#AND THEN JUMP BACK IN THE RING ONE MORE TIME FOR GOOD MEASURE ��

[cybersteal]

✨𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔🌠

[aninipanin1]

THAT'S YOUR TYPE?!

Notes: To all my fellow simps out there lol. I did not specify a character buuut I did get inspired by Marius from ToT lmaooo so I am using his personality for this, but like I said, you can imagine your fave here still.

"He's too cute!"

Yukimiya stopped in his tracks when he passed your office by only to hear you squeal about a 'he'? What do you mean by he? Who is that he and why are you calling him cute?

He admittedly got a little too curious and jealous fast, even if he does not even know who you are talking about. Sticking his ear against the cold walls of the facility, he tried his best to make out the wirds you were saying inside the room.

Good thing, your small and quite adorable squeals were loud enough for him to hear.

"He's too handsome. The literal epitome of what I would like in a man. Responsible but can be really fun, and has (color) (style) hair! I wish I could have a boyfriend like him..." You heaved a sigh, your voice sounding albeit disappointed before quietness surrounded the other room again.

Your words were quite surprising. You don't usually act like a hormonal teenage girl, being monotonous to a fault due to your upbringing, lacking the experience in feeling emotions.

So to hear you, squealing about some sort of guy was a little new to Yukimiya. He did not know whether to be happy that you are improving yourself after what happened in your past or disappointed that you find a different man attractive.

Who even is that man? What does he even have to become the ideal guy in your eyes? And, most importantly, does he have to change his hairstyle?!

"Let's see who will win this, mysterious guy..."

"Why would you even ask that?" Isagi asked confused.

"Yeah, man. (Hair color or style) will definitely not fit you." Hiori snorted, already imagining Yukimiya with the aforementioned style which in his very humble opinion, would make the model look ridiculous.

Yukimiya rolled his eyes, drying his hair before putting his glasses on.

"No help at all. Besides, what do you even do when you hear the girl you love say that her type is another man who is supposedly someome who is responsible but can be fun at times, and has (h/c)(h/s)?"

Now that got everyone silent.

"Oh."

"Wait...WHAT?!" Isagi was the first one to react and he looked far from happy.

"Yeah. Heard her squealing in her office about some handsome guy, that is the supposed epitome of what she likes in a man. I bet that guy isnt even that good." Yukimiya said in a mocking voice, a tone the gentleman rarely uses, but hey, desperate situations call for desperate measures.

"I'm sure you just misheard it." Hiori chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, yeah!" Kurona added in, a bit nervous as well.

If it is true, do they have to change themselves to even qualify?! As if fate was mocking them, you passed by their room, head focused on your tablet with a rare giddy smile on your now flustered face.

You seemed to be laughing at something. An expression rarely seen in your face, even at times where they try to do romantic gestures that they wished got across to your dense head.

"He is so handsome in both long and short hair...that's so unfair. He's so talented in (hobby) too and so bold. So my type!"

They hear you mention in passing. And as if what Yukimiya could not break their heart even more, they all collectively flinched comically everytime you praise the supposed man.

They never even got a praise like that! Your praises were always so sweet, but you never use that tone before on any of them. So unfair...

"Oh, I get it now, Yukimiya." Hiori said, while Kurona just nodded his head.

"Welp, is it time to step up our game?" Isagi asked, voice filled with both conviction and nervousness at the same time.

"Yup. It is on."

"Wha- wait, give it back please!"

You jumped, trying to get the tablet off the German's hold, although the attempts were pitiful to say the least. You were just walking past the German Stratum to ring the bell to indicate it was dinner time.

But, luckily or unluckily for you, you bumped into Kaiser and Ness who looked to have just finished their showers and are wearing the clothes provided by the facility.

Seeing as you looked quite flustered and giddy while doting on your tablet, Kaiser got a little too curious and snatched the tablet off your hands, jealousy and curiousity fueling his intentions.

"Aww c'mon, lil häschen, care to tell us what you are giggling and blushing about in this thing? Then you can have your precious tablet back." You were even more flushed at the mention of revealing your secret guilty pleasure as you looked up at Kaiser with wide, scared eyes. Eyes that reminded him of a puppy.

"N-no...It's not my responsibility to tell you that."

"Oh? The lil bunny is fighting back, is she? How cute." He chuckled, Ness who was just behind also laughed softly at that, finding your expression adorable.

You looked like you were caught doing the worst thing a human can ever do, regretting it to your core. When he saw that you are adapting to jumping high enough to reach the gadget, he did the next thing by hiding it behind him, switching it from hand to hand.

"You're so mean! Give it back, its not yours, Kaiser-san."

You tried to catch up with his fast hands, even coming so close as to wrap your arms around him. The moment you realized the tablet was gone and that he had probably given to Ness, it was too late as he wrapped his arms around you as well.

"Aww, you're giving me a hug? You're too adorable, häschen."

His chin rested on your head, a smirk on his face, one that you can practically feel radiating off him as you try to get out of his tight embrace.

"Let me...go!" After struggling, you managed to slip off his hold and ran to Ness who also hid the tablet behind him, making you do the same unintentional hug you did with Kaiser earlier.

Unlike Kaiser however, Ness was flushed, his cheeks red from the sudden closeness between you two. He was used to you hugging him, but it was never this...intimate before.

"Oi, Ness. Give that back to me." Kaiser gestured, to which he obeyed immediately. Seeing that the tablet had a personalized password, the blonde striker finally sighed and relented, giving you the tablet which made you happy.

"Whatever, hide your secret boyfriend in there or something. I don't even care." Kaiser was a good liar, but even then, he knew he can't lie to himself.

Well, he tries to believe he is a good liar externally anyways, ince the small pout on his face can be discovered if one looked closely.

Fortunately for his ego, you did not.

"I...I don't have a boyfriend!" You turned flustered, avoiding eye contact. Even the slight mention of having a partner definitely made you flustered.

You can't imagine being with anyone. Especially the man you are hiding away in your tablet! Hell no! He was too perfect for someone like you!

"A secret crush?!"

"A crush..."

"Oi, four eyes. Are you even sure you heard correctly or are your ears going as bad as your eyes are." Barou glared at Yukimiya, chomping on a steak yet not removing his eyes at him at all.

"My ears are not going bad, thank you very much. But yes, that is the reason she has been quite taken with her tablet."

"Damn...what does that guy even have?" Reo questioned in his mind.

"Bet he's not that good looking nor a good man anyways." Otoya speculated to which he got bonked on by Hiori.

"Like you're any better, dumbass."

"I did hear her squealing in her office a few days ago too. Never heard her like that before." Niko added to which Yukimiya agreed with.

"I did hear her once too. Apparently, the guy has (h/c)(h/s), and is very much her type."

"Lucky bastard..." Chigiri mumbled under his breath.

"For real! Like what did he even do? Yet we're here trying our hardest to win her over!" Bachira said angrily, stealing a few pieces of fillet from Hiori's plate who just slapped his palm, but it was too late since the blonde ate it already.

It was just then that the whole PXG team entered the cafeteria since it was a Sunday. Even Loki was there, which was a start.

"Hey, its the mean girls squad." Aiku chuckled out, which made the others laugh as well. Rin gave them the stinkiest eye in his repertoire, meanwhile Shidou and Charles just gave a mischievous smirk.

"What're ya'll discussing about anyways? Ya'll look like you guys are plotting a murder or something." Karasu commented, taking a seat at the huge table.

"Ooh! Involve me!" Charles cheered, finding an empty seat as well.

"Please God, no damn murder. I hate it here. I regret even going here." Loki said under his breath, being offered a chair by Gagamaru.

"We look like we're in a picnic." Nanase commented.

"No, we're in a war meeting. Sit your asses down, we're discussing something." Otoya said, dragging Rin down on a chair which made the boy hiss like a feral cat to which the ninja striker just ignored.

After explaining the situation, everyone looked very serious, well except one who tries his best to be the mature one.

"So what? It's probably just a harmless crush. I mean, I hope?" Loki said, confused as to why he should take it like the man you supposedly liked commited a war crime.

"Are you even in this, Loki? Thought you liked her like we all do." Shidou asked.

"I am! But, like its just a harmless crush-"

"But what if it isn't?"

"I-"

Well that got the French to shut up as he just shrugged and listened to what they were about to say before the door opened.

"Let me down..!"

You yelped, trying to wiggle your limbs as if it would help you get out of the position you were in. Lorenzo had a wide grin as he was currently manhandling you up in his shoulder. Behind him was Kaiser and Ness who also just arrived, Kaiser holding your infamous tablet and this time it was open.

"Hohoho, little patata, what did I hear from Michael? Ya got a boyfriend? You betrayed my poor heart and you need to explain."

"No, I don't! I don't even have a boyfri- eek!" He easily put you down on a chair as if you did not weigh anything. You frowned, crossing your arms before looking up at Lorenzo in a challenging and slightly mad way.

"(Character name) is not even real! Even if I wish he was my boyfriend, he isn't real. And well...I don't have any boyfriend! So please shut up!"

Lorenzo did not seem to be intimidated by your anger in the slightest, finding you adorable like this since you rarely get mad or react at all. But, it was a relieve to hear that you were not dating anyone.

What he did not know is that, he also calmed everyone's worries in the cafeteria as well.

"So...it's a fictional character?"

"Yay! That means we're fine!"

You looked so confused as to why everyone was even celebrating. What were they doing? Why are they so happy anyways?

"Um...was I interrupting something?" You asked to which everyone shook their heads.

"Nope!"

"It's nothing to worry about, Y/n-chan!"

"Everything's fine!"

"Geez...I wonder when will you ever learn." Kaiser wondered, the smirk on his face filled with moschief and melancholy, unsure if he would even have enough time in the stay here in Japan to confirm what he feels and tells you how he secretly appreciated you.

"She's too naive." Ness commented, sighing in tiredness.

"Am I the only one more offended she likes a fictional character more than us though? Like...we got beat...by a man who isn't real." Loki blinked in realization, his eyes a little downcast.

Welp, they will have to think about that later.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[togrowoldinv]

To Show Thanks

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Wanda does all of the cooking for Thanksgiving and you help her see just how thankful you are for her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, bathtub sex (W receiving), soft sex

Note: The most wonderful time of year indeed. Enjoy the milf!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

The house smells of turkey and the holiday season as Wanda stands by the stove. She’s been cooking since the crack of dawn, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’ve helped with a few things, but mostly it’s been Wanda who is putting in the work. The twins run around the house and play as they wait for the company to arrive.

“No! I’m running out of time!” Wanda’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“It’s only 5, baby. You still have about an hour until the guests arrive,” you say.

“That’s not long enough,” she says, a sigh falling from her perfect lips. They form into a pout as she observes the work she has ahead of her.

“Well, you could use your magic,” you say.

Wanda smiles but shakes her head.

“No magic today. Just me,” she says.

“You are magic no matter what, my love,” you tell her.

You stand up from your chair and hug Wanda from behind. She sinks into your touch. Dropping a kiss to her cheek, you make her feel relaxed even if for just a moment.

“Tell you what,” you begin. “I’ll get the rowdy boys to set the table and I’ll help you do anything you need. We can do this.”

“We can do this,” Wanda repeats though she’s not sure she believes it.

You kiss her cheek once more for good measure and then you go find the boys. They’re in their room playing Mario Kart.

“Hey guys,” you say. “How about we pause the game and go help Mom get ready for the guests?”

“Okay!” Billy answers easily. He’d do anything for his mom.

“Can we finish this level?” Tommy asks.

“Later, buddy,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, a slight sigh in his voice. He pouts like Wanda does.

“I have a super secret task for the two of you,” you tell them before you leave the bedroom.

“What is it?” Tommy asks.

“Today is Thanksgiving, which means that you tell people that you’re thankful for them. I got your mom a card and I was thinking you two could write a sweet note in it for her. What do you think?”

“Yes!” They both agree. Anything for Wanda.

You smile and lead them to the home office where they work on the card. You leave them to go back and help Wanda. Once they’re done, they come downstairs and set the table.

Wanda was right about timing being close, but you manage to have everything cooked and ready to serve at exactly 6 o’clock.

“We did it!” Wanda says excitedly.

“You did it, babe. All you,” you say.

Wanda smiles softly and places a soft kiss to your lips. The boys feign disgust. Soon, the doorbell rings.

She answers the door and lets guests inside one by one. Steve is first with Natasha, Maria, Tony, Sam, and Bucky not far behind. You remember meeting them all at the boys birthday party, but it’s so nice to see them again.

Everyone gathers around the table and begins to eat Wanda’s wonderful food.

“This is amazing, Wanda,” Steve compliments.

“Yeah, great job, Wanda. Reminds me of home,” Sam says.

Wanda smiles shyly and tries to share the credit.

“No, this is all her. I can cook, but not like this. She’s like professional level good,” you say. Everyone nods in agreement.

“So, how’s everything going?” Maria asks Wanda.

You know what she’s referring to. After Wanda and Vision split up, the woman has gone through a hard time with the divorce and now child custody hearings. You’ve been the bright spot in all of it.

“It’s good,” Wanda says. “I didn’t know going to court would be so expensive but it’s almost over.”

“I’d sue his ass for what he’s put you through,” Natasha jumps in. Maria nudges her shoulder but she only shrugs.

You shoot her a smile and she returns a smirk.

“How about we just talk about what we’re thankful for?” Steve, ever the peacemaker, tries to change the subject.

“Great idea,” you agree. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for Wanda and her wonderful children and friends.”

Wanda smiles and kisses your cheek at your words. You hold her hand under the table. You’ve become her everything over these last few months.

Wanda speaks next. “I’m thankful for friends who have become family, for my precious babies, and for y/n who is truly my best friend.”

Everyone goes around and continues to share what they’re thankful for. Love and laughter fills the air as the hours pass by. After dessert and socializing, the guests go home.

Wanda is in the kitchen running a sink of dishes when you stop her.

“Come with me,” you say, pulling her softly.

“But the dishes, baby. They won’t do themselves,” she tries.

You keep walking and lead Wanda to the living room. The boys are there with Wanda’s card in hand.

“We got you this, Mommy,” Billy says, handing her the card.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Wanda says. She sits between the two boys. She opens the card and tears fill her eyes.

“We all signed it to say we’re thankful for you,” Tommy explains.

“Wow,” Wanda says softly. “This is so sweet. I’m so thankful for you guys too.”

Wanda kisses them both on the forehead as they lean into her. She reaches out to you too and you join the snuggle pile.

“Can we finish our level before bedtime?” Tommy asks after a moment.

“Yeah go ahead boys. Mom and I will be up to tuck you in soon,” you tell them. They hug you both before running up the stairs.

Wanda tries to get up but you pull her gently back onto the couch. She lands on your lap and you grin at her.

“Thank you for the card,” Wanda says.

“That was from the boys,” you say.

“Mhm. I know you were the mastermind,” she says. “I should really clean up dinner.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Wanda asks.

“You, my dear, did all the cooking so I will do all of the cleaning,” you say. “I’ll pour you some wine and you just get to relax, okay?”

You don’t give her a chance to say no. Instead, you kiss her and get up to start cleaning. Wanda sits at the counter and watches you. After a bit, you tuck the boys into bed and finish up cleaning.

“How about a bath?” You ask Wanda, leaning over the counter in a way you know draws her eyes to your chest.

“Only if you’ll join me,” she replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Yes please,” you say.

You go to the bathroom together and run the water. Wanda slips off her clothes first and slides into the warm water. You join her and settle in behind her.

She rests her head on your shoulder as you softly run your hands over her body.

“Thank you for today,” Wanda says.

“You did the hard part.”

“No, I mean- you didn’t have to clean up or give me a card or anything,” Wanda explains.

“Oh,” you say. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I did. I loved it,” Wanda rushes to say. “It’s just- no one’s ever done that for me before. It’s new.”

“You deserve it, Wands. Everything doesn’t have to fall on you. And you deserve to hear how thankful we all are for you,” you say.

“Hmm,” Wanda hums. She turns her head to look into your eyes. “I really love you.”

“I really love you too, Wanda Maximoff.”

She leans up and kisses you. You deepen the kiss and let your hand slip between her legs. Wanda gasps at the feeling.

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” you say.

She lets herself relax against you as you move your fingers through her folds. Wanda lets out the sweetest sounds with every stroke. You slip fully into her easily and make quick work of getting her to her high.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go,” you say softly as she comes against your fingers.

Wanda’s eyes remain closed in pleasure as you simply hold her against you. She stays there until the water gets too cold and you have to get out.

You get dressed in warm pajamas and snuggle into bed next to each other. Wanda clings to you.

“I’m so thankful for you,” Wanda says as her eyes droop closed from exhaustion and relaxation.

“I’m thankful for you too, Wanda. I always will be,” you tell her.

With one more shared kiss, you two fall into a deep slumber that lasts until morning.

Wanda has never been so happy and that’s all thanks to you.

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap nine/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Ask Me What I’m Thinking About

summary: Baseball can be a dirty game.

wc: 8.3k

warnings: 18+ some drinking, semi public fooling around (in a skybox), steve gets a little too worked up teaching you the rules of the game😏 (slight daddy kink)

authors note: I can’t believe we’re at the second to last chapter 🥺 thank you to everyone who’s been reading and all your sweet words this whole series, you guys really are the best 🧡

🌇 <- chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

The kiss lingered on your lips for days after the Fourth of July. A week at work lost in daydreams about the man that tasted like lemonade and stole your breath under fireworks at the lake. Fingertips trace the places graced by his lips to try and keep the feel of them fresh in your mind, impatiently counting down the days till you see him again.

You tug at the bottom hem of your sundress standing at Steve’s front door. It’s shorter than you’re used to, and the shade of red it was could never be found in your wardrobe until earlier this week. You’d fallen victim to an after work shopping trip with a coworker who had persuasive opinions that had you feeling confident when you looked in the long mirror of the fitting room. Her words ringing in your head like a mantra as you take a deep breath before knocking. Somersaults and cartwheels in your stomach, you wonder if it will always feel like the first time.

Bandit’s loud bark makes your cheeks push up in the kind of smile you usually only give to Steve. The sound of  long nails scraping excitedly on the other side of the door followed by his owner's deep bellow of his name only make it grow more. Butterflies take flight when you hear the click of the lock, another tug and a second deep breath.

“Bandit stop- Hey - oh wow, baby.” Standing there with the door half open, Steve drinks you in with hungry eyes. They roam up the expanse of your thighs, licking his lips when he sees how dangerous a strong breeze can be. “You look - wow, you look beautiful.”

It feels like summer heat on your cheeks, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you try not to beam. Maybe Jenny from work was right. Your eyes are just as greedy as his when you notice the tight fit of his jeans, and the white cubs jersey with the top two buttons undone. It makes his tan darker, along with the crisp tank top underneath. The silver chain around his neck catches in the sun from its place of the soft patch of chest hair that you’re realizing is always on display. His feet are bare and it makes you shift from side to side like it’s  something intimate.

“You look very easy on the eyes yourself Mr. Harrington.” You giggle and it makes him blush a furious red all the way to the tips of his ears.

Bandit whines impatiently behind Steve, his nails tapping against the wood floor. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. She’s coming in, calm down.” He opens the door a little more, turning around with one hand on the handle to usher the dog back to let you in. Your eyes catch his last name patched onto the back of his jersey like it's official. The realization that it probably is intimidates you.

It almost smells like the last time you were here, the rich cedar undertones are met with a hint of Bandit when you cross the threshold. He gives you a loud excited bark for good measure before his owner cuts him loose, shutting the door behind you. Steve doesn’t even try to stop him from jumping when you welcome him with open arms and a high pitched “hiii, handsome!”

Steve rolls his eyes dramatically when Bandit whines licking your face, but the smile he can’t fight gives him away.

“Alright, that’s enough. I didn’t even get my kiss yet buddy.” Steve chuckles, snapping his fingers making Bandit fall back on all fours in a huff.

I didn’t even get my kiss yet.

The words make your breath catch in your throat, Steve was going to kiss you again. He was just going to do that now, whenever he wants, and you’re gonna let him.

“Gettin’ jealous or somethin’ Steve?” You tease trying to hide the way he sets your skin on fire when his darkened eyes look at you like that.

“What if I am?” His voice drops to something new, something dirtier and it makes your thighs clench. 

One of his hands finds its way to where your dress sinches and smooths out at your waist, while the other rests against the wood behind you. He takes the few steps that have your back pressing against the door, fingers squeezing softly at your side before he reaches up to cup your cheek in the warmth of his palm. Looking down over the sharp line of his nose, the pad of his thumb traces the sticky silk of your glossed bottom lip. He wonders what flavor it is today, he can’t wait to find out.

“I’d tell you to do something about it then.” It’s a little shy the way it comes out just above a whisper, meeting his gaze from under your lashes.

His nose brushes with yours, the mint from his toothpaste fanning cool against your cheeks. Needy fingers find their way to his belt loops giving him a gentle tug closer and it makes him grin, you let his lips be a phantom against yours, impatience winning when you pull him in. 

It’s gentle at first and it feels like fireworks at the lake, like the butterflies from your first date. It’s when your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck that he presses his weight against you. His thumb pulls at your chin begging you to open up for him while his knee pushes its way between your legs. A week of being kept apart with nothing but thoughts of this has your tongues meeting greedy in the middle when you get lost in it. Spoiled with it. Noses press against cheeks and he can taste the tangerine that coats your lips in a sticky sweet mess. 

He groans when you bite at his bottom lip, thick eyebrows marrying in the middle when he kisses you harder, his knee getting a little bolder, getting closer. He can feel the heat that radiates from between your thighs like this and he curses at how short your dress is. Were you trying to kill him? Irrational jealousy pangs in his chest at all the guys that’ll get to look at you like this today. Guys your age. 

Bandit barks at something he sees outside making you both jump apart. Even with kiss bitten lips and a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you already miss him. He laughs quietly, pressing his forehead with yours the golden specs in his mossy eyes gleam feeling like a teenager again. All he wants to do is kiss you.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all week if I’m being honest.” Steve confesses, long fingers finding yours, lacing them together like he needs you.

“I was terrible at my job this week, and it was definitely your fault.” You grin looking up at him like you love it.

The two of you stand there for a minute letting your eyes take in features that had started to soften in your memories. He smiles before bumping his nose with yours one more time, stealing a quick peck pulling away before you have a chance to kiss back smirking at your small pout.

“Let me get my shoes on and we’ll get out of here. We’ll get some dogs at Wrigley.” Steve calls over his shoulder, ruffling Bandit’s head on his way up the stairs.

“Dogs?” You snort under your breath so he can’t hear, your fingers finding their way back to Bandits fur scratching him behind his ears. You swear he’s smiling when he pants looking up at you with big friendly eyes.

You gaze towards his kitchen as you try to catch the breath he took with him up to his room, the memory of your almost first kiss feels like a lifetime ago. It’s not long before Bandit takes advantage of Steve’s absence, snorting playfully before he trots to the living room. Long nails click against the wood floors when he comes back making your heart swell when the stupid dancing banana you won at the block party sits in his mouth. Its stitched eye is already half gone, and an arm just barely hanging on.

“This your banana, cute guy?” You coo with a sweet smile, reaching out to accept his invitation to play tug of war with the plush toy.

You’re a mess of giggles when he starts ‘growling’ at you and trying to rip it from your grasp, pulling you forward every so often when he pushes back on his paws for an extra hard tug. Too lost in your own world, you don’t notice Steve watching from the top of the staircase. The necklace he bought last week burns a hole in his pocket, especially seeing you like this. He knows he’s already in love and it makes him want to laugh. Classic Steve. The hushed conversation he had with Eddie on the phone in his room lights a fire inside him. 

“It’s a necklace, it’s not a ring Steve. I stopped waiting around for the ‘right’ time and now I’m tryna start a family with the love of my life. What sign are you looking for, big guy? She’s seen your darkest parts and she’s downstairs waiting for you.”

You looked too pretty in that dress not to be his.

You finally get the toy away from Bandit, throwing it far enough for his paws to slide in place for a second before he takes off after it. Too busy laughing at the way he shakes the toy from side to side when he finally gets it between his teeth, you don’t hear Steve come up behind you. The fresh spice of his cologne hitting your nose gives him away first, the big hands that grab at your waist to pull you against his chest, the second.

“Missed me?” He teases, pressing a kiss behind your ear that makes you shiver. He likes that he can do that.

“Not really, I was having a pretty good time with Bandit actually.” He can’t see your shit eating grin, but he knows it's there.

“Not even a little bit?” He presses with a smirk in his voice, his lips ghosting against the exposed skin of your shoulder. You can’t help but tilt your head, giving him more to kiss. 

“Maybe,” You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, lashes fluttering when there’s a gentle nip at the dip of your neck. “Maybe a little bit.”

Steve smiles against your skin, humming in approval at your admission keeping you close for a few more minutes, and you realize you’d be more than happy to just do this the rest of the day. 

“Before we head out, I uh - “ He clears his throat, going a little stiff against your back as he starts digging in his pocket, “I got you something.”

You feel the way his hands shake, and it makes you want to turn around but the grip on your hip only tightens to keep you in place. 

“It’s easier to give it to you like this.” He mumbles, giving you a reassuring squeeze, your heart thumps wildly in your chest. 

“Steve what are you -“ Your sentence dies on your tongue when you feel something dainty and cold wrap around your neck. Your fingers reach up instinctively and the tips of them meet the smoothness of a stone that dangles at the end of it. The necklace.

“I couldn’t help myself, I hope it’s o - you just said you liked it and -“ Steve’s a mess of nerves behind you while you look down, fingers toying with the stone, awestruck at the gesture.  “If you think it’s weird I can -“

Turning around you cut him off with your lips, tangerine gloss in the form of appreciation makes him smile into the kiss. You keep it short this time, pulling away no matter how much your body screams for more. You start to think you’ll never have enough. Is this what it’s like to be in love?

“Steve, I love it” You whisper rolling back on your heels, your fingers already obsessed with touching the stone as you look up at him through your lashes. “Thank you.” 

His cheeks turn to cherry blossoms, all the tense muscles in his shoulders relaxing, Eddie was right.

“Yeah?” He wants to hear you say it again, and he can tell by your grin and the glint in your eyes that you know he does too.

“Absolutely, I’m probably never going to take it off.” You giggle looking down in admiration again and it makes Steve feel like a million bucks. He never wants you to take it off either.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand as you walk up to the main gates of Wrigley Field, fingers intertwining like he doesn’t want to let go when he shows the security guard his work badge and you suppress the urge to grab it from him when you make it inside. The urge to see the picture lessened knowing that the chances of it actually being bad were slim to none.

The stadium is intimidating when it’s empty, your mind reeling when you think of what it’s going to be like in an hour when the stands are filled with screaming fans. Concession stand workers bustle around the two of you in preparation for the onslaught of sports goers. Summer hangs heavy in the air with the sun high and bright in the cloudless sky. It smells of fresh cut grass, pop corn, and hot dogs. The perfect day for a baseball game.

Your eyes grow wide when they land on the bright green field that looks even bigger than on TV, it’s the kind of green you know can’t be real with crisp white lines that lead to each of the bases. There’s a few players out practicing, they wave at Steve when they notice him. His fingers squeeze yours tighter when one of them smiles a little too friendly in your direction. The memory of you in his car on the way here admiring the necklace in the visor keeps his jealousy at bay. You were his.

“You gonna give me the grand tour or somethin’?” You ask with eyes unable to focus on anything in particular, still mesmerized by how big it all was while the two of you head in a pointed direction.

“Just grabbing something out of my office for Richard, and then I’ll show you around.” Steve winks and the gesture makes your knees weak. 

“Ooo I get to see your office?” You grin, bumping shoulders. It makes his cheeks push up.

“It’s nothin’ special, baby.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand, fingers curling around your hips to pull you into his side instead. Your heart skips a beat, looping your arms around his waist, still not used to his affection coming so effortlessly like he’s been doing this his whole life with you. 

It feels like a maze while he leads you through the stadium, twists and turns down long back hallways, tight lipped greetings every time someone walks by throwing him a ‘Steve’ with a nod of their head. Their curious eyes always land on you tucked under his arm. Who is that? Your palms sweat at the thought of how Steve was going to introduce you. The gift around your neck makes your mind wander.

It’s when you get to an elevator that you decide there’s definitely no way you’d be able to find your way out of here alone. More than confused when the back of it is all windows overlooking the opposite side of the field you had come in from. Steve laughs from behind you as if he can read your mind, big hands finding their way to the metal bar, caging you in with your back against his chest.

It takes you to the very top with a loud ding before it drops a little and the metal doors slide open. He doesn’t let you get too far before he takes your hand again to lead you down a hallway. The white walls are lined with awards, plaques, and framed Sports Illustrated covers filled with faces of different baseball players, some you recognize and some you don’t, as you make your way to the very end. You try not to make eye contact with the few men who have their doors crack half way open.

“Just gotta find the plans for next season really quick, then we’ll go see Eddie’s guy Antonio. If I don’t buy hot dogs from him specifically, I’ll never hear the end of it.” Steve rolls his eyes at the last part but you catch the hint of a smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he unlocks his office door, pushing it open to let you in.

“I’m startin’ to think Eddie might be your boyfriend. Were you talkin’ to him in your room earlier? Does Peach know?” You tease looking up at him as you brush past, and you’re not surprised when the smell of cedar hits your nose again. The faint hint of cigar smoke creeping in underneath. Of course his office smells like him. 

Steve’s eyes go wide, cheeks flushing pink when he realizes he wasn’t as quiet on the phone as he thought.

“I was just - I was just following up with him on something about my trip out there in a few days.” He stammers, making you giggle. You try not to think about the news of him leaving again so soon.

“Yeah, whatever you say, handsome.” You grin and it’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, the whites of his teeth showing in spite of himself.

“Ha ha, very funny.” He dead pans before making his way around his desk that just looks like a bigger version of the one in his house. An actual desktop replaces the sleek laptop. He clicks the mouse harshly before his long fingers work the keyboard.

It’s hard to tear your attention away from him but your curiosity gets the best of you. His office is huge, you think. Maybe the size of your whole apartment kinda huge, and it's just as nice as you thought it would be.

A giant window that overlooks the entire field takes up one whole wall, walking over you realize you’re so far back that it makes the grown men out there look small. Your chest tightens when you see how high up you are. The rest of the walls are decorated with similar pictures like his office at home, group shots of work retreats, team building dinners, shaking hands with people you’re sure are important in the sports world and he looks handsome in all of them. 

There’s a baseball bat propped in the corner, and the image of him on his bluetooth swinging it around in his office while making a deal, makes a home inside your head and the dough of your thighs press. Glancing back over your shoulder at him, he’s too lost in whatever he’s searching for in his emails to notice the smirk on your face, his bright eyes squinting at the screen.

It’s heavier than expected when you grab it, the weight of it making it feel like a weapon in your hands. You do your best to remember what you’ve seen a few times on TV as you try to grip it how a real player would, before giving it a sloppy swing, your wrists almost giving out on the curve.

