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satans-helper · 9 months ago

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Smother the Flame in Your Heart - Part XVIII

Read previous parts here or read on Ao3 // Playlist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Word Count: ~3400

Warnings: none

We're getting really close to a resolution for Jake, I promise!

---

Sam was always stunning and beautiful to Danny, but essentially living together for a number of days had revealed that, while still being stunning and beautiful, Sam was much more of a slob than he was. Dishes were left in the sink for far too long, he never made the bed, bags of snacks were left open and strewn about the apartment and Sam’s clothes were even worse, just left dirty and thrown all over the place when Danny had a perfectly good hamper to toss it all in instead. He’d spent enough time with Sam to know that a certain amount of bad manners was to be expected–that was just how his beautiful boyfriend was. But, Danny theorized, it was the frustration, anger and sadness that had come along with this unresolved conflict with Sam’s own brother–and, he was sure, Danny himself–that had exacerbated it.

“Sammy,” Danny said gently, approaching his boyfriend, who was stretched out and nearly naked on the couch, a book in front of his face. “Could you do me a favor?”

Sam dropped the book just enough to peer up at him. “What is it?”

Danny opened his mouth again, ready to ask Sam to take care of the pile of dirty clothes that was crowding his bathroom. But he was a pushover–and totally whipped. “Can you scooch so I can sit with you?” was what he asked instead.

Sam smiled and thrust his legs out, making room, so Danny sat down in the newly freed space; Sam dropped his bare feet in Danny’s lap and stretched, resting the book on his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Danny said, dropping one hand to Sam’s ankle and running it up his shin. “Are you okay? You seem…just a little off, I guess.”

Sam looked off to the side with a sigh. “I’m fucking pissed, man.” At least when he said it, there wasn’t any real rage in his tone. “Every time Jake tries to talk to me, I remember everything I first felt and I feel it all over again.”

“I wish I could help,” Danny replied. He really did.

“You help.” Sam looked at him and smiled a little, warmth returning to his face. “You always help. I don’t know what I can do to help myself though.”

After a moment of contemplation, Danny said, “It’s like what we already established, right? It’s not Jake’s fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. It’s all feelings, and feelings change.”

Sam’s lips pursed slightly as he was silent, then he rubbed the curve of one foot across Danny’s thigh. “There are some feelings I don’t want to change. Like how you feel about me.”

“Those feelings could never change,” Danny said, giving Sam’s ankle a squeeze. “I hope your feelings for me never change.”

“I’m not mad at you. I know you didn’t do anything.” Sam looked up to the ceiling, bringing a hand to the top of his head. “But I can’t see how you and him can be friends anymore.”

Danny’s heart sank. He liked Jake a lot and really did want to remain friends with him–even become better friends. He understood Sam’s jealousy, anger and wariness and wanted to argue through it, but that would be a losing battle. Maybe in time those feelings would change too, and things could go back to normal. Relatively speaking.

“You can’t see it ever?” Danny asked.

Sam looked back at him. “I can’t see it now. I know it makes me a dick, but like, if you guys ended up alone again–” He let out a groan and rolled onto his side. “I can’t even think about it.”

“Nothing would ever happen.”

“I know. But he’d be thinking about it.”

“Hey, I know this is a delicate matter. It’s your brother,” Danny said, running his hands in what was hopefully a soothing way over Sam’s lower legs. “But don’t you think that’s also even more motivation to try and work things out?”

After a small grumble, Sam said, “Perhaps.”

Danny chuckled. “I bet he misses you. I bet Josh misses you too. I’m sure you miss them.”

“Perhaps,” Sam repeated, swinging his legs off Danny’s lap so he could sit up. He reached for his bottle of kombucha from the end table. “But I also like staying here. I like being with you all the time.��

“I like it too. You’re my guy,” Danny assured him, meaning every word–but another glance at the coffee table in complete disarray made him cringe. “But you’ve still got two brothers in a house that you pay rent for. You know you can come here anytime, right? I’ll give you my spare set of keys to keep permanently.”

Sam had thought to himself many times over the past months about living with Danny. Really living together, not just crashing for a while, and what it would be like. Would it create friction where there wasn’t any? Would it, on the other hand, make things even better? There would be endless privacy, which also meant endless sex, and Sam would never have to deal with Jake being in his space ever again if he didn’t want to.

But that wasn’t a solution no matter how much Sam wanted it to be.

“Doesn’t it bother you too?” he asked, dropping his hands that were still holding the kombucha between his legs. “Jake’s like, a new friend for you and all this time he wanted to get in your pants. It’s fucking awkward to say the least.”

Danny had really just tried not to think about it too much. He felt naïve for not being able to read Jake better or just not being able to read flirtation better. He’d had to teach himself to be such a skilled flirt to stay alive, yet he couldn’t tell when someone was throwing him signals first? But he’d never given Jake a thought in that way. If he wasn’t Sam’s brother, maybe. But that wasn’t the case. So Danny had only thought of Jake as a friend, truly, and he’d buzzed with confusion that felt juvenile once Jake had dropped the bomb.

“It does bother me a little,” Danny admitted, matching Sam’s slumped, hanging posture over the edge of the couch. “It makes me feel stupid. If I’d known he was into me like that, I would’ve…done things differently.”

“Don’t feel stupid,” Sam protested gently, bumping his knee against Danny’s. “You don’t know what you do to people because you don’t try. Well, I mean, you don’t try unless you’re trying to get your next meal. Just living your life, you have no idea how sexy you are.”

Danny laughed. “I don’t think I’m sexy, Sammy.”

“Exactly!” Sam slapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending kombucha flying out of the bottle as he became animated. “You don’t think you are, but you are, and you not thinking you are makes you even sexier.”

Danny paused, mouth slightly agape as he tried to think that through. “I’m just going to take your word on that.”

“You should.” Sam sighed and sat back. “I wish it didn’t bother me so much. If Jake were a girl, it’d be kind of funny. Kind of cute, maybe. But…” He trailed off, not wanting to analyze it any further, because admitting anything else made him realize that he was a little threatened by his brother. That may have been obvious to Josh and Danny even if they hadn’t said it explicitly, but it’d never been obvious to Sam until now.

Danny knew without Sam saying anything else. He settled back into the couch next to his boyfriend and rested his head on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not rushing you out the door, Sammy. I just don’t want this distance between you and Jake to cause anymore hurt.”

By the time dinner rolled around, Sam decided that he’d go back home the next day after work. So he had the whole place with Danny all to himself for one more night–the entire apartment that he knew Danny still didn’t love, but Sam did. The apartment smelled like Danny–like his own natural scent that was addictive to Sam, like the expensive coffee beans he’d bought and ground and brewed just for Sam, like the tobacco, leather and sandalwood from the candles around the living room, like the loaf of bread they’d baked together. Sam loved this place because it was Danny’s.

Once dinner was long over and the night outside was deep and black, Sam pulled his vampire boyfriend close to himself in bed. He inhaled the smell of Danny’s sweat and skin and shampoo from the pillow beneath his head, then turned to sniff his clean, damp hair as he tightened his arm over his boyfriend’s waist.

Danny let out a little hum and held Sam’s hand against his torso. “I like when you’re the big spoon.” Sam was so long and willowy that Danny hadn’t thought he would actually like being the little spoon with him, but it worked–Sam always threw all his limbs all over Danny and made him feel like he was in a cocoon.

“I love that you love it,” Sam replied, smiling to himself, and nuzzled his nose into the back of Danny’s head. Then he thought about Jake and his smile dropped away. He sighed, turning away, and shut his eyes tighter as if that would erase the images in his head. “Shit. How am I gonna do this, Danny? Every time I think about Jake, I just wanna–” He cut his own words off with a groan, not sure of what he wanted to do. Punch his brother in the face? Kick him in the nuts? Bitch slap him? Nothing seemed right.

Danny sighed. He was more than willing to listen to Sam’s woes, but he really was tired–it had been a long week, to say the least. “Okay. What’s your worst fear, baby? Because to me, it seems like the worst is over. What else could go wrong?” he turned his head to the side just a little, catching a glimpse of Sam’s profile caught in the yellow glow filtering in from the lights outside. “You know I’m not gonna do anything, right?”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Sam reminded Danny with a grumble, stuffing his face back into his hair. “Seriously–every time I think about you and Jake alone, I imagine him–well. I don’t need to fucking say it, do I?”

So tired, Danny couldn’t help but laugh. “Sammy, come on–give him a little more credit. If he really wanted to do something, don’t you think he would have? It’s just a crush.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. Just a crush. You don’t know Jake.”

Danny squeezed Sam’s hand. “What don’t I know about him that applies to this conversation?”

“That he’s a romantic. His crushes last years, Daniel. I mean, this one has already lasted what, like six months? That’s a long time.”

Sufficiently out of energy, all Danny said was, “Oh, Sammy.”

–

When Sam returned to his home, Josh’s car was gone but Jake’s was there like a silent, unknowing taunt in the driveway. With a heavy sigh, he resigned to park behind it. To face the lion’s den. Jake should just get a “honk if you’re a vampire” bumper sticker and be done with it, he thought, then chuckled lightly to himself. Maybe when all of this blew over–because it would have to blow over eventually–Sam would get one for him.

Inside, Sam found Jake in the kitchen doing the dishes. He startled when Sam dropped his duffel bag on the floor, whipping around with a plastic spatula still dripping with soap bubbles in his hand.

“God, Sam!” Jake said, lowering the spatula. He stared at his brother briefly, looking wary, then he turned back around. Over his shoulder, he added, “Welcome home. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” Sam said, keeping himself planted in the doorway. As much as he wanted to cross his arms, he kept them at his sides, hands in his pockets–he needed to truly be open to fixing things. “But did you know how sneaky vampires are?”

Jake shut the water off, grabbed the hand towel from the counter and turned around to face him again. “Are they?”

“I don’t know. Danny’s not, actually,” Sam admitted with a semi-forced smile. Jake looked more tense than even he felt, his back pressed hard against the counter, his hands gripping the towel too tightly. At the end of the day, Sam really didn’t want to be the cause of any more tension. He pulled one hand out of his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes that was empty except for two joints. “Wanna get high?”

It was raining again–Sam and Jake opened the windows in the older brother’s bedroom to let whatever air they could in with the ceiling fan spinning above them. They’d shared the first joint in almost complete silence, not even any music in the background to play a backdrop to Sam’s thoughts. Then, with the second joint smoldering between them as they sat on the floor, Sam really took a minute to look around–it felt like it’d been a long time since he’d been in Jake’s room for more than a few seconds. It looked different. There was different art on the walls, additional photographs, records Sam didn’t remember him buying–when had all of this happened? When did they all start getting older and when did everything start changing?

Even the rug beneath his crossed legs was unfamiliar. Sam picked at a loose thread, staring at the deep green and blue pattern that matched Jake’s bedspread. “Remember when we’d sleep on the floor of mom and dad’s bedroom in the summer?” he mused, thinking back to those long, languid childhood summers.

“Yeah,” Jake said with a chuckle, passing the joint to Sam. “I still don’t understand why they didn’t get central air earlier. Those nights were brutal without a/c.”

“They just had to hog the one window unit all to themselves,” Sam agreed, shaking his head as he inhaled.

“Just so you know, Sam,” Jake began, and Sam turned to look at him with the joint still against his lips. “I’m taking this as a peace offering.”

Sam nodded, passing it back. “It is, man.”

“Okay. So. You know I have like, a million questions, right?”

Sam hesitated, as did Jake–they were both motionless, looking at one another, for what felt like far longer than just the few seconds it was until Jake took another hit. “Alright,” Sam said. “Like what?”

Jake set the joint in the ashtray, swapping it out for the can of cream soda he’d been drinking. He took a sip, looking down, before he said, “Does it hurt?”

Sam felt his body tighten, but he tried to let that energy go as quickly as possible, trying to think of how to answer–if he painted this picture in a far less romanticized, and far less accurate, light, he might be able to turn Jake off to the whole idea of vampires. Of Danny. Sam could play up the fear and the pain, make it seem like Danny was some blood-crazed hound with little willpower. But, no–he didn’t want to make up lies about his boyfriend. He didn’t want to lie at all.

“It hurt the most the first time,” Sam said, stealing the joint back when it appeared as though Jake had no intention of finishing it. “Mostly because I was so caught off-guard. I didn’t have any warning. But it also didn’t hurt for that long, I guess. The shock was the worst part of it.”

Jake nodded, eyes a little glassy and unfocused. He still wasn’t looking at Sam. “That makes sense. So now it–it doesn’t really hurt at all?”

Sam inhaled the last remaining bit of burning weed sharply, then exhaled while he stamped out the joint into the other ashes in the glass tray. “It hurts a little. Danny’s teeth are really sharp. Sharper than they look.”

Jake was silent for a moment, this time staring at Sam with his mouth slightly open like Sam had just opened him up to some kind of revelation. “Oh,” he finally said. “And how much does he–? I mean, I’ve already been so into different vampire mythologies, and in a lot of cultures and media and stuff, it usually says vampires drink all the blood.” Sam was shaking his head; Jake added, “Right. You said it’s just like, I dunno, a disease? And he just needs enough blood to keep himself alive, which isn’t that much.”

“Whatever he drinks corresponds to how long he can go without drinking again,” Sam explained. Weirdly, it felt kind of good to be talking about it even if it was with Jake. Poor Danny hadn’t been able to share any of this with anyone until Sam came along, and now they both had the safe, close relationships they needed to not keep everything stuffed away. “So if he drank more, he could go longer. But he doesn’t like to do that because, y’know, irreparable harm and whatnot.” With a chuckle, he added, “He doesn’t want anyone to need a blood transplant or anything.”

“How many people has he–”

“I don’t know,” Sam interrupted. He really didn’t want to know. “I never asked. It doesn’t matter. It’s only me now.” He flashed his teeth in a daring grin, then said, “I’m the best he’s ever had. That helps his stamina too.”

Jake felt stuck for a second. Then he nodded again, eyes returning to gaze at the floor as he kept clutching his root beer. “Right.” He sighed. “Do you guys ever worry about running into those other people? I feel like I’d spend my whole life paranoid. Looking over my shoulder, you know?”

“That’s why Danny goes out of town to do it. He told me later on that being here for Halloween was just like, a fluke. He said he was too eager to just get out and have some real fun, but then he–”

“Then he ran into you.”

Sam’s throat tightened a little, defensiveness surging forward again. “Right.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “But yeah, honestly, I–I do worry sometimes. I don’t think Danny likes to talk about it, but I think he worries about it more than he lets on. He said a lot of people kind of forget. Like the shock and the trauma can make the memories fuzzy. Who would believe them anyway, right?” Sam laughed a little, but it sounded somewhat sad even to his own ears. “I never thought you guys would believe me.”

For the first time during their entire smoke session, Jake smiled slightly. “You know I would. I didn’t even question it when I realized it for myself.”

Sam smirked. “Seriously? You didn’t question it at all?”

“Well. Maybe a little. But we live in a day and age where anything is possible.”

Sam leaned back on his hands, looking up at the ceiling fan. “That’s true.” He hunched forward and brought his gaze back to Jake. “Can I ask you something now?”

Jake gave a little nod. “Okay.”

“If Danny was just normal, just like us, would you still be interested?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Jake simply said, “Yes.”

Sam let out a heavy sigh, reaching for his own drink–a bottle of iced tea that he’d forgotten in the fridge before he’d gone to stay with Danny. “I’m not sure if that makes this harder or if it doesn’t make it any different at all.”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to be.”

“I know,” Sam said sharply.

“I’d never do any–”

“I know that too.”

“Do you?”

Sam looked around the room again at all the things that reflected his older brother, at the memories that were there in cherished objects and pictures that reminded him that, no matter what, they would never be torn apart. “Yeah,” he said, finally offering Jake a smile that did feel mostly genuine, mostly easy. “I trust you.”

---

Tagging:

@mackalah @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @milojames16 @brokebellsgvf @streamsofstardust @heckingfrick

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

#greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #sam kiszka #sam gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #gvf fanfiction #sanny #danny wagner x sam kiszka #stfyh

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ashotofeuphoria · 3 years ago

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Better.

Pairing: Bf! Yunho x Gf! Reader

Genre: Fluff (self-indulgent sorry)

Word Count: 6.1k (not proofread sorry if it reads weird)

Warnings: one gendered insult (Whore), reader is told to unalive herself as an insult (roughly 8 paragraphs/dialouge in)

Authors Note: This is for all my retail workers who want so desperately to leave their jobs for something better. For all my gals and pals who just want someone to take care of them.

Work was usually bad for you, but today? Today was something else. Maybe it was the added stress of the holiday season working in retail, but patience was wearing thin on everyone, and basic manners seemed to be left at the door. You weren’t inexperienced at your job; you did know what you were doing. Granted, you had only worked there for about half a year, but that was plenty of time to know how everything worked, and to answer the questions you needed to. That didn’t seem to matter though. You were the person standing in front of them. You were their punching bag in those moments, and by God did you take a beating. It started off decent. You were helping on the sales floor, directing people in the right direction, explaining how certain products worked, and how to use them. Answering any questions that you could, being pulled this way and that by customers, all while management delegated youas the do-it-all for the shift. “Everyone else is busy with bigger tasks” they would say, and you had a hard time saying “No”. They knew that.

The first customer that crossed a line was a guy in his twenties. Normally people your age were the easiest to assist. (If they weren’t hitting on you.) You were only doing your job, asking for his email and number for rewards, scanning all his items, and smiling and being friendly. You were paid to do that. You were required to do that. It was your job. You weren’t flirting, surely, he had to know that. It didn’t seem so when he started complimenting you. All you did was smile kindly and continue ringing up his items. It didn’t warrant a response you thought. If you said thank you, he would just continue, he would think you liked what as happening. But he didn’t like the lack of a gratitude to his compliments.

