself. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the money for the drinks, you just never would have picked a place so expensive yourself. You had also never seen this side of Quinn. You weren’t oblivious, you knew he had money. But you were so used to him with a bottle of some middle-of-the-road beer he picked up at the liquor store on the way to the lake house that you could barely picture him ordering a $25 cocktail.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Quinn asks before looking up from the menu, an uncertain smile on his face when he realizes that you're already looking at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head as you look back to the menu. “No, I’m not sure yet. What are you getting?”

“A sazerac, probably,” Quinn tells you with a shrug, the menu already closed letting you know it was most likely more than just probably. 

“What’s that?” you whisper, your eyes scanning the menu again.

“Whisky,” Quinn tells you with a quiet chuckle. “Kind of like an old fashioned.”

“Right,” you drawl, nodding slowly. You couldn’t say you were that familiar with the old fashioned either but at least you knew what it was. “I think I’ll try the clover club.”

A few minutes later you order your drinks and you lean back in your chair, gazing across the table at Quinn. Was this a date? You hadn’t even stopped long enough to consider that possibility. You had gone out so, so many times before that you didn’t think the suggestion to go out this time was anything different than that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Quinn asks uncertainly. 

“You,” you whisper, with a small shrug. “Us,” you add a moment later. 

“What are you thinking about us?” Quinn presses, leaning a little closer. 

“I don’t really know,” you admit, glancing down at the table for a second. “Do you think there’ll ever be an us to really think about?”

Quinn swallows heavily, silence falling between the two of you as he stares across the small table at you. His silence makes you nervous, shifting in your chair under the intensity of his gaze. “I hope so,” he eventually tells you. 

“I-,” you begin, your sentence getting cut short as your server returns with your drinks. She sets a coupe glass in front of you filled with a pink liquid, three perfect raspberries balanced across the top of the glass on a cocktail skewer. “It’s so cute.”

“It’s fitting,” Quinn says, picking up his glass and taking a drink of his own cocktail. 

You can’t hold back your smile at Quinn’s comment, rolling your eyes playfully. “Okay, Casanova,” you tease. 

“Am I not allowed to flirt with you now?” 

Giggling you shake your head, “of course you can,” you tell him before picking up your glass and taking a sip. It’s stronger than you expected, catching you off guard as you slowly set it back down. Maybe that’s why they were so expensive. “I asked for some time off work before I came out here,” you say suddenly, watching Quinn closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Of course it had been presumptuous of you to take the time off before discussing it, but you had the vacation days anyway and you had assumed two days probably wouldn’t feel like long enough. 

“Yeah?” Quinn says, reaching over and taking your hand, running his thumb across the back of it. “Does that mean you’re staying longer?”

Shrugging you stare down at your interlocked hands. “Depends if you want me to stay.”

“Of course…I don’t want you to leave yet,” Quinn tells you with a reassuring squeeze of your hand. 

“Good, because I don’t want to leave yet either,” you tell him. Picking up your glass you take another sip of your drink, the liquid going down a lot smoother now that you were expecting it. 

The two of you sit there at that table for hours, over multiple drinks and a couple appetizers. Your conversation is comfortable, the issues that had brought you to Vancouver in the first place no longer seeming so heavy or intense. Quinn pays the bill at the end of the night and your previous thoughts about the possibility of the evening being a date come flooding back into your mind. 

Walking back into Quinn’s apartment you kick off your shoes, sliding your jacket off. “Thank you for tonight,” you say as you hang your jacket in the coat closet. 

Quinn glances over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Thanks for what?”

Shrugging you lean against the wall behind you. “I don’t know…taking me out, showing me a bit of Vancouver, paying for the bill.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Quinn assures you. “I wanted to.”

Reaching over you take Quinn’s hands in yours and pull him in front of you. “Just take the thank you, Quinn,” you whisper. 

“Okay, fine…you’re welcome,” Quinn mumbles, staring down at you. 

There’s an intensity in the moment, a heaviness in the air. Your heart was racing so fast, stomach filled with butterflies. The apartment is silent, so silent you begin to wonder if Quinn can hear it all. The shakiness in your breath, the hammering of your heart in your chest. The apartment is dim, lit by a single warm lightbulb a few feet away. Your eyes gravitate down to his lips and this time you don’t care how obvious it is. 

He begins to lean in and your patience quickly wears thing, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to press your lips to his. His hands land on your hips, pulling them closer to him, your shoulder blades pressing back into the wall. Sliding your hand up you tangle your fingers in his hair, your tongue brushing against his. His grasp on your hips tightens, a quiet moan slipping from your lips. 

Your mind was hazy, your emotions overwhelming. Your body was begging for more, his hands on your body felt intoxicating. Sliding your arm over his shoulder you lean your body further into him, desperate to be as close to him as you could, desperate for more. When you pull away it’s to catch your breath, steady the racing of your heart. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips. 

“I love you too,” Quinn replies, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. He’s smiling when he pulls back, reaching down to take your hand. He guides you into the living room, sitting down and pulling you down beside him. He places his hand on your thigh, fingers just a little too high for your mind not to be filled with less-than-PG thoughts. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I, um, y-yeah,” you stammer. Quinn knows what he’s doing and you can tell by the smirk on his lips as he hands you the remote. Taking it from him you put something on the TV, the very first movie you could find that seemed alright. 

You’re not watching the movie long before you feel Quinn’s fingers move on your thigh, a heavy breath escaping your lips. Your eyes flicker down to this hand, watching him brush his thumb on your leg. When you turn your attention to Quinn you see that he’s not watching the movie at all, his eyes are locked on you.

Pushing his hand off your thigh you swing your leg over his body, your hands resting on his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him. It’s fast and eager, your back arching as you roll your hips forward. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes out as he pulls back. “Baby, you’re…,” he begins, cutting himself off with a strangled moan. You didn’t need him to finish the sentence, you knew what you were doing when you felt him growing hard beneath you. 

His hands slide underneath your shirt, his fingers warm against your skin as he slides them up your waist. Pulling back you let him tug your shirt off, dropping it onto the ground beside you. Quinn leans closer, pressing his lips to yours as he unhooks your bra. You feel your bra come undone and you pull back. Your eyes lock with Quinn’s as you slowly slide the bra down your arms. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had seen you naked, but this time it was different. This time you were inviting him to do far more than just skinny dip with you. 

Setting the bra down Quinn places his hands on your waist, sliding further down towards the edge of the couch. Leaning in your lips lock with his again, your body begging for more. “Quinn,” you whimper against his lips. 

“Yes, baby?” he mumbles, his hands exploring your body, sliding to your hips as he tugs you in a little closer. 

“I need you…please,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t need you to say anything more, standing up and pulling you with him. He leads you into his bedroom, pushing you across the room till the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. Laying back on the bed you gasp in surprise as he lifts you further onto the bed, hovering over you as he unbuttons your jeans. “Quinn,” you gush. 

“What?” he asks with a smirk, pulling your jeans down your legs as you lift your hips to make it easier.  

“I just didn’t expect…this,” you tell him, sitting up as you push his shirt up his torso, letting him take over and toss it aside. 

“I can slow down,” he offers, running his hands down your thighs. 

“No,” you say quickly, giggling at your own eagerness. “Please, don’t,” you add. 

Quinn chuckles, nodding as he leans down, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. He moves further up your thigh, and each time his lips brush against your skin your body jolts with desire. Slowly he pulls your underwear down your legs, letting them drop onto the floor. Your breathing is heavy by the time his tongue brushes against the spot that you had been nearly begging for. 

“O-oh,” you gasp as he flicks his tongue over your clit. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but whatever it was you weren’t expecting it to feel this good. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, back arching as you moan loudly. “Fuck,” you breathe out, breathing heavily. His hands wrap around your thighs, your fingers curling into the fabric of the comforter on the bed, trying to keep yourself still as waves of pleasure rip through you. 

Your body flushes with warmth, desperate to reach your climax as your hips begin to squirm. Quinn presses his arm against your hips, stilling them as his tongue flicks against your clit. “Oh fuck,” you whine, moaning loudly. A second later your muscles are tensing, waves of pleasure ripping through your body. “O-oh my god,” you cry out, flinching away from his tongue when the sensation grows too intense. “Okay, okay,” you mumble, hands cradling his face as you tug him back to your lips. Pressing your lips to his you kiss him deeply, your legs wrapping around his torso. “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Quinn teases.

Your breath leaves your lips shakily, eyes locked with his. “Please…I want you inside of me,” you plead. 

Quinn leans in, kissing you gently before climbing off the bed. You watch him open the nightstand, grabbing a condom. You reach over, taking his hand and pulling him towards you, till he was standing in front of where you were sitting on the edge of the bed. Looking up at him you unbutton his pants, slowly pushing them down. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes out, his hand on the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair. You slide his underwear off a second later, your hand wrapping around his erection. Leaning down you swirl your tongue around his tip, taking him into your mouth a second later. He lets out a shuttering groan, his fingers grasping at your hair. “Holy shit,” he mutters. 

You take him as far into your mouth as you can each time you bob your head up and down, suppressing your gags as your eyes well with tears from the sensation. You can feel the saliva building in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, the saliva dripping down onto your fingers. Moving your free hand to Quinn’s thigh you readjust on your knees, the hardwood floor below you is not particularly comfortable, but the quiet groans he’s making make it worth it. 

A few minutes later Quinn pulls back and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, staring up at him. “You’re so beautiful,” Quinn mutters, running his thumb along your bottom lip. He leans down to kiss you again, gentle and slow. 

Pulling back Quinn opens the condom, sliding it on quickly. Scooting back on the bed you reach up, grabbing his hand and pulling him down on top of you. He kisses you passionately as he slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing over your entrance before slowly pushing one finger inside you. He moves slowly at first, brushing up slightly, sliding another finger inside you a minute later, your moans growing in volume. 

He pulls his hand back quickly, wrapping around his dick, sliding himself inside you. It’s slow at first, almost teasing as he watches you beneath him, moaning quietly. “Oh my god,” you whimper, your hands grasping onto his shoulders. “You feel so good inside me,” you whisper as he picks up the speed, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

Leaning up Quinn places his hands on the backs of your thighs, gently pushing your legs back further. Sliding your hand down you run your fingers over your clit, Quinn watching you for a moment as your moans grow in frequency. “Oh, fuck,” Quinn groans, tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling. “I’m close.”

Your fingers pick up speed when you hear Quinn say he’s close, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm just a moment later. As your body is overtaken by the familiar tensing of your muscles you cry out in pleasure, your free hand wrapping around Quinn’s bicep, fingers digging into his arm. 

Quinn finishes just a minute after you, groaning as his thrusts slow in pace, slowly pulling himself out of you. He leans down and kisses your forehead gently before pushing himself off the bed, heading towards the bathroom as he takes off the condom. 

Laying on the bed you stare at the ceiling, trying your best to catch your breath. It had been awhile since you had sex in general but a very long time since you had sex that felt that good. Your hand rests on your bare torso, rising and falling with each heavy breath. You turn your head to the side when Quinn returns, tugging on a pair of underwear before sitting on the bed beside you. “How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Good,” you tell him with a giggle. “Really good.”

“Good,” Quinn echoes with a chuckle, leaning down to quickly peck your lips. “I’m going to get us some water, do you want anything else?”

Shaking your head you sit up, tugging your underwear back on. “No, just the water would be great.”

“I’ll be right back,” Quinn tells you, kissing your forehead again before leaving the bedroom. 

Pulling the blankets back you slide under them, realizing just how tired you really were. Quinn returns a minute later, setting a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. He joins you in bed, reaching over and pulling you closer. His fingers brush against your back, your arm resting on his chest. 

“Was tonight a date?” you whisper. 

A soft breath of laughter leaves Quinn’s lips as he tips his head up to look at you. “Well I thought it was but that’s kind of embarrassing if you didn’t.”

Giggling you lift your head, looking up at him. “I didn’t know but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to be.” Rolling over you slide one leg over his body, straddling him as you lean in, your lips hovering over his. “We can call it a date but I don’t usually kiss on the first date and look at where tonight went,” you joke. 

“Well I’m definitely looking forward to the second date then,” Quinn replies with a chuckle, his hands on your hips as he rolls you off of him to hover over you. “I’ll make sure you know it’s a date next time,” he says with a smirk, kissing you gently. “Get you some flowers or something.”

“Ooh,” you say with a giggle, running your fingers along his arm. “I love flowers.”

“I’ll get you all the flowers you ever want.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so romantic, Quinn,” you tease, leaning up to peck his cheek. 

Quinn shrugs, settling onto the bed beside you. “I’m not normally.”

Rolling your eyes playfully you shake your head. “Okay…whatever you say.”

“I’m being serious,” Quinn assures you with a quiet laugh. 

Turning your head your eyes meet with his and you realize he’s not joking. “Well please don’t stop, I like it.”

“I won’t,” Quinn promises, leaning over and kissing your forehead gently. 

Smiling softly you curl in closer to Quinn, letting your eyes fall shut as you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest under your hand. It doesn’t take long for you fall asleep in his arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment that extends into your dreams, lulling you into a deep sleep.

Your eyes flutter open the next morning, rolling onto your side in the dim bedroom, the blinds blocking out the early morning light. “Good morning,” you whisper when you watch Quinn’s eyes open, turning on his side to face you. 

Quinn reaches over, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Morning,” he mumbles with a tired smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good,” you whisper, unable to contain your own smile. “Did you sleep okay?” Rolling onto your stomach you move closer to him, resting your arm on his chest. 

“Yes,” Quinn replies, his hand sliding down to rest on your lower back. “Was last night okay?”