“Honey, you’re holding it all wrong.” You can hear the way he tries to suppress his laugh, the sound of his shoes hitting the carpet telling you he’s coming to assist. 

“Oh yeah, Mr. Big League?” Regripping the wood again, you try your best to ignore him when he stops behind you, determined to do it without him.

“These nicknames, you need to stop. They aren’t very good.” He snorts, referring to the previous classic ‘Mr. Sports’. 

That’s when he gets it. The first eye roll of the date. He thinks the first is always his favorite. 

“I think it was the nicknames that got me the second date.” Grinning like an idiot you take another terrible swing.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna break your wrist.” The laugh he was trying to hide earlier comes out when his arms wrap around you from behind, big hands over yours holding the bat steady and it makes you forget how to breathe for a second.

Steve’s arms cage you in and it feels like he’s everywhere. The mint on his breath still smells fresh when the side of his face presses against the top of your head, hot breath fanning across your cheek. The muscles in his stomach twitch against your back, while the ones in his arms tense, squeezing you close as his fingers move over yours helping you tighten your hold. You can barely see your hand underneath his and your stomach flips at the sight. 

He’s talking but you can’t focus on the words he’s saying, not when you can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs from the corner of your eye. The stubble on his jaw rubs against your temple as he tries to explain the proper stance on deaf ears. Pine form his body wash lingers on his skin, he overwhelms your senses but all you want is more. You can feel it in the way your body leans into him, the curve of your ass shameless against his denim.

“Okay, so that’s the grip. Now your stance, it’s all wrong.” His mouth is closer to your ear, lips ghosting along the shell of it demanding your attention. It’s as if he knows he doesn’t have any of it and all of it at once and you swear he gets closer, a subtle grind of his own hips in response to yours.

“I’m listening,” you say breathlessly. It gives you away, making his lips curve up into a smirk.

“I’m sure you are, baby.” The tip of his nose nudges behind your ear, while his fingers make a path down your arms, the pads of them dragging gently against your heated skin, callouses leaving goosebumps after them. Your breath catches before they curve around your sides, squeezing at where the dip of your hips meets the top of your thighs.

“Now, you wanna push back your hips a little.” His strong hold moves your body with ease, making your ass press hard against him and you feel that part of his body for the first time. His heart is beating so fast you can feel it. Thump, thump, thump.

“Like this?” you ask, innocence dripping from your tone. When you grind against him with more pressure you can feel just how big he really is – especially as his jeans begin to tighten. 

“Fuck - baby.” It comes out a little desperate, like he’s warning you but his hold only tightens keeping you in place. “Yeah, just like that.”

It’s his hips that roll this time, and it makes your eyes hit the back of your head. Your fingers threaten to come loose around the bat, too distracted by the man behind you. Especially when his lips ghost a path up the side of your neck, hot and wet.

“I think it’d be easier if I could have something to lean on, you know? I just really wanna teach you right.” He nips at your earlobe and it makes you shiver, pressing yourself back against him hard enough to feel the zipper of his jeans between the fat of your ass cheeks.

“You’re the professional, who am I to say no to you?” You knew you were laying it on thick, but the groan it earns makes you swallow your pride with a press of your thighs.

You squeal when he yanks you back, dropping the baseball bat to the ground with a low thud. Your giggles fill the usually quiet office and he wishes he could have you here all the time. He takes a couple long strides backwards before he hits the front of his desk, pulling you onto his lap as he sits on top of it. His hands get greedy when they reach around to grab at the tops of your thighs, the material of your dress bunching up underneath them, revealing more new skin to him. He wonders if you can feel just how hard you already have him.

“Despite not watching, like, any sports, something tells me this can’t be right, Steve.” You smirk, another giggle slipping out when you feel his smile against your neck.

“Like you would know.” He scoffs, his hands find their way back to your hips, encouraging another roll from them. The little gasp he earns makes him twitch in his pants. “Yeah?”

You nod with a ‘mmhmm’, eyes closing when he does it again. Tangerine on your tongue when you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, your hands finding a home on the tops of his thighs. You grind against him like you mean it, like you’re not playing along with whatever game this was before. 

“God, - shit, baby, this dress. This fuckin’ dress. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” His lips get sloppy on your neck, tongue and teeth nipping on sensitive stubble rubbed skin. 

Knock, knock, knock 

You both jump at the same time, hearts hammering in your chests. The feeling of being close still makes your body buzz at high frequencies as you try to recover from the last five minutes. 

“Steve?” The familiar voice is muffled behind the closed door. 

You watch Steve readjust his pants to try and hide the obvious, a nervous hand running through his hair before he answers. You make him feel like a fucking teenager.

“Hey Richard,” The husk from Steve’s voice is gone as he looks at you to make sure you’re ready for company.

Tugging the hem of your dress down, you pull the straps back onto your shoulders giving him a quick nod, cheeks burning and underwear a mess. 

“Come on in.”

Richard strikes again.

Steve takes one last look at you, dark eyes that eat you alive while his tongue rolls in against the inside of his cheek. Eyebrows marry together in a mixture of annoyance and lust when he realizes just how close he’d gotten to everything he wants. 

The door creaks and it wouldn’t be so loud if it wasn’t so quiet. A tentative Richard  steps into the room, brown eyes looking back and forth and you wonder if he can tell he interrupted something. You try to control your breathing, turning towards the window after you give him a friendly smile to try and hide the way your chest heaves.

You hate Richard.

“So we meet again.” He jokes trying to break the ice. Yeah, he knows.

Steve gives him a tight lipped smile pushing himself off the desk with another hand through his hair, the soft thuds of his shoes filling the beat of silence as he walks back behind his desk.

“I was just finishing printing out those spreadsheets for you.” Steve clears his throat and it makes your lips twitch, your eyes getting lost in the green field below you. 

You can’t bring yourself to face his boss like this, again.

“Great! I’ll take them now. I was just coming up here to see if you and your lady were coming to the pre-game drinks at The Barrel Room downstairs, some of the guys wanna run some things by you.” You can hear Richard scratch the back of his neck when Steve doesn’t answer immediately.

Steve wants you alone. Now.

“You know I hate to mix business with games, but they really wanna meet the guy behind the marketing.” He adds, telling Steve it’s really not an option to say anything other than ‘yes’.

“Sure, sure. The game doesn’t start for another hour anyway.” Steve gives, and you meet his eyes from over your shoulder with a small smile that says it’s okay.

Despite the no smoking sign, the smell of cigars linger on most of the men in the members only bar under the field. Your summer dress feels out of place in a room full of business men dressed in their expensive casual attire. Their expensive cologne mixes with the sting of whiskey that’s over a sphere of ice in most of their glasses. Lit by a dimmed chandelier, small TV’s line the space over the bar with live feeds of the field and ESPN. The nicest sports bar you’ve ever seen.

Steve keeps a tight hold on your hand when he orders you both glasses of champagne and a bottle to be delivered to the suite, winking at you when he picks the sweet option.  

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t think I’d be doing anything for work today.” He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you to his side. His soft lips kiss your temple as a second apology.

“It’s fine, it’s actually kinda hot seeing you like this.” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you love the way it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Oh yeah?” He grins, the green in his eyes threaten to turn black when his hand slides a little lower, the tips of his fingers touching just above the curve of your ass. They twitch with the urge to squeeze. 

“Yeah.” It’s quiet, just for him to hear, dripping honey like in his office. You turn your  body towards him, pressing yourself closer with a palm running up his chest, fingers playing with buttons when you bite your bottom lip into a smile.

The low groan you get vibrates from his chest, his hand daring to go a little lower, pulling you even closer.

Clink, clink

The bartender slides the two flutes over, popping you both out of your bubble right as someone clears their throat behind you.

“Steve, they're over there in the corner. They just need maybe ten minutes of your time and then I’ll get out of your hair.” Richard’s voice breaks you two apart but Steve still keeps a hand on the small of your back as he hands your glass over, the popping and fizzing of the bubbles inside making it shimmer rose gold in the low light. 

“Sure, I’ll follow you.” He takes a sip before bringing his eyes back to yours, the blunt ends of his nails scratch lightly against your back, giving you his undivided attention. “You gonna be okay for a little bit?” 

“I’m a big girl, handsome.” You smirk around the edge of your glass, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when he looks at you like that.

“I know you are, baby.” The smile that takes over his face knocks the air out of your lungs. Steve presses a kiss to your forehead before he follows Richard to the two men across the room who are looking eager to meet the man you can’t get enough of.

Ten minutes turns to twenty and another glass of champagne, your eyes meeting Steve’s every so often across the room in a silent apology. This second glass is enough to make your skin come alive, fingertips buzzing and nerves melting. The bubbles tickle your lips when you take another sip, the strap of your dress falling down your shoulder at the same time. 

Licking your lips, the sweetness of your gloss mixes perfectly with the fruity hints of the champagne and it makes you give a quiet ‘mmm!’ when it hits your taste buds. Setting your drink down, you can feel him staring as you fix your dress. Your fingers wrap around the soft material, and you dare to meet his eyes again. The green forest you’re so used to getting lost in is replaced by the kind of darkness you’ve only seen in the night sky, the kind where the moon hides the stars in its depths. The men surrounding him are talking but he’s not paying attention, his sole focus is on you.

The two glasses of champagne makes you feel bold. Holding his stare, you move slowly when you pull it back to its home on the top of your shoulder. Soft fingertips drag across your skin, leaving the kind of goosebumps he usually gets and it makes his jaw clench. He needed to get out of here. 

He knocks back the rest of his glass, saying something to the men that have stolen enough of his time from you. He finally excuses himself with a few strong handshakes and that million dollar smile. The one that always makes your thighs press. Running a hand through his hair as he pushes through the crowded bar, his eyes stay locked on yours, heavy lidded and hungry and it makes your stomach do flips.

“Ready to pay attention to me?” You pretend to pout when you turn around to face him. When you lean back on your elbows he can’t help but take in everything you’re offering him. 

Big hands grab at your waist, pulling you against his chest. He’s got a lopsided salt and pepper grin when he dips his head down to skim his nose along your jaw before his lips stop right at your ear. They twitch when he feels the way it makes you shiver.

“More than you know, baby.”

The suite is somehow even nicer than you’d imagined it’d be, the kind of nice that makes you giggle when you take it all in. Flat screen TV’s hang from two separate places on the exposed brick walls. The bottle of champagne he’d ordered earlier sits chilled in a bucket on the marble countertop in the small kitchen with two glasses. The stainless steel fridge that you’re sure is fully stocked shines in the bright, low hanging lights. 

The open concept leads to a living room area, a dark gray leather couch sitting in the middle looking way too comfortable for something like this. It faces a giant window that overlooks first base, high enough in the stadium for no one to be around you and gives out to a balcony with four seats to watch the game outside. 

“Jesus Christ.” You laugh wandering around the new space, fingertips touching the cool leather of the couch as you look at one of the TV’s that hang over it. A crystal clear image of the game getting ready to start just outside. The empty stands were completely filled while you were busy in the boys club downstairs. 

“Yeah, it’s a little ridiculous.” Steve chuckles, the loud pop of the champagne being opened echoes in the big space. “I never watch games in the suites. Me and Ed are always in the stands. I was actually a little surprised when Richard offered it.”

Maybe Richard wasn’t that bad.

You can hear the way the bubbles fizz when he pours you each a glass, neither of you speaking. The realization you were finally alone hangs thick in the air. No more interruptions. The crowd cheers outside when the announcer booms through the speakers that line the outside of the field. The sounds of the game starting cuts through the tension like a knife. Steve clears his throat behind you, making you jump a little. 

“Sorry, honey,” He smiles, trying not to laugh as he hands you a glass.

“Champagne and hot dogs? Steve, I think you’re trying to get me to fall in love with you,” you say,  a part of you that feels like it’s already too late. You are in love with him.

“I still can’t believe you asked Antonio for ketchup, shoulda taken a picture of his face.” Steve snorts, cheeks turning pink at your words. 

“Normal people eat their hot dogs with ketchup, Steve. I’ll ask for ketchup at every hot dog establishment in this city. I don’t care.” You roll your eyes at him for the second time today, and he thinks he’ll get a lot more of those by the end of the night as you keep sipping your sweet drink. 

“I’ll make sure not to be there when you do.” Steve winks smiling over the edge of his glass and it makes you just as flustered as the first time.

“Whatever, it’s a stupid.” You mumble turning back towards the window because looking at him was becoming too much you– fingers twitching to touch him, your lips pouting just to kiss him.

You set your drink down on the coffee table, the buzz from before coming back when the alcohol breaks through the food you had on your way up here. The nerves in your stomach become a mess as you walk up to the thick glass. The game he was supposed to teach you was already in full swing below. The tight baseball uniforms have you imagining what Steve would’ve looked like iand the thought is enough to make the softness of your thighs meet. 

Steve sets his glass down next to yours, licking his lips as he gets to take in the way your dress wraps around your curves. You can feel the heat of his stare on you and it makes you shiver, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. You try to focus on the game and not the way he comes up behind you. He smells like whiskey and summer, the fruity notes from the champagne coming out in the breath that fans down your neck in a mixture of Steve.

“Speaking of rules.” The husk in his voice is back, and the tip of his nose nudges behind your ear. He can’t see the way it makes your eyes hit the back of your head, but he can hear the way it makes your breath catch as his lips brush that sensitive spot on your neck. 

“Yeah, some teacher you are. The game, the-“ you stutter when his hands find their way to your hips, squeezing before they move down, long fingers spreading wide over your thighs. “The game’s already started.” You manage to breathe out, giving into him pulls you against him.

He’s already hard again, and he’s barely touched you. The feeling of your body, with only the thin material of your dress keeping his hands from what’s underneath, sends his brain into orbit, especially when he feels the slow grind of your hips searching for more.

“You actually gonna listen to me?” Steve asks with lips so close to your ear that it almost makes you whimper. All you can do is nod, and he relishes in the way your eyelids get heavy when he hums ‘hmm?’ to ask you again. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll listen.” You can’t find it yourself to care how you sound a little desperate.

One hand stays on the curve of your hip, while the tips of his fingers on the other trace over the goosebumps already blooming on the exposed skin of your thigh. They catch the bottom hem of your dress, dragging the soft material up with them. Wet lips leave sloppy kisses along your neck, smiling against the curve of it when he feels the way you spread for him, silently granting him permission. 

“So, the umpire is the guy crouched behind the hitter,” He whispers, as he keeps moving up at a pace so slow it almost makes you stomp your feet, tempted to throw a fit to make him touch you. “He keeps track of the pitches, the swings and misses. Three strikes, you’re always out.”

He reaches the lace edges of your panties, and it makes him twitch in his pants. How dare you?

“Fuck - baby.” He dips a finger underneath, tugging the material lightly before letting it snap back against your hip. “You wear these for me?”

“Maybe.”  You smirk, arching your back so your ass rubs against him in a way that makes his grip on your hip turn bruising. He exhales a deep breath through his nose to try and regain control.   

“Maybe?” He tsks while the hand under your dress gets bolder, the pads of his fingers brushing over the heat between your legs, groaning when he feels the way you’re already soaked through them. “This doesn’t feel like a maybe.” 

“I’m missing the game because -“ You gasp when he dares to push them to the side, a thick middle finger swiping through your folds, moaning at how you feel like silk.. 

“Because?” He practically purrs as he circles your bundle of nerves with a pointed pressure, like he already knows just what to do to make you fall apart.

He feels even bigger pressing hard against your ass like this. Your hips roll to meet the motions of his finger, offering him a little relief when his hips meet yours at the same pace. 

“You’re -you’re not teaching me.” Your jaw goes slack when another finger starts circling your entrance, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“Well, you’re not looking.” He’s smug, especially when he dares to push the tip of his finger in just enough to stretch you out, earning a gasp.

The crack of the bat meeting the ball makes your eyes snap open. The loud cheer of the crowd is enough to make the ground shake underneath you. Steve uses the distraction as his opening to slide the first two knuckles of his finger inside you. Your hand comes down to wrap around his wrist, a small whine escaping you when he pushes it all the way in. He braces himself against the window when your hips start to roll, helping him work you open. Every movement of his hand brings you closer against him to meet in the best kind of friction. 

“See, your eyes are closed, honey.” You can feel his grin when he nips at your jaw, the middle finger on your clit being replaced with the pad of his thumb when he has it join in stretching you more for him. 

Opening your eyes is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, especially when he already has you feeling so full with just two of his fingers. They flutter open with every ounce of your strength you have left, and he hums in approval when he sees them again.

“Good girl.” His praise makes you clench around him and he’ll never forget it as he starts littering kisses along your shoulders, the strap of your dress falling down again. “Now he didn’t get a home run, but the bases are loaded. Do you know what that means?” 

The deep baritone in the way he’s talking to you makes it even easier for his fingers to keep up their pace, coating them in even more slick when it vibrates against your ear. 

“No- oohhh,” Moaning when his thumb adds the kind of pressure that threatens to make your knees buckle. He grinds himself against you with a little more force, never this close to cumming in his pants since high school.

He grunts, his cool facade breaking when you meet his hips, circling slow when you feel him push between your ass cheeks again. 

“It’s when the hitting team has a member - god, baby, you feel that? So fucking wet.” He pauses so he can hear the mess you're making of his hand. 

“There’s a player on every base, so if he can hit it far enough and they can all make it to home base, they’ll gain the lead -  You’re so damn tight.” Steve doesn’t know if he can even do what he’s asking of you anymore, too lost in the feeling of the velvet of your walls wrapped around his fingers and what it’s going to feel like when he finally gets to be inside of you.

All you do is nod, the coil in your stomach tightening in a way you’ve never felt before. Your grip on his wrist tightens, and the muscles tense as he keeps working you to the edge. The thrust of his hips against you becomes shameless as he chases his own end.

Another loud crack of a bat catches your attention, you can barely see the baseball as it soars far over the field. Bouncing off of the back wall when no one catches it, the players on their respective bases start making a run for it, making the crowd go wild.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty?” He asks leaving open mouth kisses anywhere he can reach, teeth nipping at sensitive skin while his fingers curl, the tips of them hitting the spot that makes you see white. Your eyes catch the silver around your neck in the reflection of the window and it's enough to make you give in.

“Ohmygod, Steve - fuck, yes, yes, daddy, yes.” 

He doesn’t know if it’s how your voice raises a pitch when you call him daddy or if it’s the way you reach behind him shamelessly trying to work him through his jeans, but it’s enough for his own body to go rigid. He moans loud enough to drown out the crowd, and you feel the warmth of his release under your palm. Your own washes over you hard enough to make your legs shake. You clench around his fingers that struggle to keep up their pace, but still relentless in their mission to keep you falling apart for him. You give him another squeeze through his pants and it makes him whine overstimulated against your neck.

The sound of the sports broadcasters vibrates from the speakers of the TV, signaling the switching of teams with the Cubs in the lead for the first inning. When Steve can finally see straight, the realization of what just happened makes his cheeks tinge the darkest shade of red. You made him cum his fucking pants. The day of touching and teasing took just as much of a toll on him as it did you. Your walls still flutter with every twitch of his fingers still buried inside of your heat, and he swears his dick threatens to get hard again.

He’s gentle when he pulls himself out of you, pressing soft kisses with sweet words against your cheek when you whimper a little at the feeling of being empty again.

“How’s my tough girl?” He whispers nose nudging your cheek as he puts your underwear back the way he found it, tugging down the bottom of your dress before turning you around to finally face him.

Your body still buzzes like a live wire, no one making you cum that hard from just their fingers before. The men your age always want to move so quickly. Steve’s eyes are still glazed over with a post orgasm glow, cheeks flushed, hair mused and all you wanted to do was kiss him.

“Feeling like an expert in baseball.” You giggle, and it makes him throw his head back giving you one of those deep bellied laughs you love so much.

You don’t wait anymore, pushing up on your toes -  your lips meet his in an explosion of things you want to say but can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t hesitate to meet with the same eagerness, pushing you up against the window with a big hand coming up to your cheek, his thumb coaxing you open with a pull on your chin.

That feeling stayed with you the rest of the day, the two of you attempting to watch the game in between kisses cuddled on the couch and teaching of rules that you claimed were stupid just to get him to scoff. It swelled in your chest the whole car ride home, your fingers fiddling with the stone dangling from your neck and his hand finding a home on the top of your thigh.

You almost let it spill when he walked you to your door, kissing you stupid in your narrow hallway despite the sticky thick humidity. He watches the way you silently battle with the urge to invite him in, and despite everything inside of him wanting to just get lost in you for the rest of the night, he couldn’t have you like that once and leave. So he keeps kissing you by your door until sweat drips from your pores and your dress gets rucked up to your hips again. Promising you his time when he gets back, eyes gleaming with sincerity with his forehead against yours.

Yeah, you were in love with Steve Harrington.

——————————————————��————

beta’d by @chechelia thank you ily ♥️

dividers by @chechelia

🌇 -> chapter ten

[epwritten]

Winter Falls ~ l.f

"Winter falls, the snow falls purer than anything"

Description: You work as the babysitter of Felix's twins. There's a snowstorm warning for the weekend and you have to stay at the Lee house overnight

Word Count: 3K.

Author's note: Praying for Felix 🥺 I'm so so glad he was showered with love at the last fanmeeting, but it still makes me so sad. Hopefully all the love he's received overcomes the pain.

In honor of the heavy 40cm snowstorm that has been happening this weekend (I live in Canada, what else is new?) I had this little one shot in my head.

Additional note: Pretty fluffy :) Your typical babysitter/ single-dad trope but it doesn't go that far! This is only a oneshot, I don't really see a part 2. 2nd POV ('you' format, you get the drill)

Oh! I also didn't really know how to end it, but didn't want this to reach 4K words, so the ending's kind of abrupt? I apologize 😔

Thank you for reading! I'm working on a longer one shot so this is just something to hold on to for the time being <3

We love you Felix, get well soon 🤍

The sound of an alert rang through your phone. With one eye on the 5 year old twins you babysat, you slowly got up from the carpeted floor and walked over to where your phone was placed on the living room table. You looked down on the notification.

'Severe Winter Storm warning in effect this weekend. Total snowfall accumulations of 25 to 40cm beginning this afternoon Saturday and ending Sunday evening. The heaviest snow is expected Sunday morning'.

You paused, reading that your city would be affected with the snow storm as well. It wasn't like you weren't used to snow storms, where you lived, it certainly was a snowy blissful area. However, you were still at work and wondered what this sudden alert meant for you.

"Hey, that's mine! Give it back!"

The voice of the Lee twins made you snap out of your daydream. Aera, cute with freckles and pigtails had her eyebrows furrowed with instant anger as she pulled at her stuffed teddy bear. Kuho, her brother, equally cute with boba eyes pouted as his eyes started to water.

"I want it!"

"Hey, hey, hey," You intervened, going back to the floor to sit with them. "What did we talk about with sharing?"

"I was playing with Peanut Butter and Kuho took it from me!" Aera cried out.

"But she..." Kuho took a breath. "She doesn't want to share with me!" He wailed.

"Now Kuho....you can't just take what you want. If you want to play with Peanut Butter, you have to ask, okay?"

You reached over and wiped Kuho's tears and then turned to Aera.

"Did you want to share with Kuho?"

Aera paused, her bottom lip sticking out in thought. "Okay..."

You smiled as you saw Aera timidly hand the stuffed bear. The moment was soft when she saw the exchange, their faces suddenly changing as they collaborated on making Peanut Butter dance and jump. You adored these two, it was more than just a job for you. The little family were content and you were grateful you were a part of it somehow.

Your phone now rang and you made a mental note to change the settings from ring to vibrate at least for disturbing the moment. But your heart picked up once you saw the caller ID.

Felix Lee.

Felix Lee was a well-known successful man. He worked as a creation designer for Louis Vuitton. At 25, which was your age as well, he managed to successfully mind the biggest of fashion corporations while balancing being an ambassador as well. But taking away all that, he was a good man. Sweet, humble, measured, and family-oriented.

His kids were not planned, but he never regretted that night at 20, when his then girlfriend told him she was pregnant. He always wanted a family, even if things were rushed. The years leading up to where he was now, was never easy. There were struggles and questioning, relationships between his immediate family that broke (as well as the mother of his children not wanting custody at all), but he remained true to his loyalty for his twins.

You never viewed him with judgment, as you were his age and knew that it could happen to anyone. You also admired Felix because all that you've seen was testaments to how great of a father he was and how he managed to design the life he wanted. They had a great house, he was loved all around and successful.

In the process, you didn't want to become a baby-sitting cliché, but you had to be careful around him. There were feelings you had, and despite being the same age, he was still your boss. You didn't want to jeopardize anything.

You took a deep breath, and then picked up the phone. "Hello?"

Felix said your name, his deep voice content over the line. "Hey, how are you?"

"I'm good, and you?"

"Doing just fine, thank you. The kiddos are good?" Felix asked.

You smiled. "Couldn't be cuter if they tried."

Felix chuckled softly. "As long as they're not causing you that much of a headache."

You glanced over at the two, completely immersed in a dress up game with Peanut Butter. You smiled at their little minds planning how to design. They definitely watched their father from time to time, and it was endearing to you.

"Nope. They're currently designing for a client. Peanut Butter, to be exact."

"Oh-" Felix burst into laughter which made you laugh along with him.

"That's cute. Sounds like I might just hire them, huh? Anyways...I wanted to call you about the snowstorm. It's already starting to snow where I am, so the office is letting us go for the day. I should be back at home in about an hour or so. "

You nodded, your heart skipping when realizing Felix was coming home sooner than later. You looked over at the window, your eyes seeing the blizzard already starting to form.

"Yeah, it's starting to snow hard over here as well. The drive back home will be intense." You said with a dry chuckle, trying to imagine the level of patience and safety you would need to manage it.

"Well...that's partially why I called. The roads are so bad already. was wondering if you wanted to stay for the night for safety measures."

"Pick anything from my closet to wear tonight."

You blinked, a rush of nerves coursing through your body. You were hesitant. That would be mean stepping into THE Felix Lee's room (an action you haven't done at all) and picking something from him (again, something you've never done before).

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Of course. It'll be uncomfortable sleeping in jeans. I'll make the guest bed and everything for you once I arrive." Felix sounded sure, and you knew that there was no other option.

The two of talked about more, confirming details before he hung up. You played with the twins once more, gathering more stuffed animals to create a fashion show.

When an hour and a few minutes past, you heard the door click open.

"Who's there?" Kuho asked, his big eyes darting from you to the door. You smiled. Of course, the twins didn't expect for Felix to come back so soon, as it was only 4:30pm and he would usually come back at 7:30.

"I don't know, who is that?" You asked, feigning shock.

The twins stayed by your side, holding on to you as they eyed the person now coming in.

Dressed in a long black coat over black jeans and a black turtle neck, Felix looked elegant, just as he usually did when returning from work. He always appeared majestic or expensive, his presence resembling that of a nightly prince. You tried not to gaze in such awe or reduce the redness in your face you felt when you saw him suddenly gasp and fall on his knees, his arms outstretched.

"Appa!"

Aera and Kuho's tiny frames ran over to Felix, nearly toppling over and tackling him in a bear hug. Your heart swelled at the sight, and you started to clean up the little play area as much as you could, now aware that by Felix being here, the twins' attention wouldn't be on the toys lying about.

Felix closed his eyes as he squeezed them both. "I missed you, did you think of me today?"

"Yes!" The twins chorused in unison.

"You have snow on your hair." Aera said, running her hand through Felix's black hair. Felix smiled at her adoringly.

"Ah, I have snow?"

"Yes, I'll take it out for you."

Felix gasped, his mouth widening in a smile.

"You'll take it out for me? Aww thank you, baby."

You smiled, wishing to document the moment. You never knew how Felix did it, after long and hard hours at his job, he still managed to maintain and match the same energy that his 5 year-olds carried.

After a bit, Felix was trying to walk forward with Kuho and Aera hugging his legs like koala bears to a tree. The sound of the kids youthful laughter meshed with Felix's laughter was music to your ears.

"Aera, Kuho, let Appa take his shoes off!" You said, though you knew it wouldn't do anything. Once the twins saw their father, they were too attached.

The twins were unmoved, glued to Felix and he giggled in response. He squatted down somehow, and said something to them in Korean which cause them to suddenly dash away, running across the hallway to meet you in the kitchen. You didn't know what he said exactly, but they were they helping you clean up. You cast a smile over at Felix who flashed a smile as he took off his coat.

"How was work?" You called.

Felix paused, opening the closet to hang up his coat. "It was good, yeah. A bit of an overload at the start, but overall, it was good." He smiled.

"It's really snowing out there." Felix chuckled.

You scowled at the window. "I know. Are you sure about me staying here for the night?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Felix smiled, closing the closet. "I'm just going to get changed and then I'll get started on dinner?"

"You don't have to do that, I can make dinner." You tried to impose.

"This is my way of thanking you for staying here overtime." Felix shot you such a beautiful smile that warmed your heart before headed to the staircase. Kuho followed him, but it was normal of him to never let Felix be by his side. Felix stopped by the end of the stairs, laughed and picked Kuho up before they both went upstairs, leaving you with Aera.

Her little eyes looked alarmed at the sudden change and she looked at the staircase.

"Appa...?"

"He just went to change. He'll be back so soon, okay?" You said, and then took the last of the toys that were on the carpet. "Thank you so much for helping me clean up Aera, you're my big helper." You shared your gratitude.

Aera wanted to watch Bluey and so you turned on the TV, getting it all set up. It didn't take long for little steps to run down the stairs and you heard Kuho scream in excitement. The kids loved Bluey and you even found it refreshing as you were able to organize and sort through the toys cabinet. Though it didn't really matter, the Lee twins would go through it again, but you wanted to help out somehow.

Felix did come down a little later, his change from a the earlier darkened attire to a more reserved white crewneck over black fleece pants. His glasses that were on beforehand was off and hair messy like he ran fingers through it. He looked beautiful, you thought. Effortlessly relaxed but still carrying poise.

He went straight to the kitchen. Though you wanted to help him, he didn't allow you to. You enjoyed the scene, however, though it caused your mind a panic when you had a delusional flash of what marrying Felix would look like. A calm afternoon like this, where Felix was cooking in the kitchen, and you sat on the living room carpet with the twins in your lap, engrossed in the TV.

You needed to focus. You watched Felix's kids, you didn't have kids with him.

Later on, the four of you had dinner. Over the table, you watched as Felix sat immersed as Aera and Kuho went on about their favorite Bluey characters. There was so much adoration and love from his eyes, and pride in his smile. The two of you bounced questions to Aera and Kuho back and forth and snuck smiles at each other whenever their voices rose to talk about the climax of the episode.

The sky grew dark but the snow kept on falling. It was now 7, the time when you would finish and go home, but the snow and wind were harsh. As you cleaned the dishes, you shook your head. There was no way you would be going back in this weather. Absolutely no way.

"Okay, we're gonna change into our pajamas, and we can play one more game, and then we'll get ready for bed, right?" You heard Felix's voice from the living room.