“You’re really full of yourself, huh?” He sneered when he realized you weren’t acknowledging his flirtations.

“Sir- I would lose my job if I-”, you started to defend yourself.

“You just think everyone wants you, I bet you hear it all the time. Love hearing how pretty you are don't you? Fucking Whore.” He barked out.

You just stood there in shock, your eyes tearing up. But you had to take it. There wasn’t much else that could be done except trying to rush him out of the store. You gave him his total, let him swipe his card, and gently handed him his bag, placing the receipt in the bag as you did so.

“Have a good night.” You said lightly, void of all emotion.

“Go kill yourself.” He spat out with a roll of his eyes and a middle finger in the air.

The audacity, the vileness in the statement. You couldn’t hold back all the tears as a few slid down your cheeks. No one had even seen him do it. The one time you needed someone else in the line, it was empty. You squatted down below the counter, acting like you were grabbing something, and gently held your face in your hands, letting out a few shaky breaths, and wiping your tears as they fell. When a minute had passed, you glanced into a drawer pulling out some receipt paper to replace the paper in the printer.

You slowly stood back up hoping your face wasn’t too red, or eyes too puffy. And you proceeded on with your shift like nothing happened. You knew it wasn’t good for a job to wreck this much havoc on your health. You frequently couldn’t take your legally required breaks for lunch because of short staffing and shitty management. You would leave it soon. You had promised your boyfriend you would. You and Yunho have dated for 2 years. He’s seen you change, and he hates seeing you in the condition you’re in. You used to smile more, laugh more, enjoy life more. He knew the job was destroying you, and he tried to remind you of that when he could. But it was a job. It paid the bills. It wasn’t supposed to be heaven on Earth.

Hours passed, and you took your lunch break while walking around the floor working. You were hungry, tired, and counting down the minutes to when you would be able to leave and go home. It was busy in the store, but all the customers seemed to know what they needed and were in and out quickly. Until an old man walked in, leaning heavily on his cane. You were trained to assist the elderly, mothers, and mothers to be when they entered the store. It was not only because the company viewed these customers as liabilities but because, they say, if you treat these customers right, others take notice. Or at least that’s the idea. But no one really cares.

“Welcome in sir, can I help you-“ you started out chirpy before he interrupted.

“Where is the man in charge! I don’t want your help. I want a man who knows what he’s doing.” He scoffed.

Okay, fair. He wants to talk to management. Easy, you'll just call a manager up to deal with him.

“No problem, sir, let me call for our manager and she can help you.” You politely informed him as you reached for your headset to page your manager. You started speaking into it lowly, ‘manager to the front entrance please, a man is requesting a manager’.

“Are you deaf? None of you kids ever listen. I need a man. You stupid piece of shit.” At the end of his tirade, he reared his head back and spat on you. Spat. On you. You winced when it hit your face. “Go ahead. Call for him. I bet now he’ll come, bitch.” Your eyes burned behind your closed eyelids.

“Please excuse me, sir. I’ll go get him.” You weakly responded, leaving him to rush yourself to the back room. You wiped your face on your shirt sleeve, desperate to get the spit off you. You made a beeline to the staff restroom, passing your manager on the way.

“You should stay at the front with the customer until a manager gets there, Y/N, so we know who needs help. You know that. Don’t make me remind you.” She verbally pushes as she speedily walks herself to the front.

You run into the staff restroom and lock the door behind you. You lean over the sink, pulling your mask off and pulling the faucet on, splashing water on your face to clean it of the grime. You put some hand soap in your hands and rub it over your cheeks, eager to rid yourself of the germs. When you felt cleaner and had dried your face off, you looked up and hated the face you saw in the mirror. You stepped back hitting the wall and slid down it. You could hear your manager calling for you over the headset, so you carefully pulled it off your ear and laid it on the ground. You didn’t even have the energy to fight anymore. You were done. You stared blankly at the base of the sink for several minutes before you collected yourself enough to stand, replace your mask, and leave the restroom.

You calmly walked to your locker, grabbed your coat, bag, and car keys. Clocked out and walked out.

You made it to your car, unlocked it, sat in the driver’s seat, and closed the door. You leaned your forehead on the steering wheel and weakly cried. It was so late at night, the store was closing soon, and you just wanted to go home. You sat for probably an hour in the silence, listening to your own breathing, no energy to do anything else. When you looked up finally the parking lot was empty, and the store lights were off. You reached for your phone and saw a text from Yunho.

Yun <3: Hey jagiya i love you

hope work isn’t too bad today

I’ll see you later tonight

You teared up a little, knowing how much he cared for you. A love that was such a stark contrast from how you were treated today.

Y/N: i just need a hug rn

You don’t know what exactly you need right now after today, but you do know you at least want him holding you for a little while. You hear a ringtone and see Yunho calling. You let a ring a few times before swiping to accept the call.

“hi”, you answer weakly.

“Baby what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?” Yunho asks concerned.

You sniffle and everything that happened today starts playing in your mind. Yunho can hear you sniffling and crying.

“Baby, nonono. Why the tears? What happened jagi? Was it that bad?” He tenderly speaks to you.

You can’t respond, having trouble controlling your breathing between the sobs. Your intakes of breath are sharp and jagged, and you can only stutter through “I-i-i I’m s-so tired Yun” before you break into another fit of sobs.

“Are you home? Or still at work?”

“In m-my car a-at work.”

“Okay, I’m coming to you, okay? I’ll take you back to my dorm. You’re staying with me tonight. I’ll get Joong to drive your car to the car park. I just gotta get dressed and wake him up, and then I’ll be ten minutes away. Okay?” He rushes through his sentences, wanting you to know he’s there for you. That you’ll only be alone in your car for another few minutes.

“okay” you sniffle, your crying mostly subsided. Hearing his voice was comforting to you. Knowing he was on his way to you even more so.

“Stay on the phone with me until I get there, yeah? I don’t want you just sitting there alone. I’m here with you.”

“mhmm” you agree sitting in your car silently while he keeps talking through the phone. He tells you he’s only 3 minutes away now, to look out for his car coming in the parking lot. You can hear Joong talking to him in the background about tomorrow’s rehearsal plans. He keeps you in the conversation by never taking the phone away from his ear, including you in his responses. Soon enough you see his car pull into the lot, and his familiar headlights park in front of your car. You watch him unbuckle, jump out of his car, and run over to your door. You hang up the phone and reach over to unlock the door. He swings it open, smiles brightly at you, ducks into the car, and wraps his arm around you pulling you so close to his body you’d think he wants to envelop you in him and keep you forever.

“Hi baby, I love you, I’m sorry you had such a horrible day.” He whispers into your hair as he holds you close. One hand around your back and the other holding the back of your head into his chest. You don’t say anything to him just wrap your arms around his waist and press your face harder into his chest, slowly regulating your breathing, matching his.

“What can I do for you baby?” He gently asks.

You had calmed down enough to speak clearly and mumble into his chest, “I don’t know can you just hold me for a little longer?”

“Of course, jagi. Of course.” He squeezes you tighter, and holds you to him, smoothing over your hair. A few minutes pass and you feel exhaustion weighing your eyelids down.

“I wanna go home Yun. I wanna shower and change and go to sleep. I feel so gross.” You whisper to him.

“Okay, let’s get you home then. C’mon pretty.” He puts an arm around your shoulders and an arm under your knees and lifts you bridal style out of the car seat. He walks towards his car, and you see Hongjoong slide out of the passenger seat of Yunho’s car, and hold the door open for you both.

“I heard you had a rough day at work Y/N. Its brutal out there sometimes. We’re all here for you. I’ll get your car to the dorm tonight, yeah? Are the keys in your car?” Hongjoong asks you sweet and gentle.

You lean your head over Yunho’s arm, “Thank you Joongie, the keys are in the ignition.” He nods in acknowledgement and walks to your car, hopping in and turning the ignition.

Yunho places you into the passenger seat like precious cargo, reaches over you and buckles you in. He places a kiss on the tip of your nose, closes your door, and jogs over to the driver’s side to buckle himself in. You lean your head against the window, completely exhausted, while Yunho scrolls through his music to queue your comfort favorites for the ride to the dorm. Yunho smiles over at you endearingly, like he has never loved you more than he does right now. He places his hand gently on your thigh and rubs light circles on your jeans.

“Do you want to talk about what happened yet or would you rather a quiet ride for right now?” He inquires, not sure how far to push for you to open up, but knowing you’ll let him in when you’ve relaxed.

“I think I want quiet,” you respond, not entirely sure of your answer.

“Okay, no problem love. We’ll be home soon.” He leans over to peck a kiss on your cheek, puts the car into gear, and sets off toward the dorms. Hongjoong trails closely behind.

You arrive at the dorms with no obstructions thanks to the minimal traffic on the road at this time of night. Your eyes had closed, and you were drifting off in your seat, head lightly nodding off before you caught yourself and would jerk upright. You were almost fast asleep when you heard the ding of Yunho unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Ah, jagiya, we made it to the dorm. Stay there, I’ll run around to help you out of the car.” He says as he’s already halfway out of the car. You’re too tired to notice that Hongjoong has parked on Yunho’s side and is standing to the side waiting to walk up with you both. You nod and unbuckle yourself as Yunho appears at your window, opening the door, and lending a hand to help you step out on your own. You lean heavily against him as you ground yourself, and you both start walking towards the elevator. Yunho can feel your weight as you lean harder into him, and he hears your feet dragging. He can only imagine what your face looks like right now, in your sleepwalking state.

“Jagi come here. You can barely walk you’re so tired.” He stops walking and lightly tugs on your arm to get you to face him. He squats down and gestures for you to wrap your arms around his neck. He’s going to carry you the rest of the way. He can sense you hesitating, “C’mon baby I know you’re tired, just let me help you.” You shrug knowing you have nothing to lose, and jump softly into his arms, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your head resting on his shoulder. He stands and lifts you up from under your arms, so that you can straddle his waist with your legs, and he can support your weight with his hands. He lets you adjust yourself slightly until he can feel you relax into him.

He walks you over to the elevator and presses the button to go up. Hongjoong is beside Yunho waiting, eyeing you concerned, Hongjoong had seen you beaten down from work before (Yunho told his brothers everything) but he had never seen you so tired you couldn’t stay awake. But he knew with Yunho watching after you, you’d be just fine. He knew how much Yunho loved you and knew the boy would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant making you happy.

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open and Yunho walked you inside, holding the door for Joong so he could stand to the side. Yunho let one of his hands support you and transitioned the other to rub small circles on your lower back. The ride up is short, but even so, you managed to fall fast asleep. Yunho felt you get heavier as your breathing deepened, and he glanced down to see your face finally softened and your eyelids fluttering. He was ever so careful not to wake you as he walked you the rest of the way to his room.

-Yunho’s POV-

Hongjoong didn’t bring his keys, and mine were deep in one of my pockets, so I carefully knocked on the door. Not so loud that I’d wake Y/N but loud enough one of the boys would hear and open it. I’m banking on San still being awake playing on the computer.

I can hear shuffling and after a moment, the door unlocks and San swings it open. A look of confusion and concern etched on his face.

“Hyung? Y/N?” I can hear the concern laced in his voice. I step aside and Hongjoong makes his way inside first, walking past San.

“Shhh Sannie. She fell asleep.” I whisper to him. “She had a really bad day at work, I’m gonna go to my room to lay her down really quick. I’ll explain in a minute when I come back.”

“Ahhh” he whispers back, his tone matching mine. He steps aside with a curt nod of the head, and I walk down the hallway to my room. Everyone except Joong and San are asleep, so I try to tiptoe, careful not to make any noise on the creaky floorboards. Rehearsals and recording have gotten more intense as the months have gone on, and as we’ve gotten closer to tour and yet another comeback.

I crack open the door to my room and push my way in careful not to bump Y/N on anything as I make my way blindly. Gently, with my arms supporting her back and head, I lay her down on the bed. With her head resting on the pillow, I untangle her legs from my waist and lay her on her side. I tug a blanket up and over her, and lightly tuck in the sides so she stays warm. I stand up and walk to the side of the room flicking on the nightlight I keep plugged in, for when she stays over. As the room faintly lights up, I realize how many dirty clothes are scattered around, so I quickly pick them up off the floor and off the edge of the bed and place them in the hamper.

I’m about to leave the room to go talk to Sannie when I notice some of her hair has fallen in her face. Walking back over to the bed, I squat down and tuck the hair behind her ear from where it had escaped her ponytail. I let my thumb trace her cheek. Sometimes I can’t believe the world can be so cruel to someone so kindhearted. I kiss the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, and then kiss both her cheek and the tip of her nose.

Easing my door closed to just a crack, I walk back to the living room where Hongjoong is now debriefing San on the situation. I walk in just as I hear Hongjoong finish his thoughts.

“- I mean if it were up to me, she would be done at that shit-hole, living here with us, and finding a new hobby or something to do until she’s back on her feet. But that’s up to them to decide.” He glances up as I walk in.

“She’s in the bed sleeping now.” I explain as I sit across from San, next to Joong. “Thanks for catching San up, Joong, you can go back to bed. And thank you for waking up to help me get her here. I owe you.” I smile at him; I really do owe him for this. He may be our leader, but he deserves all the rest he can get.

“I was just explaining how something happened at her work again, but that whatever it was really got to her this time. And anytime. I’m the leader, it’s like part of the job to be there for everyone. Love y’all, goodnight.” Hongjoong says as he stands up and exits towards his room a sleepy look in his eyes as he yawns.

San turns to me looking excited but wary, “Can she really stay with us finally? We all love when she’s around, and if it would make her happier…” he trails off.

“I think she may really quit this time. And if she does, I’d love her to move in. It’s more a matter of convincing her to accept the offer though. I don’t know what it was that happened tonight but when she tells me I’ll let you know. She was so torn up on the phone before we got there. I mean the job is literally tearing her to pieces. I can’t remember the last time she came home after a shift and was happy or at least content.” Tears are starting to prick at my eyes at the thought of Y/N being so drained of life.

“Is there anything we can say or do for her to help? You know we’ve already discussed it and she’s welcome at any time to move in. But if the issue is that you need help convincing her, what can we say to help? I mean she knows you’ll support her if she decides to quit right?” San is so eager, he loves Y/N too and hates seeing her so overworked and stressed. If there’s anything he could say that could magically convince her I know he would.

“I don’t think it’ll be as easy as one conversation Sannie but who knows. I already offered multiple times but it’s hard for her to accept the help. She was raised to work hard, but I don’t think she can distinguish working hard and working herself to exhaustion.” Frustration is rising in my tone as I think of how much easier it would be if I could just quit the job for her and take care of her.

“Yun, even you don’t know the difference between that most days. You’ve been busting your ass at rehearsals lately, but you hide that from her because you know how much more exhausted she’s been from her job.” San challenges.

“I know I know, but it was just so different this time Sannie. I think this was really the breaking point for her. If that’s the case, I’ll make sure you see a lot more of her and that she stays with us from now on. But let me see what happened first and then we’ll go from there.” I stand from my spot and walk towards the kitchen. “Thank you for being awake and grabbing the door earlier.”

“Oh no problem, Hyung. I was just playing League.” He happily quirks, standing up and following me to the kitchen.

“Well, you can go back to playing games if you want. I’m gonna make Y/N some tea and go back to my room to check on her. Ill text you if I need anything tomorrow morning.” I’m quietly fumbling through the cabinets trying to find tea and a mug.

“The tea is next to the sink, and the mugs are above the fridge. You must be so tired Yun, please get some sleep too, yeah?” he reaches into the cabinet next to the sink and hands me the box before patting me on the back reassuringly and leaving to go resume his game.

My mind is so scattered trying to think of how to convince her to quit her job but for herself. How to convince her to stay with us. For now, I’ll make a cup of tea and maybe I’ll run a bath for her. But I don’t know if she wants to take a bath anymore. Shit, she may just sleep through the entire night now with how tired she made herself earlier. I’ll make the tea and if she doesn’t wake up when I get back into my room then I’ll just drink it myself. Problem solved. At least until tomorrow. With the tea brewed and steeping in a mug, I slip back down the hallway and into my room, clicking the door shut behind me.

-End Yunho’s POV-

You stir awake when you feel the bed move under you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you focus as well as you can on Yunho’s large figure sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. It takes you a second before you can comprehend that he’s laid you in the bed after carrying you in from the car. You don’t know how much time as passed.

“Good morning,” Yunho softly speaks to you, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Hi,” you meekly reply.

“I made some tea for you. Oolong. Only a little drizzle of honey. Like you like it.” He smiles at you, transferring the warm cup into your hand once you sat up. “It hasn’t been long since you fell asleep, only like 20 minutes.”

“I’m sorry you had to carry me all the way up. Thank you for caring for me, Yun.” You mean it. As sorry as you are that he’s put up with you tonight, you’re grateful you have him to support you.

“No no, don’t be sorry. I’d do it every day if you needed me to. Seriously. You’re mine, and that means I take care of you and look after you. Those are the rules, jagiya.”

“I love you, Yun.”

“I love you more, Y/N.”

You sit in silence for a minute while Yun rubs soft circles on your leg as you finish your tea. When the cup is finally empty, you place it on Yunho’s nightstand gently.

Yunho leans forward, hesitating until he feels you lean into his touch. He brings his face close enough that his nose is nearly touching yours, his eyes drawn down focused on your lips. “Jagiya, I don’t know what happened today, and you don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to. I just need to make sure you know that I will always support you in everything you do. Even if you do choose to stay at your job. Especially if you choose to quit. But more than anything, I need you to know how much I love and care about you and your wellbeing. Baby, this job is slowly taking you from me. I can see it happening. You hardly smile anymore; you never laugh like you used to. I want the happy you back. And I want you to know I’ll support you if you choose to quit. You’ll always have a place here with me. With us.”