“More than okay,” you assure him, drawing imaginary shapes on his chest with your fingertips. “What do you want to do today?” you ask him, knowing it was one of very few days where he wasn’t doing something for hockey. 

Quinn shrugs, brushing his thumb along the skin of your lower back, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. “Anything as long as it’s with you.”

“What a coincidence…that’s also what I want to do today.”

You spend most of the morning in the apartment, not going more than a few minutes here and there without touching each other in some manner. Brief kisses here and there, a hand on your back, your arms wrapped around him. The afternoon brings you out of the apartment and into the streets of Vancouver, Quinn showing you around the rainy city. 

You spend the rest of the week at Quinn’s apartment. Watching movies on the couch, making dinners, going to another one of his games, afternoons spent at his kitchen table working through projects your laptop. You spent a night alone there when he had a road game, curled up on the couch in one of his t-shirts, watching the game on the TV in his living room. Everything felt so comfortable, so normal. Like this was the life you were supposed to be living. Just you and Quinn in an apartment together. 

But no matter how good it felt you knew it wasn’t going to last. You had to go home, had to get back to your job and the classes that you were barely keeping up with online. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to continue living in this blissful state with Quinn, it just wasn’t reasonable. 

Your time in Vancouver had to come to an end, the time slipping by so much faster than normal. Before you knew it you didn’t have another day or even another night together.  

You force a deep breath into your lungs, the lights in the airport feeling too bright, the air a little too cold, the bustling of people a little too loud. “Well,” you whisper, blinking quickly as you glance around, at anything and everything but Quinn. You were certain that if you looked at him a little too long you wouldn’t be able to keep it together. “I, um, I guess I should go…don’t want to miss my flight,” you mumble, though if you were being honest you wouldn’t be too upset if you did miss your flight. 

Quinn nods, reaching over and pulling you into him. The two of you stand there in silence, neither one wanting to pull back, not wanting the inevitable to happen. “I’m going to miss you.”

Sniffling quietly you curl your fingers into his hoodie. “Me too,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your hands still on his arms. “Don’t get too busy that you can’t talk to me when I call,” you joke, a sad breath of laughter following. Reaching up you wipe away your tears as you take a small step back. 

“Never,” Quinn assures you, a clear hesitation as he lets you go. “Have a good flight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, slowly turning around and heading towards the security line. You don’t look back, didn’t want him to see the stream of tears that you had been holding in all morning running down your cheeks. You fight through your emotions till you're through security, finding yourself a seat to hide away from the rest of the world as the sleeves of your hoodie grow damp with the tears you’re wiping from your face. 

Who would have thought that leaving on such great terms would be just as hard as leaving thinking you were never going to see him again. 

[dontexpectmuch]

hiii

can you do a oneshot of jude being clingy all day to the female reader?

thank uu

your limbs felt heavy, almost like you were tied down to your bed, your chest the only thing that’s moving as it moves up and down, deep breaths leaving your nose as you slowly but surely come back to your senses.

you try to open your eyes, the brightness of your room making it harder than it needed to be. taking a nap during the day was definitely one of your favorite activities, especially after a long university day. and though your room is already filled with warmth radiating from the heater, you feel almost uncomfortably hot.

that is when you realize another source of warmth behind you, chest moving against your back as he deeply breathes in and out. not only is your body being covered with his body heat, no, jude also has his arms wrapped around your head, kind of like a deadlock, your cheeks being squished between his biceps.

you want to enjoy it, really, but with the heating on, the blanket over your bodies and judes naturally warm body, you feel stuffy.

his grip around your head isn’t tight, you could easily slip away, which you try, though you feel his arms tightening around you, now his leg thrown over yours under the blanket.

you tap his arm, voice low as your throat feels dry, “jude.”

you hear him mumble something under his breath, meaning he was awake, though he wouldn’t let you go. instead, he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head, his body pressing against your back even more.

you try again, “jude, please, it’s warm.”

“five minutes.” his deep voice sends shivers down your back, and if it wasn’t for the heat surrounding you and your bladder reminding you that it needs to be emptied, you’d happily comply.

so, you do what any person in your position would do, you bite his arm, hard.

“dude.” jude whines, removing his arms from your head and turning to lay on his back, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowed.

you laugh at his your expression, pressing one last kiss on his bare chest before getting up, heading to the bathroom.

the sound of the pasta boiling in the pot next to you feels the kitchen, drowning your voice as you hum long a song that was stuck in your head all day long. though you decided to take a break, you can`t help but think about all the studying that needed to be done. your shoulders feel tense, your head is pounding from the mere thought of sitting in front of all those books and understanding all those theories from your professor.

only when jude rests his head on your shoulder, his strong arms around your waist and his body pressed against your back, you relax, sighing as you lean against his body, lazily stirring the sauce in the pan.

“lets cuddle.” his breath feels hot against your neck, goosebumps feathering your skin.

you turn your head to look at your boyfriends face, smile gracing your lips, “lemme finish this, babe, we can cuddle afterwards.”

jude groans, lightly bumping his head against yours, “wanna cuddle now, miss you.”

if it wasn’t for the water in the pot that was threatening to spill over, you would have given in. but you quickly step out of his hold, moving forward to stir the pasta in the pot.

“i will come as soon as i am finished, babe, `kay?”

“but i want you now, it`s so boring without you, babe.” jude moved his hand up to your neck, thumb drawing circles against your skin.

yo take his hand to press a kiss against bis knuckles, a subtle way to apologize, “food needs to finished first.”

“`m not that hungry anyway!”

“jude.”

“fine.”

“where are you goin`?” jude immediately sits up as he watches you get up from the couch, stretching your arms above your head. his eyes are wide, all the sleepiness he felt a minute ago vanished.

“gotta pee.” you chuckle at his behaviour, “and, uh, you?” your ezes follow him as he, too, gets up, blanket abandoned on the couch.

“let`s go.” is all he says, holding your cold hand in his warm one, guiding the two of you to the bathroom. you are at a loss for words as you watch him take a seat on the side of the bathtub, opening the lid of the toilet seat, signaling you to, well, do your business. with him. watching you (?)

you don`t know why, but you decide to wait a minute, hoping that he will get up and leave you alone to do your business, though it never happens.

“babe?” jude looks at you confused, “everything okay?”

you sigh, “well, uhm, i was waiting for you to get out, y`know?”

jude giggles, shaking his head, “c`mon, `t`s not like i`ve never seen you naked.”

you scoff, taking his hand to make him stand up before you push him out of the bathroom, “still, i wanna do this, eh, in private. go back to the couch, won`t take long.” you shut the door behind you, judes big eyes looking at you pleadingly being your last sight of him.

as soon as you`re done, you open the door, eyes landing on jude who seems to have stayed on the same spot, waiting for you.

you laugh, “babe, for real?”

he shrugs, his hand finding yours once more as you walk back to your living room, taking place under the blanket again, his arms now around your waist and your head on his warm chest.

“i missed you.” he sighs, his cheek resting against your head.

you decide to not comment on his weird behavior today, enjoying his presence, “i missed you, too.”

exams are a pain in the ass, hope u still like this one though it is a bit short.

good night. 🥹

[airandyeah]

Crying For Help (Alpha!Higuruma X Omega!Reader X Alpha!Nanami) Pt.2

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, I will mark every chapter as 18+ like all of my other A/B/O stories.

You stand in the break room, the fluorescent lights buzzing above your head as you struggle to keep your eyes open. It’s almost 10 AM, but it feels like it’s already been a whole day. The strong smell of fresh coffee hits you as you stand by the counter, waiting for the pot to brew, but the buzz of exhaustion never quite fades. You’re running on fumes, your body heavy with the weight of the last few days, the pressure from your new job, and the fact that you barely slept last night.

You slept in your makeup—still sporting faint traces of mascara smudged under your eyes, giving you the faintest hint of raccoon eyes. You hadn’t even bothered to wash it off after working late into the night, pushing yourself to get through the endless piles of documents. You tell yourself that tonight will be different, that you’ll finally take a break and rest—but deep down, you know you won’t.

The coffee machine sputters, and you pour the steaming dark liquid into your mug, savoring the warmth as it fills the cup. The coolness of the ceramic against your hand is comforting, and you try to focus on it, the small act of making your morning coffee grounding you in this small moment of calm.

But then you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you, the soft scrape of a chair being moved, and you know exactly who it is before you even look up.

Nanami.

You don’t have to turn around to feel the weight of his gaze. It’s like an invisible pressure, hanging in the air, suffocating you. He’s at the counter, quietly making his tea. No words are exchanged, but his presence is enough to make you feel even more drained than you already do.

You can feel his eyes on you. That same cold, sharp gaze that you’ve come to dread over the past week. You don’t dare look at him, but you can almost hear him measuring you, his thoughts silent but judgmental.

Why are you so tired? Why haven’t you gotten it together? Why do you look like you barely managed to pull yourself together this morning?

It’s like he can see right through you. The exhaustion. The cracks in your composure. The small, hidden parts of you that you’re desperately trying to keep concealed.

You sigh softly, your fingers tightening around the handle of your coffee mug. The urge to snap at him, to tell him that you’re doing your best, is strong. But you hold it in, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the coffee swirling in your cup.

You hate this feeling—the feeling that you’re always being watched, scrutinized. It makes you want to shrink, to hide somewhere far away, just so you don’t have to face it.

Nanami doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The silence between you two is enough. You can feel him judging you even from his quiet corner, the subtle weight of his gaze like a burden on your shoulders.

Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, trying to push past the discomfort. You force your shoulders to relax, even though they feel so stiff, and you try to steady your nerves. It’s just another moment. Another morning. Another day where you’re barely hanging on.

The sound of Nanami stirring his tea breaks the silence, and for the briefest moment, you wonder if you should say something. Anything. But then you think better of it.

Why bother?

You turn slightly, just enough to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s still standing there, calm, composed, and—no surprise—completely unreadable. The same disinterested mask he always wears. You can’t get a read on him. Not his thoughts, not his feelings. It’s like he’s always a step ahead, always distant. Always untouchable.

You sigh again, but this time it’s softer. Resigned, almost. You finish off your coffee, feeling the weight of another long day ahead. You give him a quick, polite nod—too tired to muster any real enthusiasm—and turn to leave the break room.

But before you can reach the door, Nanami’s voice cuts through the air.

“You’re… doing fine,” he says, his tone flat. It’s not much. It’s not comforting. But it’s enough to stop you in your tracks.

You pause, glancing over your shoulder, but you don’t say anything in response. You don’t know how to respond. The words feel hollow, like he’s just saying them out of obligation rather than actual concern. Maybe it’s just the coldness in his voice, or the way his eyes never meet yours, but it doesn’t feel like praise. Not to you.

You don’t know what you expected. Maybe you wanted him to say something more, something that actually made you feel like you were on the right path. Maybe you wanted something that made you feel like you could actually do this, like you weren’t just barely keeping your head above water.

But in the end, you don’t get that.

Instead, you just nod and leave the room, the door clicking softly behind you, your chest heavy with the same old feeling. ~~~ The sun is setting as you sit on the old, rusted bench behind the school, the smoke from your cigarette curling up into the cool evening air. Beside you, Shoko flicks her lighter, lighting her own cigarette with a practiced flick of her wrist. The two of you were rebels in your own way—always pushing boundaries, always doing the things you weren’t supposed to do, just because you could.

Shoko exhales a cloud of smoke, her eyes narrowing as she leans back against the brick wall. “You know,” she says lazily, her voice tinged with sarcasm, “this is probably the most peaceful I’ve felt all day.”

You let out a short laugh, the sound escaping your lips more bitter than you intended. “Yeah, school’s always a bit much. But you know, this is better than sitting in that damn classroom.”

The two of you share a knowing look before turning your eyes back to the orange-tinted sky. You take a long drag from your cigarette, letting the burn of the smoke slide down your throat. The world feels a little bit more tolerable in these quiet moments—just the two of you, away from the noise and expectations.

You’re about to take another drag when you hear the soft crunch of footsteps on gravel approaching, and you roll your eyes.

"Don’t tell me it's—"

"Hey, you know that’s bad for you, right?"

The voice cuts through the air, sharp and stern, and you instantly recognize it. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. Nanami Kento.

You turn your head slowly, your lips curling into a half-smile, half-grimace. Nanami stands a few feet away, his usual serious expression on his face, his gaze fixed on you and Shoko like a disappointed older brother. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his brow furrows as if he's been interrupted from some very important thought.

"Nanami," you say, feigning an innocent tone, "what’s up? You here to lecture us on healthy habits?"

Shoko snorts beside you, clearly trying to suppress a laugh, but Nanami doesn’t crack. He just stands there, his eyes flicking between the two of you, his gaze almost... concerned?

“Do you really think smoking behind the school is the best way to spend your free time?” Nanami asks, his tone dry, but you can hear the underlying frustration. "It’s not just bad for your lungs. It’s bad for your future too. You’re setting yourself up for problems down the road."

You roll your eyes again, the back of your throat burning from the harshness of the cigarette. “Thanks for the two cents, Nanami,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “But we’ve got it covered. We don’t need the life lessons right now.”

He exhales sharply, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your defiance. Shoko doesn’t even try to hide her amusement now, biting down on her lip to stifle a chuckle. You, on the other hand, feel a strange irritation bubble up inside you.

Nanami always had this way of acting like he knew what was best for everyone else. Always trying to fix things, to steer people into what he thought was the right path. And maybe, just maybe, it bothered you more than it should have.

“What is it with you?” you mutter, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why do you always feel the need to play the responsible one?”

He doesn’t seem fazed by your words, his stance still rigid and unimpressed. “Because someone has to. Not everyone here is so lucky that their future just falls into their lap,” Nanami replies calmly, his voice carrying the weight of something that feels deeper than just concern for your health.