"Can we build a blanket fort?" Kuho's little voice piped out.

"If there's time, little man. Let's go upstairs." Felix said. He repeated it this time in Korean and you smiled at their response. You liked seeing how he would speak both English and Korean to his kids. He once told you that he wished he had more of that encouragement to speak Korean growing up, instead of just answering in English all the time, and had wanted for his kids to follow in the same.

The living room was silent as you heard the voices fade upstairs. With all the dishes done, you sat in the living room, your eyes averted to the window. The snow was beautiful and pure. But the wind was picking up so much, as you heard its howl from indoors. It caused you to worry.

After a few minutes Aera and Kuho came running back downstairs wearing their pajamas. Aera wore red pajamas with kittens on it, and Kuho wore blue pajamas with puppies on them. Aera ran over to you, wrapping her hands around her legs.

"Look at my jammies!"

"Those are beautiful jammies, Aera." You smiled.

"Where are your jammies? Appa told us that you're staying with us until tomorrow." Kuho said.

You paused, turning to look over at Felix who stood by the end of the staircase. He laughed, clapping his hands as the shade of red colored his face.

"Well...I have some jammies..." Your voice trailed off in hesitance, your face suddenly hot too.

Felix nodded. "Just go to my closet. Pick anything you want, okay? It's the first door to your left." He said, walking over to the couch.

You nodded. "Okay. I'll just...grab something...um..thank you." You said shyly.

You went up the stairs, your heart pounding. You were going to Felix's room. Of course, you weren't going to snoop or anything like that, but it was still intimidating. When you stepped in, it was like you expected. Simple, but a huge room. The walls were a deep blue, curtains grey. The closet to your right seemed endless and you slowly walked over. As soon as you opened the doors, your heart skipped a beat. Your eyes scanned the articles that Felix would design, pieces you've seen on magazines or fashion shows, and clothing you've witnessed Felix wear around the house.

You walked over to the left side. Felix had seemed to organize his closet so that all of his home clothes were on the left, and work and outing clothes were to the right. You didn't care for anything fashionable, as these would be clothes you would sleep in. But that sentence alone was something.

In what universe did sleeping in Felix's clothes happen?

You stared at the inside of the closet for a long time before you took a step forward, pulling out an arm sleeve of an oversized soft pastel pink hoodie before pulling it out. Then you found a pair of black sweatpants neatly folded in the drawer. You went to the washroom, half-terrified, half-intrigued.

You changed, folding your own clothes and then looked at yourself in the mirror. The clothes were a bit oversized for you, but the cotton material was comfortable. Plus, the scent of Felix was on your skin. You tried to will yourself to calm down seeing you in the reflection, but it was more of a challenge.

But you had to calm down. He was downstairs.

You took a deep breath and then walked down the stairs, hand on the railing. You could hear Felix giving instructions and could hear the giggles of the twins. They were making the fort no doubt.

But when you reached the end of the stairs, the noise died down doubling to nothing.

"Oooh! You're wearing Appa's clothes!" Aera shrieked.

You had to chuckle at the outburst, your eyes now averting to Felix. He carried a soft smile, but his eyes were on you staring gazing with a certain look you wished to depict.

"I..." You looked down at the outfit, now feeling self-conscious you were wearing it in front of the owner.

"Is this okay? I didn't want to-"

Felix shook his head, smiling. "Of course. You look-"

"You look comfy! Like a snow princess!" Aera interrupted.

Felix smiled. "Come on, snow princess. We're building a fort." His eyes twinkled and your heart did a flip at the pet name.

You went over to the family and joined them, sharing laughter over the night. These certain activities felt domestic, and you willed your heart to calm down. It was just hard because in another life you could see this happening. Everything about this night was so sweet.

"Okay..." Felix muttered as he secured the pole. "Aera, Kuhi-ah, can you help me with the blanket?"

You grinned, excitement bubbling over you. You were happy that they were letting you in on this family tradition of theirs. For the first time ever, staying overnight at a job never felt this nice.

"And we're done!" Felix declared, putting the blanket on top.

"Yay! Let's go in! Let's go in!" Aera cheered.

"Let's go in! Let's go in!" Kuho echoed.

Felix looked over at you, pointing to the fort. "Can you get the candles?"

You nodded. "Of course!" You said with a smile. You rushed over to the kitchen. You knew that Felix loved candles and had some stashed by the cabinets. You debated scents, but finally grabbed one that you thought was appropriate for the setting you were in: Winter Falls.

When you came back, you saw the lights closed and you went back to the fort, joining Felix, Aera and Kuho under the tarp.

"Okay, we're going to light this candle..." You said excitedly.

"Can I do it?" Aera asked.

Felix chuckled, pulling her into his lap before she waddled over to you. "No, not now, baby. You can just watch, okay?" He said, kissing her forehead.

"And then we're going to read the book?" Aera asked, leaning back on Felix. You shot a curious look in their direction, just as Felix took out a book from the floor next to him. He showed you and you smiled at the book. It was a bedtime story they loved hearing you read before they went to sleep.

You smiled, making sure you were away from the twins and then lit the candle. You set it down carefully on the coffee table in front of you all and then sat next to Felix, Kuho now sitting on your lap. You tried not to melt thinking of how intimate this sight looked for a person on the outside looking in.

"Okay, let's read." Felix said. He then looked at you. "Did you want to read?"

You smiled. "You can read if you want." You passed the privilege to him.

"I want both of you to read!" Kuho suddenly exclaimed, tilting his head to look at you.

You paused. "Oh. Well-"

Yet Felix just chuckled as he placed the book over Aera so he could hold it properly. "We'll read it together. I take one page you take another."

You smiled, your heart fluttering as you looked at the pages. "Okay."

"Alright. This is called 'A Great Big Cuddle Before You Say..." Felix's voice trailed off as he looked at Aera and Kuho, waiting for them to yell out the end of the title.

"GOODNIGHT!"

You laughed along with Felix.

"Good job!" You cheered.

Felix cleared his throat. "My parents want me to go to bed, close my eyes and rest my head. But before they get to see the sight, here's a great big cuddle before you say..."

"GOODNIGHT!"

You and Felix laughed again at the participation, and he scooted closer to you, moving the book across Aera's lap to Kuho's so that you could read the next page.

"They tell me to go brush my teeth, to clean up my toys nice and neat. But before they get to see the sight, here's a great big cuddle before you say..."

"GOODNIGHT!"

You and Felix laughed together, finding amusement in the yells of Aera and Kuho. At one point as you kept reading, you could feel Felix from the corner of your eye just looking at you. And when you looked over at him once more, how he looked at you with the awe that reflected how you felt.

Because truly, as the snow fell outside, the wind harsh and cold, you didn't want to be anywhere else, here where warm hearts filled the room with laughter and love. And you hoped that one day, this life would no longer become a faraway dream, but a reality where they would be your true family.

[venomvalley]

RIPE FOR THE PICKING (II)

pairing: ID!leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: Your fake marriage is going strong and plans are set in motion. But things are never peaceful for long, and an attack from Umbrella leaves you scrambling amidst the unknown.

words: 7.6k

warnings: body horror/corpses, blood and injury mention, smut at the end so this one’s 18+!!

notes: this chapter was a beast and idk if i managed to pull off what i was trying to set up but im just here for the ride besties!!!! same as u!!! themes are hard!!!

>> PART ONE

Phase Two of your plan:

Well. Not that simple, now that you think about it.

Contact HQ. Link Carl Voerman to dealings in America. Acquire Carina’s information. Find Nolan Reed.

But you have an outline, a plan to move things forward. Namely, Carl’s emails. Provided to you in black-and-white ink, paper-clipped neatly inside a manila folder. Courtesy of his wife.

She joins you for a dinner of take-out and fancy, bitter wine—the kind of shit that rich people only pretend to enjoy. But it does the job well. Severs the anxious edge, allows you to relax.

Tonight is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen her. Stripped down to barren bones, ripped of her high-class façade. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, sneakers she left at the entryway. No need for on-guard mind games when you share a common goal.

“Carl’s out on one of his escapades tonight,” she says, accent more casual, each vowel elongated. Her natural voice, you presume. “Won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”

“Were you a spy before or after you decided to marry?” Leon asks, stealing a piece of steak from your take-out container. Snarky in tone, half-assed in care, and you cut him a warning look.

“After, actually.” She chances a quick glance up before ducking her head. “I loved him, once upon a time. Before I knew what he was.”

You lean forward on an elbow, food moved aside to enable Leon’s indulgence. “And now?”

“Before this is over, I want him either dead or in jail.”

Neither you nor Leon say a goddamn word.

Amongst his emails, you find a link to various companies trading information, private dealings with CEOs, but he’s done well to cover his tracks. Simple names, most spoken in code, much like what you personally found on his computer.

Nolan Reed haunts you.

“A fake name, as you assumed. But I’ve seen his face.” Now sat on the couch, your spine straightens. Beside you, her eyes darken to fire-fanned pits. “You give me what I need, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

From the entryway, Leon scoffs. “Trust me, we’re trying.”

“And I know you’ll succeed.”

She has you by the balls. Twists a little for good measure. And now that you aren’t coerced into agreeing (an arguable oopsie on your part), you understand just how anti-bigger-picture her goal is. But you know better. Umbrella is every bit a hydra: cut off the head and three more grow back, branch off with their chaos.

It never fucking ends. Gotta sever the limbs, too, it seems. Carina might just have the solution to the problem, but there’s a bigger issue at play. Injure an animal and it scurries away to hide. To heal.

You’re gonna need one very tactical, very large rock. Kill it all at once.

~

You wake in the middle of the night to the blaring ring of a phone, your burner cell sat on the nightstand. Too early for whoever decided to chat. Leon jolts from a deep sleep, cusses a groggy mangle of words just as you roll over to answer.

Before you can even speak, Hunnigan begins. “Hope the two of you had a nice sleep. We need you alert and ready in twenty minutes.”

That wakes you.

“What’s going on?”

“An agent from Global Operations will be there shortly to debrief you.”

Global Operations? What the fuck are they doing all the way out here?

The line goes dead, then you jump from the bed sheets and sprint for the dresser. Leon quickly follows, spouting off questions as you remove the false backing and find your gear.

“Hunnigan said that Global Operations is in town.”

“They planning something?” he asks, grabbing the clothes you toss his way.

“Apparently. I’m guessing they need our intel.”

“For what?”

You’ve seen each other stripped down before. This is nothing new. Still, you can’t help the burst of modesty that digs into your nape. He’s seen you before. It should be fine.

Should be. These circumstances provide you with a new set of challenges, fresh hoops to jump through. Shit, when was the last time you got laid? Way before this whole mess, and now you’re stuck. Hypothetically, if you decided to jump into someone’s bed—maybe a cute stranger with a smart mouth—it wouldn’t be cheating, but yes it absolutely would.

Okay… Okay, yeah. So maybe this means something after all.

After a trip to the bathroom and a quick dressing, Leon comes to adjust the straps that pattern a criss-cross over your thighs. “Jesus—how did you tangle these so bad?”

Large fingers slot between jean and leather, and you lose a bit of your sanity during his process of twisting the straps. The most intimate he’s ever touched you, and the contact remains brain-melting.

With a resigned huff, he admits defeat.

“Leon, it’s fine. I’ll fix ‘em on the way.” With a sharp grin, your eyes lock onto the breadth of his shoulder. “But your holster isn’t any better.”

“I’ll fix it on the way,” said with raised brows, almost mocking in tone.

He stands to his full height, stretches his mouth into a perfect mirror of your own expression, and you have a decision to make. A very important, very time-sensitive one.

Fuck it. You slant your lips over his, curl a hand around the back of his neck, muss up the soft hair you find there.

And then it’s over. You step away to sheathe your knife, then holster your gun, and he scoffs from over your shoulder. “Was that one practice, too?”

You turn around to shoot him a sickly-sweet smile. “Of course, my dear. You never know who’s watching.”

He doesn’t believe it, and you don’t expect him to.

~

The agent sits tall enough inside the unmarked car that his hair would no doubt touch the ceiling—if he had any. A soldier sits on either side of him, armed to the teeth with weaponry.

“I bet a summer breeze feels amazing with… ya know,” Leon motions to his head. “Like when you stand on a balcony without underwear.”

The entire car of people turn to look at him, and he clears his throat, shimmies a bit closer into your side.

Agent Moriando replies with a blink before settling back into the conversation. “Anyway,” he says, voice a raking gravel, “here’s what we’re working with.”

“It was a compliment,” Leon mutters into your ear, and you comfort him with a pat to the back of his hand.

“I know, honey.”

Moriando hands over a set of well-worn papers, and you wonder how many hands they’ve passed through. The edges creased, dog-eared, ripped at one corner. Probably a hundred at this point.

The contents, however…

“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,” you breathe.

Two days ago, a town nearby experienced an isolated attack, approximated at five thousand civilians affected—either already succumbed or anticipated to be. Method of infection: waterfall via helitanker. A first. You gotta give them credit for creativity and discretion.

But here’s the kicker: the helicopter was U.S. owned. Who signed off on the distribution remains a mystery.

“Your new Umbrella friends are suspected to be responsible.” You and Leon share a look, and Moriando gives a single chuckle. “What the hell’s taking so long, by the way? It’s been five months and you’ve found nothing.”

“No, we have. But apparently,” Leon leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest, “STRATCOM didn’t think you were important enough to know about it.”

At the agent’s glare, you dive head-first into damage control. “What my partner means is: our mission is highly classified.”

“So what is this important information you’ve been sitting on?”

Leon decides to remain silent, and turns to you for answer.

“We found evidence that Carl Voerman, a wealthy exec, is involved in a secret Umbrella project. He also has experience working alongside B.O.W.s.”

“Do you think that’s our guy?”

“No. He’s just financing it. One of many others, most likely.”

“But you have leads, I’m guessing.”

Both you and Leon nod, and you say, “We’re playing the long game, sir. A mission like this requires patience and hyper-vigilance.”

“Those bastards are ruthless,” Moriando says. “I can’t say I don’t admire your loyalty to the cause.”

“Thank you, sir, but people’s lives depend on our success. We don’t really have another option.”

No pressure. No pressure at all.

~

The aftermath is worse on the ground. Bodies of all ages litter the streets, some curled in on themselves, some face-down, and the worst—flat on their back, more decay than matter, flaking flesh, missing lips and noses and eyelids.

The streets have been cordoned off, tents spread out as makeshift treatment centers—a guise for strapdown-style quarantines. The BSAA, local police, and military all gather together in small groups, sharing animated discussions and moments of silence and whispered gossip. They wave you through each blockade you encounter.

You swallow down rising bile, choke back a gag, and Leon comforts you with a squeak of his gloves between your shoulder blades. Says, “You never really get used it,” beneath his full-face respirator.

“Thanks for the reassurance.”

“Where Umbrella’s concerned, there is none.”

There it is. Within the ocean-tide of his eyes, a glimpse into the past. A bone-deep exhaustion ten years in the making.

Given what he’s witnessed, what he’s personally survived, you don’t know how the man goes on. How he still stands on two feet. But maybe that’s it, right? He’s seen Umbrella’s injustice firsthand, escaped the decimation of Ground Zero. How could you not keep fighting?

But maybe there’s more to the story, hidden within the blacked-out sentences of his personnel file.

You wish to know it all. Everything.

A team from the BSAA touches down shortly after you scope out the damage. With them, a leading expert in virology—a direct recommendation from the Commander himself.

Doctor Abernathy as he introduces himself, an older man, squirrely by nature, loud and fast-talking beneath his own mask.

“For this strain of virus, there are two methods of infection: skin absorption and respiration via water droplets.” He leads you through the town in the direction of his new outpost while two soldiers flank each side. Both you and Leon follow behind. “The first few hundred civilians were infected via the former, but we suspect the death toll to rise toward a thousand by morning.”

“They’re dying?” Leon asks, supporting your nauseous form with a hand wrapped tight about your bicep.

You’ve seen death before, but your dealings with Umbrella involved the living—the people catalyzing the destruction. Never fared well around gore.

“Dropping like flies, almost a domino effect. It seems that Umbrella had reason to choose such an isolated area.”

“Because they weren’t trying to start an outbreak,” Leon snaps. A quick conclusion that leaves you staring. “It was a test to see how well their virus is progressing.”

His knowledge on this subject far surpasses yours, and something akin to pride soars through you. A match made in USSTRATCOM heaven, like Hunnigan had said. **

But this affects him on a molecular level. All the death and the decay and the helplessness. The fingers around your arm tighten.

He’s seen enough. Too much.

Up ahead, Abernathy nods. “Those were my thoughts, too. Which means that someone is likely keeping an eye on the area.”

“You think they’re still in town?” you ask, glancing between the two men.

“Where they can’t be traced or become infected themselves.”

“Underground,” Leon answers easily, before shooting you a weary look. “Trust me, it’s always underground.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges, a laugh teasing on the end of your tongue. “Like rats.”

“Exactly.”

After a long walk, Abernathy welcomes you to the outpost—and you immediately ask for something to wretch into.

The doctor exhales a sigh. Says, “You eventually get used to it,” over the sound of your coughing.

“You should never have to,” Leon whispers to you, kneeled at your side, a palm patting soft at your back.

Eventually, the nausea dissipates. A surprising feat, given the smell of metallic decay that seeps through the tent’s thick walls. Abernathy takes the stool near the opposite wall, facing two desks—one for a mountain of paperwork and the other for a laptop and a microscope and various medical instruments. You don’t inspect the setup closely. Too busy trying to reign in the hammering of your skull.

Leon helps you to your feet, and a soldier forces a bottle of water into your hand. You thank him with a tired huff.

“This is outsourced, right?” Leon asks, eyeing the condensation that drips from your palm.

The soldier nods, expression hidden behind his full-face mask. “Of course. There’s no way we’d risk drinking anything within fifty miles of this place.”

“Good.”

A long guzzle of water later, and Abernathy waves you out, citing his need to work in peace. One of his soldiers leads you to another tent, larger than the last, already busy with the herd of people pouring in and out.

“This is the man you wanna talk to. He can give you a better debrief on suspects.” The man turns on his heel and strolls back the way you came.

Inside, everything’s a mess. Discussions of containment, detainment, shifting blame, delegating responsibilities. Leon shares with you a wide-eyed glance behind the plastic screen of his respirator.

A voice bellows out, calls for order. You’ve never heard a group fall silent so quickly.

Beside you, Leon exhales a laugh. Mutters, “Things just got interesting.”

You know Chris Redfield when you see him, and the dispersing crowd provides a perfect view. Head Honcho, Countermeasures Expert, Day One Umbrella Enemy. A legend in his field. Shit, a legend in everybody’s.

Who can blame you for being a bit starstruck?

When you approach his desk—paperwork seems a common enemy amongst personnel—he nods in greeting. “If it isn’t Leon Kennedy.”

Leon shakes the hand he offers. “In the flesh.”

Then the Captain turns to you. “And you are…?”

Chris Redfield is intimidating close up. Tall and bulky, fit with a permanent scowl that seems more personal than it probably is. You wonder what he’s had to witness, too.

“This is Birdie,” Leon says. Curls an arm over your shoulders, edges you forward with a flourish of pride.

“It’s Nightingale.” You shoot Chris a weary look. “Please don’t listen to him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve heard the stories.”

“From your sister no doubt.”

Chris pauses a moment, imperceptible to any other eye, but you witness the softness that overwhelms his features. His love makes you a little soft, too. “Amongst others.”

Beside you, Leon bristles. Regarding Chris’s comment, nothing significant stands out, which means there’s a history here. One you’re wholly ignorant to.

As such, it’s none of your business.

“Anyway,” you say, nodding plainly to the papers scattered about his desk, “what do we know about the people behind this?”

“This has Umbrella written all over it, that we’re sure of. As for specifics, we have a few individuals in mind.” Behind his own mask, his eyes crinkle at the corners. You think he might be smiling. “All thanks to your intel.”

Ah, hero worship. What a beautiful, embarrassing thing. You can never admit to anyone the sunny smile his words create.

“Ya know, I originally wanted to stay in the military, but they thought my talents could be used elsewhere. I liked to flatter more than fight, they said.”

Chris huffs out a laugh. “Were you the one who got a squad to surrender after ten minutes and a pot of coffee?”

“It was more like thirty, but yes. That was me.”

“Then they made the right choice.”

Ah, hero worship. A rosy blossom of warmth, rudely interrupted by the reintroduction of Leon into your basking bubble.

He sidles up next to you, ghosts a hand down your spine before remembering himself and pulling away. “Well, this has been fun, but we should probably talk strategy.”

You miss his touch, and the skin sears from where he pulls away—a phantom pain.

The strategy: you and Leon go in first. A bigger group would draw attention, scare away your little rat hiding in the tunnels. Chris and his team give you thirty minutes before they storm in after you. Long enough to find the suspect.

It’s a good plan. Redfield knows what he’s doing, and so does Leon. You’ll be fine.

During the hour-long trek to the sewers, Leon strays a fair distance on the opposite side of the empty, cragged road. You reign him in again, and again, and again, but akin to magnetic likepoles, you continue to repel each other.

Maybe it was the thing Redfield said. Maybe you pissed him off somewhere along the way. Maybe he’s just too deep in his own head.

Regardless, you trail after him. Catch him by the arm. “You’re moping.”

“I’ve never moped a day in my life.”

“You don’t gotta lie to me, ya know.”

His mouth pinches at the corners, brow furrowing. “Death likes to follow me. Been that way since I was little.”

“I’m guessing the Captain reminded you of that.”

At the sewer entrance, he stops. Turns to look at you. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

A bit of you melts at the statement, confounded by its sincerity. You wonder how many people he’s lost in this fight, how many souls he’s sent off. How many funerals he’s attended. In the grand scheme of things, the rotting bodies he once called friends and colleagues and even family are just a drop in the ocean to the scale of Umbrella’s destruction. Maybe that’s what haunts him the most.

Regardless, you understand the weight of death. How well it siphons, sings, sinks to some unkempt pit where the good ones always end up—dewdrop memories that always, inevitably fade over time.

He can’t see your impish smile, but you paint it on anyway. Hope that he hears the jest in your voice, that you could never blame him. “If I get hurt, it’ll be of my own volition, thank you very much.”

A stubborn grunt from the back of his throat. “Glad to hear it.”

The sewer blisters with darkness the deeper you travel, despite the reprieve of both flashlights, but your mask thankfully dulls the smell. Something lurks just beneath the water, knee-deep and murky. Teases gooseflesh on the back of your neck. Each drip of the stone ceiling jolts you. Not even the comfort of your gun in hand quells the intrusive haunt of your presence.

Whatever lives in here wants you out.

“I’ve never done well with the unknown,” you say, barely a whisper within the looming walls. Rounded much like an archway, as long and desolate and maze-like as a catacomb.

Okay. You’re freaking out a bit. A lot, actually.

“Ever been in a sewer before?”

“Never.”

“Luckily for you, I’m a fantastic tour guide.”

Up ahead, the water splashes. Nowhere to go but a small lip of land on each side, barely wide enough to plant your feet. Nowhere to go at all, then.

Leon braves the danger first, form relaxed as he sidesteps his way toward the surfacing bubbles. As if he’s done this, been here a thousand times. Because he has.

He glances over his shoulder, holds a hand toward you as the water wells and wanes—

then silence.

An overwhelming, eerie calm.

Leon keeps his gun raised, poised toward the waterway’s intersection.

Silence then chaos. You blink and he’s gone, instead a splashing path carved out by a large, scaled tail.

You chase down the trail through the maze-like labyrinth and thank the BSAA gods for the protective gear. Would’ve been infected long ago with the way you trip and splash through the thickened sludge.

But who are you kidding? You would risk it for him anyway. A scary thought, that. One you have no time to dwell on given the circumstances—he’s probably already drowned somewhere, and you’ve delved far enough into the sewer that bodies crunch underfoot. Rotted hands float on the surface of jelly-esque water. Each step like sloshing through mud.

The trail ends at a ramp of sorts, leads into a clawing darkness that not even your flashlight penetrates. On the back of your neck, gooseflesh rises. The water tugs you forward, down, into the gaping maw of whatever awaits.

What would Leon do? **Shit, he would brave the unknown, slide headfirst into its depths. But you aren’t that fearless. Harbor opposing skill sets for a reason. You talk your way out of confrontation, have only seen mutations and B.O.W.s through the lens of fake credentials and test tubes.

But he’s your partner, and he’d do it for you.

Sliding down the ramp is a surprisingly dangerous journey, what with the pot hole that catches your foot and sends you flying asshole over elbow. At the bottom, your side smacks into the grating, and all the breath expels from your lungs in one heaving cough.

As you rise to your knees, pain a searing ache throughout your torso, a mourning wail echoes from somewhere out of sight. Inhuman, a slight growl to its edges.

Get up. The pain hasn’t set in yet.

Get up. You’re okay.

The wall keeps you upright as your feet follow the one-way path laid out before you. Down here, you find no streams of water but puddles fed a continuous drip from cracks in the stone above. They land on your mask and you clear the condensation with a wipe of your glove.

The longer you walk, the louder the cries become. Your adrenaline stays spiked, stays a choking heartbeat as you stroll along. Nothing hurts yet, but there’s anticipation for both beginning and end.

You pass by a break in the wall, large enough for you to fit through, and past that: a white-coat man, tall and dark-haired and young in the face, pacing beneath a collapsed ceiling. Beside him stands a lithe creature, half-reptilian for all its scales and large tail, stalactite hackles rising upon your notice. And behind them you spot Leon, suit dripping wet, face bloody beneath it, sat in a folding chair.

Against the wall, you spot a desk with two separate laptops: one with a clear view of the streets above via security cameras, and the other with a set of three different graphs, though you fail to read the small text.

Huh. Leon was right.

You think you might be in shock. Taking the whole your partner was kidnapped by The Enemy and a monstrous creature thing way too well.

“Here to save your husband, I suppose?” asks the man, face stretched into an expression you can’t quite place. Almost hospitable, if you can believe it.

“I was hoping to.”

He laughs, and Leon leans forward to rest his elbows on shaking knees, no doubt chilled to the bone. But the sight of him alive renews your energy, makes you stand a little straighter.

A part of you wishes to impress him, and you blame it on the adrenaline. The fish-out-of-water situation you’ve found yourself in.

“Carl said you were a spitfire. I can see why.” At your broken sigh, he nods to you, angles his head in question. “That was quite a nasty fall. Would you like to take a seat?”

“I’d like to get out of here, actually.”

Then, the pout of a lip. “I’m hurt. You don’t want to woo me first? Maybe talk me over to the good side?”

The creature circles behind you, nudges you forward with a sharpened muzzle, and you obey until you’re a few feet away from where Leon sits and the man stands beside him.

Already, the man’s face has begun to change, deep red burns peeling away to decay at his hairline. The runoff has made its way down here, and breathing all that infected air in. Well. You’re surprised he still remains intact.

Behind him, the cameras onscreen trigger movement. Chris and his team breaching the sewer entrance. Something the scientist fails to notice, enraptured as he is by you. But this is good. You can use his preconceptions to your advantage.

A wave of calm washes over you, a familiarity that soothes chattering bones. Keep him busy, get him talking. This is what you’re good at.

“How are you still so unaffected? By the virus, I mean?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually. I’m quite interested in how Umbrella operates these things.”

He takes a moment to answer, but eventually motions around the room. “This is how. Testing. Testing viruses, testing antidotes, testing our little friends.” He then waves to the creature still stood at your side, a strange clicking sound swelling its throat. “I think he likes you.”

“What a coincidence. I’ve always wanted a bioweapon as a pet.”

Leon huffs out a laugh, and the scientist’s expression shifts. Not exactly anger—disappointment, you suppose.

“He’s quite a good boy, actually. He follows commands well.”

“Why didn’t he take me, then?” you ask.

“Because I knew you would follow.”

A valid point. If he’s heard of you through Carl, then he knows the nature of your relationship. Or more accurately, he thinks he does.

“So why haven’t you killed us?”

“Maybe I miss having company. Maybe I wanted to meet the two people my boss has talked so much about.”

There it is. He realizes his mistake the same time you do. Get people talking long enough, ask nonsensical questions, and they always slip up.

“Carl’s your boss.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stares at you a long moment, eyes wide, jaw tense beneath the skin. But the damage is already done. Carina’s information—Nolan Reed—is within reach.

In another life, you think he would’ve been a better person. Charismatic enough to do good and do it well. Any outcome but this, left to rot inside some catacomb of filth. Umbrella never planned for him to make it out alive.

“Listen,” you say, stepping closer to him, and the creature hisses in defense. “You obviously have a conscience, and that’s something we can’t afford to lose.”

“Apologies, but my loyalties lie elsewhere.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think you know that they never planned for you to leave this place alive.” You glance over to Leon, slowly blinking behind his mask. Something toxic wells up the back of your throat, seeks to comfort him with clawing fingers. But you cast the urge aside, need to focus. “There’s a much better place for you. A place where you can finally do good.”

“Where I can be a slave to the government?” From the corner of your eye, Leon lowers his head. “No thank you.”

“As if Umbrella’s any better? At least we aren’t hurting people.”

“You hurt more than you think.”

“We aren’t the ones killing thousands with man-made viruses.”

“Neither am I. But are we not products of the same system? Doing our higher-ups’ bidding?”

You remain silent. He’s right. Undeniably. Not everyone associated with the Umbrella symbol is bad, the same way not everyone representing the government or the BSAA or the military are good. Just cogs in one very broken, very unfair machine. You had a choice—a lot of people don't receive the same luxury.

“No. You’re right.”

In response, he nods his head, and there it is. The adrenaline crash. The pain that lances up your side, that shallows your breath.

The scientist will die soon, and the poor creature along with him. Victims in two very different ways, yet the same. Is he catalyst or scapegoat? Which would be easier to accept? That he damned thousands of innocents, or that he, too, fell prey to honeyed words and galaxy-sized dreams. Like Mary or Carina or the other spouses.

You don’t know.

Redfield’s team bursts in, and the creature is downed before you can seek solace beneath the table. The scientist is taken out in handcuffs. Leon stays seated.

You can’t help it. You fix his hair with a soft hand, spread your lips into a comforting smile. The man is hauled off, taken in for questioning. The hard part—the who—will soon be over. You can breathe for a moment.

“You okay?” you ask, eyeing the swath of blood smeared across his temple and congealed in his hair.

He heaves a shrug, post-adrenaline in the way exhaustion bears prominence behind his eyes. “Head wounds bleed. A lot. I’m more concerned about you and that fall you took.”

He soothes gentle fingers down your side, and your breath catches on a hiss when he hits a spot rife with tenderness. “Cracked ribs at the worst. Not much I can do besides rest.”

Just outside of town, Doctor Abernathy sends you into quarantine. A harsh hosing down, a change of clothes, a checklist of symptoms to run through. Leon leaves with a diagnosis of a minor concussion, and you with three cracked ribs. Both of you require tried and true rest. The best medicine in the book.