You had closed your eyes and the tears were slowly falling down your cheeks hearing the heartfelt sentiments leaving Yunho’s mouth. You know he’d care for you for the rest of his life if you’d just let him. But you didn’t like the idea of being a burden. Of being too much. You wanted to be able to provide for yourself. And having a job and your own place felt good. Yunho reared back just enough to focus on your face. He wiped the tears that had fallen down your cheeks.

“I love you Y/N. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You don’t even have to tell me what happened. I just wanted you to hear what’s been on my mind, okay?”

You nod your head gently, leaning into his palm cupping your cheek. He reaches his arms around you and pulls you tight against him. Enveloping you in a hug so warm you wanted to melt in it.

“You said earlier you wanted to go home, bathe, and get changed. Do you want me to run you a bath? I can help you wash your hair. And then we’ll get changed and get some sleep?” Yunho lightly questioned.

“Yeah, a bath would be nice.”

“Alright, I’ll go get it started” Yunho stood to walk over to the bathroom adjoined to his room. With the door open you could see him starting the water and checking the temperature with his hand until it was just warm enough. He grabbed a bottle of bath salts, sprinkling them into the water, and then used your favorite eucalyptus essential oil to add some fragrance. He stood up and grabbed a towel placing it on the heater next to the door, it would be warm when you got done bathing.

“C’mon jagi. It’s perfectly warm.” You stand up from the bed and Yunho walks you over to the bathtub, your hand in his. “Here, I can help you.” His hand slips under the hem of your shirt, raising your arms so he could take it off you. Pulling the shirt up, he smoothed your hair back down, pecked a kiss on your forehead and unclipped your bra, pulling the straps down your arms. It was all so domestic. His fingers smoothly worked over your jeans button and pulled your zipper undone. He slid his hand over your thighs as he pushed the fabric down. Allowing to step out of the pants. You pulled your underwear down as he turned to the side to let you step in, his hand held out for you in case you slipped. You sink into the warm water, instantly soothed by the warmth.

“Is there anything else that would comfort you right now? Are you hungry? I can make you a snack.”

“Just want you to stay here, Yun. Want to be close to you.”

“Okay jagi, I’ll stay right here with you.” He gazed at you with all the love he could muster. He wasn't looking at your body, but at yourself, seeing you for you, not sexualizing the moment. It felt comforting.

“Can you get in with me? So I can lean against you?” You sheepishly asked him.

“Y/N I would want nothing more.” He swiftly undresses himself and eases into the tub behind you. His hands pull your shoulders back against him once he’s situated, and you can feel his muscles imprinted on your skin. You slip further into the tub, water barely below your chin. His arms wrap around you and the feel of his large frame surrounding you relieved you of the stress your body was holding onto.

“Thank you,” you softly whisper to him.

“Always” he responds, his hands rubbing up and down your biceps. He kisses the top of your head in-between ‘I love yous’. After a few minutes pass Yunho pushes you forward gently and tells you to tilt your head back so he can wash your hair. You feel him swirling your hair around in the water, and then you feel his hand support the back of your neck as he lifts your head out of the water. He lathers your shampoo in your hair and you feel relaxed enough to converse with him about what happened. You recount all the details of your workday, the man who hit on you, and the old man who spit on you. How it made you feel so disgusted, like such a lowlife. How you clocked out and walked out and didn’t turn back. How deep down you knew you had quit but that it didn’t bring you the comfort you thought it would have, since you hadn’t told your manager.

As you finish your story, Yunho has washed the shampoo from your hair and was finished conditioning it, when you finally sighed, bringing him back to concentration. You couldn’t see the anger in his eyes as he heard what those men had said and done to you. He had zoned out thinking of all the things he would’ve said to them should he have been there. But he lets you air out all your frustrations and doesn’t offer his input until you’ve finished and asked him for it. He didn’t want to burden you, making you feel worse, knowing how enraged it makes him to hear you be treated that way. So instead, he compliments you. Calls you what you are. The opposite of everything you were called earlier.

“You’re beautiful jagiya. I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing someone more beautiful both inside and out than you. I’m so sorry you were treated that way, and I can’t imagine how that must’ve felt in the moment, especially now after thinking about it all day. But nothing they told you in anger holds any truth to you as a person.” He smooths over your hair brushing through it with his fingers. “You are smart, you are gorgeous, you are kind-hearted, and you are so strong. Especially for opening up and telling me. You are hardworking, and you deserve so much better than that job can offer you.” You smile up at him, tilting your head to give him a brief but deep kiss.

“I know Yun. You tell me every day.” You smile into the kiss before pulling away, turning around in the tub, sitting cross-legged in front of him. He searches your eyes as you struggle to think of what to say next. What you know he wants to hear. You wrap your arms under his and around his waist pulling yourself into him.

“I don’t think I have it in me to call them tomorrow. To tell them that I really did quit.”

“I’ll call for you.”

“No, Yun I- “

“No. No questions asked I’ll tell them for you. You shouldn’t have to explain yourself to them, but because you want to, I’ll take that burden for you.” Yunho smiles down into your hair, kissing the top of your head, relieved that you’ll come back to him once more, that you’ll be happy again. “But promise me this jagiya. Stay with me for a little while until you can get back on your feet. I know your independent and you don’t need my help, but I want you to take my help. To let yourself be taken care of for once. Until you’re happier again."

“Okay Yun. I can do that.” You kiss him deeply, your hand lightly hovering on either side of his face. “Thank you for loving me the way that you do.” You kiss him again. “Thank you for being the most kind and caring man I’ve ever met. For always being there for me.”

“Nonsense, you deserve nothing less.” He pecks you once more on the lips. “Do you want to get out and get changed so we can get some rest?”

“I’d love nothing more.” You stand from where you’re seated, and slowly step out of the tub, careful not to slip, Yunho’s hand never leaving your lower back until you’ve walked towards the towels. You wrap the warm towel around you and watch as Yunho pulls himself up and out of the bathtub. You watch as the water splashes out the tub and drips everywhere as he walks toward you. You giggle at him, “Yun, you always make a mess baby. You’re like a big puppy.”

“Your big puppy.” Yunho taps your nose and cheeses down at you, as he wraps around you and lifts you up, twirling you around. “There's my pretty girls smile. I missed you baby.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “Let’s get some sleep, I’ll call your boss in the morning for you. Okay?”

“Okay. I love you, Yunho.” You lay your head on his chest briefly, before walking to the dresser to change.

You both finish your nightly routine, getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and washing your face. When you finish drying your hair, you look over to the bed to see Yunho watching you. He lifts the edge of the comforter up enticing you to climb under. You scoot backwards pressing your back to his chest when you hear him pout and flip you around.

“Want you closer,” He pouts at you. You bury your face into his chest.

“Better?” You ask him.

“Better.” He responds. You fall asleep with his arm wrapped around you, breathing in his scent, and matching his steady breaths and slowing heart rate.

#ashotofeuphoria #ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez yunho #fanfiction #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshot #yunho fanfic #yunho angst

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yeoldontknow · 3 years ago

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the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere ❂ To The Lighthouse ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly and @kithtaehyung for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once.

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him.

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture.

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply.

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes.

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity.

In Hoseok, you see it all.

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness.

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic.

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted.

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly.

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid.

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun.

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice.

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores.

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek.

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks.

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving.

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you.

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend.

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them.

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever.

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink.

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found.

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement.

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him.

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him.

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok.

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart.

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone.

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers.

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive.

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth.

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible.

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle.

‘Hoseok!’

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity.

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need.

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony.

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees.

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving.

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought.

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him.

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose.

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core.

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible.

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you.

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core.

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head.

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care.

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root.

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention.

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion.

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt.

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught.

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline.

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough.

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more.

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking.

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret.

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you.

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you.

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always.

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits.

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible.

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence.

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him.

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse.

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside.

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless.

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him.

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry.

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child.

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose.

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you.

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky.

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form.

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too.

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools.

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer.

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you.

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving.

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness.

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more.

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear.

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor.

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt.

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him.

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you.

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity.

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up.

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing.

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you.

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same.

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him.

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure.

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered.

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding.

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you.

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention.

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain.

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

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bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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firsts with Nanami Kento

I would love to share my firsts with Nanami Kento, my soon to be husband who I hope is free this Saturday, that’s correct this coming Saturday a day that I am free and that he hopefully is also free this Saturday-

First meeting

Nanami Kento, ex jujutsu sorcerer turned ex salaryman turned jujutsu sorcerer once again

Even though he hated working, he still had to do it to survive

When he was a salaryman, Nanami allowed himself a few pleasures in life, one being going to a bakery

But now that he’s back to being a sorcerer, he doesn’t really have the time for that like he used to

Sometimes though, he finds the time to squeeze into a bakery, this time one that’s unknown and unfamiliar to him, but apparently Gojo knows all about it

“Hi Satoru!” A friendly voice calls out as the lanky man steps into the warm building. Kento follows suit, a tick in his forehead already appearing at the knowledge that someone is so familiar with Satoru that they’d call him by his first name. Whoever they were, they could only be as annoying as he is.

“Hi (Y/N)!” Satoru says just as happily, singing your name a little bit as he walks to the counter. The bakery is small with a few tables dotted around, flowers in vases sitting in the windowsills and warm wooden walls.

“I see you brought a friend today.” Only when he’s acknowledged does Nanami look up at who’s speaking. You’re standing there with a kind smile and give him a wave when you make eye contact. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Nanami manages to say smoothly, but the attention you’re giving him makes his chest tighten. You haven’t even done anything special yet he can feel himself getting a little warmer under his collar.

“I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you! Are you a friend of Satoru?”

“No-”

“Yes!” Satoru quickly interrupts, wrapping an arm around Kentos shoulders. “We went to school together.” Giving his shoulder a squeeze, Satoru leans closer to Kento. “Introduce yourself.”

Pushing Satoru off, Kento clears his throat and subtly rolls his eyes. Finding himself unable to make full on eye contact with you, Kento settles for looking at your forehead.

“Nanami Kento. It’s nice to meet you.” He can see you working the name out in your head, and a small smile graces your cheeks.

“Nanami, do you like sweets like Satoru?”

“No.” He replies immediately, eyes drifting down to Satoru who is currently leaning over the display case staring at the confections. “Gojo eats enough for the both of us.”

“That’s true!” The man echoes, throwing a thumbs up in the air.

“Good to know.” You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound Kento’s ever heard. “We make savory food as well, in the other case.” Sweeping your arm to the side, there is indeed another case full of non-sweet treats. “Take your time in picking one out!”

First hangout

He and Gojo didn’t stay long that first day, just a quick stop on their way back to the school

Nanami finds himself looking forward to going to that part of town again though, because he’d like to see you- oop, scratch that not you! The treats! The treats were very good! Totally not you, psshhh where’d you get that idea?

A month goes by before he sees you again, not because he hasn’t been going to the bakery - he has - it’s just you never seem to be there! He goes during normal business hours, but he can’t ever catch you

After a late solo mission, with the sun just beginning to set in the sky and most rush hour traffic having left, Nanami goes to the bakery one more time

And surprisingly, he finds you there

How long had you been sleeping on the counter? You were fully perched on your stool, back bent as your head rested snugly in your arms on the counter. It had probably been a long day of serving customers if you were this tired that you didn’t hear the heavy door open and close, or the chime going off alerting you of a new person.

Kento stood at the counter just watching you for a while. He knew that if someone else walked in, it might be a little creepy for them to see him like this, but if that happened he would deal with it. For now, he was content just looking at you.

Your features were soft and relaxed as you dozed, the apron you usually wore folded up next to you. The creases in your eyes were gone, your mouth relaxed, and the sound of your slow and even breathing filled the quiet room.

Once again Kento wondered, how long had you been asleep? The cases that were usually stocked full were nearly bare, only a few stray pieces of cake or a croissant waiting to be purchased. He almost left the bakery, wanting you to catch up on sleep since you seemed to need it. But instead, he gently shook your shoulder. As much as he wanted to let you rest, he also wanted to talk to you.

“Hm?” With a big yawn and a stretch, you slowly rise to look at Kento with eyes still heavy from sleep. Your eyelids droop closed more than once before you take another deep breath and rest your hands on the counter, back still bowed. “Na-Nanami?” Your eyebrows scrunch up from trying to remember where you were and who was in front of you right now.

“Hello.” His hand remains on your shoulder even though he has to bend forward slightly now. His face is neutral and his eyes are searching you.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Another yawn, and you rub your face drowsily. Kento lets out a little grunt, he thinks it’s cute the way you rub your eyes and sit up further, trying to wake yourself up again. “How long have I been sleeping?” Stretching your neck, you look at the clock behind you and out the window.

“Not too long.” Kento looks outside as well, and notices it’s begun to rain. Your chuckle brings him back to you, and his heart stutters a little at the mischievous look on your face. “What?”

“I heard from Satoru that you’ve been looking for me. Coming to the bakery a lot to come see me.” Kento makes a noise in the back of his throat and his cheeks begin to go pink. “Did you miss me, Nanami?”

“I-” It’s no use, his cheeks are still getting darker. “No comment.” You burst into full laughter and Kento hangs his head, regretting the past month so much he could turn and leave the cafe.

“Well no need to worry, I’m here now!” Throwing your arms open, you hop off the stool and lean against the case housing the savory goods. “Now, what can I get for you?”

“Where were you?” He says instead. If he’s been caught red handed, he might as well keep digging his grave.

“My sister had a baby! I saved up all my vacation days so I could be with them!” You smiled brightly. Digging your phone out of your pocket, you showed him a picture of you holding a baby in your arms.

“Cute.” He wasn’t sure what was cuter, you with the baby, the baby by itself or just you. As he looked more at it, Kento found himself imagining what it would be like for you to be carrying his baby. Would you even want to start a family? Or perhaps-

“Nanami, are you okay?” Your question broke him out of his little fantasy.

“Huh?”

“Your face got all red, is it too hot in here? I can turn a fan on if you want.”

“N-no.” Clearing his throat, Nanami shook his head. “No. I’m fine.” Finally turning his attention to the case, he looked at what was left. “I’ll have that one.” Pointing to the first thing he saw, he’s surprised you know exactly what he meant.

“Do you want to take it to go? It’d be best for you to get home quickly since it’s raining!” The night sky had fully blanketed the world outside, a nice curtain of rain along with it. Kento didn’t need to think over his decision. He’d be going home in the rain either way, what was the use in just going back to an empty apartment?

“I’ll eat it here. No sense rushing out into the rain to just be alone at home.” With a shrug, his suit jacket came off, and he could see the way you looked at his arms as he pushed his sleeves up. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t fall asleep again.”

A little peep left your lips and your face burned with embarrassment. Kento grinned, chuckling to himself and tossing his jacket on a chair near him.

“I’ll have a coffee too, just a small black.”

“No way!” You puff out your cheeks in indignation. “Coffee will keep you up all night! I’ll make you some tea.” Kentos mouth falls open, a little surprised you stood up to him like that. You pay him no mind, turning your back to begin brewing his tea. Closing his mouth, Kento takes a seat in the chair with his jacket.

“Alright, I’ll have tea then.”

First confession

Nanami ended up staying the whole night with you in the bakery, until you had to close

You left the counter and sat with him at the table with your own cup of tea and a seemingly never ending slew of topics to talk about

You were like Gojo, but much more tolerable. A person Nanami could respect, and much cuter than Gojo as well

Somehow, the night had ended with him getting your number, and although he made no promises about being a good correspondent, you still insisted

Any friend of Gojos was a friend of you, apparently

Sometimes you messaged him things about the bakery and he did his best to respond in a timely manner

Others he took the initiative and would message you to ask about your day in the evening or if you were working during the day so he could come see you

And on the lucky chance you were working early in the morning and he had nothing to do, he went to see you

“Hi.” You nearly sang the word when you saw him. He was the first customer of the day, a great way to start an early morning shift.

“How are you?” Kento asks, a soft smile also on his face. Walking right up to the counter, he sees the way you lean against it to be closer to him.

“I’m good! Excited too, we got this new seasonal item.” Your eyes are practically sparkling and with a grin Nanami hums and nods for you to continue. “I know you don’t like sweets, but I really want you to try-”

“(Y/N)!” A crass shout interrupts you and the slamming of the bakery door against the wall makes you jump. Immediately, both you and Kento are looking at the intrusion; Kento in annoyance and you in slight fear.

There are three men waltzing up to the counter, all of them with scary expressions on and clothes that reek of nicotine. The one that had yelled at you was a man with a scar on his lip and a shaved head, tattoos peeking up from his shirt collar. The other two behind him look just as scary, if not more.

“W-what- what do you want?” Kento doesn’t miss the way you’ve started to shake and he takes a subtle step closer to the counter.

“I just wanna know why you’re not returning my calls, that’s it!” This man shouts even though he’s close enough that the sheer volume of his voice makes you flinch. Balling your apron up in your fists, you try not to cower away as he gets right up against the counter.

“I t-told you I-I don’t like you!” You try to raise your voice as well but it doesn’t work. Everyone can see that you’re scared, the trembling of your voice is just more proof.

“Yeah? Well I like you.” The man goes to slap his hand against the counter, but Kento catches his wrist before he can. “Hey, who the fuck are you?”

“A customer that doesn’t like the disturbance you’re causing.” Kento lets the man's wrist go when he pulls on it. Sizing the man up, Kento knows he can take all three of them without an issue, it would be as easy as getting up in the morning. Taking a look at you however, he wanted to avoid causing you anymore distress.