There’s a long pause, and for a second, the air between the three of you feels heavy with something unspoken. But before it can drag on for too long, Shoko interrupts with her usual, no-nonsense attitude.

“Alright, alright,” she says, raising her hands in mock surrender, “we get it, Mr. Responsible. You can go back to your perfect little life and leave us to our vices.”

You’re surprised to see Nanami actually blink at her words. His expression softens, just for a moment, before he clears his throat and straightens up again.

“I’ll just… leave you two to it, then. But don’t expect me to stop reminding you how stupid it is.”

He gives you both one last look—half judgment, half concern—before walking off, his shoes clicking on the concrete with a finality that somehow feels heavier than you expected.

Shoko exhales dramatically as soon as he's out of earshot. “Jeez, what a buzzkill.”

You take another drag from your cigarette, but the feeling of Nanami’s disapproval still lingers. You can’t help but wonder: why did it matter so much to him? You weren’t kids anymore, and you definitely didn’t need him playing the role of the moral compass.

“Does he think he can save us all or something?” you mutter, flicking the ash off the tip of your cigarette.

Shoko laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t know, but he’s definitely not going to stop trying.”

You nod, your gaze lingering on the spot where Nanami had been standing just moments ago. The words he said echo in your mind, but you push them away, telling yourself it doesn’t matter.

But, deep down, a small part of you wonders if maybe—just maybe—he was right.

As the smoke from Shoko’s cigarette drifts into the cool evening air, she lets out a long, satisfied exhale. The quiet moment between the two of you stretches on until she takes another drag, her eyes glancing over at you with an odd look in her eyes.

“You know,” she mumbles, voice low and almost teasing, “I think Nanami might have a bit of a crush on you.”

You freeze mid-drag, almost choking on the smoke as her words register. The air around you feels thicker now, the moment suddenly feeling much heavier than it did before. You lower your cigarette slowly, narrowing your eyes at Shoko in disbelief.

“A crush? On me?” You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “No way. He’s just… acting like some kind of overbearing, judgmental big brother. That’s all.”

Shoko snorts, looking you up and down with an almost sly smile tugging at her lips. “You think so? I don’t know. He’s always looking at you like you’re about to make some kind of terrible decision. It’s like he can’t help himself.”

You roll your eyes, half-annoyed, half-embarrassed by the idea. “Yeah, well, I don’t need him getting all up in my business. I can take care of myself.” You take another drag from your cigarette, as if trying to convince yourself more than anything else.

But Shoko’s not done. “You know, he’s never like that with anyone else. He’s always so calm, so composed, especially with people who are his… ‘responsibility.’ But with you?” She glances over at you with a raised eyebrow. “There’s a certain tension there. A little too much concern. Maybe a little too much looking out for you.”

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. There’s no way. Nanami could never have a crush on you—not when he was always so cold and judgmental, especially toward you. He probably thought you were a mess, a wild card he couldn’t control, and he made it clear every time he passed by you.

But for a moment, you think about it. The way his eyes always linger just a little longer when he looks at you, the way he’s always trying to get you to straighten up, be better—was it concern? Was it more than just judgment?

“Don’t get your hopes up, Shoko,” you mutter, but there’s a seed of doubt now planted in your mind. “He’s just the responsible type. If he had a crush on me, he wouldn’t act like this.”

Shoko shrugs, blowing out another puff of smoke. “Maybe he’s just trying to hide it. Who knows? All I’m saying is—watch out for him. I think he might be a little more interested than you realize.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words catch in your throat. What if she was right?

You shake your head, trying to clear the thought. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”

Shoko gives you a smirk, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence after that, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. But in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about what Shoko said. Could it be possible? Could Nanami actually have feelings for you? ~~~ Your thoughts are so consumed by the memory that you don’t even notice Higuruma entering the break room until you hear the sharp snap of his fingers right in front of your face.

"Hey," Higuruma says with a teasing smile, his eyebrows raised as he watches you snap out of your daze. “You okay there? You look like you’ve gone off into space for a second.”

You blink, slightly startled, and rub at your eyes, trying to regain your composure. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumble, trying to play it cool despite the confusion running through your mind. "Just... thinking."

Higuruma watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering, but he doesn’t press you for an explanation. Instead, he leans against the counter casually, folding his arms with an almost relaxed air about him.

“You know, if you’re that tired, you should take a break. You’ve been running around nonstop the last few days," he says, his tone soft but with a note of concern that feels a little more genuine than you'd expected.

You give him a small smile, trying to play off the weight of your thoughts. “I’m good. Just trying to get through today.”

Higuruma chuckles softly, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “You sure? Because it looks like you’ve been working a little too hard. Maybe you need to just… take a step back.”

You laugh lightly, brushing it off. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Higuruma. Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

But as you finish your sentence, you can’t help but feel the weight of Nanami’s cold stare on you from the doorway. You turn your head slightly, catching the briefest glimpse of him before he quickly turns away, his back stiff as he walks down the hall. It’s like he never even noticed you standing there, but you can feel the tension in the air.

Higuruma notices too, his smirk faltering for just a second. “You know,” he says, his voice quieter now, “if you ever need to talk, or even just take a breather from all this... we could always grab a drink sometime. I’m sure you need a break.”

His words pull you back into the present, and for a second, you forget about Nanami’s judgment and focus on Higuruma’s offer. His gentle tone catches you off guard, making you wonder if he’s seen right through your tired façade.

You take a moment before responding, biting your lip in thought. “Maybe… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Higuruma’s smile widens, though it’s soft and sincere. “Good. I’ll hold you to that then.”

You give him a small nod, your eyes lingering on him for a brief moment before you glance away. But as you stand there, something about the easy rapport with Higuruma feels comforting—like for a brief second, you can forget about the weight of Nanami’s cold stare and the doubts clouding your mind.

As Higuruma turns to leave, he shoots you one last playful grin. "I’ll check in later, but don’t let yourself burn out, alright?"

You watch him go, then sigh and take another sip of your coffee, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Nanami’s judgment. But deep down, you can’t help but wonder if Higuruma was right: maybe you do need a break. Maybe more than just a break from work... Maybe from all the things weighing on you. ~~~ You step into the dorm room, the buzzing energy of the party already making its way through the walls. The space is filled with laughter, the thumping beat of music, and the faint smell of alcohol, but none of that matters right now. What matters is getting yourself ready for the night.

You stand in front of the mirror, carefully applying your makeup, making sure it’s bold enough to stand out at a party but not so overdone that it loses its edge. A thick swipe of eyeliner, a touch of highlighter to make your cheekbones pop, and a deep shade of lipstick. You adjust the short cocktail dress that clings to your curves, your reflection staring back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. You loved nights like these—wild, carefree, and full of excitement.

You hear the door open behind you, and without turning around, you greet your friends with a laugh. “You guys ready to party?”

There’s a brief pause before one of your friends steps into your line of sight. But it’s not just any friend—there’s someone else standing in the doorway. You freeze, the last brushstroke of highlighter lingering on your cheek as your gaze drifts to the new face.

It’s him.

Higuruma Hiromi.

Your heart skips a beat. The same guy you’d heard so much about on campus—the one with a reputation for being brilliant, charming, and mysterious. He’s standing there in a simple, fitted shirt and jeans, his messy dark hair giving him that effortlessly sexy look.

His eyes meet yours, and you swear you see a flicker of recognition there, but it's gone as quickly as it came.

“Hi,” you manage to say, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. You glance away quickly, focusing on your reflection in the mirror, but you can still feel his presence, the intensity of his gaze making your skin flush. The air around you feels thicker suddenly.

Higuruma smiles, and it’s so fucking disarming that you almost forget to breathe. “You look... impressive,” he says, his voice low and rich, like warm velvet.

Your heart races as you try to mask the effect his words have on you. You force a smile, though you can’t quite shake the feeling of being caught in his gaze. “Thanks. You clean up well yourself.”

He chuckles, but it’s not a full laugh. There’s a subtle, knowing quality to it that sends a shiver down your spine. “Glad to hear it.”

Your friends continue talking, completely unaware of the tension building in the air. You, on the other hand, can’t stop stealing glances at Higuruma, noticing the way his sharp jawline catches the light, how his eyes seem to follow every movement you make, how his presence seems to command the room without effort.

“Ready to go?” one of your friends asks, pulling you out of your trance.

You nod quickly, turning away from the mirror and grabbing your purse, but Higuruma’s eyes follow you every step of the way. You can feel his gaze like a touch, lingering on you even after you’ve turned your back.

“Have fun tonight,” he says, his tone a little deeper now. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

You glance over your shoulder, smiling playfully. “I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

Higuruma smirks, that knowing glint never leaving his eyes. “Just... be careful.”

Your heart pounds as you walk out the door, but you can’t shake the thought of him—the way he looked at you, the way his words felt like a challenge, a promise, something unspoken but clear. He might’ve been one of the smartest students on campus, but right now, all you could think about was how damn attractive he was—and how much you wanted to get to know him better.

Over the weeks, you can’t shake the memory of that night. It lingers in the back of your mind, playing on repeat like a song you can’t escape. Higuruma Hiromi had been... sweet. His words, his smirk, the quiet way he’d watched you. At first, you’d thought there was something there—something more than just a passing encounter. But the more you saw him, the colder he became.

Every time you crossed paths with him in the hallways or bumped into him around campus, the distance between you seemed to grow. It wasn’t like before. The warmth that had been there in his smile, the teasing in his voice, had all disappeared, replaced by an almost unapproachable chill. You’d show up to parties and dorms but you you couldn’t help but notice how much colder he seemed—like you’d become some sort of ghost to him.

You try to ignore it. It’s silly to get hung up on something that wasn’t there to begin with. But still, each time you step into the room dressed in something cute for a night out, or when you light a cigarette on a break, you can feel it—the shift in his eyes. The disapproval that lingers in his stare, the way his lips press into a thin line, like he’s judging you from afar.

You catch yourself looking at him more than you should, wondering why things had changed so quickly. His warmth had felt so genuine that night. And yet, now, it was like you were a stranger to him. ~~~

You’re standing in the office kitchen one afternoon, brewing yourself a cup of coffee. You’ve got your cigarette lit, one hand on your phone while the other holds the delicate, embering stick. You let the smoke curl around you, filling the air as you scroll through your messages, when you hear a cough.

You turn, already knowing who it is before you even see his face. Higuruma stands in the doorway, eyes flicking over you briefly, but there’s no warmth in them this time. His expression is neutral, but you can’t shake the impression that he's... disappointed.

"You're still doing this?" he asks, his voice colder than you remembered, clipped like the words are falling out of his mouth against his will.

You don’t answer at first, letting the silence drag on. You feel a tension in the air, a weight in your chest. The same feeling you’d felt each time he’d looked at you in college.

“You should quit,” he says finally, his voice low but firm. The words are simple, but they sting more than you’d expected.

You shake your head, laughing nervously to cover the tension in your throat. “I’m fine. I’ve been doing this for years. You know that. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He doesn't respond immediately, and you swear you can feel the weight of his silence. But then, with one last glance at the cigarette, he turns and walks out of the room without another word.

Your heart is pounding as you stand there, feeling the sting of his coldness seep deep into your chest. The words don’t make sense, not really. You hadn’t thought much of it at first—he was probably just being his usual serious self. But now, each interaction, every time you ran into him, felt more and more like a reprimand. You don’t know why you care so much. After all, he wasn’t anyone special to you. Just a guy who seemed like he had something more to say, something more to offer, and yet... now it was nothing but silence.

You snuff out the cigarette and finish your coffee, though the taste leaves a bitter aftertaste that lingers far longer than it should. Maybe it was just you. Maybe you were overthinking everything.

But why did it feel so different now?

After that moment in the break room, something shifted in you. It wasn’t just the coldness in Higuruma’s eyes, or the disappointment in his voice. It was the realization that maybe he wasn’t just being judgmental. Maybe he actually cared. In his own strange way.

So, you made a decision. You wouldn’t quit entirely—not right away, at least—but you’d stop letting the habit control you. You’d stop letting the smoke curl around your fingers like a crutch to mask the tension in your chest.

The next few days felt... different. You’d slip outside on your breaks, but the pack of cigarettes stayed in your purse, untouched. When the stress became too much—when the pressure of deadlines or your increasingly complicated relationship with Higuruma started to weigh on you—you'd think about reaching for one, but then you’d stop. You’d take a deep breath instead, focusing on the clean air in your lungs, the feeling of trying to move past something that had been holding you down.

It wasn’t easy, but you didn’t want to be someone who needed a cigarette to get by. Not anymore.

And Higuruma? Well, his behavior started to change too. Once the smell of smoke disappeared from your clothes, his professional warmth returned. It wasn’t like before—there was still a distance between you, but it was a more neutral one. The coldness he’d shown before was gone, replaced by the polite, reserved demeanor he always had at work. The warm professionalism he had when you’d first met seemed to resurface, and though he never mentioned the cigarettes or the change, you could feel the difference.

You began to settle into the routine of the office. Higuruma was still... Higuruma. Serious, focused, a little detached. But there were moments. Little things—like the way he’d glance at you just a bit longer than necessary during meetings, or the rare but appreciative smile he’d offer when you’d finish a particularly tough task.

Sometimes, you could almost convince yourself that things were fine. That maybe the tension was in your head. That maybe Higuruma wasn’t as cold as you’d thought. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe... maybe you were just overthinking things. Maybe everything was fine, and you were finally starting to settle into your role.

But then, on a particularly stressful day, when the weight of work, and life, and everything else pressed down on you, the temptation returned. Just one. Just one cigarette. The craving gnawed at you, relentless and raw.