On the drive home, a long four hours later, both of you remain silent. Sunrise threatens the horizon, peaks of gold behind sawed-off mountains and spotty trees. The start of autumn a few weeks out.

Six months on Saturday. Almost an anniversary at this point, less a celebration than a reigning of reality. You’re alone again. Thrown to the wolves, a little lamb on unsteady feet.

You wonder how old the scientist was. If he was even a scientist at all.

In the seat beside you, Leon stirs awake. Wipes his eyes with the heel of a palm, winces when he catches the medical tape holding the gauze in place just above his eye.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help back there,” you say. The words just come out, because you look at him and his bruised arms and his injured head and you see failure. “I might’ve made things worse, actually.”

You were scared. Terrified. If you had been faster, then maybe… fuck, you don’t know anymore.

He takes a moment to look at you, and then he smiles, and you know what’s coming. “I’m not used to playing the damsel in distress. It was kinda fun.”

“Did you really think I was gonna come rescue you?”

“Never doubted it.” He stretches best he can in the small space then turns back to face you. “The flips were a nice touch, by the way. But you should probably work on your landing.”

You breath slow through your nose to suppress a laugh, and the clench of your stomach aggravates sensitive bones. “I will never step foot in another sewer again. You can handle the fighting next time.”

“Not so much fighting as I was drowning.”

“Yeah. I thought you died.” His face softens, and you reach over to pat him on the knee. “Glad you’re still with me.”

“That’s sappy, even for you.”

“I am not sappy.”

“No, I like it. The other agents I’ve worked with have these big sticks up their asses. It’s nice to work with someone who still remembers how to be human.”

Oh. Huh. That’s… well. Sweet. Tooth-rotting, actually. The nicest thing he’s ever said to you, you think. And you aren’t sure how to respond.

Regardless, the silence that follows is comfortable.

You’re back home by late morning. Dead on your feet, impossibly sore, but alive. After a quick change of clothes, the two of you pass out in bed then wake sometime after dark.

He meets you in the kitchen, nursing a pack of sliced turkey and a glass of water. The snack of winners, you suppose.

“I was thinking earlier, and I’m honestly surprised,” he says. “You sure know how to sweet-talk.”

You take a seat on the couch nearby, reality still rosy at the edges from your long nap. “It’s my job, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be so good at it. Almost charmed the pants right off me and I was just a witness.”

“I can be charming when I want to.”

“That makes two of us.”

He pulls a fifth of whiskey from the shelf and two glasses from the cabinet and you know your night’s done for. You’ll be drinking half the bottle.

“Leon, you can’t drink with a concussion.”

“Well, the ibuprofen in the cabinet isn’t cutting it, so this is the next best thing.”

You think to argue but then remember the hellish day he just had. Fuck everything, both of you deserve it. Just this once.

Leon collapses onto the couch beside you, head lolling against the cushion. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. What is there to say? Just another trauma piled atop so many others. You’ve heard and said it all before. He’s exhausted and so are you.

The first two glasses go down easy, desperation clouding the bitter burn that steals your breath and settles deep within your chest.

He stares as you fill your glass a third time, eyes a drilling pressure. Curious yet tentative.

“Just say it,” you whisper, and a warm palm rises to rest heavy on your knee.

“I just.” He exhales a sigh. “It’s always hard the first time, so if you need to talk…”

“You’re here?”

You look to him with a weakened smile, lidded eyes, and he nods. Says, “Yeah.”

You can blame it on the alcohol tomorrow, but a gnawing yearn nicks at the base of your skull.

Fuck it. Just this once.

You fall into his side, and he wraps steady arms around you, and he presses a kiss to your temple, and your tears stain the fabric of his shirt—but it means nothing.

At least he’s here. Who else but him do you have? Can you trust?

Nobody.

“Can I admit something?” you ask, a hand spread over his ribs, each inhale grounding. A perfect guide, a pathway to calm. The whiskey’s done its job with dulling the pain, and you sag in relief. Relax a little heavier into him.

He nods, the scruff at his chin prickly against your forehead.

“I am so unbelievably lonely. I mean, I have you, but we can only trust each other and it’s… it’s wearing on me.” You pull away to regard him: exhaustion sallowing his features, eyes carved-out and hollow, a bruise formed along his cheekbone, the gauze sat just above his eyebrow. Your thumb ghosts over his bottom lip. “I just wanna go home.”

Home home. Not this false life you grow more comfortable with each time you wake. With Leon at your side. Cuddled against you, sharing breakfast, kissing away your anxieties.

I’m here. If nobody else cares for you, I do.

And it’s so easy to believe. Easy as thought, as your beating heart, as hunger or thirst. But this life you’ve made, the lies you spin—they mean nothing.

Still. Still, you succumb. To the thought that maybe the mission affects him just as much as you. That somewhere within, feelings bud and grow and nurture and sometimes they make it so fucking hard to simply breathe.

You’ll return home and Leon will resume his workplace attitude and that thought should not hurt as badly as it does.

But it’s the alcohol talking. It has to be.

Why does that hurt the most?

“We shouldn’t be here much longer,” he says. “Not with Carina’s help.”

You fall silent. Tuck your brow against the curve of his neck.

At least you’ve stopped crying.

“I should not have drank tonight,” you say, little more than a whinging grumble. “I’m being too honest.”

His chest jolts with a huffing laugh, and your lips spread into a smile against his shoulder. He replies, “What’s that saying? A drunken mouth speaks sober thoughts?”

Late into the night, he sleeps soundly beside you. Shirtless as usual, an arm cradling the pillow beneath his head, turned toward the window. Away from where you curl up beneath the sheets.

He prefers for you to hold him. Never says it, but he sleeps more soundly with you pressed against his back, an arm slung over his waist. The nightmares fail to reach him here, like this.

You find a deep scratch neighboring the knots of his spine, and a deep-down part of you aches for him. His suffering. Those blacked-out lines in his file.

You trace along the bright pink edge with a thumb, his skin sleep-warm to the touch, peppered with freckles, and he never stirs.

The next morning, he kisses you over a cup of coffee. Lingers at your side for the better part of two hours as you make breakfast then eat then clean up the mess.

He wishes to say something, works up the nerve. You know him well enough by now.

“Do you regret coming here?” A question you expected. “With me?” His addition, however…

You pause mid-cup-wash at the sink. The water heaves as you drop both items in your hands then turn to face him. To give him your full, unwavering attention.

A conversation, months in the making, has to take place.

“Of course I don’t. Why would you think that?”

He offers no answer at first. Simply stares off toward the floor, arms a thick shield across his chest.

You remember everything from yesterday despite the haze you witness your words through. And then it hits you.

“If it’s about anything I said yesterday, please don’t listen to me. I’m a dumbass when I’ve been drinking.”

“It’s not just that. It’s…” His words trail off and you see in his eyes the shutdown.

“Leon, I don’t know how I could’ve done this without you.” His shoulders sag, and you reach for the dish towel beside the sink to dry off your hands. “Did somebody say something?”

“Nobody had to. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” You hold up your left hand with a wide grin, and the ring gleams beneath the window’s morning sunstream. “Married, remember?”

It’s a good cover-up until you can figure out where he stands in all this. Feelings and such. They love to ruin perfectly good things.

He tosses his head as if speared by irritation, and you wish to snatch those words from the air and swallow them down. When he removes his ring, turns it between thumb and forefinger—forever yours—you deflate.

“We’re fighting a losing battle. You know that, right?”

You’re no stranger to the heart of disillusion. In a field such as yours, it bears prominence. Flays people alive. So much bad in the world, and you’re only one person. Can’t possibly snuff out all of it. So you understand his point. He’s fought long enough—too long.

But you like to believe that there’s a cathartic ending to this, whenever and wherever that may be. If not, then why fight at all?

“We still gotta try,” you say. “I’m tired of Umbrella turning people into victims. Aren’t you?”

A little close to home, but you need to reign him in. Can’t risk losing sight of the goal. Not when you’re this close to the finish line.

He closes his eyes, fingers curling around the ring, and his face pinches a moment before he relaxes, almost resigned. “You already know my answer.”

~

The house lay quiet this late at night, and you could almost find serenity in the dim-lit hallways and creaking pipes if not for the paperwork you search through, passed off by hands belonging to Carina’s second-in-command.

Captain Redfield’s findings. A link between Carl Voerman and the United States, as testified by the captured “scientist” who, you come to find out, joined the organization to follow in his father’s footsteps. Always a cycle to be continued, and never a chance to break away until it’s too late.

He was nineteen.

But you digress. Can’t think on it too hard.

Part one of phase two: complete.

Leon passes by the dining table an hour into your reading. Grabs a glass of ice water, takes the seat to your left. He lands heavy in the chair, blows out a breath. Readies himself for conversation. Something darkens his eyes, leaves his hands restless against the chilled glass.

“What you said a few nights ago. About being lonely.”

A pull of your lips, barely there. Nostalgia, in the way only whiskey-forgotten memories can be. “Leon, I was drunk.”

“But did you mean it?”

You fingers pause amongst the papers, and you look up at him. Hope and pray that you hide the severity of your longing. “Yeah.”

He nods. Leans both elbows on the table with a resigned sigh. “So am I.”

Something settles between you then. A tension not unlike the lead-up to a first kiss, or the moments before a heartfelt confession. A shift that pockmarks change.

You’re holding your breath.

“Maybe we can figure something out,” he says, eyes tracing the edges of each paper you hold.

“Well. Marriage is about compromise, after all.”

He breathes out a laugh through his nose. “That it is.”

There’s not really a compromise at all. Instead, an unspoken agreement that leads you to your shared bedroom. A frenzy that strips you naked and lays you upon the sheets and fuck—he kisses you like he actually loves you.

You ask to ride him. It’s been a while, and you’ve never minded a stretch, but you prefer to control the pace. You also don’t think his head would appreciate all the exertion.

The eye contact happens and then it doesn’t. Over and over again. The bounce of your hips is slow, and everything is slick and tight, and his fingers brush against your waist only to remind himself of where he is, who you are. Nothing but letting off some steam: that’s what this should be.

You refuse to hide your pleasure. No sense in it when you were dripping for him before he even touched you. His breathing staccatos each time you swallow him up, and you couldn’t fight the clutch of your insides if you tried.

“This okay?” you pant, pace quickening. Maybe it’s been too long, maybe you’re too goddamn sensitive, but the drag of his cock lights a fire at the base of your spine. Your eyes threaten to roll back into your head.

“Yeah.” His jaw clenches as you work him over with a grinding roll of your hips, and his palms soothe over the top of your thighs—the cold metal of his wedding ring scorches your skin. His eyes glue to the sight, to the pinpoint of his pleasure. “Feels good.”

You swallow down a sighing moan and try not to collapse atop him. It’s been so long, and his eyes roam your body like he wants you, and he looks so good like this: red-faced and focused and messy-haired. The intimacy seeks to flay you alive, break you open, rip you to pieces.

He meets your gaze and you almost wish to cry when he doesn’t look away. You feel tender. Mushed by mallet. He whispers your name and you shatter into fractals of fractals. “Very good.”

Someone kisses first, and you cross a threshold of no return. Indelible nothingness. A hand rises to the nape of your neck and you moan pitifully into his mouth and he meets your hips thrust-for-thrust. Carnal need in its purest form. Lust.

This means nothing.

He feels amazing, perfect, you could die like this—but it means nothing.

The next morning, when the smoke’s cleared and the hormones have balanced out, you sneak glances at each other from across the kitchen table. Neither of you mention the sex, but you don’t have to. A bruised blotch of skin sits proud on the curve of his neck. You walk with a slight limp. There’s an air of pride to the room.

The aftermath should be awkward, but it isn’t. You’re married. You’re a married couple who now fucks. Maybe now, people will stop questioning your authenticity.

He can bend you over the goddamn banquet table if they want proof.

[badaseyebags]

private lessons ⋆｡°✩ chapter 2 ⟢

fluffy, suggestive, smut in upcoming chapters

word count: 3k+ (phew)

warnings: very obvious power dynamics, just some making out, a bit of begging, lots of praise, lots of pet names, BADA CALLS HERSELF MOMMY!!!! aaaa

author’s note: i’m back 😳 i’m sorry that this took much longer then i expected, pls don’t block me 😞 i hope this is readable and not too disappointing @-@ i promise there’s actual smut coming soon! feel free to leave some feedback/suggestions! thank you so much for reading ♡ -booger 🍞

with one last glance in the mirror you gathered the remainder of your courage and slipped on your shoes, grabbing your purse with shaky hands. why were you so nervous? it’s not like you’re going over to her house to get bent over. you’re simply going to get tutored. unfortunately you remind yourself why you’re in this position in the first place, due to your lack of concentration during her classes. you sigh shaking your head, applying a second coat your favourite lipgloss nonetheless, just for good measures! was it too much? was it obvious you put in a little more effort than you usually do? would she notice? why would she? and why do you even care so much in the first place? she’s just a teacher after all..

she had texted you the address and you realised she actually lived a bit further, which is probably why she offered to come pick you up in the first place, not wanting to inconvenience her any further you politely refused. maybe you were starting to regret it knowing it’ll take a long time to get there by bus, and you’ll most likely be late.. late to your first ever tutoring class, what a great way to start. woohoo!

you put your headphones on, making your way into the bus and finding an empty seat all the way in the back. that way you could have some privacy to collect yourself before you meet her. actually.. that wasn’t really working and you began getting more nervous so you decided to pull out your notebook to mindlessly doodle for the time being. it turned out quite cute you thought to yourself, staring at the sketch, imagining those two figures kissing were you and her. oh no, you’re doing it again. you and your stupid imagination! and that’s not even the first time you caught yourself doing something so silly. you close your notebook shoving it back into your bag, just a few stops away from your destination. phew. time to actually collect yourself!

with wobbly knees you make your way to her apartment, palms sweaty as you smooth them over your skirt. 10 minutes, you’re 10 minutes late.. would she notice? she’s having a day off that she sacrificed specifically to help you, and you dare come late? oh no, you’re definitely screwed. you start panicking as guilt washes over you, practicing your apology in your head, accidentally ringing her doorbell in the process. fuck. you didn’t mean to do that just yet, you weren’t ready. if you’re fast enough you can just ru-

you heard the door nob turning, soon revealing a tall slim figure in front of you. “oh miss y/n! you decided to show up after all, and here i thought you didn’t need my help anymore” she teases giving you a half smile making your heart jump, not only due to you being late, but because of how effortlessly attractive she looked with her two toned hair tied back into a messy loose braid, complimenting her light blue button up paired with some slacks. not to mention the sound of her half groggy voice calling out your name and the way it slid past her lips so smoothly.

“h-hello mrs. lee i am so sorry for being late! i didn’t”before you could finish your apology she chuckled, shaking her head. “no need to apologise sweetie, i was just teasing a little. come on in, make yourself at home.” you blink up at her, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. you just greeted her and messed up? damn already? was it because she called you sweetie?! god, you’re hopeless.

“i won’t bite.” she chuckled again, walking into her apartment leaving you with no choice but to follow behind her, timidly shutting the door as you entered. you swore you could hear her quietly mumble something under her breath, but you decided it was your twisted mind playing tricks on you once again. for the sake of your sanity. “here here, have a seat. care for some tea? coffee perhaps?” she pulls out a chair for you and this small gesture alone has your heart fluttering for no reason. you look down shyly, taking a seat and avoiding her gaze. “i..uh.. anything is fine, thank you.” you mumble trying not to keep yourself composed. she smiles nodding as she reaches for the jar of instant coffee. “i haven’t had my coffee yet, since i wasn’t sure if you’d like to drink some with me. do you like yours with milk, sugar?” was she calling you sugar or was she asking you whether or not you wanted sugar in your coffee? …and she waited for you to have coffee? yeah, as if. you need to stop being delusional. “miss y/n?” she glanced back at you knocking you of out your prolonged silence. “i-i would like both please.. i like my coffee s-sweet” you close your eyes in embarrassment as another stutter leaves your clumsy lips. you swear you never stutter. she chuckles in response as she prepares your drink. “we are quite the opposite, i prefer mine black.” she gives you a soft smile, sitting down across from you, setting your drink in front of you. you mutter a shy thank you as your hands reach for the spoon, mixing some sugar into the warm beverage. “oh that’s nothing, i usually make really good coffee but my coffee machine broke recently so.. instant coffee will have to do for now.” you nod quickly, fingers gripping the handle and side of the cup. “that’s fine! any coffee is good! i actually prefer instant it’s not like i know much about coffee anyways-” your lips are faster then your brain causing you to blurt out such a fact about you, which only made her smile wider. “oh we really are opposites, maybe i could change your mind once i make you a proper cup, hm?” you blush nodding fast in agreement, did that mean you’d be seeing her more then just this one time? you try to calm your nerves by bringing the cup to your lips, taking a little sip. maybe it’s better to keep your mouth busy so you don’t end up embarrassing yourself even more.

“so y/n… just how much experience do you really have?” she also brings her own cup to her lips, eyes fixated on yours. your eyes widen, the coffee you tried swallowing getting stuck in the back of your throat at her question, resulting you in coughing out loud making her put her cup down and lean towards you in worry. “are you alright sweetie? was it too hot? did it burn you?” you cover your mouth, calming yourself down as you shake your head noticing bada is very professional and calm despite asking such a personal question.

maybe you are too shy after all and you should be more open when it comes to talking about your sex life. people do it all the time, it’s totally natural. you hear others talk about it all the time. but then again why would she ask you such a private question out of nowhere? maybe she’s just a very social person, this is how adults talk and there shouldn’t be shame. it’s not like you ever talked about sexual things with anyone, but you know others do. like with their friends, parents, therapists, lovers.. you just need to get over the embarrassment and step out of your shell, you could learn a lot from her, be as mature as she is, even when it comes to such topics. she sure wouldn’t judge you no matter what, she’s a teacher after all. “i’m fine! i’m just.. not too good at talking about such topics.. but i… well…i don’t have much experience… none at all actually. that’s really embarrassing to admit. others my age have already done so.. many times.. maybe i am really slow or something..” you chew on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your head up to look at her, choosing to look into your cup instead. if you could see your own reflection in the coffee you’re sure your face would be beet red by now. that’s when bada herself chokes a little as your unexpected response.

you totally misinterpreted what she was asking. she was asking about your experience on the subject she was supposed to tutor you on, not your sexual experience. did she give you the wrong impression? was she being too obvious with her interest in you? were her flirting attempts not as subtle as she attempted? no way, with how empty headed you are they probably flew right past you, she thought. well.. it’s not like she wasn’t curious about that in the first place, but she wouldn’t have asked so suddenly. however, she didn’t have the heart to embarrass you like that by correcting you and telling you that you misunderstood her question.

she just cleared her throat and went along with it. was she willing to risk it all? this made her want to corrupt you even more, but she can’t. not yet. you made her lose her composure. she needed to fix that and get back in charge. she won’t let it, let you, fluster her. “sweetie..there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. that’s exactly what i’m here for.” she decided to test out the waters, see if you were as submissive and truly empty minded around her as she painted you to be. her hand was itching to get a feel of your skin, she was struggling to fight it. she needs to take this slow she reminds herself, she doesn’t want to scare you away. but it seems like you’re already falling into her trap. your eyes instantly snap up to meet hers, to make sure weather you heard her correctly.

“it would be such a pity if you left without learning anything.. wouldn’t that make me a bad teacher, hm?” she furrows her brows in faux sympathy as her hand finally reaches out, gently cupping your cheek making you look up at her. you gasp at the sudden contact and your current situation. “oh y-yeah… i’m here to be tutored-“ you try to avoid her gaze, once again looking down in embarrassment. your nervousness made you think of studying again, which is the reason she invited you over. right? you must be totally misunderstanding this. you’re just being delusional, you tell yourself.

despite you both sitting down she visibly towered over you, not just in her height, but in her presence alone. you could feel her knees ever so gently pressing against your own if you weren’t trying so hard to distract yourself.

was she sitting so close to you from the start?

she scoffs in amusement, her lips forming a fake frown. “oh you poor little thing.. you really thought i wouldn’t notice the way you look at me during class? that i can’t see right through that pretty little head of yours? you’re a smart girl y/n, we both know you don’t actually have a issue with learning..” your cheeks heat up as you’re forced to meet her gaze that looks more intimidating then ever. she just exposed you. she knew it this whole time. you didn’t think your crush on her was that visible. your lips part to speak but no words come out making her grin. her thumb slides past your bottom lip ever so gently, almost knocking the air out your lungs. “i think.. you could do so much better, all you need is just a little motivation.” she hovers over you, her thumb now reaching the corner of your lips, collecting the remainder of coffee and bringing it up to her own lips. her eyes flutter shut momentarily, licking her thumb clean and savouring the flavour with a hum. “so sweet indeed..” she hooks her pointer finger under your chin, making you look up at her. chuckling softly she leans in further, her thumb stroking just below your bottom lip as her eyes trail from your eyes to your lips and back. “are you gonna let me have a taste, doll?”

you gulp, your own eyes focused on her lips, slowly nodding as you look up at her. “now now, wouldn’t that be too easy?” she leans in closer, lips near your ear. “you’ll have to be a good girl and ask for it.” your mouth goes completely dry as you gulp. your hands clutch a fist full of your skirt, tension so thick it could cut air separating you two. you mutter under your breath, scared your voice will betray you. “mrs. lee.. could you.. umm.. can you kiss me?” you shut your eyes tight, hoping she would kiss you then and there. instead you only hear a dry chuckle.

you open your eyes, attention on her as she tucks a stray hair behind your ear, confusion painted on your face. “thats not how a good girl asks. not even a please? now that’s not very polite, is it? i’m starting to think you don’t deserve it.” you whine shaking your head. “no no i’m sorry! please… please kiss me?” you look up at her desperately. “aww you want a kiss that bad?” she coos cupping your cheek, smirking at the heat of it against her hand. you nod fast, leaning into her touch, totally submitting to her.

“use your words, tell mommy what you want.” she raises her brow, waiting for you to finally say it. your cheeks feel like they’re on fire now, heart beating faster then before as you stumble over your own words. “m-mommy?” you shyly repeat after her, eyes widening, cheeks painted red. you could see the shift in her eyes, and the way it affected her.

she closes her eyes for a little, biting her lip almost as if she’s savouring the sound of your voice calling her that. “how fucking cute.” she rests her thumb against your bottom lip, softly pulling it down. “doing such a good job begging mommy for a kiss…” you close your eyes tightly at her praise, almost whining from such a small action. she leans in, her lips just a few millimetres away from your own. you could feel her breath against your lips, covering your skin in goosebumps. she keeps one of her hands against your cheek, while the other rests against the top of the chair you’re sitting on. she gives your cheek a soft stroke before finally connecting both of your lips.

her soft plump lips smashing against yours felt like a reward. it felt like they were on fire, the way your lips burnt when she pressed her own against them. her fingers against your skin were so gentle, tracing the outline of your cheek, barely touching your skin as if you were made of glass. her lips were telling a different story as her kisses only deepened. you didn’t know what to do with your hands so you loosely griped the fabric of her blouse. she felt you fidgeting and decided to slide one of her hands down to reach for your hand, giving them a soft squeeze before wrapping them around her neck. this gave her the opportunity to drag her hands down your body as she scooped you up in her arms. without breaking the kiss she lifted you and placed you on the table next to her, making you wrap your arms around her tighter. she experimentally dragged her tongue against your bottom lip so gently, your lips parted in surprise. she smirked sneaking her tongue inside your parted lips that granted her access. you let out a little whimper at the feeling of your tongues gliding against each other. you could almost taste the bitterness of the coffee aftertaste mixing with your sweet one and for once, it was delicious. you were everything she wanted and she wanted.. needed more. eager to be closer to you, one of her hands slid down your thigh, slightly parting them as she pushed herself in between, she just couldn’t get enough. with one of her large hands hand stroking the outer side of your thigh, and other one playing with your hair you couldn’t help but shiver in her touch. it was like she was devouring you whole. your body feeling so soft and tiny pressed up against hers. it was driving her insane. she pulled away breathing heavy, admiring your flushed face and slightly messed up hair, remainders of your lipstick smeared all over your lips as you look at her with what she could only describe as hearts in your eyes.

fuck, she’s so screwed. she knows it’s over for her. you wrapped her around your pretty little finger and you didn’t even know about it. heck, you didn’t even have to do anything. you submit to her so easily and that was more then she needed. there’s no way she could just return to just being your teacher, she had to make you hers. you pout slightly as she pulls away, already reaching for her, wanting to feel her lips against yours again. you got her heart beating as hard as she made yours. subconsciously shivering in her arms. as she leans in placing gentle pecks on your lips followed by your cheeks, so much more gentle and affectionate then she was just moments ago. “mommy has to stop before she gets too greedy..” she breathes out as she cleans your messed up lips with her thumb, knowing what she meant you nod, still leaning into her touch. she pressed a final kiss to your lips before pulling you into her embrace, your head in her chest, hands soothing your back.

“let me drive you home precious, it’s way too late for you to be going out on your own.” she gently pats your head, before she realises. “you didn’t bring any jacket with you?” you shake your head at her question, once again fidgeting with your skirt, slightly swinging your feet back and forth as they dangled off the table. “i’m not letting you leave like this.” you blush looking up at her as she brings you her sweater that is much bigger on you then it is on her. she taps your arms signalling you to raise them which you do, making her smile as she dresses you up. “how cute..” she admires you for a moment, fighting back the urge to squeeze you in her arms before offering you her hand which you accept as she helps you off the table. unable to keep her hands off you, she’s smoothing her hands over your clothes in attempt to fix them. “are you ready to go, pretty girl?” she pecks your nose, grabbing her keys as she grabs your hand. you giggle nodding as your heart flutters at her treatment, clinging onto her arm, letting you guide you to her car.

of course she opened the door for you and closed it after you sat down before she got in herself. of course she told you to keep the sweater because she wants to see you in it more often. of course she told you to keep this a secret as she pecked your forehead goodbye. of course your head was filled with nothing but her as you laid in your bed, wearing nothing but her sweater as you drifted into slumber, hoping you could see her even in your dreams, the scenes from earlier on repeat. you were starting to really look forward to these private lessons..

[d1xonss]

Hi! I was thinking about a run that ends up being too long because of something like a heard , were Daryl and the reader have to stay the night in a library. The reader is a big fan of books and she knows a lot about literature (maybe you can say she was a student of a literature degree back before the outbreak). Daryl is like 'I've never really read any book' or 'noone read anybook for me when I was little' and reader ends up reading one of her favourites to him while he lays his head on her lap and she tuches his hair or something fluffy like that. Some of my favorite books include Carrie, The Picture of Dorian Gray and Lord of the Rings; just if you wanted inspiration for the book that she reads him.

I hope you like the idea!

Bedtime Stories

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 2 (time jump)

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.1k

AN ~ This idea is so cute, I love it! But I am sorry to the person who requested this because I took way longer to write this than I usually would. It’s just been sitting in my drafts for a while now, but I finally got around to writing out the idea. Thank you for being patient and I hope you enjoy!

Your lungs started to burn, your legs beginning to weaken as you continued to run as fast as you could, desperately trying to keep up as the two of you quite literally ran for your lives. Somehow the run you both volunteered to take just turned into one giant disaster, one thing falling apart after another.

It was the dead of winter, the group hopping from place to place ever since the loss of the farm, and everything always running low. All the supplies you managed to have saved went out the window in a flash, leaving you with almost nothing when you had numerous people to feed. So desperate times called for desperate measures, leading to you and Daryl leaving early that morning, trudging through the cold weather and into a small town nearby in hopes that they had at least something to bring back for the others. But luck wasn’t really on your side.

There were a couple small buildings the two of you came across, a few cans of food here and there that you could easily toss into your bags. Though none of it was nearly enough to feed all the people you had. The thought alone saddened you to no end, coming to the realization of how complicated everything was now that you were out on the road constantly. You found yourself not even really knowing how good you had it back when you had sanctuary, a safe place to sleep at night, food…it was all very frustrating.

But you knew you were preaching to the choir as everyone else was easily feeling the same way as you, defeated and exhausted twenty-four-seven now. Though that wasn’t necessarily the only thing going wrong at the moment. The group itself was much more tense than it ever was before, the whole atmosphere seeming to change ever since that night Rick broke down completely. The loss of Shane and Lori being pregnant was taking a toll on him that no one else could understand, leading to him taking it out on everyone else. A part of you almost wondered if you and Daryl subconsciously took this run on purpose just to get away from all of that for a few hours.

Though that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go, another part of you wanted to be able to bring something back. You wanted to be the one to lift their spirits, hoping that you and Daryl would come across something that would bring back that light. But then again, luck wasn’t on your side.

Unbeknownst to the two of you as you searched, a large herd of walkers were slowly limping their way down the streets of the small town, making even more noise the closer they approached. Eventually you both perked up at the sudden familiar sounds, walking out of the building you were once in to see the group coming straight towards you, their jaws hanging and their arms stretched out with the intention to tear into you.

“Go.” was all Daryl said as he pushed you to run first, sprinting down the narrow streets in hopes to find somewhere to hide. Most of the stores you came across were completely locked up tight, and it was too late to turn back into the one you once occupied. So according to you, you were pretty much fucked. 

The two of you looked around frantically as you ran, adrenaline pumping through your system as your heart pounded roughly against your chest. There was close to nothing else around, nowhere else to shield yourselves behind as they slowly crept up closer, surprisingly fast with how slow they appeared to move. It now seemed that last bit of bad luck had wiped out all the hope that was left in your being.

That is until Daryl came across a door neither of you had tried before, tugging at it as it surprisingly flew open loudly. Relief filled your chest as you didn’t hesitate to book it inside the space, Daryl following in close behind you before he slammed the door shut again. The two of you then frantically looked around for only a moment, before shoving a few pieces of furniture near the double doors to block off the walkers that would surely try to push their way inside. As expected, they began to pound on the structure from the outside, sending the two of you flying back a few steps as you caught your breath, making sure they weren’t strong enough to push through.

Though after listening for a few passing seconds, it was clear they weren’t getting inside anytime soon, leaving you able to slightly relax as you hunched over to place your hands on your knees, your breathing still heavy.

Daryl noticed out of the corner of his eye, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder, “You alright?”

You nodded as you stood back up straight, “Yeah…that was just…too close.” you sighed, running a hand stressfully through your hair.

He huffed, “Yeah…shit’s messy all over the damn place apparently.” he commented, clearly referring to how much had happened in the span of only about a month, or maybe two. You weren’t totally sure, but what you did know was that the whole thing felt like an eternity.

You found yourself wordlessly nodding in agreement, turning away from him momentarily as you grew curious as to where you had ended up. It had grown dark outside with how long the two of you stayed out searching, leading the place being completely pitch black as well. Nothing but a brief glimpse of moonlight shining through the small windows.

You reached back to the side of your backpack, pulling out your flashlight and flicking it on to see a plethora of bookshelves lined up in the large space, your face also seeming to light up in the process. It had been way too long since the last time you came across so many shelves stuffed full of mountains and mountains of books.