“Like I give a fuck, salaryman.” Flipping him off, the man turns back to you. “Now you li-” Kento punches the man in the face before he can keep talking, sending him flying into the other two.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to (Y/N) like that.” Raising his fists, Kento easily takes down the other two men that charge at him, and he doesn’t break a sweat doing it. The fight - if it could even be called one - lasts all of two minutes.

Making sure the men on the ground won’t move, Kento looks at you. There’s slight tears in your eyes and some on your cheeks and you’re still shaking, but you don’t look as scared as you did. Grabbing the man that had harassed you, Kento forced him to his feet.

“Apologize.”

“As if I’d-” The man starts, but Kento has no patience anymore and swiftly punches him in the liver.

“Try again.”

“I-I’m sorry, (Y/N)!” Choking the words out, the man looks at you with blood in his eyes. “If this psycho is gonna hang around you now, I don’t want any part of you!”

“Good answer.” Dropping him to the floor, Kento kicks him towards the door. “Now get out of here.” He doesn’t have to say it twice for the men to leave. As the door slams closed, Kento hears you break into sobs.

“N-Nanami!” You whine and sob out his name, drawing the last syllable out. Looking at you, Kento coos under his breath seeing your balled up fists near your eyes.

“It’s okay.” He says, watching you walk around the counter and stand in front of him.

“Th-ank yo-you!” The thanks you’re trying to give him barely sounds like real words and in any other situation he’d be embarrassed for you.

“It’s okay.” He says again with a soft sigh, pulling you closer until your head is resting on him. Rubbing a soothing hand on your back, Kento lets you soak his jacket and his shirt with your tears for as long as you need. And by the time you pull away from him, he’s full on hugging you, and you’re hugging him back.

“Sorry.” Your eyes go down to his stained shirt.

“Don’t mind it.” Shaking his head, Kento slowly lets you go. “Who was that, anyway?”

“Just some guy who asked for my number like a week ago.” Wiping away the last of your tears, you look out the window in slight disgust. “I had no idea he would get so...aggressive when I turned him down. It’s not my fault I don’t want to date a criminal.”

“Has he been calling you a lot? He said you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah, I blocked him but he kept calling from different numbers.” Your breathing is back to normal now, the tears that made your lashes cling together were finally drying.

“Give me his number. If he causes you trouble again, I’ll handle it.” Kento holds out his hand, not giving you very much of a choice in the matter. But after seeing how easily he took them down the first time, you weren’t about to withhold it from him.

Ten minutes later, after making sure you’re completely fine and calm, Kento makes an order. He takes two of the seasonal items you’d mentioned, not that he’ll eat both, but he wants to make you feel better.

“I’ll be back to walk you home.” Kento says as he’s leaving, ignoring your shouts that he doesn’t have to. He’d rather not risk those guys following you or doing anything shady.

True to his word he comes back when you’re done for the day, waiting outside for you. When you come, he makes sure you’re standing close to him along the way. It’s silent at first, just the sounds of other people walking by and some traffic one street over filling the air.

“Thank you again, Nanami.” You say as you stop at an intersection. You’d messaged him thanks throughout the day, but it still didn’t feel enough. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to do that sort of thing!” Neither was he. It just happened, a snap decision he made to protect you. He liked you, and seeing you shake like that was something he never wanted to see again.

“I’d do it again.” Is what Kento says, looking up as the sun burns orange-yellow streaks across the sky. “I really like you, and I don’t want that sort of thing to ever happen again.” He lets out a sigh, looking at you from the corner of his eye. People are walking around you, but neither of you make a move to cross the street. “If it’s not too much to ask, don’t talk to any other guys, okay?”

Your eyes widen at his question, lips quivering to fight back a pleased smile. You open your mouth once, twice, before closing it and biting your lip, a shy giggle coming out.

“Okay.” You say with a nod.

“Good.” Lowering his head, Kento softly grabs your hand in his. “Let’s get you home now.”

First date

Even though he’d confessed, the two of you had yet to go on a proper date

Nanami was sweeter to you now, holding your hand on your walks home when he came to get you and he’d hug you if you asked(one day he’d take initiative and hug you first lol)

He wants to ask you on a proper date, but he’s worried that you’ll find him boring

The opportunity arises, however, when Gojo texts you from his phone and sets up a date for the two of you in a park, a picnic date on a day he knows Nanami has off

“K-Kento!” You wave at him as you both approach the park from different ways. You’d only just started saying his first name and it made you feel shy every time you did. “You’re dressed so casually!” Gone was his normal suit and tie, Nanami had on a looser button up and some sensible jeans.

“You look nice too.” Kento smiled, he had seen pictures of you not in your uniform, and sometimes you changed out of it after work, but this was the first time you were dressed with the intention to be cute. He could smell the perfume you were wearing as well, wafting pleasantly through the air and surrounding him when he sits down on the blanket you laid out.

“You know, I was surprised you asked me out on a date.” You say shyly as you both settle down.

“I didn’t.” His answer has you confused and you halt your actions. “Gojo did it for me. I was going to do it myself but...I thought you’d think I’m boring.”

“Never!” Your hand lands on top of his and you shake your head. “You’re not boring at all!”

“Hm, okay then.” Nodding at you, he motions towards the basket you’d brought.

“I made treats at home, look!” Excitedly, you take out the food you’d prepared. It’s all wrapped up cutely in butcher paper, and there’s some smiley face stickers keeping the paper together.

“It looks great.” Stretching out his legs, Kento leans his upper body close to you, nearly resting his head on your shoulder. “You did a great job.” He can smell you even better, the heat of your skin is just barely reaching him.

“You haven’t even tried it yet.” With a bashful little laugh, you unwrap a sandwich you’d made and give it to him.

“I can just tell.” Taking it from you, Kento lets himself rest on your shoulder.

First kiss

Sometime during the picnic, after eating, Nanami finds himself a little tired

It’s so relaxing being out with you, and the afternoon sun is just the right temperature for him to slowly slide from your shoulder onto your lap and doze off

Your hand cards through his hair, gently massaging his head and pushing him deeper into slumber

With his body laid out, Nanami doesn’t even realize he’s asleep until a sharp scream from a playing child rouses him, but he keeps his eyes closed in hopes he’ll go back to sleep

There’s a soft pressure on his forehead, you’re bending down over him and the light filtering in through the tree above you is blocked out for a moment before you’re sitting up again. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you kissed his forehead.

Cracking an eye open, Kento grins at you when you make a surprised noise in the back of your throat and look away from him.

“I-I didn’t know you were awake.” You mutter, embarrassed at being caught. You wouldn’t have kissed him if you’d known; you were too embarrassed to ask for a kiss, and you weren’t sure if Kento even had an interest in taking your relationship there.

He doesn’t answer, instead taking a deep breath through his nose and sitting up slightly. With a light hand, Kento turns you to face him. He doesn’t get up all the way, but as soon as your face is close enough he pushes up a bit more and kisses you properly on the lips, feeling the smooth glide of your lip balm.

When the kiss breaks, neither of you open your eyes for a while. Kento just keeps his face close, brushing his nose against yours a few times before giving you another peck and then laying down again.

“You don’t have to be shy (Y/N), I want you to kiss me.” He’s keeping his eyes closed now, not because of the sun but because his cheeks are blushing and he knows you can see. His arms that were previously at his sides come to cross his chest, and he pushes his head further into your lap. “We’re dating now, so just do what you want.”

A soft gasp is heard above him and Kento grins when you giggle and brush his hair again.

“Okay.” Leaning down, you give him a firmer kiss on the forehead, and one of your hands grabs his.

“Okay.” He echoes, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. You squeeze it tightly and giggle again, overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness. Letting out a yawn, Kentos small grin gets even bigger when you cup his cheek and he opens his eyes to look at you. Suddenly, he’s not so tired anymore.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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We’ve Got Your Back (Alpha!Christen x Reader)

Request: Alpha christen press fic😍 and does it make me a horrible person cuz I want to see what christen would do to Hinkle? (Not to mention broon, uncle, ash....)

Pt. 1

Author’s Note: So this turned out a touch different than i had planned. Let me know what you think!

It was strange being back here. Back in the city, the stadium, that had almost been the sight of your demise. At least they had stuck the team in the visitor’s locker room. You didn’t know if you could have handled being back in that room.

You rolled your shoulders and tapped the ball back towards Lindsey, sending the alpha a tight smile and trying to drown out the sea of unpleasant emotions threatening to pull you under.

It was a stupid idea for Us soccer to have the team face off against the NWSL Allstars. You were part of the NWSL for goodness sake, it wasn’t like you didn’t play against these people already. It also meant you had to play against Her in the stadium she tortured you in.

“How you holding up?” Christen asked, suddenly coming up behind you. She grabbed your clenched hand, coaxing your fingers open and intertwining them with her own. She let out a wave of her calming scent, trying to soothe you as much as she could with minimal contact.

Though the two of you had… consummated your matting, and despite your normal cocky flirting, the two of you really weren’t into public displays of affection and there were thousands of eyes on you right now.

You hadn’t even realized you were digging your fingernails into your palms.

“Great now that you’re here hot stuff,” You tried to smile convincingly back at your mate, squeezing her hand tightly. She let out another wave of her calming scent, her eyes flickering around your face.

One of the first lessons she had learned from Rose was that you never said when you were uncomfortable, but your tells always gave you away.

“Always the charmer,” Christen said, a light blush covering her cheeks.

You smirked at the alpha, shrugging. “It’s hard not to be when you always come out here looking like that”

She rolled her eyes at you, entirely used to your flirting. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that it was a coping mechanism for you. Whenever you were stressed or uncomfortable, your flirting intensified.

It was a way for you to avoid your true emotions.

“I’m literally wearing the same outfit as the rest of the team,”

You pulled your blushing alpha closer to you by your connected hands. You ran your nose over her cheek “Hmm, but the rest of the team doesn’t have the-,”

The comment died on your lips when you caught sight of a certain alpha. You tensed even though she was stuck on her half of the field, separated from you by nearly the entire squad and the team of “Allstars”. But none of that had mattered last time. It hadn’t mattered that you were in a room full of people (nearly half of which were your national team teammates) or that the coaching staff knew what she was doing.

Christen’s eyes followed yours, and she couldn’t suppress her growl (both for the other player being included in this game and the unpleasant emotions fluttering through your bond).

“Vlatko swapped us, so you can stay on the left today. I’ll take the right and Alex will stay center,”

“You guys don’t need to do that. I can handle it,” You mumbled, suddenly finding the way your cleats ran through the grass incredibly interesting.

Christen sighed, running a finger under your chin, grazing your scent gland as she tilted your chin up. “We know you can, just let us be a little protective over you, alright?”

You nodded biting your lip. You weren’t a weak omega, and you knew that the second you hit the field whatever grand plan they had was going to go right out the window.

Well, part of it at least. You were sure that a certain alpha’s very white uniform was about to be stained very very green.

****

You launched yourself across the pitch towards your mate, barely stopping to watch as your shot sailed past Jane Campbells outstretched fingers. You were having a blast skirting past the all-star defender, and fielding through passes and crosses from the Mewis’ and The great Horan.

“Good goal baby,” Christen said, smiling wildly as she scooped you up in her arms and pressed a kiss to your neck, just above your mating mark.

You pulled back, smiling at the alpha and flicking her lightly on the nose. “Good? That was fucking amazing! Did you see me put Stanton on her ass?”

Christen nodded, setting you back on your feet with a wide smile. “Yeah, and Kling. But I think I’ve seen Tobin do the same footwork before. I call plagiarism,”

You pouted, flicking the side of your alphas head again. “That’s not fair, I deserve a reward,”

Christen grabbed your wrist as it migrated down her waist with an eye roll. “Behave little one,”

She growled playful at you, about to lean up and nip your neck again, but the presence behind her stopped her. You whined loudly, displeased that she had stopped.

“Get your omega under control Press,” You tensed at the alpha’s voice, burying your face in Christen’s neck, afraid that even the scent of Hinkle would make you lose your composure altogether.

Christen's growl turned low and dangerous and was echoed by several of the teammates beginning to crowd around you. When your alpha promised the team would have your back, she meant it.

“Come on Y/n,” Mal said, cautiously breaking from the group to approach you. Her hand carefully touched your back, avoiding any skin. No one wanted to test your alpha's control any more than the asshat on the field was.

Christen made eye contact with the omega inching towards you, tearing her gaze from Hinkle. She nodded at Mal, coaxing you out of her neck and kissing your cheek. “go babydoll,” raising her eyebrow when you wined, but still pushing you towards Mal. You poured as Mal dragged you across the field, away from the brewing storm.

You didn’t need to be in the middle of an alpha battle. You wouldn’t tell anyone, but you were fragile and she didn’t want you to have to feel her dominance when she put Hinkle in her place.

She didn’t want to risk accidentally forcing you to submit. She would die before she did that.

“that one needs a firmer hand,” Hinkle scoffed, as Christen walked back towards her position, waiting for Sheridan to put the ball back into play.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Christen growled lowly, her eyes following you as you grossed the field with Mal. Lindsey sent her a stiff not. The entire team was behind you.

“Just saying that I could give you some pointers if you wanted them,” Hinkle shrugged as though she didn’t feel the insane tension on the pitch. Christen scoffed catching her arm, spinning the alpha to look at her. She didn’t need any advice on how to deal with you. You were a handful, but you were her handful, and she was glad you were comfortable enough with her to show her your playful side.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Christen said, letting out her dominant scent.

*****

The Women’s national team was known for its impeccable control. With so many strong alphas in one place, it was imperative for the team's functionality and their commitment to equality.

But tonight that control was nowhere to be found, and it wasn’t just the alphas that were going a little crazy. The pitch was total chaos and at the epicenter was Hinkle.

From the crazy tackles Lindsey, Becky, and Christen herself were committing, to the lengths Rose, Mal, and Alex all went to keep you as far from the Alpha as possible while still letting you put balls on goal. Vlatko’s tactics had gone out the window and the team was operating like a disaster (a very successful disaster as you had already scored 4 times against the all-stars, but a disaster nonetheless). All teeth and growls.

You were just thankful that the game was over, and that you could finally escape the place with so many bad memories. And the mix of dominant pheromones that hung in the air, putting you even more on edge.

You headed back towards the tunnel, uncharacteristically ignoring the opposing team trying to approach you for handshakes, and the fans screaming for your attention. It was unnerving to have your typically dosel alpha acting so aggressive.

It pulled your inner omega so close to the surface, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“You know it’s wrong to ignore your superiors little omega,” The voice stopped you in your tracks. Your shoulders hunched and you seemed to almost fold in on yourself.

An arm wrapped around your waist, shielding you from Hinkle. You relaxed a little at the scent of your best friend's mate. “Just ignore her,” Mal said softly, pulling you into her.

Hinkle snarled at the two of you, rushing forwards to stand right in your path. You took in a sharp breath, your nose twitching at the press of Hinkle’s pheromones. You fought the urge to submit, the urge she had drilled into your skull from the time you joined the Courage to the time you finally made your escape.

“What, your alpha didn’t teach you any manners either,”

Mal tensed around you. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for the next blast of her potent scent. The one that would bring both of you to your knees. The one from your memories.

“You need to back the fuck off,” Ashlyn’s protective growls were suddenly separating you from Hinkle, shortly joined by Becky, Alex, Rose, and Lindsey.

“Or what?” She challenged, stepping up so she was eye to eye with the much taller alpha.

“Come on girlies, let’s get you to the back, they can handle this,” Ali said softly, trying to pull you and Mal around the wall of alphas and the dominant cloud of pheromones beginning to form. You let her pull you around the alphas, trying to keep your head down.

“No, she stays,” Hinkle sneered, catching your wrist as you passed.

The reaction of the team was instant, but none was more prominent than your own alpha’s (who had been caught up singing posters with Tobin). It was a big No-no to touch someone else’s mate.

“Take your hand off of her. NOW,” Christen growled, sending a wave of very dominant and very terrifying pheromones directly towards Hinkle. Even the little edge that caught you made you freeze and sent a shiver down your spine. The alpha immediately released you and whimpered as she fell to her knees.

Christen smirked viciously (her typical kind-hearted ness nowhere to be found). She was the stronger alpha, and she wanted Hinkle to know how it felt to be forced to submit. She wanted her to feel the humiliation of being surrounded by people who wouldn’t help her. She wanted her to know what she put you through.

Mal and Ali both tucked you into them and started directing you towards the locker room. Emily stepped in behind you, shielding you from where your alpha was towering over the shaking Hinkle.

They were right, you didn’t need to see this.

*****

The walk back to the locker room was short, but it felt like forever. The omegas spent it emitting their soothing scents, trying to calm your frayed nerves (which were only amplified by the emotions fluttering down your bond with Christen).

If the little edges of Christen's dominant pheromones were that strong, you could only imagine what it felt like to be caught in a full blast. That thought alone terrified you. She was always so careful with you, but what if she lost control.

“Shh, kid you’re ok,” An arm wrapped around you and gentle hands guided your shaking form to sit on the bench.

You shook your head rapidly. You were a lot of things right now, but ok wasn’t one of them.

You opened and closed your mouth several times, but no sound would come out. What if you upset your alpha and made her lose control? You loved to push her buttons.

“Hey, You gotta breath y/n,” Mal said, suddenly appearing crouched in front of you. She grabbed your hands, flattening out your palms to prevent your nails from digging further into your arms. She bit her lips at the stressful pheromones pouting off of you, she had only seen you like this once. A very long time ago (ironically in the same place you were now).

“Em, go get Rose,” She said, not taking her eyes off of you. Your best friend was probably the only person who could help you.

Emily’s eyes widened. There was a reason why most of the team’s omegas were in the locker room instead of hanging out in the field with their mates. It was one thing to put an arrogant alpha in their place, and another to risk accidentally forcing an omega to submit.