You step out onto the balcony, fingers trembling slightly as you light it. The smoke curls in the air as you inhale, letting it calm the jagged edges of your nerves. You don’t notice it at first, but then you hear the familiar sound of footsteps approaching.

You turn, catching sight of Higuruma standing in the doorway, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable expression.

You take another drag, the smoke filling your lungs as you hold his gaze. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you, but the quiet intensity in his eyes makes your heart race a little faster.

“I thought you quit,” he says finally, his voice cool but with a hint of curiosity.

“I... I did,” you reply, voice just a little shaky. “Mostly.”

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. He doesn’t look disappointed this time—just... resigned. “It’s not the healthiest choice, but I’m not here to judge,” he says, his tone more neutral than anything else.

You take another drag, trying not to feel embarrassed. “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s the only thing that helps.”

The silence between you stretches, thick with unspoken words. And then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, Higuruma takes a step closer. “I get it,” he says softly. “The stress... it can get to you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. You meet his eyes, the connection between you momentarily raw, stripped of the walls you both usually put up. You open your mouth to say something, but the words catch in your throat, and before you can say anything else, Higuruma gives you a small nod, stepping back.

“I’ll let you finish,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “Just... be careful.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, the cigarette still smoldering between your fingers.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @ollyissleepy Perma Tags: @thenightperson

[darkenedroses-world]

Cooking Chaos — Pezzy x Reader

🔹 f!reader 🔹 clooless group 🔹 Possessiveness 🔹 Light Degradation 🔹 cooling 🔹 flour fight 🔹GN!Reader 🔹 lighthearted romance🔹 funny moments🔹 chaos🔹 Request 🦋

The kitchen buzzed with chaotic energy as the stream rolled on. Laughter and chatter filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of pots and pans. The plan was simple—make dinner live on stream—but with you, Grizzy, Droid, and Puffer at the helm, “simple” had turned into “anarchy.” Flour was already dusting the countertops, stray droplets of batter clung to the stove, and somehow a random spoon ended up stuck to the ceiling. Chat, predictably, was eating it all up, with messages flooding the screen.

This is a cooking stream? More like a destruction derby

Somebody please save that kitchen

10/10 stream, would hire them as my chefs immediately

You couldn’t help but grin as Droid accidentally splattered pancake batter across Puffer’s shirt. “Bro, seriously?” Puffer groaned, staring at the sticky mess. Droid shrugged innocently. “Just seasoning it with some chaos, man.” Grizzy was doubled over laughing as you attempted to take control of the situation—or at least, pretend to. “Okay, okay, focus!” you called out, trying to suppress your own laughter. “We’re supposed to be making dinner, not turning the kitchen into a crime scene.” “Too late for that,” Droid quipped, licking some batter off his finger. Then came the moment of truth—Pezzy left the room. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, his tone casual as he disappeared toward the hallway. You immediately perked up, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Guys, I have an idea.” Grizzy looked up from the pile of dishes he was pretending to wash. “Oh no. That tone never means anything good.” You smirked, pointing to the bag of flour sitting on the counter. “Flour. His face. Let’s go.” Droid grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. “Oh, I am so in.” “Wait,” Puffer interjected, though his grin betrayed his interest. “What’s the game plan here?” “Simple,” you said, your excitement building. “When he comes back, we’re all chill. Then, bam—flour to the face. But act like nothing happened, okay?”

Grizzy raised a skeptical eyebrow but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.” “Worth it,” you replied, grabbing a handful of flour. “This is for the greater good of content.” The moment Pezzy stepped back into the room, the kitchen fell into a suspiciously serene silence. You focused on stirring the pot in front of you, Droid hummed an innocent tune, and Grizzy busied himself with meticulously folding a dish towel. Pezzy froze in the doorway, his eyes narrowing. “Why does this feel like a setup?” “What?” you said, feigning innocence. “We’re just cooking.” “Yeah, real domestic over here,” Droid added, though the smirk tugging at his lips was a dead giveaway. Puffer, barely holding it together, cleared his throat. “Max, can you check the stove? Something smells weird.” Pezzy sighed, muttering something about the group being “too chaotic to function,” and moved toward the stove. That’s when you struck. With the precision of a seasoned prankster, you hurled a handful of flour straight at his face. Except, your aim was a little too good. The entire handful exploded across his face in a perfect white cloud, coating his skin, hair, and even his shirt. For a split second, the room was dead silent. Then Grizzy let out a wheezing laugh, doubling over as he clutched his stomach.

Puffer practically fell to the floor, gasping for air, and Droid had to grip the counter to stay upright. Pezzy stood there, frozen, blinking through the flour that now covered every inch of him. “You—” “I didn’t mean—” you tried to say, but you were laughing too hard to form coherent words. “You’re dead,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flashing with amusement. Before you could react, he grabbed the entire bag of flour and upended it over your head. “Pezzy!” you shrieked, your laughter mixing with a yelp as the bag emptied over you, turning your hair and clothes into a snowy mess. The chaos that followed was nothing short of legendary. Droid grabbed a handful of flour and flung it at Grizzy, who retaliated with a fistful of sugar. Puffer somehow found a bottle of chocolate syrup and squirted it across the counter, declaring, “It’s war!” The kitchen devolved into an all-out food fight, with ingredients flying through the air and everyone covered in a mix of flour, sugar, and who knows what else. Chat was going absolutely wild.

This is peak content

I haven’t laughed this hard in ages

Somebody clip the whole thing. ALL OF IT

When the flour had finally settled—literally—you and the guys surveyed the wreckage. The kitchen looked like a bakery had exploded, and you were pretty sure you’d be finding flour in random places for days. Pezzy, still dusted in white, shook his head with a laugh. “You’re a menace, you know that?” You grinned, brushing some flour from his hair. “And you’re just mad I got you good.” “Maybe,” he admitted, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “But I gotta admit, you make chaos look pretty damn good.” From the other side of the room, Droid groaned loudly. “If you two start flirting right now, I’m leaving.” Grizzy threw an arm over Droid’s shoulder. “Nah, let’s stay. This is the content chat lives for.” As the laughter started up again, Pezzy leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “Thanks for making this fun. Even if you did turn me into a human donut.” You smiled, brushing a bit of flour from his cheek. “Anytime, Max.”

[futuristicanoe]

nightfall's descent

When you're observing me, who do you think I'm observing?

This time, it is you, who's been left wide awake for far too long.

mature themes; implied insomnia, age gap, issues. nsfw content, but there is no actual smut.

The crackle of thick paper crumpling in your hands makes Alex’s arm twitch. It must be very late, or very early, it is hard to tell the difference because the sun has already gotten into the habit of being distant at all times. It is cold. The outside world is freezing, all shades of blue and uncomfortable.

He is snoring softly. Lying on his stomach, one leg bent, his face is squashed against his forearm. He would feel his eyelashes tickle his skin if he were to open his eyes, that’s how bad it is. He looks relaxed, almost miraculously so. His stubbly chin rests on his other hand and it makes you smile. You are not sure if there is an actual smile on your face right now, but it makes something deep in your chest pulse with aching fondness and that is enough. More than anyone else could make you feel just by existing, that is for sure.

You can’t sleep.

This is normally his problem. It’s not that your sleep schedule is divine, but he needs much more sleep than you do, you have come to find out. He’ll never pass an opportunity to take a nap. On the sofa, on his favourite armchair, sitting at the dinner table —

it is, a breathy whisper of “tired today...” when he stretches his arms and sighs, then yawns and his eyes are visibly more droopy by the time he closes his mouth. Or, “I am gonna need to rest me mind after this...” when you ask him to stir the pot and he can’t tear his gaze away from everything swirling and spinning effortlessly. You know, you always know, you are gonna find him later just like this. Heavy and content, snoring softly.

Alex will do anything to avoid going to bed alone.

The unexpectedness of it had caught you off-guard at first, making you wonder what else you had assumed wrongly about him. He says he does not wanna get used to it, sleeping alone, because he has a habit of turning things into habits, and that has never been a good thing. You take it as a compliment, really, when he waits for you like a good little pet, and you didn’t even need to teach him a thing. To be more specific, it makes you want to grab him and kiss him all over, eat him up in bruising bites, and isn’t that just the best thing you could do for him? He has everything else, doesn’t he? Money, reputation, even love — adoration, fascination, obsession, — might not be the healthiest forms of love, sure, but it’s still much more than you ever got.

He is always tired after making love, too.

Making love, apparently that is what you call it now. It is just what it feels like. It’s not the bad kind of love, either. Everything he touches turns to gold, and you are just happy to be underneath him, on top of him— he is never out of reach. You are never out of his head.

It feels like a privilege to see him this way.

You put your sketchbook to the side, shutting it closed and instinctively holding your breath for a mere second to hear the soft click it makes. You reach out for him with your hand, the one you had been holding your pencil and smudging the ink with. It makes your skin rough like ash would, although, it could not be more obvious how this is not ash or dust, not the remnants of finality, but rather the opposite of it — you wanted to draw him. Couldn’t sleep, and observing him like this is as close as you can get to dreaming without shutting your eyes and falling backwards into the darkness people call “sleep”... but, no... sleep isn’t like this...

This is not still and lifeless, it is pretty radiant here.

”Dreamland?” Oh, yes. This is it.

Bizarre, pretty, yours.

Your fingers touch the softness of his eyebrow, and his eyes tremble slightly, before he sighs and moves his head to the side a bit. His eyebrows furrow. So expressive, even in sleep, even when everything outside is cold and grim, it makes your lungs ache and rattle your ribcage a tiny bit.

Nothing new.

He is mostly bare underneath the covers, you are pretty sure.

A small part of his thigh is exposed from how his leg is bent. Firm, yet soft, kissable. You pull back the covers slightly to see his knee and– there it is. The bruise.

You had bitten him in the afternoon.

He was busy coming back down to earth. You had kept him all safe and tender in your mouth for long enough to make some part of him believe in the sacredness of this thing. That it wasn’t fucking or any kind of animalistic instinct when he held your head down and an obscene noise escaped his throat. Without his permission, too, he always tries to be quiet when your mouth is full of him. As an act of showing empathy, or maybe it would feel dangerously close to silencing you, and he doesn’t want to get used to that either.

The bruise makes his skin pretty like the sunset kissed it.

You lean down to kiss it now, softly, gently. He squirms.

“Hm?”

You watch his face as he slowly wakes up. Stretching modestly like a house pet.

“What time is it?” His voice sounds somehow even rougher than usual, you feel a shiver run through your spine.

“I don’t know.”

That sobers him up, for some odd reason, and his eyes search for your face. Alex holds a hand up before he drops it next to yours.

“I was waiting. For you to come back to bed when you got up in the middle of the night. But I couldn’t‐ could not keep my eyes open, you know? I tried, though...” his voice trails off into a quiet mumble. He is apologising for something you have never even mentioned or thought about.

“I know, Alex.”

“What are you doing?”

You pick up the sketchbook again, handling it with an air of carelessness that does not belong to you. As if this part of you, which you are holding in your hand, has somehow become less important now that he is watching.

“Nothing, really. I couldn’t sleep again.”

He moves closer to you, still on his stomach. Lazy boy.

“Wanna show me?”

Your hesitation is undeniably palpable and thick in the air, he could cut it with a knife. You’d pay him to do that if he could.

Your numb fingers grip your sketchbook a tad bit tighter, with his sleepy eyes following the movement, he takes a deep breath.

“I want to see, love.”

Alex looks more awake now than he did when he woke up in the morning. He loves the sun, but it is not always there for him. It is cold now, even in the morning. Especially in the morning. Still dark, still freezing, and you weren’t there. It felt like the day after a perfect day, and he woke up not with a hazy, blurry mind but a very clear head and thoughts so sharp that they hurt.

He grows amusedly suspicious when your eyes widen with hesitation. This is not the first time.

“Is it– mmm–“ his voice turns into a soft croon, the cartoonish quality of it making his own eyes twinkle. “Is it me? In there...?”

“Huh?”

“Were you drawing me?”

You let out a huff at the accusation. “I've not drawn anything for so long. And it is literally just a rough sketch, I don’t even like it. I’m not trying to hide, it is not a–“

“But it is mine, isn’t it?” He crawls again, just wanting to be closer to you. He does this thing, getting closer to you so you can hear him more clearly, instead of just raising his voice like everybody else does. He is pressed up against your form now with a smirk on his face. Only a second or three passes as he is observing you, expecting you to hand over the sketchbook, and then he is chuckling, his face scrunching up. “Are you hiding me from myself? Come on... that is my job.”

You can’t help but laugh with him. “You always say I see you somewhat differently, though... I wouldn’t want to end up making a fool of myself or whatever it is that I'm so afraid of."

Something glimmers in his eyes, just a subtle flicker of it, and it is almost as if he never slept, once again. “Never have I said that to you.”

“Not to me, maybe, no... Does it matter?”

“Are you– hold on, tell me when was the last time you slept properly, and don’t lie.”

You almost comment on his tone, but you decide to answer him, only to realize that you can not.

His eyebrows furrow, and he sits up. It is difficult to handle this, you don't think you are ever gonna get used to it. Being so close, he looks too real. His skin is shiny under the moonlight, the tan is gone, pale again from the way he has succumbed to solitary lifestyles similar to those they teach you about in the bible. His scent... Cigarettes, is it? Something bitter-sweet and addictive like thick honey on his skin, too, and it ought to make you crave more when you let your teeth cut loose.

Not again... what was he talking about?

“Honey?”