But apparently Daryl was less than amused, scoffing to himself as he looked around as well, “Great…we’re stuck inside some damn Barnes and Noble.”

You gave him a look, “It’s a library, Daryl.” you said in an unimpressed tone.

He raised an eyebrow towards you in response, “Yer tellin me there’s a difference?” he asked in amusement.

Your mouth parted to respond, but your mind came up blank as you slowly came to the realization that there really wasn’t much of a difference at all. He chuckled as he watched you grow silent, nudging your side before taking out his own flashlight. “You go ahead and take the left, I’ll take the right. Gotta make sure this place is safe.” he muttered before slowly walking off.

You followed his lead as you turned to head in the other direction, shining your light in different parts of the area to make sure there weren’t any lingering walkers nearby inside with the two of you. Though you couldn’t hear anything besides the corpses still banging on the outside, it was better to be safe than sorry. But everything was eerie and quiet as you passed by the many tall bookshelves, the scene itself almost making you more paranoid that something was going to just jump out at you out of nowhere. The area looked almost untouched however, causing you to smile a little to yourself at the thought of raiders and survivors just passing this place by because well…it was just a library. But you found yourself just the smallest bit excited, always knowing you were a bit of a bookworm at heart.

Your gaze continued to lazily scan the space for any danger, when all of a sudden, a certain section to your right caught your eye and made you stop in your tracks. The sign read in big blocked letters: Horror. That brought a big smile to your face as you found that was your favorite genre to read back when you actually had the time to read. You loved the thrill, the suspense, everything it had to offer as it left goosebumps on your skin. Something about those kinds of books always drew you in, in a way you couldn’t really understand.

The covers and titles easily had you distracted, hovering toward them just to take a peek at what this place had to offer. And to your surprise there were a fair amount of good finds. The Exorcist, Rebecca, Frankenstein, Salem’s Lot. You found yourself going deeper down the rabbit hole as your eyes scanned the spines of them thoroughly, wondering how many you would be able to actually fit in your bag to take back. Because the truth was you missed being able to read, wanting something simple like this again to pass the time like you used to.

“The hell you doin?”

You physically felt yourself jump out of your skin at his sudden presence, holding a hand up to your chest as you let out a shuddering breath. “Holy shit…don’t do that.” you said as you reached over to push his chest gently.

He laughed softly in response as he raised an eyebrow at you, “I can tell ya what yer not doin.” he hinted, “How’s the left side lookin?”

You shrugged, “It seems...safe enough…” you smiled sheepishly.

“Uh huh.” he muttered.

“I got distracted, okay?” you said with a light laugh before your gaze fell back on where you were once looking, “I mean I can’t even remember the last time I saw this many books.”

The man paused for a minute as he watched your expression, how it seemed to light up even more in the darkness as you looked back to all the covers you still had yet to pick through. A sense of fondness washed over him as he watched you obviously gush over something you were passionate about. He wanted you to speak more about it, wanting to listen to your voice go on and on about the things you loved most about them, but he was almost too embarrassed to ask.

Though after a few moments of silence, his frame leaned up against the shelf to his left as he continued to stare, “Didn't know you were a reader.” he commented.

You shrugged as you didn’t break your gaze away from the book you pulled out to look at, “I guess I just never mentioned it…” you trailed off as you read the short summary on the back, before placing it up in it’s place again, “But I used to read all the time. What about you, you got any favorites?” you asked as you looked back towards him with a small and exciting smile.

It was an innocent question really, but all Daryl could do was pathetically shrug, not really wanting to go into depth about the real answer.

But you tilted your head at him as you wanted to know, genuinely growing curious, “Oh come on. You have to at least have one.” 

Daryl scoffed as he looked back up to you, “I…I ain’t ever really…” he trailed off again before letting out a harsh sigh, “Look, I ain’t ever read anythin before, alright? I don’t got no favorite.”

You were slightly taken aback, almost not believing him at first. But his face and tone were nothing but serious, showing you that he was telling the truth about having not read a single book in his life. “...Really?” you asked softly, “Not even in school or anything?”

He huffed out a small chuckle, “Ya mean when I actually went ta school? Yeah…don’t really think readin was at the top of my priority list.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Okay, fine. But seriously, no one ever read anything to you? Not even your…”

The two of you froze when you trailed off, though it was obvious what you were about to say. You knew of his past, how hard things were on him when he was a kid, you honestly didn’t even mean to let that last part slip as if you had forgotten. You hadn’t. But now you just wished you could take it all back as you felt ashamed and utterly embarrassed, a part of you also feeling terrible that he had never had that kind of comfort before.

In your childhood home, it was somewhat of a nightly routine that your parents would read you a short story every night before bed. You always loved that part, getting all snuggled up while your eyes slowly fluttered closed, hearing the soothing sound of their voices as they spoke until you were fast asleep. Now realizing that Daryl had never even had a sliver of that, brought a small frown to your face. But in a way, it also made you a little determined to make it up to him somehow.

Your eyes slowly trailed back to the bookshelf for a moment or two, before your eyes widened ever so slightly when you caught a glimpse of an all too familiar title. Carrie by Stephen King was one of your favorite books of all time, the plot being so interesting it left you at the edge of your seat as you went on. It was almost like some sort of sign to you as an idea formed in your head.

“Well…” you spoke quietly as you reached up to grab it, “It looks like we could be stuck in here for a while.” you mentioned, jutting your thumb back towards the doors where the walkers were still lingering. “What if I read to you?”

His eyes whipped back up to look at you, his face almost unreadable as he processed what you had just said. At first he wanted to decline, not because he didn’t want to hear the gentleness of your voice reading aloud to him, that sounded like a damn dream. But he didn’t want you to do something like this out of guilt, like you pitied him for not having that kind of luxury you used to have. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, something he hadn’t really thought about until now. But not even he could deny that as he stewed over it, he found himself missing out on something else from his childhood that he could never get back.

“Nah,” he shook his head as he stood up a bit straighter, “You don’t gotta do that, it’s alright.” he assured.

But your brows furrowed as you shook your head, “But I want to. I think it’ll be…nice.” you said honestly, wanting to reassure him that you actually wanted to do this.

He took in a breath as he studied your facial expression, seeing you were truly being genuine and sincere, and that warmed his heart more than you were able to imagine. You truly were the sweetest person he had ever met, constantly treating him with kindness ever since you had first met. And that only made his tough exterior soften in an instant.

“Alright…if you’re sure…” he finally agreed hesitantly.

You smiled brightly at him, “I’m sure.” you promised, nodding your head back for him to follow you to find a place to sit for the time being. Neither of you knew how long you would be trapped in here. A few hours? Overnight? You weren’t sure, but one thing you did know was that the two of you did not want to go back to the group just yet. You could almost feel the tension radiating from all the way over here when they were miles and miles away.

The flashlight in your hand shined down towards a spot where there were a few cushioned seats, causing you to pick the one placed in the corner before you plopped down, removing the bag from your shoulders in the process. As your body was turned away for just a brief moment, you then felt Daryl sit down beside you, before he adjusted himself to where his head was gently resting in your lap. Your eyes quickly glanced back down to look at him, catching the small smile he had on his face as he stared up at you softly. You couldn’t help but smile back, shaking your head a little to try and focus. But it was hard to do when his eyes were piercing, so clearly full of gentleness and care.

“Okay, so this right here is a classic.” you said as you pointed to the cover, “It’s one of my favorite horror novels, and I actually think you’ll really like it.”

His eyes moved over the cover as he nodded along, “Do I get ta hold yer hand if I get scared?” he suddenly teased with a small smirk.

You laughed quietly, “Sure, tough guy, you can hold my hand.”

He chuckled lightly as he nodded, watching you intently as you opened up the book, using the light of the flashlight you placed behind you to be able to see the tiny words on the pages. You squinted a little at first, before your soft voice began to read out loud to him, already feeling himself relax a little more at something so simple. If he was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t really care what you were reading. You could be reciting words from the English dictionary for all he cared. There was just something about hearing your voice in general that sent a wave of peace through him.

Eventually as the minutes flew by with the two of you engrossed in the events happening, your other hand traveled down to his hair, running your fingers through it gently. Daryl felt his heart flutter in his chest at the mindless action, almost as if it was second nature to you, making his eyes involuntarily close as he sighed deeply. He hadn’t felt this calm, this comforted by someone he cared about deeply in quite a long time. In fact, he seemed to question to himself if he ever had this feeling. The realization seemed to hit him then, but he almost didn’t care. He was just happy he had someone in his life now that was willing to give him all of that and more.

You noticed quickly however how his breathing seemed to change as he still laid beneath you, your eyes moving down to look at his face and see that he had fallen asleep after only barely getting through about three chapters. A small smile stretched across your face, closing the book and placing it back down beside you as your hand continued to gently run through the locks of his thick hair. Your eyes moved over the calm features of his face, taking in the fact that you had given him something that you once used to cherish. The unwinding feeling of someone reading you to sleep.

“Thank you…” his voice suddenly spoke quietly, moving to get even more comfortable in your lap as he drifted off.

In an instant your eyes seemed to glisten with tears at the simple gratitude, seeing how precious he really was. “Of course.” you whispered back, blinking away your tears as you hesitated for a moment, before leaning down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

And after that night you two spent together, you found yourself always trying to do the little things for him to make him feel safe. Because those were the things you found that mattered the most.

~ Thanks for reading!

[diaryofasentimentalist]

— i dial drunk // ex!leon

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

tags: angst, exes, drunk dial, very mild sexual content

summary: your ex calls you in the middle of the night to reminisce on the good times, but you'd rather not. (2.7k)

a/n: lots of jumping between the current phone call and their past memories so just mind the verb tense!

The ringing finds you in your dreams, a vexing trill that you can’t seem to find the source of no matter how long you search, that doesn’t stop no matter how long you wait it out. When it finally pulls you from your sleep, you reach over and silence the tone without so much as twitching an eyelid. The grating vibrations of your phone against the nightstand continue as the call finishes ringing out.

Another shrill tone startles you, shattering the silence as soon as you feel yourself drifting off again. Groggily, you pat around on the nightstand until you find your phone again and bring it to your ear, eyes barely cracking open enough to find the green 'accept' button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the receiver, eyes straining open. It’s pitch black. Nowhere near dawn. Good news never comes at this hour.

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

That voice you’d know anywhere snakes its way into your ear, straight down your throat and into your chest, where it settles around your heart, squeezing tightly. You’re wide awake now, burning eyes forcing their way open, pulse quickening as you lay still in bed, paralyzed.

“Leon,” you say hoarsely, your voice still thick with sleep.

Your name echoes back to you on a sigh, your chest constricting at the homesickness of it all.

“I told you not to call me anymore,” you say, measured and even in spite of the way it feels like you can’t breathe.

“I know, baby,” he says, words slightly slurred. “But I jus’ missed you… wanted to hear your voice again…”

“You’re drunk.”

It’s not a question or an accusation, just a statement. It’s in his voice, in the way he called you multiple times at such an hour. In the way he’s calling you baby again, telling you openly how much he misses you. Leon has too much good sense— or maybe just pride— to pester you when he’s sober. Even on the rare occasion when he’s run into you in public since the break up, he just watched you from afar, a strange expression on his face. Get enough alcohol in him, though, and he’s right back to the desperation of the day you first left.

“S’that obvious, huh?” he says with a low laugh. The sound triggers the thing that has settled in your chest to tighten once more, sends another stabbing pain straight to your heart as you stare up at the dark ceiling. “Sorry, baby. I know you hate it when I drink.”

“Hated,” you correct. It doesn’t matter. Even if he remembers this conversation when he’s sober, it won’t stop him from talking the same way next time he drunk dials. “I don’t care what you do anymore, Leon, so long as you leave me out of it.” You shift onto your other side, breaking through the strange paralysis that had overtaken you. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand is waiting to greet you. 2:23 AM. “But you can’t even do that. God, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Nighttime?” he offers, sounding unbothered. “Did I wake you? We always used to stay up this late.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as an involuntary wave of memories floods through you. There were a lot of late nights when you were together. The lack of consistent sleep schedule never bothered you then. You were always just happy to be spending time with him in whatever way. Sometimes you’d be out on the balcony, lights off, clinging to one another as you talked on the wicker settee. Sometimes you’d watch late night tv, lying on the couch with him on top of you, nuzzling into your neck while you traced patterns into his back beneath his shirt. Sometimes you’d lie atop the mound of pillows on the bed, his head buried between your thighs as you gasped and sighed and moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I have work tomorrow,” you say coldly, bidding the images to stop. “Goodbye, Leon.”

He cuts in before you can hang up, carrying on as though you hadn’t said anything at all. “Remember when you got that craving for muffins at midnight?”

Of course you do. You’d been having another late night with Leon, the tv droning on in the background while the two of you dozed on and off, when he’d finally suggested the two of you retire to bed. A commercial for some cereal came on just before the screen went black, and the second you saw the mock breakfast spread, that was it. You needed a muffin. Leon laughed off your suggestion at first. As soon as he realized how serious you were, though, he’d pulled you up and to the kitchen, and you’d gotten to work. His offers to help you culminated in him keeping a hand firmly planted on your waist at all times, watching you measure the ingredients out, and kissing the back of your head every so often. But you were at his apartment, and he wasn’t much of a baker, and so you’d only realized halfway through that he didn’t have all of the things you needed, no brown sugar or vanilla or even cinnamon.

Feeling defeated, you’d relented that you could just finish tomorrow. Wordlessly, Leon left the kitchen, returning a moment later with his keys jingling around his finger and tossing you a jacket. He took you to the nearest 24-hour supermarket, your hand never dropping his as you led him along the aisles, giggling. Even now, you recall the distinct domesticity of it all, how you’d felt so normal, like you could have a real life with him some day.

Leon kept a hand on your thigh the whole drive back, taking the long way home just to prolong the moment, and you were so glad you could watch the wind from the open windows rifle through his hair just a little longer, drink in the sight of the passing street lights flickering across his skin. When you finally got home, he was touchier than before as you finished your baking expedition. The moment the tray was in the oven you were upon him, legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you onto the counter, pulling you closer, always closer. You’d been so distracted that you’d let the muffins bake a little too long until the smell reminded you what you’d stayed up for. The edges had started to burn, the cinnamon crumble on top hardening just a bit too much, and you’d insisted that you could do better, but he assured you—

“Best damn muffins I’ve ever had,” Leon rambles on. “Been to a million bakeries, can’t find anything like them…”

Why is he telling you all this?

Why is he making you remember?

Now that the memory has started, you can’t stop it, the scenes rolling in your mind like a film. After indulging in the baked goods, he’d carried you to his room, house still smelling of cinnamon and vanilla. It must’ve been well past three by the time he was laying you back against the bed gently, but neither of you were tired. The earlier impatience in his movements had dissipated, and he took his time with you, his hands caressing your body while yours explored his with equal devotion—

“I miss how you felt in my hands,” he says suddenly, as though his thoughts have followed the same natural trajectory as yours.

You remember his hands on your hips, firm, secure, anchoring you to him. The way his calloused palms felt against your smooth skin. The way his touch dripped with reverence, like he was perpetually caught between the desire to treat you like something delicate and the desire to have more of you, that hungry conflict always reflected in his piercing blue eyes—

“I miss how you looked under me,” he continues.

You remember throwing your head back, how he’d dip in to kiss along the exposed column of your neck before littering affection across your face. How it would suddenly stop, sometimes, and when you’d look up at him expectantly, you’d find him gazing down at you in equal parts awe and adoration. The moment you reached up for him he’d come back down and—

“I miss how your lips fit against mine.”

“You’re so selfish,” you interject, unwilling to entertain this any longer, afraid of what might happen if you do. “Waking me up on a work night so you have someone to reminisce with?”

“I know, baby,” he says, a self-deprecating laugh tumbling through the phone, twisting your stomach. “I was a shit boyfriend and I’m a shittier ex.”

That’s not true. He was a wonderful boyfriend, except when he wasn’t. He was always affectionate with you, except when he wanted to be alone… always warm and patient with you, except when he would withdraw… always understanding and attentive, except when he’d drink… It’s just that the times he wasn’t there for you were so hard, and over time, they’d gotten more and more frequent. Nothing you did to try to reach him, to be there for him, to support him, ever seemed to get through to him. Eventually, it was all too much.

Yet anytime you hear his voice, it’s always the good that comes to mind. It overwhelms you, makes you question why you ever left. A single word from Leon makes you curse the day you walked away. Only when you’re alone, in silence, away from the inexplicable effect of his presence, can you truly remember how the lows felt. The isolation of it all, the pain, the waiting. The disappointment over and over and over again.

The rest of that night comes to you now, floating in through the open window with the August breeze. How strange to think that was a whole year ago. After making love, he’d held you for a time, and you were content there, as sweaty and warm as it was, but he’d carried you to the shower with him. It was mostly silent, save for the pitter-patter of the water against the tile. He lathered your hair for you, and you scrubbed his back, pressing kisses against his wet shoulders. By the time the two of you were toweled and dressed in fresh clothes, it was late— or early— enough that you’d decided to stay up and watch the sun rise. You’d snuggled closer to him out on the balcony, the early morning air chilling you slightly as your still wet hair dripped onto your shoulders. He’d pulled you in, his body a natural furnace, and wrapped you in his arms.

God, you’ve never felt that safe anywhere else.

“Yeah, you are.” The words are laced with forced venom, and it burns to speak them. “That’s why you shouldn’t call me anymore.”

“I know.” There’s a pause on the other end. “You should block me.”

His words shatter something inside you. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” he drawls. “You could just block me. But you won’t.”

“Leon.”

“Because you still think about me, too, don’t you?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“And if you blocked me,” he rambles on, “then you’d really never hear from me again.”

“Go fuck yourself, actually.”

Laughter filters in and out of earshot, like the receiver keeps drifting from his lips, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches on for one minute, two. A part of your conversation from that night on the balcony strikes you.

“Why not?” you’d asked him, tearing your gaze away from the brightening horizon to stare up at him, at the distant look in his blue eyes. Somehow, the subject of past relationships had come up. It wasn’t something either of you really cared about, but he’d just disclosed that he hadn’t really had a long term relationship with anyone before you. Most women left before things got serious, he’d said, and he never asked them to stay, to give it a real shot. He shrugged, using the motion to tug you closer.

“I can’t ask that of anyone. I don’t really deserve to. If someone wants to leave, I get it.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That means you, too, when you finally get sick of me one day.”

“Never,” you said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek as he chuckled. A few strands of sandy hair tickled your nose. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?”

“Oh, darling, I know. I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with you long after you’re gone.”

The offhand remark didn’t make sense to you at the time, and when you asked him what he meant, he refused to elaborate, merely remarking on the emerging colors in the sky.

You get it now. And if you’d got it then, you would have been afraid, too.

Time moves on for everyone else, but not you two. Something happened when you stormed out of his apartment on that rainy night back in April, staining the fabric of time, marring your life with an inescapable loop. Just when you start to feel normal, you’re forced to relive the raw heartache all over again, as if it’s only been four days, not months, since you left. It happens every single time his name pops up on your caller ID. Every so often, when you think— with a surge of dread that you refuse to acknowledge— that he might finally have moved on, he calls again.

Never to ask you to come back, though. Never to ask you for another chance.

Just to reminisce.

Hot tears stream out of the corners of your eyes, landing on your pillow with muted plops. You make no effort to stop them or wipe them away, silent for fear that your voice will betray you if you try to speak now. You hate it, but even crying in bed like this makes you think of him, the feeling of his chest against your back, his silent strength when he’d comfort you during moments of weakness.

“Leon?” you call, wondering if he finally passed out. Hoping that if he did, he’s at least in bed, or on the couch, or somewhere safe. Warm. Not huddled outside of some seedy bar, or hunched over the filthy curb.

“I may be selfish, sweetheart” he says finally, his voice husky, “but you’re just cruel.” You can only blink up at the ceiling, tears momentarily stayed as you wrack your brain for what he’s responding to. “You answer my calls just to tell me how much you don’t want them.”

If the fight weren’t draining out of you, you might snap back at him that he doesn’t have to call in the first place, that he should take a hint, that he should delete your number altogether. Instead, all you can do is let his words hang there while you contemplate them.

Maybe it is cruel. When he calls you like this, asking if you remember, he’s asking something more. Questions he could never verbalize, but that remain implicit in what he says. Do all those little moments mean as much to you as they do to me? Do the memories haunt you like they haunt me? Do you miss it like I do?

Leon won’t ask you to come back, no. But he wants to know if you’ve ever considered it on your own.

“Goodnight, Leon,” you say suddenly, forcing the words past the painful lump in your throat. You can't keep doing this, can't keep letting him tear you down just because he's found himself at the bottom of another bottle. “I hope you learn how to take better care of yourself one day.”

“I hope you find someone better to take care of one day.” At first, you think he’s just scrambled up your words in his drunken stupor in an effort to throw them back at you. But then he speaks again, and you know he meant exactly what he said. “Hey, I’m glad you left. Happy for you, I mean. You deserve better than me." Something terrible is building up in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat if he doesn't stop. "I love—”

You hang up before he can hear the way your breath shudders.

[kingofpopmj]

Conscious Decision

Part 8

July 21st, 1988

*Y/N’s POV*

I felt myself sinking deeper into the mattress the longer I laid here. I couldn’t bring myself to move let alone open my eyes. I had just spent a fourth night sleeping alone after our wedding day— well what should’ve been. Now, more than ever I felt the most connected to him. I could feel his sadness, pain and fear. It felt like a malicious joke. It’s been four whole days without him, yet the hold he had on my heart and mind was stronger than ever. He had me even though I was fighting it, but that was a joke too, because I wasn’t putting up much of a fight anyway.

“Do you want to join the girls and I today? We’re going into town.” Janet jumped onto my bed, propping herself up on her elbows.

“I think I would much rather lay here all day. The sun is too bright and the birds are singing too loud. Who was that on the phone?”

“I’m glad to see you’re still as optimistic as ever. Y/N, you know who it was.” She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, playing with the ends of her hair. “Come on. You can’t stay in the room another day. You have to get out. Come with us, it’ll be fun!”

“The phone has been ringing nonstop for hours. That was all him?”

“Yes. Can we change the subject now?”

“What did he say?” I rolled onto my side, staring at her impatiently.

“Okay, we’re still on this. This isn’t a good idea. I don’t think me telling you everything that little twerp said will help.”

“It’s that bad?”

“No. I mean it’s the usual, he wants me to tell you all this mushy stuff and he’s asking when he can see you. He doesn’t sound too good.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

“I’m just so mad at him.” I huffed, sitting up and crossing my legs. I didn’t want to go on like this much longer. I don’t want to be angry anymore.

“I know.”

“I love him.” I let out a deep breath, trying to fight the urge to cry again.

“Yeah, no shit.” Janet rolled her eyes and for the first time in days I laughed with her. A genuine laugh and it felt amazing.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Do you want to see him?” She crossed her arms, staring at me with a weird look on her face.

“Yes, but I don’t know if I should want to see him.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“That depends. Is it mean?”

“No! I’m never mean!” She flung her legs to hang off the side of the bed, exhaling dramatic as ever, “We all know this isn’t the end. What he did was— he’s an ass for doing it, but he hasn’t really had the chance to explain. I mean no damn explanation will ever make up for it— he’s still an idiot, but maybe it’ll give you the necessary closure to move forward together or move on separately. You guys are going to move on from this one way or another, because even though my brother is king of the fools and doesn’t deserve you— I mean seriously you’re so out of his league he’s lucky you even look his way. I swear the fucking nerve. You’re the whole damn package and he ain’t shit— he’s lucky he met you when you were kids. He had years to soften you up. Now, you see his goofiness as endearing, instead of what it truly is. A big ass red flag!” She took a deep breath, before going on. “Anyways, for some insane reason he won you over. You love him. And as much as I hate him right now, I have to cut his the tiniest shred of slack. Michael doesn’t have much— well any experience with relationships, he’s never tried to understand them for anyone but you. It’s unknown territory. He’s never cared enough about a person to explore a relationship. No one measured up because there is only one you. You’ve had his heart since the beginning— his stupid little heart. In his mind, the definition of love is you. Love equals Y/N. That’s the only way it’s comprehensible to him— the only way it’s real in his eyes. Besides this, he’s done a decent job being your guy— I mean this was a huge deal, it was your fucking wedding, so maybe that erases all the things he did right. I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet.” She stood up, walking back and forth along the rug, her arms waving in the air as she spoke. “What I’m trying to say is, he’s got his crusty little nails dug into you and he’s not going to let go. Not without a fight and I’m telling you as his little sister, Michael can take a lot of hits. He won’t give up easily. I don’t know what he’d do if he lost you and honestly I’m hoping I don’t have to find out, but I’ll support you in whatever you decide. I believe he’s truly sorry. Maybe you’ll feel better when you hear his side. I think, if you really want to see him, you should.”

“Wow. That was the sweetest, meanest thing you’ve ever said about Michael.”

“I try.” She shrugged, giggling at her own sarcasm.

“What time are you leaving? Should I call him?”

“In an hour. Relax. That little fool will call again and when he does I’ll let him know.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll give him a piece of my mind too just to scare him.”

“Janet.”

“I’m going to tell him you packed up and went back home.” She laughed like a hyena, jumping off the bed only to fall over. “Oh, he’d probably cry.”

“Please don’t make him cry.”

“What! You did! Why can’t I?” An uncomfortable silence followed and her expression shifted along with it. “Shit. I’m sorry that was too soon.”

“It’s okay. I just— it sucks that this is our reality.”

“It’ll take time, but this will all be worth it in the end. It’ll be—” The telephone rang loudly as we stared at each other, slowly directing our attention to the piercing noise. “I’ll get that.” She smiled, looking over at me one last time. “Are you sure?” She asked with her palm resting on the telephone.

“Yes. I’m positive.”

*Michael’s POV*

“Michael.” My younger sister’s annoying voice came from the other end.

“Hi.” Suddenly, I was very aware of how many calls I’ve made to this number, but I didn’t care enough to be embarrassed about it.

“So, what’s up?” She was teasing me, I could imagine her at this very moment, smiling deviously with her hand on her hip.

“My blood pressure. How— how is she?”

“The same as she was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Okay.”

“How are you?” Her tone changed, I could tell she was being sincere. “Brother, you can talk to me, are you okay?”

“No.” I answered honestly. “I ruined everything. I thought I knew why. I thought it was the right thing. I just wanted to protect her. I don’t know how to exist knowing that any second I could lose the one person that makes it— that gives my existence purpose.���

“Damnit Michael.” She huffed loudly.

“What? What is it?”

“I’m trying to be mad at you right now and you go say that?” I could hear her pacing as she let out a sad chuckle. “Now, you have me crying like a baby. You know what, you shouldn’t be allowed to talk. Let me be mad at you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re so annoying. Always saying the perfect thing. You damn poet.”

“I’m—”

“She’s in the shower.” Janet quickly interrupted me. “She’s getting ready.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good she’s going to get out and do something. She deserves to be happy.”

“Michael, listen to me and listen carefully. Y/N is really fragile right now. She’s strong, but that doesn’t mean she’s indestructible. What happened— what you did, it messed her up. It’s triggered things in her that I don’t think she even knew existed. She’s cried so much, I didn’t know it was humanly possible to produce that many tears. You freaking jerk. Seriously, I don’t even— I love you, but damn I’m really struggling to be nice to you right now. I don’t understand why you did this, but I’m not the one you owe that explanation to. Michael, I want to help, but in order to do that I’m gonna need you to get your head out of your ass. I’ll do everything I can to help you get your girl back. Let me help you, no more stupid shit. It’s going to be difficult, but I believe it’s possible to get past this. It’s possible if you don’t go rouge again. You only get one chance with me. Brother, I promise, you so much as breathe in the wrong direction and I’ll knock you on your ass.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, I truly am. I wish I could do it all over again and do it right. Thanks, you saying it’s possible for us to get past this is the best thing I’ve heard in days. I’ll be good I swear, I wouldn’t want to feel the wrath of Janet.” I rolled over in bed, trying to ignore the tickle in my throat. “You should take her to The British Museum or St. Paul’s Cathedral, she’d love those. I can make a few calls and get you guys a tour guide or passes. Whatever you guys need.”

“Okay, on one condition.”

"You’re a pain in my ass. What’s the condition?"

"You should be the one to take her."

“She doesn’t want to see me. I’d ruin her day. I’ll be lucky if she ever wants to see me again.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day. Why else do you think she’s getting ready?”

“Are you being serious? Because this would be a really mean joke.” I sprung up from my previous position, kicking off the layers of covers weighing me down. “We’ve been on the phone for ten minutes and you’re just now telling me?”

“Yes.”

“She really wants to see me?” This must be what Christmas morning feels like.

“She really does.”

“She really does?”

“Yes. Okay, I have one more thing to say. Michael, I love you and I love Y/N. I love both of you so damn much, together and as individuals. You guys getting together is— it was so awesome. She’s been family for so long. We were all excited when you two finally made it work. I don’t know it just felt like, you know, like it all fell into place. Fuck, this is hard. Look, I’ll do whatever I can to lead you two back to one another, because right now it’s evident that you both want that, but I’m going to do whatever is best. So, if I get even a sliver of a feeling that Y/N doesn’t want this, no matter how much it’ll hurt, I’ll support her. If she decides at any point she needs to walk away from you, I’ll be there for her. That’s never going to change. I’ll be here for both of you, just separately.”

“I understand.”

“Okay.”

“I have to get ready. It's actually such a relief that it’ll be the three of us.” I said, the nerves were quick to take over my body as I tried to think of what to say to her. What can I say to her? Janet being there will definitely take the edge off.

“Is thirty minutes enough time for you?”

“I could get ready in five minutes with the way I’m feeling right now.”

“Good. Oh, by the way, this morning mom and the girls invited Y/N and I to go out with them. It’s a nice day to do some sightseeing, don’t you think? Yeah. Well, I’m still going with them, so it’ll just be the two of you. Y/N’s expecting you to pick her up from my room. Don’t be late! Bye!” She spoke so fast I could barely process it.

“Wait!—”

“Gotta go! Kisses!”

She giggled wickedly, hanging up on me without another word. I swear she lives to watch me squirm. I dropped the phone and watched as it hung by the wire, bouncing up and down before stopping all together. I rubbed my eyes as I got out of bed for the first time in four days. My room, that was once our room, was dark and stuffy and to my mother’s dismay I refused to let her tidy up. It looked like how I felt on the inside. I deserved to be surrounded by darkness and disarray. My body ached as I dragged my feet over to the bathroom, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up which felt like an eternity.

My mind wandered to Y/N, stepping into the tub felt so lonely, everything felt empty without her. I never truly understood how integral she was to my life. I don’t have many friends, many people I can trust, she’s the small piece of normalcy in my life. 

“I’m not sure where you go from here, but you’re going to have to accept the fact that it’ll be without her.”

My brother’s words echoed in my head as I felt that sensation, the one that has quickly taken control of me often since that day. The one I couldn’t escape regardless of how hard I fought.