The team was insanely protective, and going out there while their instincts were on edge wasn’t a good idea.

“I think she’s got her-...” Emily started softly, lightly touching Mal’s shoulder.

“Wasn’t a question,” Mal growled, cutting her off, and finally taking her eyes off of you. You whimpered at the tone, your head tilting slightly and Emily nodded rapidly.

“Right, I’ll go right now,”

She exited the room at a near run. She didn’t quite understand what was wrong, but she knew you desperately needed someone.

****

Emily wasn’t sure what she expected when she exited the tunnel, but it wasn’t Rose and Christen standing over a shaking Hinkle (she would have pegged Ashlyn and Becky as way more likely to get themselves into this situation).

As she approached the group (and the insane cloud of pheromones, seriously they were going to need to fumigate the place)she caught the tail end of Christen's deep rumble. “That’s a despicable excuse for-...”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this-...” Emily said slowly coming up behind her alpha. She kept her eyes down and her hands out, very careful not to provoke the angry hoard any further.

Lindsey whipped around, gulping to try and restrain her instincts. She lightly grabbed her omega’s wrist to prevent her from getting closer to the scene. All hell would break loose if one of the omega’s accidentally got hurt. “Go back to the locker room. We’ll be there after we finish,”

Emily shook her head, finally looking into her alphas eyes. “No. You don’t-“

Lindsey’s eyes hardened as she cut her omega off. “I’m serious Em,”

Emily glared at her alpha, ripping her arm from her grasp. “So am I. I need Rose or Chris because y/n is like having a panic attack,” She practically spat.

She hadn’t known you for as long as Mal had, but she still felt the omega bond with you. The overwhelming urge to protect one of their own when they were in distress. If they needed an alpha to help you, then an alpha she would get, come hell or high water.

Christen and Rose both looked up at the mention of your name, as did the alpha on her knees. The alphas seemed to blink back to themselves, letting up on their emission of pheromones.

“Pathetic,” the woman on the ground mumbled.

The answering growl from the group was instant, low, and very dangerous. “Don’t you start,” Ashlyn said, her voice deadly soft before looking back up at the two struggling alphas. “Go, we can finish this,”

Rose and Christen nodded, sending one last snarl towards Hinkle before following Emily down the tunnel.

****

Christen took in a sharp breath at your distinct scent, freezing in the doorway. The locker room air was saturated with stressed and terrified pheromones. Any remaining anger she may have felt for the asshole out on the field disappeared and was replaced by worry for you.

Rose moved first, pushing past your frozen mate and joining her omega on the floor in front of you, crouching down to your level. If you noticed newcomers to the room, you didn’t show it. You were stiffly sitting on the bench in the corner, staring off into space.

Rose gently rubbed your knee, trying to bring you back to yourself. “Hey Kitkat, what’s going on?”

You blinked down at the alpha, your head tilting automatically. “Nothing. I’m fine,” you said robotically and Rose’s eyebrows furrowed.

She had only seen you like this once, and that was after-... it was too horrible to even consider.

“Yeah, no one believes that,” She mumbled, using a finger to stop you from showing off your neck.

“I -...” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat, caught between an answer and a sob.

“Did all the pheromones bring back bad memories?” Christen asked, finally taking a step inside the room. She had gotten very good at reading you since you had mated and she knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

You nodded, finally looking up at the alpha. Your alpha. You took her in, how she seemed more relaxed (minus the worried lines in her forehead) and her scent was its usual cinnamon and spice.

The heavy dominance was gone. It wasn’t the terrifying figure that had confronted a monster from your past, no this was your Chris.

She took another few slow steps towards you. Rose and Mal moved out of the way to give your alpha room in front of you.

“You’re just so strong. What happens if I push too far?” You asked quietly.

And finally, the pieces clicked in everyone’s heads. Christen shook her head and took your hands. “I would never baby. What you saw-. It’s different with other alphas,”

It was embedded in the fabric of the team (and the countries) culture. You never ever forced an omega to submit, but submission had a different effect on alphas. It wasn’t uncommon for them to assert dominance over each other, and forcing full submission was a way to show an errant alpha bow off base they were. Alphas didn’t experience the emotional distress that came with full-blown submission.

“Promise?” You asked, your voice small.

“With everything I am. You can poke and prod and make me blush, but I will never do what she did to you,” Christen said, kissing the back of your hand and looking you in the eyes to show you just how serious she was.

She waited for your shoulders to relax before releasing a wave of her soothing scent and pulling you into her. You trusted her, and you felt comfortable that she would keep her promise.

If she didn’t you knew about 22 people who would have your back.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #christen press imagine #christen press x reader

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bimsha · 3 years ago

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How They Propose You

Sano Manjiro /Mikey:

When Mikey took you to a grand restaurant instead of your usual street filled with street food, you were suspicious. You knew something must be up, but with Mikey, you never realized until it was the last minute. But the whole thing was fancy for both of you. Your eyes kept darting around all the beautifully dressed customers and the elegant waiters taking orders and rushing around. When the dessert came, you had let go of all your initial suspicions. The dessert was so good that you cleared the plate in mere seconds ignoring the very existence of your boyfriend. You looked up at him to compliment him for the grand dinner when you noticed the horrified expression of the blonde.

“Y/n, you ate the whole thing?”

“Yeah?” You answered, frowning. What’s the big deal?

“Oh my god” He said, now looking petrified for some reason. That expression was a first. He got up from his seat and rounded the table to get a clear look at your plate. At this point, you were being embarrassed. He crouched next to you, looking worried. “Do you feel weird or sick? Do you want to throw up? Should we go to a hospital?”

You sighed, "Mikey." You leaned closer to his ear so that the high class people wouldn't hear your beautiful language. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/n” He whispered back, “There was a ring in the dessert. I asked the waiter to put it in there.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “What?” You blurted out. You could care less about manners now. “You fed me a ring? Wait, I didn’t even know? I didn’t feel any different?”

“I was trying to propose!” Mikey countered, looking awfully sad. “I didn’t know you’d eat the ring too”

They had drawn a lot of attention. “Well, if there was a ring I should’ve felt it. I didn’t. Maybe it wasn’t there?” After a beat of silence you added, “Right?” But a corner of your mind was telling you there's actually a chance. You were a sucker for all those chocolate desserts. But a ring? No way… right?

Now you both were looking at each other with hopeless expressions thinking maybe Mikey would’ve killed you in the process of propsing and the murmurs were growing loud around you when a waiter walked in. They stopped right by their table, “Sir, I’m here to apologize. Our chef has mistakenly and forgot to put the ring on your dessert” He handed a surprised Mikey the ring, bowing deeply.

“Oh my god” Mikey sighed in relief, “I didn’t kill my girlfriend trying to propose her”

You sighed in relief, “I didn’t eat that thing. Thank god” When you started laughing, finding the whole thing funny, Mikey actually knelt on one knee. The whole restaurant was silent as he asked,

“Y/n, the love of my life, do you want to marry me?”

“Say yes” One of the guys screamed, “He didn’t feed you the ring. That man is worth it”

You flushed but offered your hand with a matching smile, “This is the best proposal ever”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “There goes my romantic dinner and proposal. But A for trying.”

You couldn’t tell anything otherwise else, because he deserved an A for trying.

Kazutora Hanemiya:

It was a cold winter morning and your boyfriend Kazu asked you to come to the park for an emergency. And there you were, rubbing your hands together trying to get rid of the coldness while waiting for your boyfriend to give him a good ass kicking for leaving you in the snow. You waited for a while, and instead of Kazutora, a little boy around seven appeared from the entrance and ran straight towards you. Something glistened in his hands. Then, he frowned, looking at you from head to toe. That’s when you realize he was actually holding onto a ring. Where did he get that? “Miss, would you like to marry me?” The youngster asked with so much determination that you almost laughed.

You were about to answer, when a familiar figure ran up to them. Kazutora didn’t pay any attention that you were there. He launched at the boy, trying to get the ring in his hand. “You little prick, I told you not to touch that! And she’s my girlfriend, back off”

You stared at them as they wrestled in the snow. Kazutora caught the little guy in a headlock and fished the ring out of his hands. “Got it!” He cheered.

“Uh Kazu? What’s going on here?”

He looked at you with an exasperated sigh. “This brat ruined everything. I had something to ask you.” He looked flustered, “But he stole-” He groaned, “Go back home.” He said to the boy. “I swear I’m going to buy you that whatever the shit you like”

The boy looked uncertain for a moment. He reached out his pinky, “Promise?”

Kazutora sighed, and sent the boy off. He stood up and dusted off the snow from his pants. You waited patiently when he went, “That’s my little cousin. He thought it would be funny to propose you.”

You laughed, “And why is that?”

Kazutora shrugged, fidgeting with the ring and looking at you. “Because I may or may not have been staring at your photo and practicing everything” He averted his gaze, abashed. “I had this all planned out. I’m going to ruin that brat!”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m still here”

He looked at you earnestly and took a step close. “We’ve been through a lot together. I may not have been the best boyfriend to you but I really love you Y/N. I can’t imagine a life without you. Want to share your life with me for the rest of our lives?”

You offered your hand as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Of course” He slipped the ring to your finger with his own eyes sparkling with tears. You scowled.

“You’re not the one who’s supposed to cry!”

He grinned, leaning in and pecking your lips. “I’m just so happy you said yes” He said, picking you up and twirling you around. Both of you fell back to the snow, thinking about a lifetime of memories together.

Mitsuya Takashi:

You were casually sitting inside his work place, watching him designing another costume. Other times, you asked questions, but this time, you remained silent watching him work. There was a way Mitsuya worked when he was in here. He was graceful and confident. It was a sight to see. “Y/n” He called, taking your attention. “Can you come here for a sec?”

You frowned, but did as you were asked. When you reached him, he immediately started taking your measures, jotting down each. It was normal for him to make clothes for you but this was the first time he was doing it without asking about the design or showing you a picture. “What’s it?”

Mitsuya gestures at the mess of white cloth beside him. “An order came asking me to make a wedding dress, I took the measures for future use” He grinned, pulling out something from his pocket. You stared at the velvet box as he opened it. A ring glistening inside. “Y/n” His voice was smooth. He took a step closer.

You just watched him, surprised as he knelt on one knee. “I’ve always wanted a life with you. I’ve dreamed about it many times. Would you let my dreams come true and be my soulmate for the rest of my life?”

You said yes and watched as he slipped the gold band to your finger. “You literally took the measurement to my future wedding dress before asking? I’m gonna remember that Takashi?”

He stood up and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Just had to set up the vibe.” He said, looking at the white cloth draped along the counter. “You’re going to look beautiful in a wedding dress. I should start working on it”

Baji Keisuke:

One thing you liked about Baji was that he said the weirdest shit sometimes. Like right now. Both of you had your own respected soda cans in your hands while he suddenly uttered, “You know, marrying is weird”

You huffed, “And that is because?”

“Like listen. Two people are like, okay we love each other. Let’s get the whole government involved and make it official so we can actually make babies and spend time together.” He scowled, taking a sip. “That’s just fucked up”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Now that you’ve said it, it does sound fucked up”

He put the soda can away and pulled out a silver band, looking at him with his serious look. “Should we get the government involved too?”

You looked at the ring, back at his face but decided to play along. “We should totally get the government involved in all our shit” When you offered your hand, he easily slipped the ring in. He reached down and kissed it, looking at you adoringly. “That was the most funniest, and the ridiculous proposal I have ever heard.”

Baji shrugged, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulder. “That was the best proposal, I know you think so too”

“Ridiculous doesn’t mean I don’t like it. You’re right, that’s the best proposal”

Bonus:

The two of you decided to announce your engagement to the rest of the gang. Baji confidently stood in front of them, your hand in his, holding onto tightly when he announced. “We’re going to get the government involved”

You cracked up, looking at the other’s expressions, they had no clue what was going on. Chifuyu actually looked like he understood. “Congratulations!” The younger said, beaming. "When is the wedding?”

The realization dawned upon them and soon they were all gasping for their breaths, calling out for water and literally dying on the floor.

Chifuyu Matsuno:

When Chifuyu asked whether you wanted to hang out at his place, it didn’t strike you as anything odd. You two often hung out at each other’s places when your parents were away. He usually kept the door unlocked and you walked in. It was the same that Sunday morning but after you walked in you realized that actually it was pretty weird. Your boyfriend was there, kneeling in front of his refrigerator. Hold up, was that a ring? Is he proposing the fridge? He looked really serious as he took a long breath, opening the box as if he was in a movie. You watched quietly, the moment was too golden to interrupt. He picked the gold band carefully out of the box and held it in front of the fridge. “Y/n, you’re amazing. You’re the best person I have ever met in my life” He was saying to the fridge, “It’s a miracle I found you. Do you want to be mine? Marry me, please?”

The fridge didn’t answer. OF COURSE. The problem would be if it actually answered. He looked satisfied with the practice. That’s when you decided to break it to him and actually clear your throat. The poor guy jumped out of his skin and stared at you horrified. His gaze shifting between the fridge and you. “Are you cheating on me? With that thing?”

He flushed, his ears going pink. “Y/n! Did you- I mean when did-” He groaned, flopping to the floor like a kicked puppy. “Everything’s ruined”

“I’m sorry” You tried, trying to suppress your laughter. “Let’s try again. We go back in time.”

He looked at you to see whether you’re joking and solemnly nodded. “You should be in the character”

You nodded, and closed the door. And this time, you knocked on the door. Your heart was pumping with excitement. Despite the fact you were supposed to act like you don’t know what's going to happen, you were thrilled. Chifuyu opened the door. Despite his defeated look earlier, he seemed to have gained back some of his courage. He didn’t wait until he let you in. He just knelt right there, holding up the ring. He looked a little bit too excited to get the whole speech out as he just blurted, “Please marry me?”

You laughed, “Of course!” He slipped the ring into your finger and stood. Before you could comment, he connected your lips, kissing you right there, with your hands stopped in mid air in surprise. He pulled back with a cocky grin.

“I added an extra surprise element”

You scoffed, “Never going to get over the fact your proposal speech to the fridge was better”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

You grinned, “Never! I’m going to tell our grandchildren that his grandfather proposed to a fridge. The story must go on!”

He groaned, “You’re just mean” He pulled you in, closing the door behind you. “But I love you.”

You hummed with a smile, “I love you too, you big dork”

I don't know why I did this but I did this so get it. I might do some more later. This is fun (":

#propose #tr #tokyo revengers #Mikey #Sano Manjiro #Bimsha writes #Drabbles #oneshot #mitsuya hcs #Kazutora #Baji #Chifuyu #Kinda Crack #x you #xy/n #drabbles

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mxtantrights · 3 years ago

Text

past lives | 4

a/n: the response this fic has gotten has made me so happy thank you guys so much!! I really couldn't have expected it. anyways happing reading and just know you can always send in stuff about the story <3

“Big meeting! BIG! Conference room seven, five minutes do not be late!” your boss Erwin said.

So you finished the sentence you were revising and shut your laptop. You got out of your chair and brought along with you a notebook and a sweater. Conference room seven sucked when it came to insulation. It was like practice for Antartica. You hated it.

You pulled the knitted cardigan over you as you walked to the room. When you opened the door you saw one seat saved, the one closest to the door. You took it and set out your notebook.

Pens were passed around before you finally looked up at the person conducing the meeting. You eyes didn’t budge out of your head this time. And you think that was because you had been in the same room before. Even though this was far different.

Bruce frickin Wayne cleared his throat to start the meeting. And you were sat across from him. Maybe you would’ve felt weird - or more weird- if you hadn’t been in the same room with him a couple of nights ago. Completing a mission for the league.

As you’re waiting at your table for Fallon to get your last drinks of the night, the waiter with the scar passes by. It’s so quick and no normal person would pick it up. He had flung the drive into your interlaced hands. With swiftness you caught it, opened your bag and put it in while pulling out your phone.

You unlock your phone and send a quick reply.

package received

Fallon makes their way over to you with the drinks. They pass you yours, a fancy sounding cocktail thing. The menu was hard to decipher as all you ever relate cared for in a drink was a high alcohol volume.

“What’s in this?” you ask.

They look over at your drink, “I swore I saw something clear in there so I think it’ll do you good.”

You smile. Taking a sip of the drink you taste the vodka instantly. It was mixed in between other kinds of flavors but not potent enough to drown the vodka. Which was good in your opinion.

“Say if I didn’t know any better I would say a certain Wayne is coming over here.” they say.

You look up with the straw still in your mouth and it’s Jason. He’s shed the jacket and he looks really good. Or maybe you were drunk. Maybe both. Still he looked good.

He reaches your table and plasters a grin on his lips.

“So maybe I can be your gala groupie?” he asks point blank.

Fallon almost chokes on their drink. You drop the straw back into the drink.

“Hmm, kind of presumptive of you to think I’d want a groupie.” you say.

He leans his face in closer, “I could be good I promise.”

“I’m- gonna go and order our rideshare, unless you wanna...” Fallon trailed off.

“Give me five minutes.” he says.

You eye him closely. He’s like a wolf. Showing you his pretty teeth, and you’re supposed to think he’s smiling. But really he’s showing you the canines, the things that will tear into you later on.

You’re not sure if that’s sexual or not.

“Two minutes, Fallon’s shoes are uncomfortable.”

“I bet I can make you blush in less than that.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You notice Fallon snicker to themself as they back away from what’s going on. This just give you more incentive to lean into his personal space. Something you didn’t think you’d do on the balcony. But this guy in front of you is just intriguing. Something about him seems deeper.

That’s not really the right word but you don't care.

“If you want-”

He is cut off by a bussing noise. You know it’s not your phone because you can’t feel the vibration coming form your bag. Sure enough he pulls out his own from his left pant pocket.

His eyes read over something and he sighs.