You look at him. Alex. Al. God, he is going to get actually old one day, isn’t he? You almost wish he isn’t. You almost wish you had met him when he was younger, he could have broken your heart that way, the casual way, it certainly would have been easier. All kinds of leather were tight over his muscles back then, hair slippery and tousled and apparently perfect. Dark, but shiny like jet, steel, something solid and useful. Something you definitely wouldn’t have seemed, if you had been the one standing next to him in those messy, flashy polaroids and countless paparazzi shots.

You always had this thought about how his hair and his leather jackets shone the same way, and that thought used to make you giddy then almost teary. At least you never forgot how to fantasise and daydream about and do everything but avoid men like him, because he is actually right here now and he is... different.

“Yes.” You talk in a whisper, your voice soft and quiet like the rustling of your sheets underneath him as he shifts to caress your neck with a gentle hand.

“Where did you go?”

“I’m here.”

“Hmm. Yes, you are. I believe you now.” Alex hums, smiles. Looking thoughtful for a second before his face is hovering over yours, and he leans down to press a kiss to your neck. There is a hushed mumble against your skin. You nudge his shoulder.

“Honeysop,” he mumbles again, but this time, a giggle makes his voice sound chirpy.

“What the fuck?”

“I said... I’ve got a new nickname for you.” Alex looks down at you. (Studying your face with the expression of a man who knows he doesn’t have to tell his kid that Santa Claus isn’t real or something along those lines.)

You smile — a toothy, sweet thing to make his eyes shine even brighter. You can not help but notice the way his chain is dangling from his neck. Why must every single part of him shine like that? You touch it gently, soft fingertips warm against the cool metal. There are tiny pink marks left on his chest from how the chain had pressed into his skin in sleep. You find it soothing to watch it rock back and forth above you, and you are very sure that he is amused by that fact.

Suddenly, you find your voice again. “I think, had this been some other time, any other time, I would have asked you to fuck me right here. You know, it’s midnight, you are all just the perfect amount of wound up and silly. I can’t sleep. But... can I...” You impulsively kiss the tip of his nose just because it is the part of him closest to your lips. His eyes are wide and sweet, intrigued.

“You could pose for me... I want to draw you. And when I’m done, I won’t hide it from you, no... I could even draw it in your notebook. I know you prefer the ones with blank pages, I do, too.” Alex ducks his head slowly, listening intently, but all of a sudden, too busy leaving loving bites on your throat and pressing his lips against your heart. You grab his hair firmly, hoping to keep his eyes fixated on you.

“Then I’ll let you fuck me. I want–," You giggle when his stubble tickles the softness of your chest accidentally, but you keep going. He can feel your heart thumping faster and faster. "I want you too tired and distracted after you're done, just– too stupid to care for finding whatever the hell I drew in there. Be- because God knows it is gonna be horrible, Al, don't even..."

Alex grabs your face with a firm hand, his thumb digging into the skin near your mouth and the rest of his fingers wrap tightly around your jaw.

"Shhhhh... dove..."

You whimper quietly at his cooing, the contrast between his soft murmurs and the strength in his hand causes your mind to get filthier with each breath. And not just your mind, really, you would be pressing your thighs together right now if he wasn't straddling them so rudely. He presses his cheek against yours, his mouth just hovering over your ear. Tilting his head back for a few seconds, just to see your pretty earring up close. It makes him smile, even though he can barely make it out of the darkness.

"You've got to stop it, love, stop hiding. I need to keep seeing you, all of it, okay?"

You nod the best you can, chest trembling and hips twitching from the intensity of his words. Alex keeps hushing you as his touches travel down your torso, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. Tracing the hem, tapping his blunt fingernails over your stomach like he might do to the strings of a guitar he's yet to be familiar with.

Alex sits back, pulling away from you entirely with a huff. He grabs your sketchbook from where you left it earlier. A twitch in his bicep and a weary sigh on his lips, as if he's been forced to pick up some of kind of evidence.

You try to touch his knee, or just any part of him that you can possibly reach, but your fingers accidentally curl over him right where a bruise is still blooming and tender on his thigh and he hisses.

Cool cat... or is he, really?

It is something of a blur after that. Like you pressed a button and you are waiting to find out if it was the good one or not.

Alex takes your sketchbook and lets the poor thing covered in charcoal marks rest in the drawer of your nightstand.

The sheets he has tangled himself in bother him way too much. And they smell like you, as always, it is messing with his head right now and more importantly, it makes him want to mess with yours. He pushes them away, your relentless pawing at the worn white fabric anything but helpful.

Alex tugs at your shirt to pull it up, too, so he isn't the only one feeling cold and exposed. He clutches your waist, settling lower on the bed this time and resting his cheek on your hip. You can feel his chain touch you. He looks up.

"This– can you feel it?" He gently caresses, presses down on your lower tummy with his fingers, before moving his face slightly and planting a soft kiss right there. "This is where I need to be."

Just that sentence, the last one — it makes you cry out, your shaky hand coming down to grip his hair.

"No need for any... paper or ink or cameras. It is just us, dove. Even put the sketchbook away for you, so just let me, huh? It'll feel much better, 'cause it is more special."

A muffled keen leaves your lips when he starts to slowly slide your underwear down your legs. You didn't even realize you were biting down on your knuckles until now. Until you see the red mark you have left on your hand and the string of saliva connecting your parted mouth to it.

Alex stops when he hears the desperate noise you make, frowning. Something felt off. He lies down beside you now. Face to face. His touches turning delicate and patient, instead of demanding. "What's wrong?" He asks, sweet and every single thing that makes your heart ache all over again. He strokes your cheek, gentle warmth spreading over the parts he had grabbed and got a bit close to bruising earlier. Your eyes grow softer and so does his.

"I'm cold, Al. But if you put a blanket over me... I'm gonna get sleepy, too."

He kisses your lips once. A reward for not hiding from him again, perhaps.

Alex studies your hazy gaze for a moment. He grabs the blanket you had apparently used as a pillow when you hopped on his bed a few hours ago. Pecks your collarbone, covering the both of you with that warm blanket and he smiles as you move lazily to curl up against him properly.

It is easy for him to adore the way you cling to him, let out a soft noise when you are shifting to your side and swinging your leg over his, remembering that the only thing you are wearing is your shirt not exactly right on time.

"Pardon me, if I sound too crude, but..." He chuckles against your neck, the sound scratching his throat. "You were– well, are, fucking dripping, girl."

You giggle. "What was that word? Ah, yeah. Honeysop."

"You are ridiculous." He shakes his head and tuts when you try to move away from him, wrapping an arm around your torso and hugging you even closer than before. "No. No hiding, stay here."

There is a soft smile on your face, your mind full of fuzzy, messy bits and you are sure that feeling his warm breath on your skin must be something from your personal heaven.

Your voice comes out as a quiet, soft murmur. "I don't know what it is, but, sometimes you say things in a certain way and it just... there is this moment after I hear you, when I feel as if you could do anything you wanted to me and it would– nothing else could possibly be better than that."

Alex kisses your temple, carding his fingers through your hair. "That's a lot."

You squirm. "Maybe that's what makes it special... no? You said it was–"

"You pay a lot of attention to what I say, you know? I think that's exactly what makes it special." Another kiss. "That I trust you to see me... like I want to be seen. Not differently, you used that word, and I got a bit silly over it. It's never about differences between us. I try not to make it about them, at least."

"Always had a thing for that," you say, a bitter-sweet tint to your tone. "Contrasting subjects, juxtaposition... maybe that's why I got into painting, too. And oh, yes, there we have another difference for us to avoid admitting to, I guess," you laugh.

"Is this funny to you? Or are you just... amused by it?"

"Why?"

"You are laughing."

"I'm tired."

He could close his eyes and he would still be able to see the smile and that hidden yawn in your voice.

Alex sighs, delighted.

"I guess you're just gonna have to sleep now, then, honeysop."

[itsnathateasy]

a failed date & stargazing || armin arlert

word count: 1,5k || ao3 link! warnings: use of wine author’s note: it's taken me way too long to write and post this but i really enjoyed writing it and i seriously missed writing armin so much, you don't understand!!

Armin moved around the house hectically. Today simply had to be special. There was no other way. This was your first anniversary and he wanted everything to be perfect, down to the tiniest detail. No, perfect wasn’t good enough for you. It had to be impeccable. He wanted you to remember this day for years to come.

He’d set the table with the fanciest set of cutlery and china he could find in the house. He even got matching napkins and a candle to go in the centre of the table. As he stirred a pot here, a pot there, he was getting more and more excited about the surprise he was preparing for you. Soon, the food was done cooking and he removed everything from the heat to let them cool off. You should be home anytime now. You usually needed around thirty minutes to get back home from work and the food was ready at about your leaving time. Once you were back, everything would be at the perfect temperature to enjoy. Armin had overdone himself this time and had calculated everything.

Except for this.

“Hey baby! Will be back late tonight :( need to stay longer for an impromptu evaluation meeting! Need me to pick up anything on the way home? Missing you already!”

When he received your text, almost an hour later than when he expected you, his heart sank. All this work, all this preparation, all this food… And you probably didn’t even know exactly when you’d be back, or you’d say so in your message. This was a disaster!

Armin sighed as he buried his face in his hands. This wasn’t your fault, he knew it wasn’t. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed though. He’d spent all of this time and effort only for you to not show up.

He didn’t have the mental energy to pack up the food and store it in the fridge or remove any of the decorations. It just wasn’t possible. His disappointment was taking over. All he could do was plop himself down on the couch and simply be there. For a while at least.

Armin didn’t realise how late it currently was, when he heard your key turning in the front door, making him jump up. He’d doomed scrolled way too hard due to his bad mood and the place was still… ready for a celebration that wasn’t even happening.

“Armin, I’m-”

You began but stopped abruptly as you noticed the variety of decorations around you, the fancy table, the pots on the kitchen counter.

“Wait, y/n! I was gonna put everything back but then I just… Couldn’t… I’m sorry, but don’t worry! I’ll take care of everything! How was work?”

“I return to a decorated apartment and you’re asking me about work? What are we celebrating, Armin?”

“You don’t know?”

His face sank as he posed the question. Funny, how someone can care enough to take the day off and the other doesn’t even remember what day it is… And although this thought was unfair and nasty, it was occupying Armin’s head, filling his heart with bitterness.

The way he physically shrank and began to move away told you everything you needed to know. Of course! How could you ever forget!? To be fair, you’d thought about it… Yesterday. But when you indirectly asked Armin, he seemed to be completely clueless. Maybe anniversaries weren’t a big deal to him – and that would be okay. You never thought he’d be the type to pull al this!

“I’m so stupid!”

You exclaimed, facepalming yourself.

“I’m sorry, Armin, of course I know what today is! I got caught up in work and then when I asked you last night you brushed it off… I didn’t mean to destroy any plans, I really am so, so sorry!”

You waited for him to respond, careful not to be as clumsy as a few minutes earlier. Hurting Armin is like hurting a stray kitten. You simply don’t. You pick it up from the street and you take it home to feed it and put it to sleep.

“I know, y/n… I’m sorry I didn’t pull down the decorations and left them for you to find… I’m sure you’re feeling as bad as I am about this…”

“Nothing to forgive, Armin! If I had the faintest clue you had plans for us tonight, I would’ve called in sick!”

His face lit up, turning to finally face you.

“You would?”

“You know how the people at the company are… Sucking our blood until the final second of our shifts, only to force us to stay longer… Of course I’d call in sick. We could’ve had so much fun together!”

You walked closer to each other, finally giving in to your usual warm hug. It was a relief that this misunderstanding ended this quickly. With any other of your previous boyfriends, this would’ve been a two week dispute – to say the least. But Armin wasn’t like this. He was good and honest and caring. Even though you hated the “not all men” phrase, it was true for him, and he kept proving it every single day. Armin Arlert would never treat you wrong.

As you pulled away from the embrace, Armin snaked his arm around your waist, leading you to the couch and sitting down with you, pulling impossibly close to him.

“So… Today must’ve been quite demanding at work. How was the evaluation?”

Resting your head on his chest, you sighed as you told him about your day. All the while, he kept combing his soft fingers through your hair, unintentionally making you sleepy. You didn’t want tonight to end like this though. You asked Armin about his day, and he explained everything about the preparations, the cooking and the wine, even if he was sad that his plans had gone completely south. And then it hit you.

“You got us wine?”

“Yeah, is that okay? Did you decide to refrain from alcohol?”

Yeah. This man would never do you wrong.

“No, I was just thinking… Tonight doesn’t have to be a waste, right? I mean, I did fuck up and everything, but I don’t think we should let our anniversary be ruined, just because we’re bitter about it.”

You stood up from his lap and faced him, an intrigued look on his face, an eyebrow raised.

“Go on, y/n.”

“Unlike our previous apartment, this one offers access to the terrace. And if you ask me, it’s a beautiful terrace and, also, a beautiful night.”

“I’m grabbing our coats and wine!”

Seems like he didn’t need much convincing.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆ . 　　 　　　　 　

Snuggled up in each others arms, you were laying on the terrace floor, shivering. If it weren’t for your sleeping bags and additional blanket, you’d be frozen within minutes.

“I’ve never had wine freddo before!”

Armin explained as he passed you your glass, filled with the ruby drink. You clang your glasses together before taking a sip.

“Well, it’s not bad… And it ought to keep us a bit warmer!”

“We don’t have to stay too long if you’re cold, y/n. I’d rather you didn’t call in sick for real!”

Pulling you closer, he kissed your temple and took another sip from his glass.

“Okay, now, back to stargazing. Do you know any constellations?”

Even in the dark, you could tell Armin was giving you a mischievous grin.

“Do I know about constellations? Which one are you interested in?”