The sound of blood pounded in my ears. My heart collided against my chest with force. My hands began trembling beyond control. My vision growing more distorted, I tried to blame it on the steam from the shower, but I knew better. I had to get away. I couldn’t stay stuck in this bathroom any longer. I needed out.

I unintentionally ripped the curtain off the rod while reaching for my towel. I leaned against the cold tiled wall, fighting to fill my lungs with air. I was almost there. I can do this. All I had to do was breathe. If I held on a little longer I’d see her. I’d be with her soon if I just held it together. I can do this. The tightness in my chest, loudly told me otherwise. Shit. Quickly, stumbling over furniture to reach the phone, I dialed numbers, in the same order that I had been for the past few days. Maybe, I need to hear her voice. That’s it. That’s what I need. I just need to hear her voice and that’ll help ease my mind. That’ll help me breathe. The phone didn’t ring long and that voice filled my ears. The voice that consumed my thoughts and dreams the past four days. The voice I couldn’t function without.

“Hello?”

It’s her. It’s Y/N.

My Y/N.

*Y/N’s POV*

I lifted my purse, hanging it off of my shoulder as I contemplated which heels to wear. It was almost embarrassing how emotional it felt to see him again. As hurt as I was, I think I missed him more. I knew I missed him more. The phone rang obnoxiously, startling me, yet still, I practically danced over to it. Thankfully, Janet had already left or else I would never hear the end of it. I was confident that I’d hear his sweet voice on the other end and as much as I didn’t want to admit it out loud. I couldn’t wait.

“Hello?”

I held the phone close to my ear, waiting to hear him.

“Hello? Michael, is that you?” A deep rooted emotion began to flood my senses. One that I hadn’t felt in a long time, one that I had hoped I’d never feel again.

“Michael?” The faint sound of wheezing was the only response I got. It was all I needed.

I didn’t think twice. I didn’t say anything else. I took off in a sprint. As fast as I was moving it still felt too slow. When I reached the stairwell, the images from years ago flashed through my mind. As my hands gripped the cold steel railings, I remembered the feeling of the shattered pieces I cleaned off the floor that night. The damp remnants left on my shoulder from his tears all those years ago, causing my body to run cold at the memory.

Finally, I reached his level, running down the hall and colliding with his front door. I was so worried I forgot to slow down. My hands struggled with the zipper of my purse, so I tore it open and dumped its contents onto the floor. The small silver key called to me. I yanked it off the patterned carpet, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

I didn’t have to walk much further into the room before my eyes landed on him. Michael, curled up in a fetal position, a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet hair clinging to his face.

“Hey.” I whispered, gently touching his head. “I’m here. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” I sat beside him as he pulled himself into my lap, his head resting on my thighs and I stroked his hair. “Just breathe. I’m here.”

“I— I ca— can’t.” The sadness in his voice tugged at my heart. I’d never heard it so broken before. I could tell he was scared. My presence wasn’t enough, he needed a little more.

“Focus on my voice.” I spoke calmly, lying down next to him. “Remember that night we snuck out to go camping?”

He didn’t respond, I didn’t expect him to. He had a strong hold on me as we laid close to one another. I could feel how lost he was in his thoughts. I needed to bring him back to me.

“I was so excited walking over to your house that night. I’ll never forget seeing you jump out of your bedroom window, you fell right on your butt. When you saw me, you shot up to your feet and acted like it didn’t hurt, you insisted that you were fine even though you were limping.”

This time I felt a slight nod from Michael, so I continued on.

“You brought the blankets and I brought the snacks. We had prepared all week for that night. I couldn’t wait to be with you, I wanted to stay up all night just to spend more time together. You spent four hours wrestling with the tent, because it wouldn’t stay up, you were so mad. We ended up sharing a sleeping bag and lying directly on the grass with no shelter, so we had a nice view of the sky. It worked out if you ask me, it’s the reason I love stargazing. You knew how much I loved s’mores, so you built a little fire in that empty soup can. It worked for a while too, until you—”

“It was you.” He spoke, gently interrupting my storytelling.

“Michael, we go over this every time. You kicked it.”

“Sweetheart, I love you, but you knocked it over reaching for the marshmallows.”

“Agree to disagree.” I laughed at our refusal to accept blame.

“You’re barefoot.”

“I wasn’t finished getting ready when you called. Then, I heard you, so I dropped everything and ran. I tried to get to you as fast as I could.”

“You got here at the perfect time.” He assured me, his voice was soothing as I felt his smile against my forehead. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“I was so nervous that night. I used some of Jackie’s aftershave, I had Janet help me fix my hair and Latoya dressed me. That was going to be the night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was going to tell you how I felt. How I truly felt.”

“Really?” I adjusted my head to see his face. He smiled back at me, resting his back flat on the floor and pulling me to rest on his chest.

“I had my speech memorized.” I looked down, studying the ring on my finger, all the while I felt his eyes on me. “I was going to start off by telling you what an incredible best friend you are, how beautiful, kind and loving you are. How I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

“We were thirteen.” I whispered.

“Yeah, we were, but I already knew.” I calmly started to move away from him, but he stopped my movements. “Y/N, I love you. I always have. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Michael—”

“I don’t want to live my life without you.” I closed my eyes as I felt him touch my cheek, his fingers were soft and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Old habits die hard. “I can’t live without you.” He murmured, all my worries melted away, long enough to feel how well we fit together. The tenderness of his lips sparked a warmth in my heart and an urgent need throughout my body. Our connection grew stronger the further we went. I looked up at him, watching him settle in between my legs. He placed his hand on my denim covered thigh, inching up to unbutton my bottoms. The effect of his touch quickly shifted, unleashing a wave of anxiety rather than pleasure.

“Y/N, look at me.” Janet grabbed my shoulders, giving me no choice, but to stop avoiding reality.

“He’s really not coming.” I spoke softly, I sounded lifeless. “I can’t believe he did this. How could he do this?”

Michael lingered above me, his lips curved slightly before I felt them on my neck and that’s when it hit me.

“Where were you?” I asked him.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now. And, I’m so sorry for being late.”

“You stood me up on our wedding day. I’d hope it would matter a little bit.”

I felt my body tense up as his moved against mine. Michael slowly pushed my top down my shoulder, hooking his finger underneath my bra strap. I became extremely aware of where this was going and it consumed me with panic.

I’m suffocating.

“Michael—”

“I missed hearing you say my name.”

“Michael. Wait. Stop!” I pushed him off of me harder than I intended to. It was abrupt, taking me by surprise as well. I felt like I was drowning and for the first time, Michael wasn't my life line.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Oh?” He readjusted his towel and looked at me as if he was asking me to explain further.

“Michael, I think I need time. We can’t act like it didn’t happen.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to go change and get some shoes on.” I smiled at him half-heartedly, gesturing to the wet splotches now littering my outfit.

“Sorry, I dripped all over you.” He let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s alright—”

“Wait.” His hand wrapped around my wrist, keeping me from escaping the awkward tension in the air. “Nothing I say, nothing I do is ever going to fix this, is it?”

“I— I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“I think we have a better chance than most.” I whispered, trying to ease the pain of this situation.

“Can we still spend the day together?”

“I’d really like that.”

*Michael's POV*

Y/N met me in the lobby after she had left to change her outfit. I was speechless. Wow. She looked breathtaking. A long lacy black dress hugged her curves, it had an open neckline and see through sleeves that covered her arms. I could not stop staring as she walked over to me. Although, it felt more like she was floating. Wow. She paired it with deep red heels that matched the color of her lipstick. A black hat resting on top of her head, shielding her face if she looked down just enough.

“Hi.” She stood in front of me and still I couldn’t find the words. 

“You– I– Wow. Hi.” 

“Are you okay? We can stay in if you don’t feel up to going out. I know the panic attacks are—.” She whispered with a small comforting smile.

“No. No. I just– Wow. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.” Her fingers traced the red band around my arm. “I love that you still wear these.” 

“I’ll always wear them. They remind me of you.” Y/N smiled, curling her fingers around my bicep as we exited the lobby.

The journey to the museum was uneventful. It was full of meaningless conversation and heart wrenching glances. When we arrived I did my best to look as normal as possible, instinctively, my hand rested on Y/N’s lower back, keeping her close to me. Old habits die hard. We were ushered through a side door and I was able to make arrangements, so we had a whole wing of the museum to ourselves. I knew she’d love it. I couldn’t wait to be alone with her again.

I gave Bill a subtle nod, swiftly he fell back, giving Y/N and I more privacy as we roamed. I admired the way her eyes scanned the canvas before us, the way she nibbled at her bottom lip as she tried to understand it and most importantly how close she stood to me. Our arms brushed one another, breathing in her perfume made it seem like it would all be okay.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Wow, look at this one. I love it." The deep colors of the painting in front of us, matching perfectly with her outfit. Again, I was watching her more than the art.

“I love you.”

“I lo—Me too.” She smiled sweetly, her hands clasped together in front of her as she walked over to the sculptures. I noticed how she couldn’t say those words back to me, although it hurt, I couldn’t blame her. As much as I wanted to hold her hand I knew she needed distance, but I couldn’t let her forget that I was going to fight for her.

“Y/N, I’m so in love with you. I need you to understand that.”

“Michael, I know. You’ve been reminding me all day.”

“I believe it’s nice to hear. You deserve to hear it. I enjoy reminding you.”

“Okay, that’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I guess some people don’t enjoy professing their love like I do.” I snapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She stopped walking and turned to me, her left eyebrow arched as she waited for an answer.

"It means that I've been pouring my heart out to you and the only response I get from you is 'I know' or 'thank you’. What's going on, Y/N, do you not love me anymore?"

"Jesus Michael."

"Well, what is it? What else should I do? Do you not want to be with me anymore? Do you want me to take you back to the hotel? Right now, I feel like I’m the only one trying to fix this."

"You're the one who broke it!"

"Y/N, baby—”

"Don't call me that!" She pointed at me as her bottom lip quivered. No. Please don’t cry. I can’t handle seeing you cry.

“You think I don’t know that I caused this?”

“This was a bad idea.” She shook her head, spinning on her toes and quickly walking towards the exit. “I can’t believe I thought—”

“No, it wasn’t! No! Talk to me.” I ran to catch up to her, grabbing her arms and standing in front of her.

“Michael—”

“Tell me why you’re shutting me out!”

“I don’t want to do this here.”

“Tell me!”

“Michael, stop—”

“Talk to me damnit!”

“Stop yelling at me!” Our voices bounced off the walls, I could feel the anger in her words. She hated yelling, arguing wasn’t her way. Y/N always preferred to talk things through, so I took a deep breath and spoke.

“The only way we can fix this is to talk about it. I want to fix this. I need to fix this.”

“You didn’t show up.” She said simply, her eyes not meeting mine.

“I know.” My grip on her arms loosening as I watched her contemplating what to say next.

“It felt like our wedding meant nothing to you. It didn’t matter. I didn't matter. You just vanished and you made me feel so rejected. That was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. I don’t understand why you did it.” Her cheeks now damp with tears as she fought to contain herself.

"I'm sorry. Y/N, I know I caused this. I know these are the consequences of what I did— I hate knowing I did this to you— It’s on me. You can’t say it— you can’t tell me you love me because I left on what should’ve been the most important day of our lives. I did that. I did it and I hate myself— I hate that you can barely look at me, but it’s my fault. I regret it with my whole heart. I should’ve shown up. I should’ve done it right. I should’ve made you my wife. I should’ve— I wish I did and I'm so sorry. I know I deserve it, I know I deserve for you to walk away for good but I’m still so afraid to lose you."

"The reason I haven't said it back isn't because I don’t love you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you hurt me Michael. You hurt me in a way I never thought was possible. It was an unbearable pain that I never thought I'd have to endure, especially from you. That night, I didn't want to see you ever again, I thought I hated you, but you came to see me anyway. Once I saw you I forgot about that pain, I forgot about how angry I was, because all I wanted to do was run to you. All I wanted was for you to hold me and to forget everything that happened. Once I saw you, all was forgiven and when I heard your voice I was yours again."

"That's good. Right?"

"You don't understand." She shook her head, turning away from me, but I stopped her.

"Then explain it to me. Please."

"I love you so much that I'd forgive you without an apology, without an explanation. I love you so much that I'd accept pain as long as it meant that I'd still have you. I love you so much that l'd— I love you so much that I've allowed you to string me along all our lives."

“Y/N.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt my heart.” She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together.

“Y/N, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done, I know that, but we have both hurt each other in the past. Maybe I’ve caused you more pain, but that doesn’t negate the pain I’ve felt.“ Once the words left my lips I regretted it. She’s never hurt me.

“Well, maybe we should just walk away now, try to save our friendship before it’s too late.”

“I don’t want to go back to that. You don’t want that. I can’t. Y/N, you’re who I belong with. It has always been us.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it anymore. We couldn’t survive anymore pain. We couldn’t. Even as friends.”

“Y/N, I need you to believe me. I rather slit my wrists than cause you pain. I will never hurt you again.”

“Again.” She muttered, “It used to be I will never hurt you. Period.” She uncrossed her arms, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

“I know.”

“Michael, I’m so afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid of forgiving you, but I’m petrified of not forgiving you.”

“Y/N—”

“Why?” She interrupted me, her lips sucked in between her teeth. She was struggling to keep herself from falling apart in front of me.

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you show up?”

“I— I’m not sure.”

“Michael, please, answer the question.”

“I guess there were many reasons.”

“Many?” Her voice sounded helpless as she stepped further away from me. I never knew it was possible to see someone visibly crumble until now.

“Please. Baby— I mean Y/N, please don’t cry.”

“What were the reasons?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Then, I’m leaving.”

“Stop! Please, stop walking away from me.” I ran, blocking her path, my hands cupped her face gently. “I know you don’t want to leave. I know you don’t mean it. I know you.”

“Yeah, you know me so well.” She rolled her eyes out of frustration, lifting her chin up and away from my grasp.

“Y/N, what do I need to do?”

“Please, just explain it to me, tell me the reasons.” I shook my head, looking down at the floor. “Why not?”

“Because I’m trying to fix us, not break us.” I tried holding her hand, surprisingly she let me.

“What does this look like to you? We’re already pretty broken.”

“Exactly. I don’t—”

“I need to know why in order to move forward. I need to know, so I can let it go. I need to know so I can try to forgive you.”

“I don’t see how that will help, it’s like you want me to hurt you. All day, you’ve kept me at a distance. You’ve barely looked at me. Have you thought about how that makes me feel?”

“Are you really trying to compare standing me up on our wedding day to me trying to figure out how to forgive you?”

“Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is this your way of getting back at me? Getting even?”

“If you truly think I’d do something like that, plan to hurt you as a way of evening out the playing field then you don’t know me like I thought you did. If that’s what you think, then we shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“It’s not. Y/N, I know you would never do that.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“Because I’m frustrated. I fucked up. Okay? I really fucked up. I ruined this and I’m struggling to ignore the possibility of not being able to fix it.”

“Me too.”

“At least there’s one thing we agree on.”

“Yeah, little victories.” She smiled weakly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“It’s difficult being so close to you yet feeling so damn far away.”

“Mhm.”

“I wish I could jump on my bike and ride down to Burger Grill. Your go-to order, a big bag of fries, a milkshake with extra whipped cream and cuddles from your favorite guy. When we were kids, that used to fix everything.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t kids anymore.” She pressed her hand against her belly as she attempted to calm her breathing. “Michael, I can’t jump back in right away. I want to fix this it’s just— I feel so vulnerable. I don’t want to feel pain like that ever again. It’s nerve wracking being with you, but I’m trying. I really am. I want to be close to you but my mind won’t let me. I think— I don’t know— It’s like everything inside of me is at war. My heart hurts, but wants you, wants to forgive you. My body aches, but wants to be held by you—” I knew if I let her go on she’d end up inconsolable.

“I didn’t show up because I want you to be happy. More anything in my entire life I want the best for you. I want you to enjoy life and never have to experience anything less than pure joy. I want you to have freedom. You said you needed to know, so here it is. When I was with Frank that day, he went on this rant about how your life was going to change and I wasn’t preparing properly.”

“Okay.” She gently squeezed my hand encouraging me to go on.

“He was right. You’ll be my wife. That’s all. You won’t be able to work and I know how much you love your job. You won’t be able to make a simple trip to the grocery store or anywhere really at least not by yourself and I know how much you value your independence. You won’t have any freedom. Your privacy will be gone in an instant.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not easy. I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you because those damn parasites were following you. The thought of you being dragged through the mud to the extent that I am— that thought killed me.”

“You could’ve come to me. We could’ve discussed it. Michael, I would’ve understood.”

“I know.”

“Why did you think that the solution was to not show up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because!” I yelled again. This is not going the way I thought it would.

“Because what!” She snatched her hand away from mine, looking back at me like I wasn’t me anymore, like I was a stranger.

“Because I knew if I showed up, I knew if I saw you— I knew that we would be married right now. I can’t think straight when it comes to you. Damnit, Y/N, I’m selfish when it comes to you. I needed to think about it. I needed more time. I know now that I shouldn’t have let Frank get in my head. I should’ve shown up and married you like we planned. I should’ve married you that day because that’s all I’ve wanted my whole life. I’ve always wanted you. I will always need you. I was so in my head that day, scared to do the wrong thing and I ended up making the worst decision. I always try to do what’s best for you. I’ve always put you first. Everything I do is for you. Believe it or not, at the time, I stayed away for you.”

“Wow. My hero.” She turned to walk away from me. Again.

“Y/N! Stop! Damnit, you can’t ask me these questions and get pissed with my answer no matter what it is! That’s not fair!”

“You know what’s not fair! This!” She held up her left hand, the engagement ring, a bitter reminder of what never was. “It’s not fair that I can’t bring myself to take this off! It’s not fair that I made my peace with everything that came with being your wife. It’s not fair that I accepted how drastic my life would change and chose to embraced it because at the end of the day we were starting our new life together. It’s not fair that you didn’t think the positives of being together outweighed the negative like I did. It’s not fair— all the reasons that made me so excited to marry you, so sure you were my person, were the same ones you used to add to your list of reasons to run. That’s not fair!”

“You’re right. Shit, you’re right.”

“That’s the thing. Michael, I don’t want to be right. I want us, together, to be right. I don’t know how to do it. I want to fix it. I just don’t know where to start.”

“Y/N—” I spoke delicately, but didn’t get to finish my thought. I was cut off by her crashing into me, her head rested on my chest, her arms reluctantly wrapping around my waist. I didn’t allow myself to be shocked for too long. I held her with all I had, rubbing her back, gently swaying her and hoping this wasn’t the last time I’d ever hold her. “I think we need more of this. It could help.”

“Mhm.” Her gentle sniffles felt like a punch to the gut. “It’s not easy keeping you at a distance.”

“I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too. So much.” Her hands moved slowly up and down my back. This was nice. “Janet’s crazy.” She muttered.

“You’re barely realizing that?”

“I guess I’m late to the party. She’s the best though. She offered to steal all your left shoes and shrink your clothes.”

“She what?” I gasped as she laughed into my chest. It felt so good to have her close and to hear her laugh again.

“I haven’t taken her up on the offer yet.”

“Yet? Wow! How kind of you. I feel so protected.” We laughed, together, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The melody of our laughter carried up to the tall ceilings of the building. We were surrounded by exquisite artwork from all over the world, yet I could not take my eyes off of her. I only wanted to admire her. My Y/N.

“I’ll always protect you.” Her tone serious and for the first time since everything went wrong, she looked back at me, her eyes as beautiful as I remember, lips parted slightly, skin glowing like the stars on a summer night. I found myself hypnotized. Carefully, I closed the space between us, becoming painfully aware of how deprived I was of her touch, desperate to taste her tongue and feel her lips.

“Michael?”

“Yes, what is it?” I asked cautiously, hoping we could live in this moment longer.

“You could never keep your lips to yourself.” She smiled, reaching down and intertwining our fingers. I sensed that she wasn’t quite comfortable with a kiss, so I settled on leaving one on her cheek.

“Would you consider spending more time with me tomorrow?” I asked, feeling nervous all the sudden.

“I think I can clear my schedule for that.” She teased.

“I have some work to finish up in the morning before the show. It'd be fun for you to join me.”

“Would it be acceptable for me to be there?”

“Of course! Come with me! You can see all the behind the scenes stuff. If you want— I’d like you there— I mean if you don’t want to— I want you to be— well if you—”

“Michael, I’d love to.”

“It’s for Moonwalker.” I spoke, looking down at my feet to hide my shy smile.

“No way! You’re finally making it? That’s incredible babe! I can’t wait to see it.” My heart fluttered at the nickname. I was sure it slipped out, but I’ll take it. Little victories.

"Thank you. It’s been incredible so far. The script has come together nicely and I’ve been able to get almost everything I’ve envisioned brought to life.”

“That’s so exciting. I can’t believe I’m engaged to, what is it a quadruple threat? What can’t you do?” The way she looked at me was out of this world. If we weren’t in a public place I would’ve been all over her.

“You’re making me blush.”

“Mhm.” She moved closer to me, her soft lips connecting with my jawline. Her movements were so soothing. My eyes fell shut as she planted small kisses down my neck.

“I could get used to this.” I joked, she giggled, gently pushing me away.

“You always had that about you.”

“What?”

“The talent of being so damn adorable that I forget why I was angry in the first place.”

“We’re going to make it.” The corner of my lip curved up as I stretched my arm out to grab a hold of her. “Y/N, we’re going to make it. We have to make it.”

“We will make it.” She responded softly, rubbing tiny circles into my wrist with her thumb.

We stood in an empty hallway, smiling at each other like two lovesick kids. It was a nice change. It was a moment filled with hope.

“I have a surprise for you.” An excited smile graced her face at my statement. I led her out to a small courtyard, where I’d set up a romantic lunch date for us.

“This is beautiful.” We walked down a small path surrounded by flowers and a small pond. She was practically jumping up and down. It was perfect.

“My lady.” I grinned, sliding out her chair for her.

“Why thank you.”

We sat enjoying our meal. I noticed Y/N had stopped eating a few minutes ago. She was in her head I could tell, so I did my best to let nature take its course. I couldn’t push her. I needed to let her work through it at her pace.

“Michael.”

“Yes?” She didn’t respond, instead she stood up from her seat and took a few steps over to my side of the table. “Y/N, is everything—” she paid no mind to my worry, carefully she sat on my thigh, her legs finding a place in between my own. Her arm slid across my shoulders, her gaze focused on me and a shy expression on her face.

“Michael?”

“Yes?”

“Could you, could you kiss me?” She asked nervously, like she thought there was the slightest possibility I would say no. I’d never say no.

“Y—yes, of course.” Nerves I never knew existed were now running through me at an alarming rate. My hands were trembling as I placed them on her. The moisture in my eyes suddenly disappeared, making me blink rapidly which I’m sure looked anything but normal. I removed my hat, placing it on the table and taking an audible deep breath. I must have been taken way too long because she spoke up again.

“I’m sorry. It’s okay. If you aren’t comfortable.” She shifted her body away from me, so I wrapped my arms around her. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“No.” I pulled her into me, her back pressed up against my chest.

“No?” She turned slightly to look at me and that’s when I kissed her.

Our lips laced together, perfectly, but only for a moment. We parted slowly, the kiss obviously had her feeling the same way I did. This was where I was supposed to be. Our gaze unfaltering, heavy with emotion and conveying the longing we had for each other. At the same time, the space between us disappeared and our bodies melted into one another. Eagerly, I grabbed her by the back of her neck and smashed my lips onto hers. Our connection deepening as her hands found a place at the back of my head.

As my fingers sunk into her hips, everything else faded away.

The only thing that could separate us, the only thing that could disrupt this moment was a tornado or maybe an earthquake. Neither of us wanted to be the first to pull away. We didn’t want this moment to be cut short. We wanted to soak in every piece of it because it was glorious.

“Michael!”

“A few minutes of peace was too good to be true.” She smiled against my lips, her hand sliding down to my chest and clenching a fist full of my shirt.

“Damn Bill. Should I— yeah I’m going to fire him. We’ll never be interrupted again.” I kissed her again, harder this time. Her giggles being replaced by soft moans. Oh, shit. We’re about to do it in the courtyard of a museum.

“Michael!”

“Son of a—”

“There seems to be a problem. I’m sorry to interrupt—” he stopped dead in his tracks, looking at us suspiciously before shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Kids, there are windows everywhere!” He started pointing them out all around us. “You’re outside! In broad daylight!Anyone could see you two!”

“It’s fine. We weren’t doing anything.” I shrugged, tickling Y/N’s hip discretely.

“Sure. You’ve got lipstick on boy!”

“Oops.” Y/N looked so embarrassed, reaching to retrieve a napkin to clean me up. “You kind of pull it off though.” She whispered.

“Seems you’ve been found out. We need to get going before it gets out of control.”

“Well, that was fun while it lasted.” I’ve become used to adjusting my expectations, it’s just hard when I’m not the only one affected by it.

“It was! Look on the bright side, there’s nothing that went unseen. We got to do it all.” She’s so positive it’s impossible for some of it not to rub off on me.

She had her arm firmly around my waist, mine draped across her shoulders as we reached the exit doors. There was nothing I hated more than arguing with her, but if it would bring us closer together I’ll make an exception.

"Wait! Back up." Bill shouted, he opened the door for us just to slam it shut immediately. He aggressively pulled it until he heard the click ensuring it was secure.

"What is it?" Y/N asked, reinforcing her grip on my hand.

"We've got a bit of a situation dollface." Bill's tone was familiar to me, but not to Y/N. “Change of plans. What do you want to do?”

"How many are there?" I was frustrated to say the least. This was supposed to be a nice day away from everything, just the two of us. “It can’t be that bad. Can we make it work?”

"Enough. No, I’m sorry. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I say we have Y/N walk out the main entrance by herself and we will get you out through the side entrance. They don’t know she’s here, so they won't bother her. She'll be safer if we split up."

"No. We're going out together."

"Michael, I don't think that's the best idea. You're playing with fire right now, son."

"Bill, she's my lady. I’m not sending her off on her own. She's safest right here. Next to me."

"Okay." Bill smiled proudly at my defiance. He had been furious at me, probably more so than anyone else. When I had him help me miss the wedding he refused to give me a moment of peace. He had lectured me for a whole six hours, saying I needed to man up and quit running away from the things I want. I never thought I’d see him that angry, I’d never given him a reason to be so disappointed in me. He repeated it over and over again, I had to stop making nonsense excuses to hide from good things in life or as he put it 'ruining my destiny.'

Damn, the old man, he was testing me. I guess I passed. Little victories.

“Let’s get out of here. Keep her close.” He shot me a stern look before leading the way outside. I nearly lost my balance when I took a step forward and Y/N didn’t move a muscle. Her eyes wide as she took in the chaotic scene we were about to walk directly into.

“I got you!” I shouted, so she could hear me over the commotion. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you!” I held her face in my hands, her hands gripped my wrists as she gave me a quick nod.

As we stepped through the threshold the number of people outside seemed to multiply. The screaming was deafening, my ears were vibrating and my teeth rattled uncontrollably. Y/N was struggling to stay on her feet beside me until I redirected her in front of me. People were reaching out to touch us and I could tell it was making her nervous. My hands firmly on her hips as our path shrunk significantly with each step. The crowd began pushing and pulling at us. I did everything in my power to comfort her, but it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, Y/N spun around wrapping her arms tightly around me.

“What’s wrong?” I spoke into her ear as she hid her face in the crook of my neck.

“I can’t see. My eye, there’s something in it.” I quickly looked down, she leaned her head back, staring up at me. Oh, no. Her eye squeezed shut, a crimson stream flowing down the right side of her face, I watched in disbelief as the thick substance dripped off her chin and down her neck.

“You’re okay.” I tucked her face back into my neck, cradling her head with my arm. “Bill!” When he turned to glance at me I held up my blood stained hand. After that, our journey through the crowd was an anxiety filled blur. When we finally made it to the vehicle, Bill guided us inside cautiously, jumping in after us and slamming the door shut.

“I’m so sorry.” I collected all the napkins in sight, with shaky hands I put pressure on the wound. I couldn’t see anything, there was so much damn blood. She just stared at me blankly. “I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell happened!” Bill roared, causing us both to jump.

“I don’t know.”

“I told you! I told you to keep her safe and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I did everything–”

“No you didn’t! You let her down again. You didn’t step up again. She deserves better!” 

“Please stop.” Y/N muttered.

“She trusted you to take care of her and again you hurt her! How could you let this—”

“Dammit, stop yelling at him!” Y/N’s voice reached an octave I had never heard before. She exhaled deeply, intertwining our fingers as she pulled me closer, her head resting on my shoulder. The warmth of her body sent shivers down my spine as she leaned against me. “Someone threw something. It isn’t his fault. It happened so fast. I didn’t even see it. Michael didn’t let me down, he never has.” It felt like her last sentence had deeper meaning. Whether that was her way of sending me message or not, she definitely sent one to those around us.

Her and I are a team. There’s no denying that.

“I’m sorry dollface.” Bill spoke as he concentrated his gaze out the window.

The vehicle hadn’t come to a full stop before Y/N grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her. I struggled to keep up, weaving through people, hopping over furniture. We barely made it into the elevator. Y/N was panting, incessantly hitting the button until the door began to shut just as we saw Bill trying to catch up with us.

“That was fun!” Her laughter filled the small space, she backed into the wall sliding down and holding her belly. I took a seat across from her, the way her cheeks shimmered under the flickering light had my full attention.

“It was.” I agreed, she studied my expression, stretching her arm out to press the emergency button. The familiar way the floor vibrated and that look in her eyes made me feel like I was on top of the world. She held her hand out to me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think you have a concussion.” I joked.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. The blood made it seem worse, but I’m good. I promise.” She moved to rest on her knees in between my legs, beaming at me, unrushed and uninterrupted. Her fingers curled around mine. “I don’t have it in me to hate you Michael. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

“Neither have I.”

“Why is everything so complicated then?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

The cool steel wall pressed into my back, the warmth of her hands made my chest feel like it was set on fire, my eyes never leaving hers as she glanced down, studying my lips. Her guard slowly being let down the longer I held her. We sat there for what felt like hours, each second better than the last.

“You’re not an idiot.” Y/N’s voice sounded just above a whisper as our noses touched.

“I’ve made mistakes.” My voice cracking at my vulnerable position. “You do deserve better.”

“Michael–”

“I was kidding myself to think I’d ever be enough for you.”

“You made a mistake.” Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, keeping me from looking away. “It doesn’t mean you aren’t enough.” She mumbled, her shiny red lips communicated the rest.

She’s kissing me. She’s actually kissing me. My fingers were tangled in her silky hair as she tugged at my coat. I glanced at her briefly, she guided my hand to the zipper of her dress. Her skin was so soft, softer than I remember. Everything about her became even more beautiful than the last moment I spent with her. I can’t believe this is happening.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready. I’m just happy being with you again.”

“Michael, look at me.”

“Yes?”