“uh-oh. I think your time is up Mr.Todd.” you tease.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and smirks ar you. You return the gesture. He sends you a wink.

“To be continued.” he says, and walks away.

You watch him shuffle though the crowd until he’s gone. It doesn’t take long for Fallon to make their way back to you. And when they do you take your straw into your mouth again.

“So sex with a Wayne is not a go?”

You finish off you drink and put it down on the table.

“Fallon, if I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“Good thing you don’t know any better. Come on, let’s go to coat check and get out of here.”

You snapped out of the flashback to the gala. Daniel had finished talking about some of the new funded projects. Courtesy of Wayne industries. You thought to yourself how exactly this deal was made but then you thought against it. This is the richest man in Gotham, he doesn't just stay in one place.

You watched as Daniel pointed over to you. That was when you decided to pay close attention.

“We’re also going to have our Deputy writer produce a spread on the Wayne family. Obviously not too much but just enough to satisfy the public that they keep coming back for more.” He said.

Your eyes flickered to the man himself. He was already looking at you. What you couldn’t understand was, why did the Wayne family need an article or op-ed about them? Was there some bad rumor floating around? Are they trying to get ahead of something?

“You have a question?” Bruce Wayne- which is kinda weird and cool to you at the same time- asked.

“Sorry, I have the worst poker face. I’m just wondering why you and your family need a piece- or want it. But now I’m thinking that can be saved for the piece itself.” You said.

You added a smile after, out of manners.

He nodded his head. Then he thanked you by your first name. It felt weird too. Like he had wanted to say your name on purpose and this was his excuse. You tried to swallow down that feeling.

You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

“Speaking of Ron is giving you full control over the piece. So no need to clear anything by him, he trusts your instincts and vision.” Daniel added.

You nodded a bit surprised. It’s not the first time that Ron, your boss, had given you total control. But those had been pieces or columns about things or places. Not people. Especially not a spread about the most important person in Gotham and his family.

Daniel called the meeting over not long after and everyone began to leave. You grabbed your notebook but were stopped. Bruce Wayne had called you by name again and asked you hang back.

The words ‘hang back’ coming out of a billionaire’s mouth was weird, because it was addressed to you. Nonetheless you stayed after everyone, including Daniel, left.

When the door closed behind Daniel you turned to the only man in the room.

“Hi Mr. Wayne.”

He put his hand up, “Oh you can call me Bruce.”

“You’ll probably have to correct me so that I can remember. What can I do for you?” you asked.

“Seeing as this is a family piece, I wanted to let you know that the whole family will be available this coming Friday night.” he said.

“Great, did you have a place in mind?”

“Would my place do?”

You stopped all your efforts to gulp. His frickin masion- manor it’s called the manor. Oh wow, you were really smoozing with rich people. At least the Wayne’s didn't seem to be the snobby or bratty type.

You won in that respect.

So you nodded along, “That’d be good.”

“I’ll send for a car,” he said and then he took out his business card, “Just get in contact and it’ll all be arranged.”

“Right.” you said.

You took the card. Which you thought meant the conversation was over. Yet Bruce Wayne did not bulge from his spot. You thought, maybe you should appear more nervous to move things along.

Turned out you didn’t have to. He excused himself and left the room. It was almost as if he wasn’t there in the first place. The only piece of evidence that contradicted that was the business card in your hand.

It was way to cold to be running errands this late. And without material covering your legs. Your outfit and the trench coat Fallon let you borrow was only equipped for balcony breezes. Not harbor ones.

Still, you will make do. The sign coming up above your head read Gotham Harbor which wasn’t a port of any kind. It was a bookshop on the Harbor. The number 45 the building number.

Was that a trick too?

The lights were still on, even though the close sign is turned. You push open the door and it gives way. This is the right place. You make sure to close the door softly. From the back you can hear movement.

You walk up to the counter where the bell is. Without a second thought you take the flash drive out of your bag and place it next to it. Then you ring it. You do not wait for the person in the back to come out front.

Instead you leave the way you came. Softly you end up back on the street and begin your walk a couple of blocks up. It was best to catch a cab a distance away as to not be easily traced.

As you were walking, a black SUV pulled up next to you. You were walking with traffic, and there was practically no other cars on the block. You knew exactly who it was.

The window rolls down.

“Raʼs al Ghul, what a surprise.” you say.

“You passed.” he answers.

“Great. Any details you wanna share?”

“In time, Nyssa says hello.”

“Don’t.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

#dc x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Jason Todd x reader #redhood x reader #batman x reader #batfam x reader #PAST LIVES #dc fic

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ur-riddikulus · 4 years ago

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You’re Worth It (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are the resident therapist for the Avengers and Steve asks you for a favor. He wants you to have a therapy session with Bucky. Then you find out that Bucky wasn’t exactly aware of this plan.

Warnings: some cursing, Bucky’s angsty past, a couple small sexual innuendo. Also like a ton of angst but I promise that it does get better lol.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on here. I posted some Harry Potter ones before this, but I reread them and thought I could do better. So, here we are! Thank you for reading and if you want this to turn into more parts, I can totally do that. <3

You had been in your office preparing for your next patient when Steve walked in.

“Hey, Dr. Y/L/N, can I ask you for a favor?” He asked, putting his hands in a praying motion.

“Yeah, absolutely! I do have a patient soon, though.” You replied. You were glad to help, Steve is a great patient and has been improving impressively. So well, in fact, you didn’t know if he would even need to see you much longer.

“Do you know Bucky Barnes? He’s an old pal of mine. He has been against going to therapy for a long time, but you’ve helped me so much and Bucky needs some help too I think. Plus, he saw you around the tower and thought you were cute.” Steve says.

You blushed at that last part, silently wishing you didn’t. You had a rule against dating any patient or anyone in the tower, since it would just be awkward when you inevitably break up. Every relationship you’ve ever been in hasn’t lasted long, considering you’ve never been able to find someone you truly liked.

“Yeah, of course I know Bucky. You don’t shut up about him during your therapy sessions and I’ve seen him sulking around the tower myself. I would love to help him, but like I said, I have another patient soon. I will only have therapy with him if it’s his choice though. And I think he’s absolutely gorgeous but I have a rule against dating anyone who lives or works in the Tower.” You explained.

You looked at the time, Tony Stark, your next patient, would be here any minute. You were the sole therapist for Avengers Tower. There maybe should have been another one, but Tony had one session with you and said that you were the best he’s ever had and no one would ever dare be a therapist and step into his tower again. He even gave you the title of ‘Chief of Mental Health’ despite being literally the only person in that department.

Steve must have noticed you checking your watch, because he said ,”Oh, and I bribed Tony to change his appointment and give it to Bucky, so you kind of have no choice.”

You looked up, “What? Who knew that Mr. Captain America himself was a cunning little bitch.” You joked, shaking your head. You and Steve, hell, you and everyone in the tower had that kind of relationship. And, he knew you swore like a sailor, so he even ignored it sometimes.

At that moment, Bucky walked in. He looked so handsome with his shoulder-length hair and baby blue eyes. He even looked a little nervous. Well, that’s not surprising, you thought. Everyone, even you, was a tad nervous on the first session.

Steve put up one finger and said, “Let me talk to Buck alone for one moment.” You nodded and he walked Bucky out to the hallway and shut your door. You heard whispers being exchanged and was a little confused but whatever, you thought. You were sure he’s just giving Bucky encouragement.

You went over and sat down on your grey seat and picked up your chamomile tea. That was probably your favorite part of being a therapist, getting to sit down in comfy chairs all day with your tea. Besides helping people of course.

The door opened once again, with Bucky and Steve reappearing. “Thanks for doing this again, Dr. Y/L/N! Bucky will love you.” Steve said, patting Bucky on the back. You smiled and he exited, leaving only a nervous-looking Bucky standing there.

“Why don’t you come over and sit on the comfortable couch across from me, Bucky?” You motion, pointing over to the couch across from your current chair. He nods and goes to the couch. Well, at least he looks a bit more comfortable, you think to yourself.

“So, what do you want to talk about? Anything is on the table.” You say. You’ve found that not going straight to the tough topics help patients build their trust with you more.

“Well, doll, how about you tell me about yourself first.” He says, getting a bit more confident now. Doll? That’s an odd name to call your therapist. But whatever, you’re sure they used it a lot in the old days. Letting it slide, you try to answer his question.

“Well, I was born and raised here in New York City. I got my PhD. in psychology from NYU and I have an apartment in Brooklyn. I got this job after only one session with Tony Stark and now I am the therapist for the Avengers.” Sure, it was a lot of work, but you absolutely loved your job. Helping the heroes who risk their life to save yours and everyone else’s was the least you could do, you thought.

Bucky nodded and said, “I’m from Brooklyn. Looks much different now than it did when I lived there though. A PhD.? Damn doll, you must be super smart.”

You smiled at his compliment. “Thank you. It wasn’t easy, but it was definitely worth all the late nights studying.”

“So, anything else you want to know about me before we get started?” You asked, getting your notebook to prepare to write notes about Bucky and how to best help him.

“Get started? Damn, doll. I was thinking we could grab a coffee before we ‘get started.’ But it’s good with me, I guess the girls roll a little different in this time than the 40′s.” Bucky says, chuckling to himself.

You were in the middle of getting to the correct page in the notebook but paused when you heard what he said. What did he think you meant when you said ‘get started’? It sounded very different from your meaning. And getting coffee? It almost sounded like he thought this was a date? You shook your head at that thought. No way could he possibly be that confused. And Steve said he thought you were cute, but you seriously doubted that the Bucky Barnes would even consider going on a date with you. So no, it definitely couldn’t be that. But whatever he thought this was, there was obviously a miscommunication that you had to clear up.

“Uh, Bucky? I think you must be confused. Steve told me that he convinced you to have a therapy session with me this afternoon. What did you think this was?” You ask, a little scared of the answer.

At hearing this, Bucky seemed very confused. “What do you mean, Steve told me that we were meeting here before going out on our date?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. What does he mean by ‘our date’?

“Uh, Steve never said to me that we were going on a date. He told me that he convinced you to have a therapy session with me...” You said, shaking your head in confusion. This made no sense, what was going on?

Apparently that was the conclusion Bucky just got to as well, because he looked up, a little embarrassed and said, “I’m so sorry. Steve told me that you wanted to go on a date with me and that we were going to meet in your office before going out. I never would have agreed to this if I knew what he was really doing. I’m just going to leave, I’m so sorry for wasting your time.” Bucky raced his hand through his long hair and stood up, walking to the door.

At first, you were a little stunned. The Steve you knew, the world knew, would never pull a trick on anyone, especially his best friend. You knew him enough through your sessions to know that he would only do this if he absolutely had to. Which means he must be desperate for his friend to get the mental help he needed. Also, Bucky was just so damn cute and you have had the biggest crush on him ever since you went to the Captain America exhibit in the local museum for a school trip. You always saw him in the pictures with Steve, his heart-stopping smile still doing wonders on you despite the worn black and white photo.

So, you jumped up right when his hand touched the door handle to leave and probably never see you again. “W-Wait!” You said, hating your stutter but just cringed and kept going when you saw him turn around curiously. “While you’re here you might as well just talk to me. If you hate it, you never have to see me again and can just ignore me in the halls. But, if this session does help you, maybe we can schedule a bit more and see where it goes. I really think I can help you, Bucky.” After you finish your awkward speech, you just smiled and waited for his definite and irreversible no. Well, at least you got the chance to help him, you thought.

He just sighed and shrugged saying, “Well, I’m already here I guess. But are you sure this could end at any time and that you even want to help me after my dumb friend tricked me into embarrassing myself?”

You smiled and that last part and smiled, just grateful for the opportunity to help someone so burdened and has done so much for the world.

Bucky walked back over the his chair and said, “So, Doc, how do we start this?”

You grabbed your notebook again and turned to the right page again. “This is your session, it can start with however you want. But it might help to start from the beginning. How did you feel when you got drafted into a World War when you were only 18?”

He looked deep in thought and said, “Wow, no one ever asked me that.” He sighed before adding, “Of course it was my duty to fight and all that, but I was angry at the world for forcing kids who just barely turned adults to fight their wars for them. I knew it was going to be an adventure, but honestly I was scared shitless, doll.”

You nod, your empathy for him skyrocketing even though you guys just started.

And that’s how your bi-weekly sessions with Bucky would usually go. You guys talked about a whole manner of things, like his past in the 1940′s, his brainwashing with HYDRA, Steve saving him, and his nightmares from everything included. You two were closer than you normally let yourself get to patients. You didn’t know if it was because of everything he had gone through, or maybe even that you finally got to talk and help the Avenger who needed you most, but you honestly didn’t care. Your sessions with him really seemed to help him and now he hasn’t had a nightmare in over 2 months. Bucky seemed a lot happier and waved and talked to you in the halls. Steve even said that he hasn’t seen Bucky like this since the 40′s. You thought that with all things considered, he had a ton of improvement. You two had only been meeting for about 6 months and his progress was truly great;

You tried to forget that in your first meeting he thought you were going on a date and even apparently called you pretty. You knew that nothing romantic should ever come out of your patient and therapist relationship since it was obviously wrong. Every therapist knew that under no circumstances should you date your patient. It would always hurt the patient’s mental health even more and that was the opposite of your job. You suppose it could technically happen if you stopped being his personal therapist but it wouldn’t be worth it. All of his hard work would have been for nothing.

But you couldn’t help but think what if? What if it ended up working out? What if he got another therapist and you could date him? What if he was the one? But no, you were getting ahead of yourself, you thought. Bucky was great and handsome and so, so perfect. He was honestly everything you wanted in a partner. And still, you couldn’t take the leap. If it didn’t work out and you were possibly the reason his mental health got worse you could never forgive yourself. So every appointment with him you just smiled and tried to ignore that pressing need, even though you were beating yourself up for either being a coward or for being so selfish that you wanted to take that chance.

One day you were in the middle of researching new ways to help a client’s recent mental health issue and trying to (and failing) ignore a certain issue when Bucky walked in with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a nervous look on his face. You stood up, very confused but nonetheless making yourself known.

“Uh, Y/N? Could I maybe talk to you for a minute?” He asked. You’ve never seen him dressed so well. Normally he just wore either workout clothes or sweatpants. You two even often joked together that he owned no normal clothes.

“Yeah of course. I’m sorry I didn’t know we had a session today.” You said, cursing yourself for making such a mistake. Usually you were pretty good with schedules, even though working with the entire compound was a bit much to remember.

“Oh, we don’t. I just wanted to ask you a question.” Bucky said, biting his lip. A nervous tick that you soon discovered in one of your early sessions together.

“Sure, ask away.” You replied. You were getting a little worried. Surely he didn’t want to end your appointments together, right? Did you do something wrong?

“First of all, these are for you.” He said nervously as he handed you the flowers. You smiled, surprised that he remembered you telling him your that your favorite was y/f/f while complaining that the local florist didn’t have them during one of your bi-weekly meetings. “Thank you, these are absolutely beautiful. I love them.” You smiled and walked over to a window ledge with a vase on it and put them in, admiring how they looked in the sunlight.

When you were finished admiring them you walked back over to Bucky. “Thank you again, they really are beautiful. I don’t even remember the last time someone was so nice and got flowers for me.” You said and hugged him. You knew he wasn’t that great with personal touch but surprised you when he hugged you back pretty quickly. For a moment you just focused on being in his arms but then soon thought of how inappropriate it would look to an outsider and reluctantly pulled away.

“So, what did you want to ask? Is everything okay?” You ask, quickly remembering that something could be wrong with him.

“Yeah, of course everything is fine. You truly are a great therapist, Y/N. You’ve got a gift.” Bucky said. You blushed at his words and hated that your color would give away your inappropriate feelings possibly. His words did calm you down though. But if it wasn’t about therapy, then what else could it be about?

Feeling your blush go down finally, you nodded and urged him to go on, now too curious to wait it felt like.

He sighed and nervously ran his hand through his hair. “You have to promise me that if this goes wrong, our relationship won’t be ruined. It’s too important for me to ruin by being an idiot.” You immediately promised. Normally you would be cautious about such a thing but you have never trusted anyone this quickly and this much with Bucky.

After he saw your quick agreement, he went on. “So, these past couple weeks, well since we’ve started meeting actually, I was interested in you. I was never going to act on it in a million years but you’ve helped me so much and I think we could really be great together. And Steve might have noticed me staring at you and telling me I should do something about it.” He chuckled. “So, want to go on a real date? I would go the whole 9 yards, nice restaurant and everything. But I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do and know that our relationship isn’t necessarily the easiest to become romantic. I just think you're worth it, doll. You're worth all of it.” He stopped and bit his lip again, waiting for your response.

Your heart soared when you heard his speech. No one had every made you feel this way. You were about to say yes, so close in fact, but then you remembered the real truth. You are his therapist, his doctor, his advocate. That was special and meant something to you. You knew he wanted this but it was your responsibility to make the hard choice, to do what you honestly hated to do but thought was right.

“No, Buck. I’m sorry but I can’t. I just think it could ruin all your hard work and that’s the last thing that I want to do. It just shouldn’t be risked.” You said. Telling him that felt like vomit was coming up and you felt even worse when you saw him look dejected and lose his smile so quickly because of you.

You moved your arm to touch his and try to support him the best you could within your boundaries but he saw you trying to do it and moved before you could touch him. And that really hurt.

You opened your mouth to try and say that you wanted to say yes, that it wasn’t him and just your job but he put up his hand to stop you and said,”No, I shouldn't have asked, I’m sorry.” before walking out.

After the door shut you just closed your mouth in surprise of how this could all go so wrong before falling on the ground and just sobbing. You were hyperventilating soon and snot was going everywhere but you just didn’t care. You were the therapist, the one who knew all the mental health tips and tricks but you were too broken to think logically and it felt good to just let yourself cry.