“I don’t know, I only know where Ursa Minor and Major are… Show me your favourites?”

“Remember that you asked for this and don’t complain later miss!”

You let him tell all about the stars and the stars that are actually visible planets and the different constellations in the hemispheres and it was like a gift that kept on giving, there was no stopping him.

“And if you want to learn how to recognise constellations on your own, you can either ask me – of course you can – or you can download this sky scanner app! It comes with a bunch of trivia and fun info too!”

He scooted a little bit closer, showing you how to use the app. He was like a literal kid when he explained things he was interested in.

A few minutes passed as you kept on sipping on your wine. It was cold, but, somehow, it didnt’t really bother you. You could stay all cuddled up with Armin like this forever, especially if he kept saying all these astronomy stuff.

“I’m glad you suggested coming up here, y/n. It was a great idea!”

You smiled at him as he softly pecked your cheek.

“And we can heat up dinner tomorrow, right? And have our proper anniversary date a day late, how about that?”

“That works perfectly, Armin. You always think of everything!”

But, to be honest, it didn’t really matter. Everything is the way it’s supposed to be when you’re together.

wanna be notified? 🏹 join my taglist!

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

Hamgman’s First Rodeo Part 3

Masterlist Pinned

Warnings: Angst; Fluff; Injury; Traumatic Memory; Harassment; Bar fight

WC: 2.1k

.

.

The clock says 07:00 and I am shocked. Waking up all throughout the night had become so normal to me. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I start a pot of coffee. Jake comes down the hall, “G’morning darling.” I smile, “Goodmorning Jake.” He pours himself a cup of coffee and sits next to me. Bradley stirs on the couch and moans. He stands up and walks into the kitchen, “Morning Y/N. Bagman.” I sigh, “C’mon Roo. He helped me deal with you last night.” Bradley winces, “I may have had too much to drink.” I chuckle, “Oh honey, there is no doubt about that.” He runs his hands through his hair, “Mind if I shower?” “Go right ahead. Towels are under the sink.” Jake clears his throat, “I can drive you down to your Bronco after, if you’d like.” Bradley mumbles as he walks down the hall, “I’ll walk but thanks.” I look at Jake and roll my eyes. Jake smirks and takes a sip of his coffee, “How did you sleep last night? After the nightmare?” I meet his gaze, “Great, actually. I am sorry that I woke you up. But really, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He rests his hand on top of mine, “You didn’t wake me up, darling. Seeing you calmed me down.” I smile and rest my head on his shoulder, “Yeah, me too.” We stay like that for a moment, until Bradley clears his throat. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you at work. Sorry about last night.” I wave, “Bye, Roo. No worries.” Jake just nods in his direction. Bradley walks out of the door, hanging his head.

.

.

We both finish our coffee and Jake breaks the silence, “Do you want me to head home? I don’t want to mess up your routine.” I shrug, “I don’t really want you to leave.” He smirks, “Is it bad that I was hoping you’d say that?” I giggle and feel my phone start buzzing. I sent it to voicemail and Jake looks at me, “You can take that if you need.” It starts ringing again and I shake my head, “It’s okay. Don’t really want to talk to them.” He raises his brow, “Wanna talk about it?” I take his hand, “Why not? Already breaking all of my rules anyway.” He follows me into the office and I cut into another box. “Y/n, you know you don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to.” I smile, “I know. There’s just something about you. I want you to know.” He smiles so big. I start pulling things out of the box, files, photos, and a glass jar with two shell casings. His smile fades and his brow furrows, “What happened?” I take a deep breath, “4 months ago I was on a mission with the team. We had split into groups of 2, just like we have a million times. My partner, the person trying to call me, was ahead of me. Our comms started flickering in and out. Instead of pulling back and staying side by side, he decided to push forward and hope they’d resolve. Mine went down completely, but he didn’t know that. He was on a walkover about a story above me when he saw movement. They moved too fast and before he could yell to me, I was hit twice. The rest of the team immediately rallied and got me out, but it was our fault. We should’ve pulled back when comms were spotty. Now we know it was the target interfering with them.” Jake’s eyes are almost, watery? He seems upset. Finally he breaks the silence, “Where did they hit?” I look down at my feet, “Abdomen. Left side.” His eyes widen as I start to lift up my sleep shirt, “Y/n, only if you’re comfortable. Okay?” I nod my head and show him. He scans the scars. They are still a dark color, I have just been hoping they’d fade with time. I adjust so he can see my back, “Doctors said I was lucky. They went right through me. Woulda done a whole lot more damage if they stayed inside.” Now I notice that his eyes are definitely watery and he just keeps shaking his head. I take his hand and place it over the scars, “I am okay. Really. I’ve deployed since. I still love the damn job. I think they just sent me here for a change of pace. It has been a long 10 years.” He looks up at me and speaks in a low voice, “Y/n.. I am never going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I almost lost you before I ever even had you.” Tears sting my eyes as he stares at me. He kisses me for the first time, and it is soft and warm. He lays his head in my lap and I play with his hair. I smile and try to stay calm so he doesn’t notice the uncontrollable butterflies I feel. A comfortable silence surrounds us.

.

.

A few weeks of work and quiet moments with Jake pass quickly. We haven’t spoken about this thing between us. Ever since that emotional night with Jake, there has been this unspoken understanding. Most days after work, he ends up on my front porch. I cook, we chat, he cleans the dishes (even though I always tell him not to), and we fall into this extremely comforting routine. He hasn’t stayed over since the night with drunk Bradley. Bradley has kept me at arms length and has barely texted. It’s upsetting to me that he would be this childish about Jake, but I am trying to give him space.

.

.

One night after Jake heads home, there is a knock at my door. I open it to see Bradley, running his hands through his hair. He looks at me and smiles, “Hey Rodeo. I was just on a walk and was thinking maybe you’d wanna join?” “Sure, Roo.” I slide on a pair of flip flops and follow him down to the shore. We make some small talk about work. I take of my flip flops and put my feet in the water. Bradley stands beside me and sighs, “Y/n, I am sorry. The last few weeks I have been a complete asshole.” I put my hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, Roo.” He shakes his head, “No it isn’t. We have been friends for 10 years. I shouldn’t have let Bagman come in between us. We have just always been at each other’s throats. He is completely different around you. I can’t believe it, but he is.” Bradley pulls me into a hug and sigh, “Thank you, Roo. You had me scared there. I can’t lose you.” He squeezed me tighter, “You won’t. I promise.” He walks me back home and I head to bed.

.

.

The sun is blazing down as I stand outside the hangar. We just got back from testing comms and I am exhausted. Exhausted and covered in sweat. Everyone is checking their planes. Jake is talking to his WSO and I can’t stop staring at him in his aviators. His flight suit is tied around his hips, displaying the fitted shirt underneath. I hear Mav, “Yes sir, she is right over there.” I turn around and feel the blood drain out of my face. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, my old partner. “Rodeo! Had to drive up here for some paperwork, thought I’d check in since you haven’t been answering.” I take a deep breath, “Hey Playboy, all is good here.” He moves closer to me and his scent washes over me, taking me back to that mission. My heart starts racing and my scars start hurting. He places his hand on my shoulder and meets my eyes, “How are you healing?” I see Jake out of the corner of my eye and he can see the panic on my face. I put on a fake smile, “I am okay. How is the team?” “Not the same without you. When are you gonna leave this place and come back with us? You belong with us.” Jake’s hand lands on Playboy’s shoulder, “Well I can tell you right now, bud, no one here is going to let her go easy. Hangman, and you are?” “Playboy. Rodeo’s partner form the teams.” Jake smiles, “How nice. It has been great meeting you, but you should probably get going. Let the lady finish her work.” Playboy raises his brow, “Interesting Rodeo, I didn’t think aviators were your type.” I roll my eyes, “Playboy, shut up.” He looks at me, “This guy? Seriously? They send you up here to work and you find a booty call? Can’t believe they call me Playboy.” Jake’s face hardens, “I’ll say it one more time, you should probably get going.” Playboy scoffs, “Yeah. Fine. You guys should keep her. A real SEAL would never be okay just sitting around. You never deserved that title, Rodeo.” He turns around and starts walking towards his car. The anger boils over and I scream, “Oh I didn’t deserve that title! Coming from the guy that couldn’t sweep a fucking room and got me shot TWICE! You are a DISGRACE, Playboy. Everyone knows it! And I already heard you aren’t reupping! Everyone should be thanking their fucking LUCKY STARS!” He turns around with rage in his eyes, but one look at Jake and he gets in his car. I turn around and see the whole squad standing behind me. The embarrassment hit, “I’m sorry .. I didn’t mean .. I .. I ..” Bradley walks up and wraps me in a hug, “Screw that guy. Y/n, I am so happy that you are okay.” Phoenix speaks up, “You have helped us so much, Rodeo. We are lucky to have you here.” The group hums in agreement. “Thank y’all, I am going to head home.”

.

.

Jake shows up on my doorstep with a smile that tells me he wants something. “Listen, I know today was rough. Let’s go out. Everyone is already there. You can take your mind off of everything for a bit.” I smile, “Okay.. It really isn’t fair because you know that I can’t say no to you.” He chuckles and I follow him to his truck. When we get there, we join the squad in their usual spot. Jake was right, this was getting my mind off of Playboy. I never had issues with anyone else on the team. Part of me wondered if everyone knew we didn’t get along, so they’d pair us together to try and force it. I tell myself to stop thinking about that and enjoy the night. Bradley has unplugged the jukebox and is banging away on the old piano. My arm is around his shoulder and I sing along with him. The song ends and we stand there, giggling. Then I hear an all too familiar voice, “Wait a minute.. I thought you liked blondie boy over there.. Aviator Ken Doll! So who is this? You must really be getting around up here, huh Rodeo?” I turn around and meet Playboy’s icy eyes, “Get the hell away from me!” He steps closer, “What? I am just saying, back when you were with the teams you always acted like you were too good for me. Now I guess anyone is good enough?” I can see Bradley fuming out of the corner of my eye. A fist connects to Playboy’s jaw. I turn to see Jake, who is jumping on him in a rage. Jake gets right in his face and practically growls, “You don’t talk about MY girl like that!” The squad pulls him off and Bradley starts to carry Playboy out because Penny is ringing the bell aggressively. Bradley comes back in and we all head down to the water. Phoenix giggles as she walks by me, “He called you his girl. That’s cute. He has never said that about anyone before.” I blush. No one ever stands up for me. Usually, they figure that I can handle things myself. Jake runs up beside me and grabs my hand, “I’m sorry. Was that too much?” “The punching him in the face or calling me your girl part?” He shrugs, “Both?” I shake my head, “No Jake, it wasn’t. These last couple of months with you have been completely new to me. The time we spend together means the world to me, I hope you know that.” He stops walking and spins me around, into his chest. I giggle as he pulls me in for a kiss. Gentle and curious, making the butterflies rise in my stomach.

[cecilysass]

Beacon (3/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic and my poangpal @libbytxf

Chapter 3

Scully clutches a cup of tea, struggling for control of her expression. It’s hardly unusual for Mulder to be late, or for Mulder not to answer his phone. But this isn’t a case looking into a far-reaching conspiracy, and he wasn’t chasing down some train carrying mysterious cargo. He just went to a small community’s historical archives.

“He couldn’t have gone that far,” Banoy says soothingly, voicing her thoughts. “There isn’t any place to go in this town.”

She’s sitting again at the sunny table in the kitchen, the papers from the medical examiner spread in front of her. When she staggered in from the frigid outdoors at the agreed time, Duncan suggested she wait for Mulder in the kitchen, and then they could have lunch. Since then, Duncan has been busy, popping in and out, preoccupied with answering the phone, talking to guests and staff.

Banoy, on the other hand, has been at the stove, making some kind of Filipino chicken and rice soup and cheerful conversation. The smell of ginger and garlic wafts tantalizingly through the air. Scully is hungry, and if Mulder had come when he said, they could already be eating. She could be explaining what she found at the medical examiner, which she’d been excited to share.

When Mulder does show up in the door, disheveled and carrying an untidy stack of paper, the soup has long been simmering, and she’s downright cranky.

“Hey, Scully,” he says, sounding tired. “Duncan said you were back here.”

“Yes,” she says sharply, sitting up stock straight. “Waiting for you. You’re forty-five minutes late.”

This seems to vaguely surprise him, and she has the urge to stand up and forcefully push him over. “Oh, am I?” He drops the stack of papers on the table in front of her, partially covering her reports from the medical examiner. “Sorry about that. I must have lost track of time.”

She presses her lips together so hard she feels a jaw muscle twitch.

“Something smells really good,” he says, looking over towards Banoy at the stove. “Did you already eat?”

“I did not,” she snaps. “As I said, I’ve been waiting.” Finally her tone seems to get Mulder’s attention. His head whips around to look at her.

Banoy, stirring the pot, turns around and gives them a polite smile. “Hey,” he says. “Why don’t I serve up some bowls and give you some space to have your F.B.I. partner talk?”

***

They spoon soup into their mouths in silence for a few minutes, and Mulder watches Scully carefully for hints about what she’s thinking. She is staring determinedly out the large window, apparently unwilling to talk.

He knows she hates it when he vanishes and goes incommunicado. This issue has come up before in their partnership. But her anger in this instance seems a little over the top, doesn’t it? He was only late for lunch. It hadn’t really been that long.

He sips another spoonful of soup. It’s delicious, thick with rice, exactly what he’s in the mood for after being out in the cold. But he can barely focus on what he’s eating, his insides churning with anxiety. He can’t help but wonder if this is about more than him being late. He can’t help but worry that she is really upset with him for different reasons altogether.