“I need you.” Her voice is like music to my ears. I remembered the day I had said those exact words to her in this very elevator. “I need you closer.” She melted into me. The warmth of her thighs squeezed around my torso as I felt every emotion she felt, her lips never parting from mine.

“You’re sure?” I mumbled into her mouth, hoping she didn’t pull away from me.

“I’m so sure.” She grunted, tearing my shirt open, the sound of the buttons shooting against the walls masked by echoes of pleasure.

“Wait.” I pulled away, reaching the emergency button, and the elevator began to carry us up again.

“What— oh my goodness.” Y/N jumped up, readjusting her dress, she moved to zip it up and that’s when I stopped her.

“I’d leave it undone.” The elevator paused at our floor, I picked her up quickly, running down the hall to the room. Y/N was laughing, gripping my back tightly as I squeezed at her thighs that were wrapped around me. She moved to suck on my neck and I nearly dropped her at the sudden feeling of her tongue. I pushed her against the wall, my lips finding hers while my free hand aggressively twisted the doorknob.

“Michael, open the door or I’m gonna take your pants off right here.” 

“I’m trying.” Her laugh grew louder and uncontrollable while she watched me fight with the door. “This damn door.” I put her down, using both hands to push the damn thing open.

“Michael–”

“I got it!” She clung to me as I moved us inside, locking the door behind us. 

“You’re cute.” I felt her say against my lips. Her arms wrapped tightly around me as I walked backwards, chuckling every time she apologized for stepping on my toes.

“You’re—” We tumbled backwards, the corner of the mattress catching my leg unexpectedly as I led the way to the bed. We landed on the floor, Y/N carefully rolled off of me, cuddling into my side. Now, here we are, on the floor. Again.   

She’s actually here. Her body pressed against mine. The rise and fall of her chest brought me a great sense of comfort, one that I had been stripped of in the last few days. I can’t mess this up. I can’t lose her. I can’t make any more mistakes.

“That was smooth.” She said in between her fits of laughter. “It looked like you did a backflip. Are you okay?”

“God, I missed your laugh.”

“I missed you.”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Spending the day with me. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“My heart belongs to you. That never changed.” She placed a gentle kiss at the corner of my mouth, but it ended way too soon.

“I hope it never does.”

“It won’t” She whispered, then it happened again. She looked into my eyes and the world stopped. She slowly leaned down, her lips connecting with mine. She clenched her fingers around my collar, pulling me on top of her, spreading her legs open in one swift motion. My body began to shiver as I settled in between them. Her forehead scrunched up when I pulled away, she studied my face while touching my cheek lovingly. “What’s going on in there?” she lightly tapped my temple. A worried expression grew on her face.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I can’t wait to start a family with you.” The whites of her eyes became more visible, her lips parted slightly as she obviously struggled with what to say next. “They’ll be brilliant. They’ll be beautiful. The more they inherit from you the better.”

I scanned every detail of her face, until her eyes captured my attention. I remember the first time I stared into them, I got lost, I became a sputtery mess. Her eyes enveloped me in a sense of warmth I’d never felt before. A sensation I only feel with her. Then, she smiled at me. My heart could barely take it, it pounded so hard I was sure she could feel it. I remember the first complement I gave her. “You’ve got a real pretty smile.” It slipped out, but I meant it. Oh, did I mean it! Y/N scrunched her nose and turned away when she nervously thanked me. She had me wrapped around her finger from that moment forward.

“That’s kind of— wait, are you saying you want to start trying for a baby?” Her voice was low and her expression difficult to read.

“I’d like to marry you first. That is, if you’ll still have me.”

The anticipation consuming me as I awaited her response was peaceful because I knew what the future entailed.

Our future.

Now, I truly understood and believed in the idea that sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

[thanksbutno98]

Country Life

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: I need more time on other fics so I thought I’d release a little fun one that makes me smile. Hope you all enjoy :)

Warnings: swearing, illusion to sex, alcohol, not edited.

Summary: After a stressful few weeks you and your husband John Price have some time to relax alone together. Choosing to pamper your husband you find yourself begging for him to save you from what he considers a small problem.

—————-

John was sitting on the large L shaped couch with a beer in hand and a satisfied smirk. The football match was on and you were in the kitchen making a Sunday Roast for him. The kids were both at his parents for the day along with the other cousins. John wasn’t quite sure the last time you had the time or energy to pamper him like today.

Normally the pair of you were running around cleaning, cooking, doing homework help, or taking one of your children to football or swim. If not that you were usually at work or him on base. So to have the house to yourselves and your undivided attention was heaven to the man.

You’d woken up in the best mood and told him you were going to pamper and take care of his every need today and you didn’t disappoint. Starting his day off with a steamy shower together and then a full English breakfast while he read the paper. You even let him smoke his cigar inside under the stipulation he opened the windows.

You were fattening him up before his impending deployment in a week and a half and he didn’t mind. Mouth salivating when he remembered you’d made a cheesecake the previous night that needed to chill. While he was on his run he thought about how good your dessert was going to be; choosing to add an extra mile for good measure. John was also happy to let you have some time to relax because you got to have the house to yourself for the first time in ages.

It���s not that you wanted your husband out of the house but getting to lay on the living room floor and eat candy without being asked to share was magnificent. You also realized that John had no clue as to why you were being so sweet to him. For such a smart man he did have trouble connecting the dots when it came to you.

He had snagged your wedding ring the previous week making you think you’d lost it and added the most gorgeous diamonds to it. Taking you on an evening out he gave it back to you as you shared a quite moment walking up the drive way. It was much like when he proposed, spontaneous and earth quaking. He never ceased to sweep you off your feet and romance you in all the ways you didn’t know you craved.

Treating him like a king was how you wanted to say thank you. John only allowed you to baby him and pamper him. If anyone else tried he’d think they thought he was weak and have some choice words. Today was panning out to be a perfect day for you two to spend quality time at home together.

Once John was home from his run he went upstairs to shower. When the Captain came back down you had a snack and glass of whiskey waiting for him on the coffee table. The channel for the football match already turned on and his teams logo on a blanket he’d never seen draped over the couch. The thoughtful present had his heart fluttering as he settled into his spot and sank into the white cushions feeling nothing but utter bliss.

Now the house was filled with the smell of your amazing cooking and John had a light buzz going. That’s when it all came crashing down. The sound of your shriek from the kitchen was blood curdling. John jumped into action convinced you had burnt yourself again. Bounding over the back of the couch he made a mad dash through the living room, then dining room, and into the kitchen. He caught sight of you and paused in the doorway not quite sure what was going on.

You were standing on the kitchen island with a wild eyed expression. In your right hand was a flat frying pan and you were pushing your hair out of your face with the other. Barefoot, dressed in leggings and a Liverpool jersey you looked divine but John had to push the thought from his mind.

“What’s the matter?” John was steady not an ounce of panic in his voice but he was ready to move. He only needed your command and it would be resolved.

“There’s a mouse!” You half shrieked. That was not what he was expecting. Maybe an intruder or a fox in the yard again going after your chickens. John sighed in disappointment the other options being much more exciting.

“A mouse? That’s really what’s got you all worked up?” With a raised eyebrow he looked at you with amusement.

“Johnathan Price, don’t you dare belittle me. You go kill that mouse this instance!” You yelled, the pan in your hand shaking along with your hand.

You liked to think you were fearless but just having had a mouse dart over your bare foot was revolting. You couldn’t get the sensations of its little feet out of your head or off your skin.

“Where’s it gone?” His tone was even as if this was an ordinary task. Like you asked him to do the dishes.

“Under the fridge!” You shouted, pointing with the frying pan.

“Okay, stop yelling.” John had his hands by his chest lowering them slightly as a way to ask you to calm down. His blue eyes were bright as he turned his attention to your rather large fridge.

“Want a drink to calm your nerves?” He tacked on as a joke. Peaking his head down to peer into the gap between the fridge and the wall.

“Yes, give me a shot of something.” John raised an eyebrow at you utterly surprised. Since you became a mom you never really drank anymore besides new years, your birthday, and anniversary. You told him the hangover was never worth it without a day to rest.

“Anything?” He asked and you shook your head still standing on the white marble of the kitchen island.

John laughed and got you a shot of vodka and left the bottle next to you along with another drink he knew you’d ask for. He watched as you took it and then another. Chasing it with the soft drink.

John was by the fridge now and looked over at you as to ask if you were ready for the impending doom. You nodded with a frown and eyebrows knit together, pan held over your shoulder in defense. John smiled to himself. Seeing you so scared and ready for a tiny rodent, as if it was going to lunge straight at you was endearing.

Taking the fridge by the sides John pulled the large appliance out from its spot in the cabinets. It rolled out from its former seat and then a brown little ball shot out from the now free space. You shrieked falling back on your ass and pointing at the darting animal as it scurried from its once hiding spot to under the kitchen table.

“Get it!” You were still yelling as John grabbed the broom and walked over to the table.

“Take another shot and stop yelling please.” He was laughing at you now. That was until the mouse darted straight at his clothed feet. John yelled rather deeply as he stumbled backward onto the counter behind him. The broom was used as a weapon as he tried to squash the poor thing. Now sitting on the marble you both made eye contact at his rather cowardice reaction.

“And you said you aren’t scared of anything?” You squinted at him. Asking in a mock tone of annoyance.

“Piss off, that things bloody fast.” His cheeks were dusting pink. He was quite embarrassed by his knee jerk reaction to a three inch rodent.

“Faster than a bullet?” You asked taking a swig straight form the vodka bottle and passing it to him. He did the same, taking a sip of your soda to assuage the after burn. Then choosing to tell him where the horrid creature ran off to you pointed.

“It’s back in the cor-“

“I saw.” John snapped which made you giggle slightly. He was falling into his grumpy mood you were all too use. It was due to his embarrassment of getting freaked out by a mouse.

You inched toward the edge of the counter and watched as the mouse stayed eerily still as John approached it with the broom in hand.

“Don’t kill it.” You whispered causing the 6’2 Brit to turn to you in utter shock.

“Don’t kill it?” He repeated eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.

“What if it has a family?” You asked pouting. John stood up straight his shoulder sagging. The look on his face said ‘are you serious?’

“Bloody ridiculous.” Shaking his head he grabbed the dust pan and then slowly crouched into the cramped space where the fridge lived. His eyes were narrowed and he lurched forward with dust pan and broom catching the tiny creature. It squeaked in an high pitch tone and you knew instantly you would have dropped it if you were in your husbands position.

“Got it!” He cheered gruffly. A satisfied smirk on his bearded face as he turned to you triumphantly. John felt a weird sense of pride as he watched you become visibly relieved. The way you were about things somehow always made him feel masculine, rugged, and tough as steel even when you were a naturally strong person.

“Thank god!” You chimed hoping off the counter and bounding towards the back door. Opening the clear glass your husband trotted out into the garden and released the small animal. You both watched as it darted through your vegetables and then straight back the corner of your house. Wriggling its tiny body into your foundation and then disappearing.

“Oh my god.” You whispered in utter horror.

“Fucking hell!” John cursed slapping the tools in his hands against his thighs.

“I think we need an exterminator.” You turned to your husband who was already staring at you. His blue eyes soft and he gave you a warm grin.

“This is what we get for living in the bloody country.” He mumbled knowing all to well you were the one who insisted on this house.

[violetmuses]

Don’t Go Screamin’ - R. Reigns (Part 2) 🖤

Fandom: WWE 

Character: Roman Reigns

Love Interest: Female Reader

Part 1

@episodes-ff @expert-texpert @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @babybratzmaraj @luvrsluxe 🏷

=====

Once you stood up and joined another hard-hitting episode of “Smackdown,” flashing spotlights illuminated vibrant shades of pink. 

“It's Tiffy Time!” Bright music zipped near all directions as Tiffany Stratton clicked each footstep down the large-scale entry ramp. 

“Tiffany Stratton will compete for the Women's Title!” One announcement shook another episode. 

Booing resounded as you stood in this ring and folded your arms. Meanwhile, Tiffany's blonde waves styled more and more as pink still shaped her known outfit. 

“Keep fighting here, Champ! You've swung out the gate. Please don't let Tiffany steal your crown.” Commentators encouraged you and thousands of fans shrieked in return. 

The counting bell ping three times and signaled war to start this upcoming match. 

Countless hits or throws exchanged back and forth while this duel pushed forward, but Tiffany kept standing, bringing everyone to the unknown. 

“Oh, no! Stratton reaches our top rope and wants to land The Prettiest Moonsault Ever. Watch out,  Champ! Hurry.” Announcers worried that your title run could drown in pink shades. 

“Yes!” Fans watched everything and screamed even louder before. 

Just when Tiffany planned to fly, you rolled out of harm's way and she stumbled backwards, only landing with you. 

Measuring another victory, you offered one surprise to the audience. 

“Tiffany Stratton stands, but The Champ might have something up her sleeve!” Commentators pulled bewilderment, not even realizing your next idea. “Wait a minute. I haven't seen our leader move like this before. What's going on?” 

“Let's see.” Professionals still surveyed. “Our champion fisted her knuckle while cornering one knelt stance by the ropes. Now she's hopped up and running at Tiffany Stratton. Wait! Oh my goodness: Champ just scored the most powerful Superman Punch! Tiffany stumbled back again.” 

“Champion!” Thousands of people raved for you over and over again. 

“Hold on!” Announcers continued. “This battle hasn't ended yet. Our Champion just scaled the top rope herself and might turn Stratton away for good.” 

“Do it!” Spectators hurried. 

“There it is!” Highlighting your strength, commentators shouted beyond excitement. “Our champion jumped from these ropes and bested Stratton with another Moonsault, sending Tiffany right back down for the cover.” 

Grounding your weight to hover Tiffany, you noticed cameras and signaled this phone call, winking. 

“Watch this, Chief.” Playful, you acknowledged Roman Reigns while defeating Tiffany Stratton! 

“1-2-3! The Champion has pulled through once again.” That famous bell rattled out loud, still claiming your power. 

“It won't be your time yet. Not while I'm around this place!” You pointed to your wrist and refused Tiffany's dream as champion. 

“Defeating Tiffany Stratton, our Champ stands tall! We'll return to the program after these messages.” Announcers welcomed this commercial break. 

Hoisting the championship belt once more, you offered the most genuine smile. Even Tiffany broke character, accepting the loss with gratitude and sharing this quick embrace. 

All is well. 

_______

“Flagged by Wiseman Paul Heyman, the Original Bloodline is here!” Commentators opened another segment. “Universal Champion and Tribal Chief Roman Reigns. Honorary member: Sami Zayn, Tag Team duo Jimmy and Jey Uso walked alongside one another. And lurking as The Enforcer is Solo Sikoa.” 

“It was wild. She just turned this place out!” Jimmy Uso raved about your previous match against Tiffany Stratton. 

“Can’t believe I missed it.” Sami frowned as well, returning on air for the first time in quite a while. 

“Pulled off Tiffany’s Moonsault in front of the world.” Jimmy would continue boosting your skills once more. 

Seconds later, cameras moved to reveal your presence and the audience wailed from each corner of this building. 

“What’s up, Champ?” Jimmy opened both arms to hug you and your smile brightened more than sunlight. 

“Goofball.” You laughed near Jimmy and quietly grinned toward everyone else, but Roman stepped forward. 

“Were you joking or not?” Because your match against Tiffany aired first, Reigns caught that sneaking chance to possibly call each other.

“I’m not messing with you.” You smiled this time while Roman’s stance towered beyond height once more. 

Glancing around, Reigns took out his cell phone and you followed that same gesture, exchanging numbers on camera. 

“Let’s go. Yes, Sir!” As fans swooned throughout building walls, Jim almost fell out to hilariously encourage Reigns, outright happy to be there.  

“Stop it.” Roman traded glances with his cousin. 

“Oh, c’mon!” Jimmy nudged Roman. “You took a chance and she wants you for real. Show some excitement, Bruh.” 

“Bye, Chief.” Almost giggling, you turned elsewhere and left Roman alone once more, prompting this moment to settle down. 

“See that?” Jimmy faced Roman and clipped dynamics with you again. “Pick up the pace before Champ finds somebody else.” 

“Look. How I move is none of your business. Go ahead and drop that conversation or we'll have a problem.” Roman pulled the charge, silencing Jimmy for once. 

***

“Ladies and gentlemen, our Women’s Champion has returned to make an announcement this evening.” Commentators projected as you stepped back out to close the program. 

“Very soon, Smackdown will plan my Tag Team match.” You offered the big-time news and this crowd cheered beyond happiness. 

“Here we go!” Announcers revealed shock. “The Champion is looking for a partner. Who could possibly join forces to help this match?” 

Before you could respond by saying anything else, lights darkened around the venue and neon green crossed joyful blue. 

One knowing smile reached your face. 

Fans lost their minds when upbeat rhythms leveled higher and higher, setting up the most incredible drop to kick down another entrance. 

“Bring it to the floor!” Even perfect subtitles caught some fun because you learned Naomi's theme. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re feeling the glow. Naomi will join your Champ next time to battle for our Women’s Tag Team Match!” Announcers welcomed one of the coolest people on Earth and you opened both arms to hug Naomi. 

“Woo!” Voices shouted and overwhelming noise took over the universe. Credits played upfront as you bowed and left the ring, floating on Cloud Nine once more. 

****

“Good luck with the Tag Team match.” Jimmy Uso crossed your path right before this show would truly kick off. 

“Thank you. We’ll win.” You still encouraged the future. 

“Take care of my girl, I’m not playing.” Jim traded one glance with you because he’d married Naomi and always cared  beyond words. 

“Are you kidding me? Of course! Nay’s my sister at this point.” You nodded by Jim and wanted to score this victory beside Naomi. 

“Aight.” Jimmy smirked one last time and planned to walk away, but other footsteps turned the corner out of nowhere.

“Knock it out the park tonight.” You know that Jimmy couldn’t stand another moment while Roman just entered this hall. 

_______

With Jimmy gone and Paul Heyman silent in the corner, you could finally address Reigns up close. 

“Get ‘em.” Roman’s Southern accent pulled forward. 

“That’s all the advice you have?” You teased him. 

“Take no prisoners.” Roman stepped closer, almost meeting your chest. “I don’t care who's in there.” 

“Cutthroat?” You questioned. 

“Absolutely. Otherwise, you’ll fail.” Roman locked eye contact. 

“We can't lose.” You answered back. 

“Then don’t.” Reigns pulled one last invisible string, motivating countless emotions as you prepared for war. 

Go hard or go home! Your thoughts jumped. 

*****

“Former allies Tiffany Stratton and Nia Jax will challenge The Champion as she joins Naomi for our Tag Team duel.” Commentators pulled excitement again to welcome your opponents and begin the show. 

Mutual respect carried this moment as you held Naomi’s hand and waited for the bell to ring out loud. Even Tiffany and Nia  almost grinned across that space. 

Ding, ding, ding! 

This time around, when three alerts began to declare war, you locked in, prepared to defeat new rivals with Naomi. There’s no turning back. 

_______

Even when you hustled with Naomi to work against Tiffany and Nia, strings began pulling differently for once. 

“What’s going on? No! Commentators nearly jumped up from their table when Tiffany struck you down and leapt the top rope to line her signature Moonsault. 

But this time around, you didn’t roll away from harm, grounded on your back for Tiffany’s landing to succeed. 

“Hold on! Get out of Tiffany's way.” Announcers still can’t believe what’s going on with you and even fans started panicking here. “Tiffany might score that cover. Move, Champ!” 

“No!” Thousands of heartstrings broke around  the world as production cameras foreshadowed your imminent loss on national television. 

“Cover! 1-2-3..Tiffany Stratton just dethroned The Women’s Champion alongside Tag Team partner Nia Jax.” The announcement of your loss nearly silenced that venue for a moment. 

Booing echoed throughout anger when Nia and Tiffany stood victorious, leaving you and Naomi behind. 

*****

Soon enough, droves of the population sold out tickets and spectators would almost take over this building as viewers awaited even more chaos.  

“Bring back The Champ!” Fans chanted over and over again in the audience before large-scale spotlights dropped to reveal an opening segment. 

Dark colors painted almost every single corner of this zone.  Nearly haunting yet motivational rhythms had welcomed that moment further. 

Once this signature emblem captured screens, loud cheers rattled the large-scale building all over again. Viewers quickly held their breath. 

At first, one silhouette lingered from the vertical ramp, but when someone lifted that championship belt over their head, cheering wailed even more. 

“I've lost my crown, but now, it's time for revenge.” As one voice echoed from new audio, this promising vow finally launched your heel turn. 

Losing the Tag Team match early prompted questions, especially considering how well you started from the beginning as a professional. 

Fireworks erupted as spotlights revealed your presence. Overwhelming noise picked back up while thousands realized this brand-new chapter. 

“Chaos just reached an entirely different level now!” Announcers turned fear upfront. “Our champion will seek vengeance.”

Just before you'd leave, lights darkened around the venue once more and exposed blue overcasts. Heroically ominous music returned, landing cheerful shock from every direction. 

“Roman Reigns could arrive from that entrance! What the hell is going on?” Commentators right panicked behind their announcement table. 

When Roman turned this corner at last, you smiled, watching Solo Sikoa, The Usos, and Paul Heyman flag upcoming steps toward the ring. 

“What do you want?” You pulled games while tension lingered. 

“We have something for you.” Roman’s strong voice echoed back. 

Paul Heyman stepped forward holding this small yet important briefcase and everyone jumbled curiosity. 

Opening the case, Paul watched how surprise reached your expression. 

Camera angles pinpointed the view of one glove that would sleeve your dominant hand for upcoming matches.

“Oh my! Our Women’s Champion just gained power from the Tribal Chief himself.” Realization hit commentators like a truck. “Run for the hills!” 

“This is awesome!” Chanting from the audience woke up this unexpected moment. 

Trading the case back near Paul, Roman helped you secure this glove on your hand and concentrated despite the reality of this live episode. 

“Too tight?” Almost whispering, Reigns pulled his Southern accent once more and checked on you. 

“No. Thank you.” You stood grateful no matter what happened in the future

Not long after fastening your brand-new glove here, Roman looked down and welcomed this sight. 

Good God! Despite remembering that fictional chaos for the episode, Reigns couldn't help thinking about you. 

Talented, badass, and beautiful. Even right now, the work is incredible and you stood on this mountain, refusing to give up. 

“Give ‘em hell.” Reigns pulled one final glance by your direction and tailed The Bloodline to end this program. 

“Greatness will continue. Our Champion has learned from the Tribal Chief.” Once again, commentators held possibilities as the show lined credits. 

[toytoriyadorm]

CHAPTER 9: Fire Breathing Dragon

“Popular much?” Yuukei joked once Winston got close enough.

“Hehe, I guess you can say that~.” He laughed aloud. “What brings you to the Coliseum? If you want to watch the plays, you gotta wait one more day!”

“Myeh, we ain’t impatient little kids! Me and the henchman just came to give you this junk!” Grim argued from within Yuukei’s bag, before shoving the stack of scripts into Winston’s arms. With an eyebrow raised, he quickly skimmed the content written by his supposed “arch-nemesis”.

“What?! Unfair!” He suddenly yelled, a country-like accent beginning to grow apparent. “Whatcha mean I can’t fight a dragon no more?!” 

The blonde teen and his familiar looked at eachother. “You were supposed to fight a monster?!”

“Well, technically! Zackery planned out some robot lizard thing for me to fight in our play! Lotsie always said it looked dangerous, but I didn’t expect him to pull the plug on it!” Winston sighs, further flipping through the document. “‘Now it looks like I have to fight him myself…”

“What's wrong with that? You guys are already at each other's throats most of the time, so why not just let it out on stage?” Grim commented.

“Arguing is way different from fighting!!” Winston insisted, “Fighting means pulling fists and punching people enough to break something! I can’t do that to a classmate, I’ll hurt them!

Yuukei put a finger on his chin, wondering. “...Winston, could it be that you’ve never seen any behind the scene work for action movies..?”

The student with the side ponytail turned red, confirming Yuukei’s suspicions. He scratched at the star sticker on his cheek nervously. “Maybe…”

“No wonder you got all nervous about fighting that scientist guy! You don’t even know how any of it works!” Grim exclaimed.

“Yes I do! I get hooked to wires for all ‘em fancy flipping tricks all the time!”

“Flipping ain’t fighting! You’d probably end up knocking some teeth out!”

“Well that's why I don’t want to actually fight!! If you were actually helpful, you’d do something like say you’d teach me!!” 

“Wait, that's actually a good idea.” Yuukei perked up, causing the other two to give him an odd look. “We’ve already fought off overblot monsters, so Grim can use that experience as a basis! And Grim’s able to breathe fire too, so it’ll be like play-fighting with a mini dragon!”

The magical monster tried to interject, but the blonde teen whispered into his feline ear. “Plus, we might get more than a few cans of tuna as payment…” 

That seemed to get the beast’s attention, as he jumped out of Yuukei’s bag, flames a little brighter than usual. “Hmph, I suppose I can use my super awesome mage skills– unless you plan to back out,”

“For my performance? No way!” Winston smiled in a way that reminded Yuukei of a hero. “Over my dead body!”

CHAPTER 10: Ringing

After managing to clear out the stage for the two, Winston and Grim’s practice fight began. Playful swings and fake scratches evolved into bright spells and blue fireballs being flung around the stage, never hitting their pretend target. Yuukei managed to find a spot to ensure he didn’t get hit, pulling out his camera so he could snap some cool moments to show Ace and Deuce.

“You weren’t lying about those flips!” Grim gasped aloud before casting another fireball.

Winston dodged the magic with ease, as if he were performing a dance rather than a battle. “You thought I was lying?! Mean!” He pointed his magic pen back at Grim, light swirling from its gem. 

But before Toytoriya’s star could aim for the side of the beast– just as he told him to do– he had stepped far too close to the stage’s edge.With a sudden yelp, Ramshackle’s prefect watched as Winston fell off, his un-focused spell heading right for a surprised Grim.

“Grim, watch out!”

Suddenly, a familiar glass box formed on top of the familiar, deflecting the spell right before it could even graze his fur. 

“Having a magic duel without any safety measures… you Ramshackle students must really be trying to make a mess of our festival.” A tired voice calls out, ignoring Grim banging hard on his entrapment.

“Wait! It's not what it looks like!” Winston got up from the ground, rushing over to the white-haired student. “We’re not actually fighting!! It's practice for me and Zackery’s play!”  

Pat taps his wand onto the glass box, leaving Grim to fall out with a loud “Ow!”

Still, Winston continues his explanation; “Yuukei said that since Grim and him already fought overblot monsters, they could teach me how to, like, fake fight!”

Pat stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Ramshackle’s prefect told you that, since they fought magical monsters, they can teach you how to… avoid punching your classmate.”

“Uh, yeah!” Winston said, staring back at Pat with a far more blank look behind his eyes. 

Yuukei got up from his spot, ready to further defend his case when a loud ringing shot out of his bag. Walking up to the trio, he dug through only to find the silver watch ringing loudly. “Wow, this thing actually works? Now where’s the off button…”

Recognition flashed through Pat’s face, as he opened his mouth to ask where Yuukei had gotten the timepiece. But before he could say a word, a white glove flew past him and snatched the watch. He turned around, only to be greeted by a smile that he knew all too well.

“So that’s where you’ve been. I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Lotsie says as he clicks the alarm off. 

[itzynabi]

happy birthday

summary: in which san celebrates nabi’s birthday early

set: mid june 2024

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mention of food and i think that’s it

an: more nasan (everybody cheer!) the next scenario will most likely be their first time (please tell me if you want to be tagged in that and block the ‘minors dni’ tag if you don’t want to be. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

nabi’s masterlist

Nabi looked up from her phone when she heard her doorbell ring. She wasn’t expecting someone so she figured it was just a neighbour and got up to answer it. Her face immediately broke into a smile when she saw San on the other side of the door. She excitedly jumped into his arms, paying no mind to the duffel bag he was carrying.

“Hi, Biyah,” he murmured into her head, somehow managing not to drop the bag. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m also good.”

Nabi took hold of his hand and led him. inside her apartment. After swapping his sneakers for slippers, he went with her to the living room, placing his stuff on the kitchen island.

“What are you doing here?” She asked when they were seated on the couch.

“Well, last year, we celebrated my birthday early. So this year, we’re celebrating your birthday early,” he said, placing his hand on her knee.

Nabi smiled. “Well, thank you. What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking we could bake a cake together. A birthday cake.” He checked her expression to see how she felt.

“Oh! So, like… you pick out the ingredients and I do the baking?” She asked.

“No. Like, we make it together.”

She hummed, jutting her bottom lip out slightly. “I don’t really like cooking with other people, though.”

“You’ll like it today!” He cheered, standing up. He went to the duffel bag he brought with him. “Your first birthday present,” he said as he turned around, revealing a small bouquet of pink lilies.

Nabi gasped, a smile spreading on her face. “Oh my gosh! They’re so pretty!” She went to him, taking the flowers. “And I have a vase somewhere.”

She quickly disappeared into her bedroom, reappearing a few seconds later with a purple vase. The flowers were transferred into the vase, which was then placed on the kitchen island.

“Thank you, Sannie.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re welcome, Biyah. Now–” he walked around the kitchen island, placing his hands on it– “let’s get started on your birthday cake.”

“Do you have a recipe in mind?” She asked, playing with the petals of the flowers.

San nodded, rolling his shoulders back as he stood at his full height, his chest puffing out in a cocky manner. “Vanilla cake with buttercream frosting.”

“That’s my favourite!”

“I know!” Nabi squealed excitedly, watching as he tapped the island. “I have the recipe and the ingredients,” San told her.

“Then let’s get started.”

San placed all the necessary ingredients on the table, putting his duffel bag in the living room. The only things he didn’t have were measuring things and bowls for mixing, so Nabi supplied them.

“The first thing we have to do,” San read through the recipe on his phone, “is preheat the oven to 165° and place the shelf in the middle of the oven.” He looked up from his phone. “Okay, that seems simple enough.”

He put his phone down, squatting down in front of the oven. He stared at it for a few seconds before looking up at Nabi. “How do you use this thing?”

She shrugged her shoulders as she answered, “I don’t know. I usually ask Kibum oppa to help me with it.”

“Sunbaenim drives to your apartment to turn on your oven whenever you want to bake?” Nabi nodded. “That’s cool.”

“We should probably move the shelf first,” Nabi suggested. San nodded and opened the oven, doing as instructed.

“But how do we turn this thing on?” He asked.

Nabi moved to stand next to him, squatting down as she observed the oven. She pushed a bunch of buttons, hoping that one of them would do something. After a few seconds, the oven began to make a sound as the digital display turned on. San reached his hand out and fiddled with a knob, turning it until the number said 165. They high-fived each other, celebrating their accomplishment.

“Now,” San started, “we need to mix the dry ingredients together.”

He got to work on putting the flour, baking powder, and salt in one bowl as Nabi used the electric mixer to beat butter and sugar together. Once creamy, she added the egg and egg white, making sure to mix that in.

“You’re not supposed to eat it before it’s ready,” San scolded as Nabi licked the mixture off her finger.