This stayed the same for two straight weeks. Bucky rescheduled every meeting and put himself into more missions, especially the more dangerous ones. You would cry yourself to sleep nearly every night and by the morning, your eyes were really puffy and swollen from the night before. Everyone in the tower knew something was going wrong and you could feel their stares of sympathy and worry. You felt terrible but what felt even worse was that you weren’t even speaking with Bucky anymore. And as bad as you felt, you couldn’t help but be even more worried for him. You were prepared to just wallow in your own self-pity and cry for the nth time when Steve knocked on the door and walked in when you were in your office, just drinking chamomile tea and looking at the flowers Bucky got you.

“Hey Doc, how’s it going?” He asked, sitting down and looking worried. You just looked up at him and decided to finally cut the shit and get right to what you were worried about. “Steve, how’s Bucky? And tell me the truth, I’ll find out eventually.” Steve sighed and said, “Honestly he’s not doing great. He looks like crap and is throws himself into missions. Bucky also keeps taking stupid risks that could leave him wounded or even worse. We’ve all spoken with him and he just ignores it. I think the only thing that would really fix him is talking with you. he’s never been like this before, I just don’t know what to do.”

You knew that he would probably tell you the last part, that he feels out of control. Control issues was what you most talked about with Steve during your sessions. Not that you could blame him, you would definitely have them too after everything he has gone through. But that could be discussed in your future sessions with him. Right now, you just wished everything was back to normal.

You nodded sadly, even more worried for him now. But Steve talking to you changed something. You needed to talk to Bucky. And right now. Your fear of rejection was high and you knew there was a fairly high chance that he was too hurt to trust you and that he would probably say no but you didn’t care. Even if he rejected you, you didn’t care. As long as he would be better and your relationship went back to normal, you could live with it. Even if it would take a long time to get better after this, he would be worth it.

So you just looked up, your mind set on what you had to do. “Where is he? I need to find him right now.”

Steve looked up surprised and said, “Uh, in his room I think. He just signed up for another hard mission and we asked him not to but he insisted. He’s probably getting ready since he will have to leave soon.”

After hearing this, you jumped up frantically while yelling “Thank you so much Steve!” as you ran out, not even caring to stop the door from slamming.

Now, even though you worked in a tower full of superheroes, you were only the therapist and still haven’t ran in a while. So you ran and ignored all the stares of the workers and Avengers. When you finally got there, you were out of breath and breathing hard. But still, you worked through your mini heart attack and knock on the door, still frantic.

You heard some rustling behind the door and a few mumbled curse words when he began saying loudly, “Steve, I’m fine. I’m going on that mission whether you think I should or no-” Bucky opened the door and once he saw you, a probably sweaty, red, and gross you, finished with a confused “-not?”

You put up one finger to signal for him to give you a moment to catch your breath. After that, you joked, “Guess I need to workout more.”

“No, I think you look great. Uh, n-not that my opinion matters or anything. If you think you need to work out then that’s what you should do.” He said, nervously stuttering but nodding at his final sentence like by catching it he saved himself from saying something wrong.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “So, how can I help you? I do have to leave on a mission soon though.”

It broke your heart how formally he was speaking, almost like you were complete strangers.

Maybe you should go, you thought. But no, you had to. Bucky was worth the embarrassment you could possibly face, whether you two were going to date or not. Forcing yourself to remember that, you steeled yourself and said, “I’m sorry Bucky, about everything I said. That date sounded amazing, it really did. I wanted to go and I still do. I was just worried about how inappropriate it would be for a therapist to date their patient. I didn’t want your mental health to backtrack and I honestly thought that I was doing the right thing. But I miss you, Buck. I miss you terribly. And you're worth all of the risks to me, you outweigh them all. So please don’t go on that mission, let someone else take the dumb risks. From what I’ve heard you have taken enough for a while. Please, just stay with me and we can talk?” You looked up at him pleadingly and saw him pull out his phone before shutting the door in your face.

That shut door hurt you, but you were prepared for it and sighed. It was too good to be true, you guessed. The fairytale ending, the white picket fence, the handsome husband. You turned around, prepared to walk away with the thought of going back to your apartment and drowning your sorrows in chamomile tea and tissues when you heard the door open behind you and felt a hand grab yours to turn you around.

And there was Bucky, smiling like an absolute idiot. And at first you thought that he was making fun of you, but even then you still thought he looked handsome with that smile. “Sam’s in. He’ll take the mission for me.” He said.

“What?” was all you could muster. You had no idea what he was talking about it sounded almost like... That’s when you heard Sam on speaker phone, “Yep, that’s right sweetheart. I’m gonna do the dumb mission. Kiss Bucky real good for me, sucks I can’t be there to do it myself.” Then you heard Sam make a bunch of kissy noises and that’s when Bucky said, “Enough of him.” And ended the call. Then he grabbed your hand once more and shut the door behind you. He backed you against his door with him so close to you that your chest was touching his.

You were still in shock of your luck when Bucky leaned in and kissed you. You were a little shocked but soon kissed him back, and hard. It was like you were underwater and he was the oxygen. The kiss soon turned rougher and you did not mind at all.

A couple hours later you were both laying on the bed, snuggling and watching a dumb movie that both of you weren’t even paying attention to. You were both just too wrapped up in each other’s presence. “Hey, I think you got some of that exercise you mentioned needing. Maybe we could even do some more if you want.” Bucky said, looking down at you and laughing.

You hit him lightly but couldn’t help from laughing hard as well. Only hours ago you thought that you wouldn’t get anything with Bucky. No happy ending, white picket fence, and with Bucky, the whole package. But no, you got much more than that. So much more.

#bucky x y/n #bucky #bucky barnes #x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcc fanfic #mcu #firstfic #love

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oh-my-may · 4 years ago

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Bokuto, Nishinoya, Oikawa and Terushima reacting to their s/o wearing their jersey

requested: hihi may i request headcannons of Bokuto, Noya, Oikawa and Terushima (seperate) where their s/o is wearing their volley jersey/jacket and their reaction of it please？ thank you! ♡

I am back from the dead lmao, can you believe? I know it’s hard to, but in a brilliant moment this week I suddenly had the urge to write something haikyuu related again soooo... this happened. Hope I didn’t forget how to write this stuff, it’s been a few weeks. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Also I don’t think I’ll be back with posting regularly again, because there’s still a shit ton of other things coming my way this month, but maybe afterwards it’ll be better again? Can’t promise you, but I really hope so, because I also can not WAIT for the second part of season 4!!

Bokuto Kotarou:

You really wanted to be on time today. Really really badly. You knew how important it was for your boyfriend, for his team. It was one of the most important matches of their career. They had spent the last months solely training and practicing for this day. And now here you were, missing almost all of it. Just because of the stupid rain, stupid traffic, stupid crowds.

You were soaking wet by the time you arrived at the big gym, droplets of water dripping all over the floor as you ran through the halls, following the echoing sounds of shouts and a ball bouncing off the floor.

You coughed wildly as you opened the squeaking door to the game hall, water still running down your wet hair, creating tiny puddles all over the floor, but you didn’t notice the critical looks from other people standinmg on the sidelines. As soon as you were blinded by the bright stadium lights, your eyes flew across the hall, trying to find the one individual you were here for. You expected Bokuto to stand somewhere on the field, maybe near the net, eager to punch a ball and spike it across it to score. But you were surprised to find him sitting on the bench, head drooping, his hair all over the place. You couldn’t even see his face, but his posture told you everything you needed to know about his current situation. Even though the team was winning, Bokuto didn’t feel like it at all.

Immediately you gulped and took off your jacket, trying to find a way through the crowd of people standing around. You raised your hand and called his name a couple of times, but it was Akaashi who noticed you first. His eyebrows perked up in surprise and heasked his coach to ask for a time out in the game. You quickly ran over to him, but he didn’t give you no time to speak. “I’m so glad you’re finally here. We already made up scenarios for what might happen if you don’t show up, but this is really good. And you even-” He step away and looks down at your body, where one of Bokuto’s jerseys was hanging off your shoulders. Usually you never wore his training clothes, at least not when he was around, but today felt special, as it was an important match. “Perfect.” Akaashi mumbles to himself before stepping away even further and shouting: “Bokuto.san! Look!”

The white-black head shoots up in an instant at the loud mention of his name and he looks around confused for a moment before his eyes find yours and you see a spark going off in his eyes, even from the distance between you. He jumps up in no time once he sees what you’re wearing and suddenly he’s bouncing around the coach, begging him to end the break because “My baby is here!! Coach do you see them?? I need to show them my best!! The yeven wear my jersey, coach!”

As soon as he gets on field he makes a point and then points at you. You laugh as his energy restores itself immediately after seeing you and let me tell you, when the match is over no one can hold him back from tackling you down and embracing you with the biggest, tightest and cuddliest hug you’ve ever gotten. Yes, your presence at games motivates him. But Akaashi suggests than from now on you should also wear the jersey, because there was something else in his game after he saw you wearing it.

In the end, you’ll find yourself wearing the jersey basically all the time you see Bokuto, because he asks you to and it gives him the biggest, happiest smile you’ve ever seen on him :))

Nishinoya Yuu:

You yawned once again as you checked the time on your phone, rolling your eyes after seeing how early exactly it was. Definitely not your time of the day. Especially not on a saturday.

You couldn’t stop a pout from forming on your lips when you got off the train and looked around, having to assert that it was raining a bit. So you sighed in defeat and searching around in the bag you were supposed to bring your boyfriend to practice, because he forgot it. You found his training jacket and declared it good enough to shield you from the rain until you arrived at the gym. Plus, it smelled like him, so you counted that at least one good thing this morning. It was also warmer than you expected.

Still, ittook you longer than usual to arrive at the boy-filled gym. You admired their motivation and enthusiasm this early in the morning, as you were able to hear their energized calls across the entire school campus. You sighed with a smile as you recognized what could only be the eager voice of Nishinoya, doing his all too familiar rolling thunder chant.

Just about some minutes later you arrived in the alley in front of the gym and found coach ukai leaning in the door frame, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and his eyes closed until he heard your figure approaching. It took him exactly one second to realoze the situation and then he turned around to call for Noya, whom arrived in front of you in no time, pushing his unimpressed coach aside.

“Y/N~! You’re finally here! Thanks for brining my stuff! Now come in, I need to show you my new reiceive move, even Tsukishima thinks its cool!” You just nod and get in the warm hall, following his urgent gestures. He doesn’t even seem to notice what you’re wearing as he takes his bag from your bags. At least not until Hinata points it out.

“Noya-san! Your girlfriend/boyfriend is wearing youir jacket! That is so cooool!” he says with big eyes and immediately pays for it as he misses a ball and takes it right to the head.

Nishinoya looks up in question into Hinata’s direction, as though his brain was recreating what the younger boy just said to him. Then his gaze slowly moves torwards you and his eyes wander down to where his black training jacket still hung from your shoulders, now a bit wet from the rain.

Kiyoko was by your side in no time as you watched Noya’s whole embrace glow at your sight, the realization in his eyes growing bigger and bigger as his hands formed excited fists next to his happy face. “The jacket is kinda wet, Y/N. If you could take it off I’ll hang it somewhere and-”

“NO!” Nishinoya is at your side so fast you barely noticed how he moved, now putting his arms on your shoulders in a protective manner, already turning your body away from a very confused Kiyoko. “No, no, thank you Kiyoko, but they’re totally fine, we’re all good. It will have dried in no time! Especially with our bodies radiating so much heat.” And with those words he steps closer to you and embraces you in his warm arms, nuzzling his face into the fabric of his own jacket. “I’ve always been a fan of our uniform, but this kinda just makes it a hundred times better.” You can hear him mumbling and smile, as you press him even closer to you.

He asks you to stay and he definitely slays these new moves he just leanred simply because you’re there, looking all adorable in his training jacket. Please do not even think about taking it off, because Noya will not stop bragging to the rest of the boys, from now on until forever.

Oikawa Tooru:

It was normal that Tooru was usually a bit late to dates and other kinds of meetups. He was always quick to forget the world around him when he was at practice, so you were used to waiting for him. In the beginning of your relationship it got you frustrated quickly, but now you got used to it, because normally Oikawa made up for it with a lot of cuddles and great food.

But today was unusual. Tooru was always on time when you met up at his place after school or practice. Of course you showed up earlier and decided tro wait on the front porch so you could surprise and greet him when he would arrive. But his mother was quick to notice you sitting on the steps and welcomed you in and you found the way into his room on your own.

More minutes passed and you found yourself bored, but especially wondering where he was. You were about to text him another message when you saw that he had just read the messages and sent you a quick emoji to tell you he was on his way. You smiled, knowing that it would now take him at least another 20 minutes before he would show up because he now felt bad and got something at the grocery store for you.

So you got up again and looked around the all too familiar room, eventually ending up in front of his wardrobe and rummaging through it. A warm piece of clothing then fell in your hands almost naturally and you smiled down on it, not hesitating a single second to put it on.

Oikawa eventualy showed up a bit earlier than you expected him and you turned around in surprise not too long after as he rips open the door and practically collapses into your arms. “I’m so sorry Y/N I was already on the way when you texted me and-” He inhales and then stops abruptly, leaning back with a questioning look on his face. Realization hits him just a second laterand all the exhaustion leaves his face in the matter of a second and is replaced with a smug smile, though you can see the softness in his eyes. “Did you miss me this much, Y/N? You know, next time just visit me right at practice in the gym hall, wearing exactly this, and I’ll never be late to anything ever again.”

And he really isn’t. Instead, the rest of his team just groans displeased when you show up at practice because they know he will never shut up about it

Terushima Yuuji:

Going to games with the rest of the team and accompanying them to cheer them on was one of your most favorite things in the world, especially since you were in a relationship with Terushima. The boys always were so energized and eager to play, you wouldn’t wanna miss a single day.

But today was different. Some of the team members got sick on the bus ride to the game and now the energy of the team was a complete different one. You could just press yourself tighter against your boyfriend as the libero of the team got a bit green in the face and seemed to loose control over his gag reflex as he covered his face with a bag. That’s the least he could do, you think, but you can’t hold back from being disgusted either way. You were just hoping that whatever was getting around didn’t stick on you or Terushima, let alone enough members that they couldn’t play today.

However, something had to happen. Right before they arrived the bus took a sharp curve and the bag the person next to you in the bus was holding, wavered dangerously and you didn’t have enough time to get out of the way before its content spilled all over your jacket and you couldn’t help but cry out loud as your boyfriend started to laugh.

Misaki, the team’s manager, scolded him for it as you were busy complaining. She made him pay for his lack of empathy by handing you his bag with clothes for you to change as soon as you arrived. You took it with a dark look into his direction and took the first shirt that fell into your hands - his jersey.

When you found the group of yellow jackets again, no one seemed to take notice of you at first. Until Yuuji showed up next to you with the fattest smile on his face. “Almost mistook you for Misaki. Now you’re a real part of the team, Y/N!” Suddenly he starts jumping around all excited, pointing at you while calling all the others and sharing the news.

Anyways, for the rest of the day he will NOT stop staring at you. Can’t go 5 minutes on the field without his eyes wandering over to you, resulting in the team losing some points. At the same time, he feels better than ever to win this match and to be honest, their opponent has a hard time trying to catch all the balls flying their way.

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sp00kyjellybeans · 4 years ago

Text

Constant Pining [Mickey Altieri x reader]

A/N: I wanted to write something cute tee hee. Lmk if you guys want a part two to this because this was supa fun to write and I might continue it. Gender neutral reader by the way!

Word Count: 2,089

Warnings: College drinking

---

Mickey entered the lecture hall with a bounce in his step. It was his third class of the day and by far his favorite. Well, second favorite. A good runner up alongside his film class. As soon as he passed through the doorway with his folder in hand, his eyes fell to where you sat in the middle of the lecture hall.

You were writing in your planner, five minutes early to the class as always. Mickey approached and realized you were clueless about your surroundings. Students would shove past to find a seat and you didn’t even give them hum in response.

Mickey grinned at this. He crept up behind your hunched figure and grabbed both of your shoulders, shaking them violently.

“RAHH!!” He growled. Instead of a scream, Mickey earned a hard glare. You furrowed your eyebrows at the boy, not saying a word. “Really?” He said, exasperated.

“You messed up my planner. I was writing something.”

“Seriously. Not even a squeal?” Mickey dropped into the seat next to you.

You cracked a smile, “I saw you coming. I thought about acting surprised but... I like making you work for it.”

“I’ll scare you one day, I promise you that.”

“Oh, I bet you will...” You chuckled, turning back to your planner.

Mickey’s smile grew wide, watching your precise yet comfortable mannerisms. His glance lingered until he felt a small hand tap on his shoulder.

“Mickey... you’re in my seat,” The film student turned to see Halley with a hand on her hip. His face drew back into a look of confusion.

“What? This isn’t third grade, we don’t have assigned seats.”

“Maybe not but I like sitting next to (Y/n). They take good notes.”

You turned your head to watch your friends bicker. It was entertaining.

“Then I will use that to my advantage,” Mickey said and turned back to face the front.

Halley huffed in frustration. Once she realized that Mickey wasn’t going to move, she rolled her eyes and grabbed Mickey’s shirt collar. The fabric squeezed his throat, making him jump up in surprise. Halley took her place quickly before he could do anything else.

Mickey placed his hand around his throat, glaring at the girl in front of him. “Jesus Christ son of Mary... You’re brutal...”

“Don’t mess with me, Mouse,” Halley said, not giving him a second look.

The sound of bells rang from campus meaning class was to begin. Any seats near you were taken, so Mickey was forced toward the back of the hall. He dropped his head in defeat once the professor entered.