Does she suspect that all of this ghost business—and his ungraceful reaction to it—suggests maybe his feelings have crossed an inappropriate line? Is she second guessing every one of his motivations?

She lifts the spoon to her perfect lips, precisely slurping, her face a mask.

“Scully, I’m sorry,” he tries again hesitantly. “I don’t mean to be … inconsiderate.” He lets the word hang in the air, allowing her to interpret it as she wants.

She puts the spoon down and sighs deeply, her eyes closing for a few seconds and then opening to take him in.

“It was inconsiderate,” she says. She pauses. “I do find I’m growing more forgiving now that I’ve eaten.” Some of his tension releases. “But Mulder, you need to learn to check a clock. Or your phone.”

“I know,” he says, eager to accept responsibility. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He bites his lip, unsure whether they’re ready to move on. She nods and resumes eating, which he takes to be a good sign. “Do you, uh, want to talk about what we found out this morning?” he adds.

“All right,” she says. “Yes.” There's a tiny glint in her eyes, and he knows there’s something she is excited to share. He feels relief wash over him. This is a normal interaction. Maybe he’s not completely exposed here. “These are copies of the autopsy reports on the three victims,” she says.

She places three pieces of paper in front of his bowl, and by reflex, he pulls back. He’s had his stomach turned by more autopsy photos than he’d care to count.

“No photos,” she reassures him. “Just look, here, at this box on each of the forms. All three have the same official cause of death, ‘sudden cardiac arrest.’”

She places a small fingertip on the line stating cause of death on Austin Spantikow’s report, looking at him expectantly. Mulder nods cautiously. They knew this much.

“Now usually when this is the cause of death, they’ll be some underlying cardiovascular issue—coronary artery disease, a congenital heart defect,” she continues. “But it is possible for cardiac arrest to happen with no easily identifiable cause. Even to young and healthy people. The heart is electrical. And if the electricity goes out for some reason… well…”

“Lights out,” Mulder says grimly. It’s making his own heart pump faster just thinking about it. “But … it’s not that common, right?”

“Not terribly uncommon, actually,” Scully says. “A leading cause of death in the United States, as I said. But … three healthy people with no known risk factors experiencing sudden cardiac death in the same location in a short time frame? The odds do seem pretty slim.”

“I don’t suppose the ME found any evidence of the kind of toxin you were talking about? Your heart stopper dust?”

“No,” Scully says. “Unfortunately, they wouldn’t have run that kind of toxicology. I’ll think of some other way to follow up on that. But Mulder, there’s something else.” She places her finger emphatically on one of the other pieces of paper. “In Jim Knight’s report, there’s some evidence of pulmonary edema.”

“Ah ha.” Mulder scratches his face. “Something having to do with lungs?”

“Fluid in lungs,” she says. “Like you would expect to see from a drowning victim.”

“A drowning victim.”

“Yes,” Scully confirms with a nod.

“Like Leander in the myth.”

“Like Leander in the myth,” Scully agrees emphatically. “And Hero. And Sophronia and her lover, according to the ghost story Duncan told us.”

Mulder frowns. “Where was Spantikow found again?”

“In bed,” she says. “In his room by himself. No obvious method of drowning.” She puts her finger on a line on another piece of paper. “And the woman, Elena Denney, she was found slumped over her computer. But there’s mention on her report of some frothy fluid in her airways.”

Mulder stares at her, mulling this over. He taps his fingertips on the table. “Did the ME have an explanation for any of this?”

Scully scoffs. “No,” she says. “And at the risk of sounding elitist, these reports aren't the work of a pathologist. There’s the bare minimum of description. It makes me wonder what else was present and missed, and whether there were any indications of drowning on Spantikow, too—maybe that were ignored because they didn’t fit the perceived cause of death.”

Mulder resists the urge to clutch his hand to his own heart. He regards his partner. “What is your explanation, Scully?”

“Sudden cardiac arrest is often the cause of death in drowning victims,” Scully says. “Without the other signs of drowning—liquid in the body cavity, for example—it would be hard to distinguish cardiac arrest from drowning … from any other kind of cardiac arrest.”

Mulder’s eyebrows lift. “So… you think they drowned. In their hotel rooms. Without water.”

“There is a phenomenon called delayed drowning. A person is submerged in water, some gets into the lungs, and much later—hours, days—it manages to cause pulmonary edema. But it’s very rare.”

“Three times in a row at the same hotel also seems unlikely?”

“Exactly,” she agrees. “Another possibility is that maybe someone wanted it to be death by drowning that didn’t look on the surface like death by drowning,” Scully says. “Maybe someone is using the Hero and Leander story, as well as Sophronia’s story, for personal inspiration for homicide.” She shrugs. “I don’t know, Mulder. It’s intriguing.”

“I wish there were some way to know if it was salt water in his lungs,” Mulder muses, tapping his fingers on the table again. “The presence of ocean water could be evidence for the ghost.”

“Naturally your explanation is that it’s a murderous ghost,” she sighs.

“I definitely am not ruling it out.”

She looks at him with an unreadable expression. “Did you learn anything new, Mulder?”

“Oh,” he says, trying to marshal his papers into a stack, “yeah, I did, actually.”

“Do the details of Duncan’s ghost story check out?”

“Yes and no,” Mulder says. “The woman working at the historical archives is actually a descendant of the Younge family. So she knew her way around the family papers, and she was happy to help me out.”

Scully’s lips curl upwards. “I’m sure you smiled, complimented her and laid it on thick.”

“She was in her seventies, Scully,” Mulder says in mock indignation, “but yes, as a matter of fact, I was pleasant. I did what it takes for our work.”

“I hope you warned her that your heart is committed to another,” Scully says lightly. “At least, according to the family ghost.”

Mulder freezes in mortification for a beat.

Immediately he realizes he needs to recover for his own dignity. “Uh, no,” he says. “I left that detail out.” He pauses. “That’s all just … ridiculous, Scully.”

“Hmm,” she says, nodding, not meeting his eyes. She has lifted her spoon to take another bite of her soup. “Well? What did you learn?”

“There was a Sophronia Younge, and she did live in this house. Her father was a wealthy scholar and a founder of the town.”

“All consistent with what Duncan told us.”

“Right,” Mulder says, “but the story veers off from there. In her father’s papers there are journals and letters. He was worried about Sophronia’s mental health, as we would put it nowadays. Or… about her ‘going mad,’ as they’d say back then. He talks about her referring to herself as Hero, the character from the myth. He talks about her refusing to come out of her room, of lighting a beacon for some imagined Leander every night.”

Scully’s soup spoon stops, her eyes narrowing. “So … there was no actual Leander?”

“Possibly not,” Mulder says. “Not a person anyone could name. Just … a fantasy she had.” He feels his ears warming again, even though this early 19th century drama has absolutely nothing to do with him.

“So what happened?”

“Someone turned off Sophronia’s beacon lantern one night,” Mulder says, “and she assumed her fantasy Leander drowned, and, well, she reacted like Hero did in the myth.”

Scully’s head swivels to look out again at the Vermont landscape below. “I don’t get it. She drowned herself in maple trees?”

“Actually, she threw herself into a well and drowned,” Mulder says. “In 1809. It’s documented by several sources. Cause of death was probably sudden cardiac arrest, right?”

Scully nods slowly, still staring out the window. “Probably.” She turns back to him, her cool blue eyes melancholy. “Actually, it’s a much sadder story than the one Duncan tells.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says softly. A more lonely story, certainly.

Scully’s gaze circles the room. “Why do you think Duncan hasn’t gone to the archives himself? You’d think he would want to find out all he could about the history behind this place.”

“Well… he may have tried,” Mulder says. “Mrs. Davenport—she isn’t a fan of the inn being owned by outsiders. She may have mentioned that to me a few times.”

“Oh,” Scully says. “Yes, Duncan referred to some resentment.” Her chin tilts contemplatively. “Isn’t that a possible motive? Multiple deaths are certainly bad for the inn’s business.”

“You think … Mrs. Davenport…?”

“Maybe not her per se,” Scully says. “But maybe someone like her. With ties to the old family.”

“Maybe,” Mulder concedes. He licks his lips anxiously. “In any case, I think Mrs. Davenport’s history further supports Duncan’s theory.”

“Duncan’s theory?”

Mulder looks down at his soup, attempting to come across as casual and disinterested. “That Hero only appears to people who aren’t in reciprocated love,” he says. “You know. The longing thing. It fits with her own history, her own psychology.”

Scully is silent a moment. “You’re profiling a ghost now?”

“This… Austin kid,” Mulder says, speaking quickly. “The first victim. He’s taking a new girlfriend on a weekend away. Maybe she’s not as into him as he is into her. The Knight guy, Jim, is having trouble with his wife and is on a fishing trip to give her space. Maybe he still loves her and she’s moved on. And maybe Elena Denney is having some kind of online relationship with someone who doesn’t feel as strongly as her.”

“Do you actually know any of that, or are you making incredible assumptions and leaps?”

“We can investigate it,” Mulder says impatiently. “I’m extending a theory right now.” He puts his spoon down, folds his hands behind his head, leaning back to gaze at the plaster ceiling. He hopes he looks loose and relaxed.

“Does your profile include a reason why she would abruptly start to kill the lovelorn after nearly two hundred years of simply appearing to them?”

“No,” admits Mulder. “I’m still thinking about that.”

“Did Mrs. Davenport say anything else?”

Mulder shrugs. “Yeah. She said that when they lived here, they thought lighting all those brass lanterns in the house was good luck. Because of the beacon light thing and all that.”

Scully smiles a tight-lipped smile. “Ah,” she says. “I suppose we could use a good luck tip.”

“We do if…” He stops. “Never mind.” He pushes the papers towards her. “I brought copies of all of the historical records. If you want to look them over yourself.”

“All right,” she says, restacking them.“Mulder …” She hesitates, shuffling the papers without purpose. “You think the ghost is coming after you next, don’t you?”

His apparently-endangered heart begins to thump so hard he can feel it down to his toes. Every second longer he takes to answer this question, he knows he makes it worse. Isn’t the real question all too obvious? Are you longing for someone you can’t have, Mulder?

“I don’t know,” he says miserably, looking at his hands. “Maybe.”

“Oh,” she says, her lips remaining in a small circle. Her eyes are wide, and she looks uncertain, but he doesn’t see how she possibly could be. How could she not at least wonder? Is she having some kind of inner crisis? Is she horrified by the lack of professionalism implied? “Should we find another place to stay?” she suggests in a kind, patronizing tone he hates. “There’s no sense in making you worry.”

“No,” he interrupts, humiliated. “No, no, that’s silly. I’m not… I mean, I can’t think of how it would actually fit. For me. I’m not really a lovelorn kind of guy.” He smiles, hoping he has been convincing enough.

She smiles back wanly. “All right.”

“This afternoon, I thought I might drive over and talk to Mr. Knight’s widow,” Mulder says, keeping his tone easy. “She lives about twenty minutes away. That will keep me out of Hero’s hands for a while, right?”

“Right,” she says. She considers him. “I’ll take some of those samples of the renovation materials and send them to be analyzed. Maybe I’ll read through the history you found.”

“Sounds good,” he says, nodding. She begins to stand up from the table. “And, uh, Scully?” She turns around and meets his gaze with round, expectant eyes. “I’ll check in this time.”

She nods shortly, then hurries off, her face shuttered.

She must have some idea. She must.

He stares at his bowl of soup, half eaten. He should get up and drive, not sit here and sift through his garbage bin of feelings.

Actually, Mulder has never picked out words for how he feels about her. Those feelings just are what they are. A truth. A nameless reality. If pressed, he’d have gone to great lengths to avoid assigning language to them. It’d be stupid anyway. It doesn’t matter what she is to him exactly.

She’s just my work colleague, the kind you know their lunch order by heart, the kind you cover for if they’re running late, the kind you'd protect by consuming exotic poison or sticking a dagger in your chest or throwing yourself in front of a bus. She’s my friend, the type of friend whose opinions intertwine and fuse permanently with the foundational architecture of my brain. She's a woman I work with, that kind of woman you fill out paperwork with during the day and then dream about that night, who in dreams raises her hands to catch snowflakes in her fingers in the moonlight, and somehow when she does that makes you cry and makes you hard at the same time.

You know. She’s someone like that.

He doesn’t want some case, some fucked-up insane ghost, to force language on what shouldn’t ever have had language. He doesn’t want to have to say it, to think it, to bring it to light.

Of course, this could all be very moot if the ghost straight-up drowns him tonight and stops his miserable heart altogether.

He basks for a moment in the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face through the window, and he sighs deeply. The currently healthy function of his lungs is not lost on him. He breathes perfectly in and out. Ostensibly freely.

His whole life he’s spent alone, longing for what he doesn’t have. He guesses it makes a kind of dark sense that’s how he would die. Drowning in oceans of want.

***

For the next two hours Scully does exactly the kind of efficient work that usually gives her great satisfaction. She takes samples of the renovation materials, she walks to town to FedEx them to the lab in Washington, and she trods back up the icy hill knowing that the task is done. Now she clomps up the staircase to the second floor of the inn, her nose still stinging from the cold, her cheeks slightly windburned.

There’s no sense of accomplishment, only a heavy pall over her mood she can’t shake.

At the top of the stairs, she stops to catch her breath, brushing some snow off of her trench. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees someone walking down the hall. When she turns her head, there’s nothing: just one of the inn’s impressive Christmas trees twinkling.

She blinks. She’d been half hoping it was Mulder returned already, but of course it isn’t. The car is still gone; he is questioning Jim Knight’s wife. She’s being illogical.

Scully stares at the Christmas tree for a moment, swaying slightly. Her thoughts return again to Mulder’s behavior in the kitchen. He was so obviously anxious that he was the ghost’s next target.