“But it tastes nice,” she argued, dipping her finger in the mixture again.

“It’s butter, sugar, and raw egg,” San said, watching her with concern on his face. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”

Dipping her finger in the mixture once more, Nabi held it out to San. “Try it.”

It might have been a trick of the light, but Nabi could have sworn she saw a heat in San’s eyes as he leaned forward and licked the mixture from her finger. He nodded, pretending to assess it. “It tastes… like egg, butter, and sugar.”

Nabi pouted, feeling her cheeks grow warm as she absentmindedly wiped her finger on her jeans. “I think it tastes nice,” she mumbled.

The couple finished making the batter, putting it in two tins before putting them in the oven. As they waited for the cakes to be ready, they made the frosting. Once they were done, San shooed Nabi from the kitchen.

“Go put on a pretty dress,” he told her, dragging her to her room.

Nabi groaned. “But why?”

“Because I want you to,” he said, managing to get her in the room.

Blinking her eyes, Nabi stood in her room, confused about San’s instructions. She decided to just do as he asked, and went to her closet. Looking through her clothes, she tried to decide on a dress to wear. She ended up being torn between two dresses: a pink mini-dress with lace detailing along the cups, a bow sitting in between them; a purple low-waisted corset with a tulle mini-skirt attached.

“They’re both pretty,” she muttered, the furrow of her eyebrows deepening as she struggled to make up her mind. Staring at the dresses, she decided to just play eenie meenie minie moe. When she finished the game, her hand hovered over the pink dress, meaning that one was out and she would wear the purple one, but she moved her hand to the left to let it hover over the purple one instead. “What a bummer,” she sighed, pretending to be upset.

She changed out of her shorts and shirt, putting on the dress. She checked herself in the mirror, making sure she looked nice. Smoothing out her dress, she decided to go to her vanity and do her hair. As she was brushing it out, she began to smell something meaty. She furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what the source of the smell was. Maybe she was smelling one of her neighbours’ food, it happened sometimes when her windows were open, which they were. She used her curler to add some definition to her hair, making it wavy.

Deciding she was done, she stood up and moved to leave her room. She opened the door and saw San busy working on something in the kitchen.

“Not yet!” He exclaimed, quickly walking over to block her view of the apartment.

Nabi rose onto her tiptoes, trying to see past his shoulders, but he kept moving and blocking her view. “Seriously?” She huffed.

“It’s a surprise, baby,” he laughed. “I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

“Can you at least give me my phone?” She had left it on the island when she went to change. San made her cover her eyes as he walked backwards and felt around for her phone before giving it to her. “Thank you,” she said.

San smiled at her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “You look pretty.”

Nabi felt her cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thanks,” she mumbled as she closed the door. She ended up not using her phone because she needed to clean her room a bit; she didn’t know if San was sleeping over but, in case he was, she needed to move her dirty clothes from the floor to her hamper. Then she organised the drawers in her vanity because they were a bit messy and she’d been meaning to do it anyway. By the time San told her to come out, she had also washed her makeup brushes and laid them out to dry.

She picked her phone up and skipped to the door, where San was standing. He had a nervous smile and kept fiddling with the belt loop of his jeans.

“I didn’t know where you wanted to eat, so I just set up dinner at the dining table,” he said.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, I… Come on.” He held his hand out to her and she took it. He led her to the dining room where he had set up their dinner. The meaty smell from earlier turned out to be bossam, most likely delivered to her apartment, accompanied by rice, kimchi, and tteokbokki. For drinks, there was Nabi’s favourite soda.

“Oh my gosh!” She squealed, waving her arms excitedly. “This is amazing!” She turned to San. “Thank you, Sannie.” She embraced him in a tight hug. She felt his chest rumble with a relieved laugh.

“Anything for you.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “Ready to eat?”

“So ready,” she groaned, pulling away from her boyfriend. He pulled her chair out for her then moved over, sitting next to her.

They made conversation as they ate their dinner, talking about everything and nothing. San told her about Byeol, his cat, and Nabi told him that she was considering adopting a cat of her own. During her hiatus, she had babysat a lot of her friends’ pets and she really enjoyed it, making her wonder if getting a cat was closer to being reality than a dream.

“Are you ready for your cake?” San asked, clearing the dinner table. They had managed to eat almost all of the food, leaving a little of everything. When Nabi stood to help, San stared pointedly at her, smiling brightly when she sat back down. He busied himself in the kitchen for a few minutes, probably packing the food away.

“Happy birthday to you,” San sang as he approached the dining table with the cake in hand, candles on the cake and lit. Nabi smiled as he got closer and put the cake on the table. He continued singing the song for her, his voice light. “Make a wish,” he said once he was done singing.

Nabi clasped her hands in front of her chest and closed her eyes as she made her wish. She opened them as she blew her candles out. When Nabi chanced a glance at him, San was looking at her with that gaze, eyes warm and soft as if he couldn’t believe she was real. She figured she was looking at him the same way, but that didn’t stop the blush that coated her cheeks. San cut up two slices of cake for the two of them, putting the rest of the cake in the fridge — they were both getting too full to eat more.

“This is really good!” Nabi groaned after taking a bite of the cake. She began to sway side to side in her chair.

“Is it up to your standards?” San teased, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Nabi nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“That’s good.” San’s body released some tension as he relaxed into his chair.

“Thank you for this, Sannie,” she said, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips. His hand came up to frame her face, deepening the kiss.

“You don’t have to thank me, Biyah,” he said when they pulled apart. “I like seeing you happy. You mean so much to me and I just want to make sure you know.”

“I do.” She nodded, sincerity dripping from her voice.

“You’re so special and I love you so much. The world wouldn’t be this bright without you, you know? My world wouldn’t be this bright.”

Nabi’s eyes shifted around the room awkwardly. “... Okay.”

San chuckled, recognising his girlfriend’s discomfort. “I’ll stop there. I wrote a letter for you that perfectly encapsulates my feelings.”

“Cool.” She took another bite of cake to keep herself busy.

San leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Nabi, pulling her into him. He peppered kisses all over her face, tightening his hold on her when she tried to break free, her body shaking with the most precious giggles he had ever heard.

“I love you,” he said as he pressed his last kiss to the side of her face.

“I love you too.” She turned her head to press a kiss to his neck.

“Happy early birthday,” he whispered and she grinned, feeling a warmth unfurl in her chest. The joy she felt left with a buzzing feeling, feeling overjoyed. She leaned back into his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

For the rest of the evening, they ate their cake then moved to the couch to watch a movie. They only made it halfway into the movie before they started feeling tired so they decided to go to get ready for bed. Once in the covers, Nabi laid her head on San’s chest, getting comfortable together.

“Did you enjoy your early birthday?” San asked.

Nabi nodded. “Very much.”

She felt his chest rumble lightly with his laughter. “I’m glad.”

“I love you, Sannie.”

“I love you too, Biyah.”

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon // @alixnsuperstxr // @cosmicwintr // @bittersbloom // @txt-yaomi // @vhsdolly

©️ kim nabi

[glitterbombedshadow]

69 followers special freaks

As promised I deliver to you an absolutely terrible Donald Trump x Joe Biden fanfiction with a Rocktre cameo specially for Cade ✨

Rockstar au, they make out but no fucking

Not beta read we die like Bitter

   The sound of crowd cheers drowned out as they began playing the intro to another song. Donald took a moment to check on his bandmates, the lead and rhythm guitarists Rocky and Entre were currently too focused to notice his staring. Trump shot one envious look at their matching engagement rings before he turned to Joe that was playing a lazy bassline and gave him an anxious smile as they made eye contact. The two had a long history of childhood rivalry before making amends in the name of rock ‘n roll. He did not spare a glance to their poor drummer as after they had to kick out Matt for stealing they had to quickly find a temporary replacement. 

Donald took a deep breath and right when he was about to sing he suddenly heard a loud bang and a whistling sound of a bullet. Something wet started dripping down his neck and a stinging pain came from his ear. Crowd went crazy, screaming, pushing at each other just to get away from the stage not caring to pick up anyone that fell over in the frenzy. Security poured in, shouting orders and dragging the frozen in shock musicians backstage. 

The following moments were like a blur to Donald, being separated from his fellow musicians in order to be patched up, getting interrogated by law enforcement and learning that the shooter was some very angry fan of the opening band that drank way more than he could handle. Obviously the concert will go down in history of shitty shows, which oh well, any publicity is good publicity. Donald was dropped off at their shared band house by a police officer. He sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he opened the door with a trembling hand.

“Donald! You're back!”, Joe called out to him sitting on a couch in the living room with Rocky and Entre, clearly waiting for him, “You have no idea how worried we were, they just took you away and refused to tell us what's going on or where you were and god, the blood, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm good I got shot and I'm good”, Donald waved him off and went straight for the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of wine,“I'm going to my room, don't disturb me”.

 Soon after he left Rocky and Entre went to their room, leaving Joe alone with his thoughts. He paced around the room, mind full of ‘what it' scenarios where the shooter had better aim. Trump was never his best friend but Joe would be lying if he said that the prospect of having to live without this annoying asshole didn't feel him with dread. He sighed feeling that he couldn't possibly spend this night alone.

It was only a measure of time before his legs carried him into Donald's room. There he found the always charismatic vocalist lying spread eagle on the bed, bottle of wine in hand, staring at the ceiling with an absent expression.

 “Donald?”. The tan man jumped slightly and looked at him, “HUh- oh hi Joe, you startled me. You startled me and I'm wondering what are you doing here?” 

Paler of the two scratched his head, avoiding the others gaze shyly, “Er, I just wanted to check up on you, you know, after everything”

  Trump sat up and stared him down, “Like I said I'm fine, so unless you need something you can go”. Joe neither responded nor walked away. Donald just sighed, “okay, sit down, I can see you need to talk, what is it?”. Less mentally capable of the two sat down, taking the bottle of booze with a grateful nod. “ You see”-he started hesitantly-”This whole situation made me think about how fragile our lifes are and… Don't you ever feel like we're wasting our time? Yes we may be famous but what will it matter in the end. Everyone around us just wants to use us and I just feel so alone. And I didn't know who I can talk about it with, not like Rocky and Entre could understand me, they're basically glued at the hip.” He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I know exactly what you mean”, Donald murmured, “ When the shot was fired all I could think was ‘is this how I'm going to die? Surrounded by thousands of strangers that couldn't care less for me if not for my music?’. And when they took me away I was so scared because they would tell me if anyone else got hurt. If you were okay...” Trump covered his face with his hands. “Donald?” Joe grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Trump look him straight in the eyes, “ I don't want to live a lie anymore Joe. I've been hiding from the truth all this time but I can't do it anymore”.

“What do you mean-” Biden was suddenly cut off when he felt the other kiss him.He was too stunned to kiss back or even close his eyes. 

Donald pulled away sharply, “Oh god, I'm so sorry, this was a mistake, please forget about it”. “No, wait! Does this mean you like me?” Joe looked at him with those puppy eyes that always drive him crazy. He touched his face tenderly, “I love you so bad it's stupid. I love you so bad I'd run away with you if you only asked” 

Joe has never heard something like that but knew at that moment he wanted to spend the rest of his life with that stupid stuck up jerk, so he did the first thing that came to his mind and threw his arms around the other, embracing him while peppering kisses on his face. Donald pulled him onto his lap bringing him closer. Joe gasps and pulls him by his collar into a kiss that carries with it all the longing they had for each other all these years. He sucks on the others lower lip, asking to be let in, their tongues glide alongside each other in an intimate dance. Joe can vaguely taste the expensive wine on Donald's lips. 

They separate for a moment and Donald flips them over on the bad so that he has Biden pinned under him. They cringe when they hear the forgotten wine bottle roll of the bed and break on a white carpet making the room look like it was visited by post season3 Hannigram murder husbands (miraculously survived the fall). “I never like that carpet anyway” Donald chuckles before he attacks Joe's neck, sucking little marks being careful to not do it right above his artery so he doesn't have a stroke and die right after they make out. Joe moans softly when Donald bites the skin covering his trapezius muscle. The younger one unbuttoned his shirt to admire his body underneath. Trump runs his hands over his chest, outlining every muscle. Joe felt the need to cover up, vulnerable under his stare, but he relaxed noticing the admiration in the corn looking man's eyes. Donald leaves small kisses on his abdomen and begins to unbuckle his too tight pants when, “Hey Blondie wanna play smash bros with-”, Rocky walks into the room announced and freezes seeing the situation he just interrupted, before smirking, “ENTRE THEY ARETHEYRE FINALLY TOGETHER I WON THE BET!!!!!!” He finger guns at the pair and turns around leaving them dumbfounded and cockblocked.

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 9 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A pack of wolves descend on the camp when you and Arthur are least prepared for it.

Author’s Notes: Chapter nine of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Nine: Warm Embrace

Word count: 4341

You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. A yell. Then a horse’s screaming terror. Before you could pick up on anything else, you were on your feet.

You made to grab your rifle, but instead, a sidearm lay at your feet. Arthur’s revolver. You would wring that man’s neck. As soon as you had the thought, you heard a noise that sent cold fear sliding down your spine and made you lurch for the gun anyway—a snarl. That was no man-made sound.

You burst out of the tent and nearly fell backward in retreat. There were six wolves closing in on Arthur and the horses, the two mounts squealing and trying desperately to pull loose. Arthur stood firm with nothing but a knife. Nothing but a goddamn knife, because the fool had given you his gun. You couldn’t do a thing beyond stand there, absolutely stunned. He was going to die.

“Stay back!” Arthur yelled at them, but it was useless. The animals knew they had the advantage and crept forward still. Before you could think to shoot, the one closest to the horses bound forward, causing your horse to swing around and kick out. Another wolf joined the first, jumping high enough to sink teeth and claws into the animal’s rump. You had to fight the urge to cover your ears from the resulting sound that came out of that horse. Pure agony.

“Throw me the gun!” You met Arthur’s eye, and the second it took for him to spot you cost him whatever had been holding the other wolves at bay. The nearest leapt, and Arthur went down. You couldn’t pull the gun up fast enough, like the seriousness of the shot was slowing you. You sent up a prayer that you wouldn’t hit Arthur and shot into the mass of fur and teeth that stood atop him, all while he stabbed at its throat, trying his best not to have his own torn out.

You missed them both.

Another wolf joined the first, going for Arthur’s leg, but he kicked out hard enough that it whined in pain and retreated a step. The last two wolves joined in on the horses who were putting up much more of a fight, but you couldn’t care about that, couldn’t take in the terrible noise of violence and death that resulted. Not when there were two on top of the man who was your only chance at survival.

“Shoot them!” he yelled, the sound muffled from under the massive animal.

You brought the hammer down and shot again, aiming as best you could. You missed the closer wolf but hit the other this time, right on the shoulder. It yelped and turned, biting at the pain under its skin. Arthur thrust his knife up and gutted the wolf atop him in nearly the same moment, and you knew without having to know he had killed it. He was throwing the wolf off of him and yelling in less than a heartbeat. “Give me the goddamn gun!”

You did as he said, tossing it to him as he rose, retreating father against the tent at your back. You had to cover your ears, couldn’t look at what the other wolves were doing to the horses. Not with those horrible sounds coming from them.

Arthur immediately turned and shot the wolf you had in the head, then shot the one he had stabbed for good measure before reloading quick as lightning. He rounded on the other four. Alone.

You stepped backward into the tent. Cowardly. Covering your ears, closing your eyes, knowing he would get himself killed. He would die, and the horses would suffer, and you would get eaten alive. What was worse? Would you rather have died before, falling into nothingness? When the first shots began ringing out, you had your answer: absolutely. Because then you wouldn’t have to bear the pain of losing not two people that meant the most to you, but three.

More shots rang out until you were sure it was six, the revolver not having capacity for more. Then there was nothing but silence, and you started sobbing, knowing what came next. They would find you in here. They would maul you like they had him. Maybe they wouldn’t if you surrendered to them. Did animals recognize submission? Mercy?

The tent flaps rustled and you braced yourself for death until you felt arms folding around you, warm and gentle. Your sobbing turned to broken heaving as you took in the only scent you ever wanted to smell again.

“Shh, it’s okay. They’re gone. I got ‘em.”

You could do nothing but cry into his chest. You should have lost him. Should have died.

You moved your hands until they were grabbing at his coat, pulling him closer, needing to feel the life beating through him.

“I got you,” he said softly. “I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest, his warmth the only tether you had to sanity.

“We’ll be all right,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm to get warmth back in you. Or maybe life back in you. “My horse got away. We’ll be okay.”

That broke through your shock like a slap. You pushed back and looked at him. “And mine?”

He hesitated then shook his head. Dead then. The horse that had carried you miles and miles. The stubborn thing that you hadn’t given much thought to, all because you were too worried about what you had already lost. Just like Arthur. You couldn’t take that. You pushed Arthur back and got up.

“I wouldn’t go out there,” he warned. “Ain’t too pretty.”

You disregarded him and wiped your tears on your coat sleeve so you could see, stepping outside. They continued to well up anyway, your vision blurred and stinging as you took in two dead wolves. Then you turned and saw a sight so grizzly as to make you nearly lose what little you had in your stomach.

Four dead wolves, one dead horse. If it could be called that. It wasn’t so much something that had just been living as it was pure carnage. You were suddenly glad for your blurred vision. Seeing it clearly would have broken you.

You looked away and stepped back, needing a moment. Arthur was just behind you, and you felt the urge to cry into his chest like a child again but fought it off.

“Can you…” You sniffled, letting out a strangled breath. “Can you cut his tail? Bring me his hair?” God knew you couldn’t do it.

“Sure,” Arthur said. He didn’t hesitate, walking over like the scene before him was something he saw every day. Maybe it was.

If he thought the request odd, he didn’t say anything. It was something your parents had taught you. The good horses had their tails cut, their hair saved and braided and used so there was always a piece of them left behind. You felt guilt swallow you over not doing the same for your own two horses back at that cliff, but you had other things to grieve then. This horse had likely saved your life. You had escaped death a second time. And all you could do for it was trudge back into the tent and cry until you didn’t have any tears left.

~

Goddamn wolves. Arthur was finally starting to see the woman who had existed before the death of her parents. But that woman was gone again. Holed up in a tent for the better part of an entire day. Apart from bringing you that horsehair, he didn’t have the heart to go in and talk to you. He didn’t know what to say. And, lest he forget, it had been his fault you hadn’t had your rifle and he hadn’t had his revolver. You could have taken those animals on together no problem if you had.

Arthur spent the early hours of the morning finding his horse and cleaning up. He dragged the wolves off and skinned the ones worth skinning, taking meat from one. He looked over the damage done to his bedroll and knew there was no fixing the thing—the wolf had shredded it in an attempt to shred him. He tossed that away too. The dead horse was too heavy for him to move. He didn’t have any way to tie it to his own mount for her to drag it away either—it was torn into too many pieces. It would leave the place looking worse than it had been. So he left it, deciding when and if you ever reappeared, he would lead you straight south out of camp so the few trees could block your view of the damage.

He was now plagued with the thought that he had narrowly escaped death and that he had gotten too reckless in leading you. He knew how to survive on his own no problem, but you were distracting him. He had gone to sleep unarmed for christ sake. It was time for him to quit fooling around and do his job.

When Arthur ran out of things to do beyond keep watch, he checked himself over for wounds. His adrenaline wore off a long time ago, and he ached all over from the fight with that monster. He could be hurt anywhere and wouldn’t really know it. He was covered in blood from what he had managed with his knife, so he shed his coat first, seeing what damage it took. There was a gash in one of the arms, the fur along the inside showing. He looked to his arm and saw the resulting scratch cutting through his shirt, but it was shallow. Not warranting stitches. He looked and looked but didn’t find anything else. He was nearly untouched—a goddamn miracle.

He walked to his horse and gave her a few loving pats, glad she had gotten away. She was the best mount he’d had in a long time. He gave her a carrot and checked her over too. She must have gotten away before he had finished his own fight with the wolves. She was unharmed. He would never forget the sight of those four wolves eating the other horse alive though. On its back, on its legs, under its belly. Ruthless animals.

Arthur retrieved a cloth to clean his wound and coat with, pouring water over it. He shed the right half of his shirt from his arm, and the moment the damp cloth touched his skin, he winced. It was so cold he couldn’t feel the pain of the cut, just the frigidness of it. He could sense it now, how low the temperature was dropping. He just hoped the rain that would inevitably turn to snow would hold off.

He finished cleaning the shallow wound then redressed, deciding to stitch up the coat and his shirt later. It was too cold to be without them. He wiped the blood off his face best he could, doing the same to the front of his coat. Cleaning away all the evidence. The blood would just make him hard for you to look at. Well, harder. He weren’t exactly a pleasant sight to begin with.

Satisfied that things were as good as they would get, he went back over to your horse and took everything of value off it. The saddle was scratched to hell, and you wouldn’t be needing it anyway. Boadicea could carry you both. So he left that, digging through the saddle bags. There wasn’t much of anything beyond a few supplies and treats. You must have had that journal of your father’s on you. He did take your rifle out of its scabbard, knowing you could use his, but he was guilty enough over taking it. The least he could do was give you this one back.

He carried the rifle over to the pile of wood that had once been a fire and sat. There was nothing else to do. He could build another fire but didn’t want to leave you long enough to get more wood. All that was left was to wait. The two of you did need to get going soon. All that blood would draw unwanted attention from the local population. He just hoped there weren’t anymore wolves about. He would give you as long as he could, then he would pack up the tent, and the pair of you would move on. Putting all this behind you.

When the snow began again, Arthur cursed it. The weather had been delaying your travel every chance it got. He knew this wasn’t a good time of year to be going so far, but he had still hoped for better than this. The only positive that came of it was your attention, as you soon peeked out of the tent into the dim-lit evening to confirm it was snowing. And from his vantage, he saw that you had braided a piece of horsehair into your own, almost hidden under the shadow of your hat brim. Having your hat on meant you hadn’t been sleeping. Arthur felt the same guilt rise up within him. It was time.

“We better get going if you want to move camp.”

You just looked at him with that troubled expression, like your thoughts weren’t with him. Back to who you’d been before, unspeaking.

He stood, your gun and metaphorical hat in hand. “Listen I’m…sorry about the gun. I didn’t think-” That was it. He didn’t think. Why else did you keep guns at your sides at night other than to ward off trouble? And trouble had come, as deadly as it could have been. There were no more words for it, nothing that could fix what he’d done.

“Arthur?”

He looked at you, surprised to hear you speak. Surprised you had stepped out of the tent and weren’t building up that insurmountable wall within you he was all too familiar with.

“You ever do that again and I’ll shoot you. That’s a promise.”

He couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t smile at me,” you quipped. “You aren’t forgiven.”

His smile only grew. He just knew you would retreat into that shell of yourself you’d been before. Not this. It made him giddy enough to put his foot in his mouth. “You will forgive me eventually though, right?”

“No shot,” you said, going back into the tent without taking your gun. That panicked him. This was a fine line you were walking between the person he had come to know and the one who was so overcome by grief. Exactly how angry were you?

“Wait, I…I mean it,” he said, making you stop at least. “I’m real sorry. That all this happened. That it’s my fault it did.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care about the wolves. They would have come anyway. But we could have taken them on easy if you hadn’t taken my gun. If anything, you owe my horse an apology.”

That cut him. The poor animal had fought a painful death and lost, suffered, because of him. He was just glad one of the two had gotten away, or the pair of you would have been soon to follow.

Arthur nodded, looking to the horsehair in your hair. He could never really make up for this, but he could at least keep his big mouth shut and keep from making it worse.

You went back inside the tent without a word. Arthur let you be and was surprised to see you come back out with bedroll in hand before starting on the tent. He wordlessly joined you in taking it down. It was the least he could do after all the drama that had begun with you hammering the stakes in.

After the two of you finished, he loaded up Boadicea and let you on her first. Then he mounted and went straight south as he had promised himself he would, avoiding any further thought of what you were leaving behind.

~

You and Arthur traveled through the snow for a long time. It wasn’t falling heavily enough to slow you down, so you rode right through it.

You missed your horse. Your backside ached, your back protesting all the same at the lack of a saddle. If you ever came across a town, you would get another one. You didn’t care if you had to steal it and the horse underneath it too.

At least one good thing had come of the tragedy those wolves had brought—Arthur was subdued. Whether from narrowly escaping with his life or regretting costing your mount his, you couldn’t tell. It was a harsh thought, but seeing him so reflective showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed, and you were glad it did. It certainly existed for you, and you didn’t want to be the only one grieving again. You didn’t want to feel like a child. The way you had broken down in front of him when you thought the wolves were coming for you was embarrassing enough, and you decided then you wouldn’t let that part of you resurface. You had come this far. You were healing. You weren’t letting those wolves take that away from you.

When it got dark enough and you ached enough for two, you broke the silence the snow brought. “Do you know if there’s a town anywhere near?”

You felt Arthur shrug against your hands on his sides, his coat rising and falling beneath your gloved fingers. “Can’t be sure. Usually there’s something this far down the trail. May not be a town, but something.”

That much was true. You could still see a trail to follow, so that was a good sign. The snow hadn’t covered it completely yet.

“Why?”

“Wonder if I can find another horse. Maybe a warm bed to sleep in for a few nights.”

“And here I thought you was a woman of the land,” he jeered.

You swatted him across the arm. He chuckled. “If there is one, we won’t find it tonight. I’d be able to see it from here.”

True again. The land was growing so flat that any settlement lit by lantern light would be bright as a beacon in the darkness.

“Let’s stop then,” you said, tired in more ways than one.

Arthur obliged you, and you were soon rebuilding the tent, tending a fire, eating a bite. Routine.

Arthur shed his coat and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a jagged line across his upper arm, no doubt from the claws of that wolf that had tackled him. You’d forgotten completely to ask if he had been injured.

“Where’d it get you?”

“Just here,” he said, tending to it.

Jealousy flared within you. You had a scar a mile long down your side from a fall. A fall, and Arthur had a full grown wolf try to eat him, and he only left with a scratch?

“How’s yours by the way?” he asked without looking up.

You had kept your side wrapped for about a week after the stitches came out, then had made sure it was clean but done little else. It was healing over now, all that was left a bit of tenderness and a scar that you would never rid yourself of, no matter how badly you spited the memory.

“Fine,” you answered flatly. Arthur’s eyes flicked to you then.

“I have you to thank, you know.”

Of course he did. But you weren’t going to rub it in.

“You hadn’t shot that other wolf and my leg would be dog meat.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t exactly aiming for that one but…”

“It don’t matter,” he said, rolling his sleeve back down, satisfied with the cut. He stood and donned his coat. “We’re alive, that’s all that matters. And I wouldn’t be without you.”

“You keep saying that,” you muttered, resentful.

“I mean it.”

“No, not that. You keep saying it doesn’t matter that I can’t shoot that gun. Well it does. It did. That was as close to dying as it gets, Arthur.”

He shook his head. “I’ll make sure your rifle’s close from now on, and you won’t ever have to shoot mine again. Don’t worry about it.”

That response was so typical of him you wanted to strangle him. He was so lax about life, so unconcerned. There was a such thing as learning from your mistakes, and it made you mad that he didn’t have to. Because he needed to.

“Forget it,” you spat, crossing your arms.

He smiled, and it only made you madder.

“I’m starting to think you like picking fights with me.”

“I don’t. You’re just easy to stay mad at.”

“Awe, you could never be mad at me, nameless.”

You flashed him a dark look. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What would you prefer I call you?”

You turned away, seeing red. Because he was right. He didn’t have a name to call you. But like hell would you surrender it now.

“It would have been helpful back there,” he said, stepping closer to the fire and crouching, holding his hands out to warm them. “Knowing what name to yell to wake you up so we didn’t both get eaten.”

That was something you didn’t want to dwell on. “We didn’t get eaten last I checked.”

His smile turned crooked it went so wide. So damn satisfied you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Exactly.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. Had he made his point? That you were alive and nothing else mattered? Yes. Were you about to admit it? Absolutely not.

You got up and stormed to the tent in much the same manner as you had the night prior, only rather than teasing you this time, he had made a fool out of you. So you didn’t regret it a second when you shut him out for the second night in a row, even if he was without a bedroll. The snow would be cushion enough.

When you’d finally shaken your anger enough to drift off, Arthur came bursting into the tent. It scared you at first, the memory of those wolves still fresh.

“What is it?” you rasped, shooting straight up.

“It’s freezing,” he said, his arms wrapped around himself as he tried to rub the cold away, his coat damp with snow.

You groaned in annoyance and laid back down. “I didn’t invite you in here.”

“Too bad,” he said as he knelt down anyway. “It’s my tent.”

“Well keep the cold on your side,” you argued, turning your back to him.

You felt something press against the exposed skin of your neck, so frigid you rounded on him. He had taken his glove off, purposely pressed an ice cold hand against you. “Excuse me!” you yelled, incredulous. Then he was laughing like a kid as he settled beside you anyway.

“Little cold ain’t gonna hurt you. Now move over or share.” Meaning your bedroll. The gall of this man.

“Absolutely not.”

He had a laugh on his lips as he said, “Don’t make me fight you, woman. We already seen I’ll win.”

Then his arms were snaking around you, pulling you into him so tight you could feel a heat sting your cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature. Your heart started racing. You knew he would have been able to feel it had he not been shivering himself. But he was, his frame shaking against you. It thawed your annoyance some, though it didn’t stop you being struck with disbelief at him doing this.

“Just so we’re clear,” you said, needing to make it known lest he realize you weren’t fighting him. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“Like you wasn’t in here freezing your ass off too.”

You had been. You couldn’t deny it was much warmer lying against him. And worse, it was…oddly comforting. Kind of nice. But still your heart pounded, not knowing much, but knowing this was intimate somehow. The last time you had laid against someone this close, it had been your own mother. You didn’t want to think about how differently you seemed to react to it this time. To why. Instead, you let yourself be for a moment, ignoring what you should do, ignoring what was expected of a man and a woman who hardly knew each other. You allowed yourself the simple privilege of touch, something you had never had before. Even if it didn’t mean a thing to Arthur or to you.

After too little thought and lots of silence, you realized he was relaxed, his shivering long gone. You should push him away. Should take his steady breathing in your ear to mean he’d fallen asleep like this. But for some reason, you thought he was just as awake as you were. And that made your heart race even worse. Was he doing the same thing you were, holding you just because he could? Surely he knew better. You could claim ignorance, but he couldn’t. Not after how he had talked just last night.

Afraid he would feel your nervousness through your coat, you whispered to him.

“Arthur.”

He didn’t stir. Asleep then. You were overthinking it. And, like a true moron, you didn’t want to wake him. You realized with no small amount of embarrassment that you wanted to sleep like this too. You were just curious about it all, you told yourself. Nothing more. So you let him be and closed your eyes, melting into his warmth. It took a long time for your thoughts to stop lingering where they shouldn’t, and when they finally did, they didn’t improve much. You were left wondering why you had ever wanted to stay on the opposite side of the tent from this man.

_________

Chapter ten is here.

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