Of course Scully continues to believe that there’s something happening here other than a homicidal ghost. True to character, Mulder latched on to that ghost story too quickly. But Mulder believes that Hero is a ghost who targets the longing and lovelorn. And though he was trying to be evasive, he was also uncharacteristically self-conscious and nervous.

He thinks it’s plausible he could be a victim.

As though in a dream, Scully steps slowly towards her door.

So somewhere out there there is a person Mulder longs for, a regular human relationship he aches to have. He has that in mind when he discusses it.

She knows it shouldn’t bother her. And it doesn’t bother her, not really. It just hurts right now, when she is missing Melissa, that’s all.

Because she stands outside of everything now, pressing her nose up against the snow globe looking inside at all the normal people living normal lives. She thought he, at least, might be standing with her: her partner who’d long ago given up on any of that. Even if they couldn’t have normal lives, they could have the companionship of one another.

But it’s all too clear he keeps his heart from her, hides his inner desires. He lies to her about it.

Of course he does; he doesn’t even always tell her where he’s going on a case. There’s too much she doesn’t know, really, about him. Their close companionship is an illusion she’s taken too seriously.

She feels tears overwhelming her eyes as she unlocks the door.

Fine. It does bother me. It does.

She’s pushing at her door to go inside when she’s distracted again by a movement from her side vision.

A figure drifting from the direction of the far end of the hall.

***

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (22)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none, mentions of the previous chapters

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). Just know I am reading every single one of your comments and reblogs. I love them so much!

The next morning was spent waking up from the unbearing heat of the two boys squished to your side. While San had been kind enough to sleep at your side, giving you space, Wooyoung took the liberty of wrapping his arms around yours. 

You were quick to learn that they were both cuddlers; though, seeing as you woke up with San wrapped around your other side reaching over you to touch Wooyoung. The other boy, however, had moved over in the end to have his own space. They went to sleep one way each and ended up in the other’s position. 

When you had stepped out of the tent, the only other ones awake were Seonghwa and Jongho. The younger boy only gave you a look before moving to head back into a tent. Seonghwa gave you a sad smile when he saw your shoulders drop at the boy's retreat. 

You walked over to the eldest, giving him a good morning. You glanced over at the pot he was stirring, the man making breakfast for everyone. You made yourself useful by helping him out, which he appreciated a lot. 

Once you had eaten your breakfast and everyone was finally awake and moving about, Hongjoong had called to tell everyone that they were going to be heading out to clean. “There's a spring that grew from the brook here.” He had told you, lugging a bag over his shoulder. “It's a bit of a walk, so get your things ready and we'll be on our way.”

You nodded your head at him, moving towards the tents to gather whatever it was the boys couldn’t. They didn’t have many clothes, but whatever you deemed smelly, you immediately picked it up to wash. While they hadn’t told you to do it, you felt like you were in debt to them. Besides, you were going to wash your own skirts and likes as well.

“Doll, can we talk?” You looked up to find Mingi at the tent, getting a sense of déjà vu. 

“Of course, Min.” You smiled at him. 

The kind boy began to blush, walking closer to you. “Look, I don't want you to think anything negative of me-”

You frowned as he started his conversation. “I could never.” You stopped him. “Mingi, you mean more to me than anything. You saved me and I will always be thankful for that.”

Mingi sighed as he took in your words. He knew you were someone who wore your heart on your sleeve. You were going to tell them all what was wrong. He had already heard it from you last night when you were alone with him. 

He didn’t want you to think of him as someone who forces others to do what they want. While you had kissed him back with the same kind of feelings, he didn’t want you to regret what it was you did. 

“It's not that.” He shook his head. “It's about our kiss. I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of your vulnerability.”

You tried to hold in your chuckle, a soft smile falling onto your lips. You found it astonishing to hear someone like Mingi was worried about what you thought of him. There was so much talk you would hear from women on the street talking about their husband's actions towards them. 

They were stories you didn’t find joy in hearing. You wouldn’t be able to tell if they were truly sad in their marriage or if they were just trying to get sympathy from their friends. But you knew the way most men treated their wives was not how you wanted to be treated. 

Somehow, here was Mingi, one of the tallest men you had ever met–next to Yunho– telling you that he didn’t want you to see him as someone who would take advantage of a woman. It brought joy to your being to know he cared about what you thought of him. 

“Mingi, you know me.” You softly told him. “I understand where you are coming from but I know for a fact you would never be that kind of person. None of you are. Thank you for respecting my boundaries and telling me about it.” You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I like that you're willing to communicate your fears. I find it appealing.”

Mingi gulped, staring down at you. “You're bold.”

You looked down as you gathered all your thoughts. “Mingi, you were my first real kiss.” You started. “And it made me feel something I can't explain. I have never explored this side of me before and I have no idea if I'm doing it right, but just know I appreciate you so much.”

Mingi’s breath got caught in his throat at your revelation. It had been so long ago when he had last liked a girl the way he liked you. It wasn’t that he knew you deep down like most people would have. But the way you acted with his brothers–the way they all looked at you–made you seem like someone he wanted to be with romantically. 

He was far from knowing what it was really like to court someone. He was sure all of them didn’t know how to court someone. However, he just knew that there were certain things about you that made him move on instinct. He had read books, seen people out on the street acting a certain way that made him think about how he would be with his own lover. 

He didn’t know yet if he truly wanted to be with you the way he was thinking, or if it was just his body asking for you. You had trusted him with your feelings and he wanted to keep them in mind. He knew deep down what it was you were feeling and he wanted to let you know that he was going to accept whatever it was you wanted of him. He didn’t want to lose you just yet. 

“I can't explain what it is about that calls to me so much but just know I want to show you so many things.” Mingi told you. “I want you to know what it's like to be with the right person.”

You couldn’t fight off the grin that fell on your face at his words. They made you feel like mush, a warmth blooming on your cheeks. There was something about a man knowing what to say to a woman to get her to drop to her knees that left you weak. At least now you know it left you weak. Hearing those kinds of words fall from Mingi’s lips left you breathless. 

You started to think about the other boys and how they would flirt with others. You knew they had it in them. You had seen the way they spoke with others in order to get their way. It must be easy for them to find whoever it was they wanted. It left a bitter taste in your mouth thinking about them flirting with other people but you didn’t own them. 

Your smile dropped slowly as you realized you were thinking about more than one of them again. “I want to trust you.” You told Mingi.

“Why don't you?” He asked. 

“Because I don't know yet if you're the only one I trust.” You admitted, swallowing as you realized you admitted it to yourself as well. 

Mingi watched as a look of realization took over your face. While you hadn’t expressed it completely last night, Mingi knew there was something hiding behind your eyes when talking about all of them. While he didn’t know how it was you felt for them all, now he did. 

It didn’t leave him as bothered as he thought it would. He spent a good majority of his life with these guys; the better part of it. He cared deeply for them and they all knew that. While they would never allow someone to come in between them, there was some kind of relief that fell on him thinking about how it wasn’t going to be the case here. He was the first to think the way he did and he knew he would have to talk about it with the others soon. He didn’t want them to think anything bad about both you and him. 

“I understand.” He smiled at you. “Just know I won't be upset with whatever it is you choose. We're all close and I know we won't let someone like you slip through our fingers.”

You chuckled. “What makes you say that?”

Mingi grinned, leaning down closer to you. “You aren't here for every conversation.” He whispered. “I'm sure the others would agree with me. Even, captain.” He leaned back, laughing at the wide eye expression you gave him.

“Captain?” You asked astounded. 

“You left more than an impression, Doll. You mean a lot more to us than you’ll ever know.” He whispered.

You huffed, trying to hold back your tears. “You guys mean more to me than I care to admit.”

“Would that be so bad?” Mingi teased, pulling back so you could see the grin on his face. 

You frowned as you thought about the kiss you just shared. Your mind started to think about the others, wondering what it was they would think if they knew. It had you worried about how you really felt for all of them.

“It is when I don't know if I want one of you or all of you. I’m worried about what others will think.” You admitted. 

“All of us?” Mingi tilted his head. He wasn’t offended or even upset with your revelation, he looked curious, which prompted you to pull him back into a hug.

“You're each special to me. I want to build those bonds with all of you.”

He gave you a sweet smile, growing closer to you. You smiled up at him, chest pressing on him. You were suddenly reminded of the compromising position from last night. There was a sudden heat that traveled down your entire body, leaving you breathless. 

Mingi leaned down, softly pecking your lips. The boy melted when he saw your lips pull over your teeth and your eyes grow dazed. “Let's get going. We have things to clean.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @stvrfir3 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongie1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

[mushroomwoods]

Sunflower Fields

the rustling wind was all too characteristic now, dream or not, he just wished to remember your voice...

character — wars, romantic or platonic

cw — mild angst with happy ending.

this is a gift i made for the loveliest @wayfayrr and took way too long to post because tumblr is a bitch, but since i am here now... enjoy! ps: i made an art commission from the dearest @h4wari. check it out, it's amazing!

The calm summer breeze blew, comforting and slightly humid as it ruffled his hair along with the scarf.

Blue star coloured eyes focused on the horizon, the chatting and bantering happening beside him barely catching his attention.

He looked lost.

As if chasing after something oh so far away, yet he didn't know what it was.

“Dozing off again, Link?” Impa voice resounded, breaking him off his stupor, gladiolus eyes thinning at the blank stare the warrior offered her.

“Let it be, Impa.” Zelda cut through, graciously stirring the tea before she poured one cup for herself.

“Ah, I can do it, Your Highness-” As Impa tried to stand up, the princess simply waved her hand.

Link took a sip of his own tea, already cold, though the gentle rosemary scent still filled his nostrils, a vague memory of Zelda telling him it was one of her favorite ones coming to mind, yet as the flavor seeped into his mouth he could only grimace.

Bitter.

The princess lightly pushed the sugar pot nearer to him, yet the hero refused, setting the porcelain cup back to the saucer with a muted clack.

“Excuse me, but I have to go back to my duties.” A blatant lie, he had been given a week off just the previous day.

Nonetheless, the princess nodded in understanding, barely looking his way as he made his way out of the garden. The gerbera daisies surrounded him the whole way out, as if mocking him, the sunny yellow shade only serving to make his mood worse.

He couldn’t understand why it was happening, why sometimes there were lapses of memories within him, the figments of a voice and a soft touch that caressed his cheeks with so much tenderness that he wanted to cry. He knew that such a thing could never have happened in the past as he spent most of his time in the war and taking care of his job as a commander.

His fists clenched when he finally reached the outer walls of the castle, the soldiers guarding the area bowed to him in respect, before opening the gates.

Freedom at last.

Somehow, after everything that happened, he couldn’t feel at ease while in that place, when near those people, when he got reminded of every single nightmare he had to push through, he felt as if drowning amidst the suffocating essence of abatina flowers, her image resurfacing to his mind even when he tried so hard to wipe it out of the memory.

With a sigh, he started heading back to his quarter, a vague sensation of deja vu overcoming his body, the rustling of the crisp summer air brushing his hair as if it was a loving hand.

The path home was quiet, some people greeting him here and there, to which was answered by his collected smile.

A fake.

Somehow nothing made sense, nothing seemed real, no amount of working or enjoyment made him feel at ease.

As the door to his house was opened, the red columbine in his stand shriveled, petals droopy, as thirst for a little drop of water, even then he ignored it, too aware of his own cowardice, hanging his uniform as he made his way to the bed.

The tired body just crumbled onto the bed, not trying to hold onto consciousness as he fell into a deep slumber.

…

He felt weightless, the usual tiredness not heaving into his shoulder.

A patch of small sunflowers surrounded him, someone sitting amidst it, a laughter familiar to him.

They said something that he couldn't quite understand, but before he could ask anything, they walked towards him, taking his hands into theirs, comforting and warm just as he remembered.

They laughed before bursting into hundreds of birds of paradise, colourful and filled with emotions.

Link didn't have any time to process it, however, as his eyes opened, the rays of light shone down on him as yet another day started.

Repeating it all once again.

He wished to sigh, but staying still at the same place for so long wouldn't do him any good, and only make him pity himself even more.

Just as he opened the curtains of his bedroom, his eyes widened, the place that should have been a vast open hill, was now covered in a patch of sunflowers, much like the dream he just had.

Not even bothering to take his usual uniform, he headed out in a flurry, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled towards the door.

As he opened it, the sight that greeted him was a familiar, yet unknown figure, surrounded by the townsfolk, all carrying bouquets of sunflowers, and placing it around the now covered patch of land.

The mysterious person's eyes met his, and they didn't hesitate before approaching him, the white-pink valerians in their arms standing out among the bright yellow blooms everyone else held.

“I'm sure you didn't expect it, Link.” Their familiar voice rang inside his heart, and he unknowingly smiled at it.

“You… how..?” So many questions flooded his head, yet no coherent words came out.

Scalding hot tears brimmed around his eyes, and with a soft smile they brushed it out of his face.

“I'm sorry that it took me so long to get to you my dear.” They answered with a melancholic smile, offering him the valerian bouquet.

He hesitated for a second, yet the moment he saw the guilt in your eyes, he carefully took it, not wasting any more time before taking you into a warm embrace.

“I missed you so much…” Link said.

“Me too, Link.” You sobbed into his arms.

Blue Star — Strength, Resilience

Gladiolus — Victorious, Strength

Rosemary — Remembrance

Gerbera Daisies (Yellow) — Appreciation in relationships

Abatina — Fickleness

Red columbine — Anxious, Trembling

Dwarf Sunflower — Adoration

Bird of Paradise — Freedom

Valerian — Readiness