“Did you really have to do that?” You whispered. “I mean- ...it was funny don’t get me wrong but he wanted to sit next to me.”

“And I want to pass this class,” Halley said. You pursed your lips. “Besides, this adds for a nice build-up.”

“Build-up?”

“For when he finally gets the guts to ask you out. This makes him want you more.”

“He does not want me!” You gasped.

“Yes he does,” She grinned. “He’s staring at you right now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. If I’m right, you have to come to the Delta Theta party tonight.”

You glared at Halley, “That’s Mickey’s frat house. No way. You know they get rowdy.”

“Just look!”

You rolled your eyes, complying, and took a tiny peek at the back of the lecture hall. There sat Mickey, his head rested on his hand and looking right at you.

The boy was in a dazed state, his eyes falling onto the back of your head in the minutes prior and he had forgotten to pull them away. Your hair was gorgeous. It fit your head perfectly. You had a really nice neck.

The wave of your hand snapped him out of his trance.

Shit!

Mickey sat upright in his seat. He totally just got caught. Shit! Shit! Shit! His sudden movement scared the living daylights out of the students next to him. Realizing he caused a scene, he dropped his shoulders in embarrassment. Just relax, he thought. He was staring at you like a creep. No problem.

He waved back. There, that was good. You took it well. Now you’re looking away. All is well.

If he could, Mickey would have slapped himself silly on the spot. This wasn’t the first time he was caught drooling over you. All of his friends and frat bros wouldn’t let him drop it. Not since the first day of school. They could tell that his crush on you grew bigger as time went on. They would remind him of that.

And hell, he wasn’t the only one who thought you were a sight for sore eyes. He could specifically recall Randy Meeks scheming up a plan to ask you out, but the little weasel never got the courage. Other people have thought and tried but you always turned them down.

Mickey never bothered asking you out on a date, despite his strong feelings. He considered himself smooth and confident up until the idea popped in his head. What if you turned him down?

Now, a year had passed and as he feared... he was in the friend zone. He couldn’t be happier about how close you two were... but he wanted more.

Mickey rubbed his face in exasperation. He needed a chance, he thought. Staring at you, waiting for results, won’t get him anywhere.

Since Halley’s assumption was correct, you were coming to the party. You mentally cursed her eyes that sat in the back of her head. The sound of the party blared through the wooden door in front of you. It was fine. Just a party. You don’t go to parties, but it’s fine.

You creaked open the door since it was left slightly ajar, and looked over the sea of dancing college students. This was unlike anything you’ve been to in months. At best, the most action you’ve seen was the tame cocktail mixers that sorority’s hosted.

Pushing through the crowd you made it to the backyard of the frat house. There was a pool and a few tables set up for drinks, drinks, and more drinks. Some people were even swimming.

You scanned the crowd in hopes of finding one of your friends. Halley was nowhere to be seen, great. You let out a sigh, turned back to the sliding glass door where you had entered but stopped dead in your tracks.

Mickey stepped through the glass pane, also looking around. His hair was messy but cute and he was wearing a t-shirt that was a little tight. It squeezed the biceps you didn’t know he had.

That was a lie. You knew very well that he had muscles.

One of his friends approached for some awkward greeting and he grinned. He smiled his toothy smile that made you melt. He was so casual yet sexy.

Goddamn you, Mickey.

Oh no! He was coming this way! You placed a hand on your head and looked around viciously. You desperately needed to act casual. Nearby sat a table of shots. You snatched it and downed the liquid. It burned your throat but it managed to calm your nerves.

“(Y/n)!” Mickey’s voice called out. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”

“Neither did I,” You clapped your hands together. “Halley convinced me.”

“Awesome...” He smiled. Damn that smile. “You wanna dance?”

This is where you felt every pulse, every organ in your body freeze in motion. Dance? Did he just invite you to dance?

“Uh-”

“If you don’t want to-”

“No! I mean, yes... I do!” You smiled sheepishly. “Let’s dance...”

Mickey nodded in satisfaction and gripped onto your hand to drag you back into the frat house. On the way, you snatched another shot off of a table for some liquid courage, feeling the tension release from your muscles. A warm feeling spread across your chest.

On the outside, he was keeping it cool, smooth, as he always was. But the instant the word “dance” tumbled out of Mickey’s mouth, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. A part of him wished he was not sober right now. It would make this a million times easier. But he feared he wouldn’t enjoy it as much if he weren’t.

The lights in the living room had dimmed since you first arrived. The music had definitely become louder but it was darker, the only light drawn from a lamp and a rainbow disco ball on the floor. You and Mickey were able to see each other’s faces clearly, only since the two of you were squished in the crowd of dancing college students.

The colors on your face flashed from red to green to blue in the room, igniting a flame inside of Mickey. Your eyes shined a different way with each color. The rainbow surge that danced on your skin was breathtaking. You were breathtaking, he thought.

“I can’t really dance that well,” You said, now realizing the mistake you made.

“What?” Mickey yelled. The music was too loud.

“I’m terrible at dancing!” You matched. Mickey laughed, dropping his head next to your ear, his fingers touching your elbows to bring you closer to him.

“Let me show you,” He said normally. If the room wasn’t so loud, you wouldn’t have given this a second thought. But hearing his deep voice, his breath hitting your ear, break the deafening sound of music made you shudder. You nodded, looking back at him with those big eyes.

Mickey’s hands traveled from your arms down to your hips. He pulled on the belt loops of your jeans to bring you closer to his body, “Is this okay?” You bit your lip and nodded once more. “I’m going to guide your hips...”

His large hands rested on a respective hip bone and rocked them side-to-side to the beat of the music. The song was a medium pace, a consistent beat to follow. Perfect for this moment. You looked down to see his waist matching the speed of yours, but never made contact.

“See... Easy.” Mickey said.

He loved touching you. His hands were melted to your lower body. Everything about this felt just right. The spinning lights, the music, the lack of space between the two of you. Everything was loud and nonstop but at this moment all senses excluding sight and touch were lost. Mickey expected you to reject him before he got this far. But you didn’t. Could that mean something? Were you okay with him touching you like this?

The film student inclined his head instinctively, your own was tilted upwards for perfect leeway. Your smell was potent. Intoxicating even. It lured him in. Mickey found his nose nearly pressed against the tip of yours.

“Holy shit, (Y/n)! At a FRAT party?” Randy Meeks slurred, landing his hand on your shoulder. “This is like seeing Bigfoot..... or some shit-”

You guys jumped away from each other, snapping out of whatever was about to happen. Mickey’s moment of ecstasy was shattered. By Randy fucking Meeks. A drunk Randy Meeks.

“I know,” You chuckled nervously. “What a surprise.”

“I totally-” Randy hiccuped between words- “Meant to ask you this sooner.... but we need to go see the next Alien movie. It’s the third out of the franchise.... and I know you LOVE sci-fi.”

Little did Mickey know, you felt the same side effects of that moment. Although you loved Randy’s geekiness, this just wasn’t the time. You wanted to shoo him away but here came another obstacle.

“(Y/n)! There you are...” Halley squealed, drink in hand, “I thought you’d never show.”

“Here I am...” You said in a sarcastic sing-song voice. Mickey was the only one who noticed your tone.

“Come here, I need to tell you something!” Halley said and yanked your arm. “Sorry Mr. Pink, but I’m taking them with me. See ya...”

“Just... glad you know the reference,” Mickey called after you two, which neither heard. He stuck his hands in his front pockets and glared at Randy. “Really?”

“What?”

“I was totally-” Mickey snapped but stopped himself from yelling. He pressed his hands against his face. “Never mind.”

Mickey ditched the geek, threading a hand through his hair. He stood in the backyard frustrated. He wanted more than anything to dunk his head in the glowing pool in front of him. But instead, he snagged a shot of tequila off of the table, letting the drink burn his throat.

So close. He was so close.

#slashers #scream #scream 2 #mickey altieri #mickey altieri x reader #scream x reader #scream 2 x reader #slasher community #ghostface #ghostface x reader #timothy olyphant

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

lavender latte: vii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || chapter 8 ||

masterlist

word count: ~5.2k

the details

warnings: a little spice (see that M warning!), soft shit & emotional convos

beta’ed: @keiqos

---

wow :’^) through thick and thin, this one got here! thank u to molb for beta reading!!! this is beginning of the second act/final half of the story, a little ~*plot*~ if u will. enjoy 💗

||||||||||||||||||||||

Being in Hawks’ arms was heaven, you were sure of it.

When he’d said that he’d ‘never done this before’, you, that first night, had confirmation that ‘this’ definitely did not refer to physical intimacy. It couldn’t, not with the way he had touched you.

His warm, well-trained hands squeezing and pulling you apart perfectly. He read each of your breaths and sighs like they were an in-depth instruction manual that he was meant to study, memorizing the perfect ways to make you cry his name.

...

Hawks was a fast learner.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that, right?” Hawks said with a kiss to your cheek, lips trailing to your jaw. “You’re fucking beautiful, angel.”

Your thighs hugged around his, your booted foot half-supported by the couch below. Straddling his lap had been a bold move, but neither of you complained, hardly. The shocked look that Hawks had first worn had melted into one of hot-blooded lust.

You drank it all in, him all in, greedily.

“You’re not bad yourself, you know,” You giggled at the compliments. He’d been laying them on thick as the night wore on, not that you were complaining. “I wasn’t lying earlier, agreeing that you were hot and all. It’s a little distracting.”

“‘Distracting’?” You could hear the raise in Hawks’ brow. “Spill it, dove. How am I ‘distracting’?”

You opened your mouth, ready to give him an entire heap of ego-boosting praise about how fucking hot he was in civilian clothes (and in general), but the words died in your throat as his hands trailed along your hips, dipping just below the hem of your shirt. His touch brushed along your bare skin and the waistband of your bottoms.

You sucked in a shaking breath.

“Angel,” Hawks’s sing-song voice washed over you as his nimble fingers stroked at your sides and quick teeth nipped at your jaw. “I’m waiting.”

His purposefully mind-snagging moves were all calculated, each brush and touch he gave you turning you gooey over him.

“U-uh,” You stuttered, Hawks snickered against your skin. You really would’ve loved to give him some sort of lip, but the gentle bites to the fragile skin of your neck made your words turn to smoke in your skull. “I-I mean, right now, w-what you’re doing.”

Hawks being a tease was hardly surprising.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks paused, hot breath tickling your ear. “I couldn’t catch that, angel. How am I distracting you? What am I doing?”

The bastard.

“Y-You’re—” You cut yourself off with a yelp. Hawks had taken to sucking at a bite mark on your neck, laving the bruise with his tongue. Pain pricked deliciously across your skin, and you let your head fall away to bare more for him.

“I’m surprised, you’re usually so good with words.”

You normally were, the banter you and Hawks shared was a testament to that. But with his lips and searing hands grabbing and damn near worshipping whatever they could, you were at a loss for words. You were more than happy to, balling up the back of Keigo’s sweater in your clammy palms.

Keigo was in rapture, he was sure of it.

The sweetness of the earlier moment of the night was still there in each peck and sweet caress. It radiated in each action.

The tension had simply been allowed to break.

The goodness was all foreign to him, something he’d never really known.

Keigo had plenty of sex— good sex, by definition. He wasn’t a slouch in bed, he knew that much. He’d been given glowing reviews time and time again. But, that was all hookups or platonic flings, nothing even close to the stored up desires that were finally able to be expressed.

Your sweet body already trembling over him with just easy touches got him harder and hotter than he’d been in a long time, probably ever.

It was you, as cliche as it was. The familiar scent of your perfume clouding over him, the little gasps and whines from the back of your throat, even the taste of your quickly salting skin drove Keigo wild. And it was all so intimately close.

He was suffocating in you and he loved every moment of it.

Keigo had already learned you from his side of the teashop’s counter. He mentally prided himself on recognizing your mannerisms after so many months of conversation and coffee. The little quirks in your movements and words that told their own stories.

The pride, of course, came from being able to use his trained interpersonal skills for something good, something that he knew was good.

With that first kiss, that sweet, sweet first embrace (of many), Keigo could finally indulge in learning about you in a new way.

He wanted to learn what would make you melt.

Keigo’s wings twitched, sensing how each nip to your jaw made your hips stutter like you were repressing the urge to roll them down onto his lap.

With each press of his thumbs against your sides, he could feel your breath catch, soft sounds muffled in the back of your throat.

You were perfect.

“H-Hawks!” His name cracked from your lips as he dragged down the collar of your sweater, sucking a bruise onto your collarbone.

Hawks chuckled against your neck, hot breath making you hazy in the best way, “This alright?”

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, giving him all the permission in the world to go to town.

Hawks wasn’t too rough with you, just sparks of teeth and nails that made your chest arch into his own. Keigo seemed more than content to have you in his lap, undoing you slowly like it was his divine mission.

It might as well have been, with his pretty scarlet wings unfurled. You’d never seen them so close, noticing all of the filaments and their depth and colors.

Throughout you and Hawks’s long, handsy makeout session, his wings (had they always been so massive?) slowly stretched out and open with each gasp and grunt. You’d catch the feathers trembling, shuddering when you ran your hands over the lean muscle of Hawk’s chest, fingers tracing up his ribs. You watched the plumage dance from their roots to the largest feathers when you graced him with the rare grind down onto his straining bulge.

“Can I touch them?” You asked breathlessly, head tilted to allow Hawks all the room in the world to mark up your neck.

He paused, the feathers shuddering in a wave-like pattern. You were mesmerized.

“They’re sensitive, so you have to be gentle.”

You paused, but only for a moment.

Hawks’ words from earlier echoed in your skull:

“I’ve never done any of this.”

Further questions rattled just behind it.

What does that even mean?

He certainly knew how to turn you into a puddle with confidence, so you could only assume the tabloids had been somewhat right in saying that he was... experienced.

(You were confident that you were only seeing a glimmer of what he was capable of. The prospect made your breath leave your lips hotter and harder.)

You shoved the thought off in favor of reaching behind him, carefully placing a hand on a downy bone near the root.

Hawks went rigid with your touch, freezing against your neck. The grip on your hips was nearing bruising, but you didn’t move your hand other than a few gentle strokes from the pads of your fingers.

It had Hawks shaking beneath you.

“This okay?”

Hawks nodded, taking a big breath, pressing his face into your neck, “Yeah. You won’t break me, I promise.”

You trusted him.

You ran your thumb along the spindly bone. The texture was odd, but not unpleasant, firmness covered by petal-soft feathers. Even if it had been weird to touch, you wouldn’t have minded.

You couldn’t have, not with the high, sinful moan that croaked from Hawks’s lips.

You smirked, “Does it feel good?”

Hawks’ breath grew more ragged as your grip drifted to the roots.

It was more than enough of an answer.

“That seems like a yes— Why don’t you tell me about it? How my hands feel right here...”

You could tease Hawks right back.

Your hold went the tiniest bit tighter, a few of your nails barely grazing him.

Keigo hadn’t been expecting the touch.

No one touched his wings. He plucked and preened them himself, using a bit of special oil for them on the rare occasion that he was in the mood for some pampering. His time training with the Commission drilled into his mind that his wings were him, beautiful weapons that required coveting.

So, he surprised himself when he so freely allowed you to touch them.

Then again, he trusted you an almost scary amount for the lack of definition your... relationship now had.

When your nails went against the grain of the small, soft, feathers at the base of his wings, the moan that ripped from his throat was entirely involuntary. The way his hips bucked up was too.

The way he accidentally sent you tumbling to the ground was very unintentional.

If Keigo hadn’t been caught in the absolute euphoria of his wings being touched by someone good for the first time in his life, he probably would’ve been able to catch you.

But, he was distracted.

Your back hit the carpet below, uninjured leg bracing your fall while the booted one shot up awkwardly, saving it from any impact. Your head spun despite not being hit, fully jarred from the sudden motion.

Hawks immediately sat up, sputtering and helping you from the ground. His feathers aided where they could, re-propping your boot and settling you against him.

“It’s okay, it totally happens, Hawks,” You tried to soothe him.

“Are you sure? I can get you so ice if you need—”

“Hawks, I’m alright, really, love” The affection slipped out easily as you popped a kiss onto his jaw. “I’m totally okay. Besides, it’s worth it to know how sensitive those wings of yours are.”

“Be careful there, angel,” Hawks’s cheeks lit with blush, smothering face in your hair to hide it, “Using those against me has some... consequences.”

The thought made your insides burn in the best way.

“Oh yeah?” You raised your eyebrows, thinking of the wonderful possibilities. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

Any... tension in the room diffused, though not unpleasantly.

You fell against Hawks, pressing your nose into his arm. Your earlier fears of getting ‘too used’ to him were now very much a reality, an unavoidable one. You had already come to crave the heat of his touch and the baritone of voice.

You accepted the fact, squeezing him.

It was inevitable, really.

...

You knew it was late, very late, probably early morning. You and Hawks had been all over each other for hours, and as nice as it was, you could feel sleep beginning to pull at the back of your eyes. Despite the exhaustion and quiet aches of the marks across your skin, you didn’t want to stop, not at all.

Admitting you were tired meant that Hawks had to leave and that would mean facing reality.

As lovely as the evening was, there was plenty swirling that was left unsaid. Things that needed to be addressed, though you both stalled. There were plenty of bits and pieces that wouldn’t be pleasant to talk about, details that could ruin the precious air of the night.

You leaned into him, eyelids sagging against your will.

“Aww,” Hawks giggled, pulling you closer by the waist, as if you had spoken your insecurities, rather than just thinking about them. “You getting tired, dove?”

You nodded against him, tucking into his side the best you could like it could stop the inevitable.

“Do you want me to stay?”

The question surprised you. Your guts fluttered at the prospect.

God, was it an alluring idea.

With obvious implications.

You swallowed.

It’s all going too fast.

The months of leadup and heat between your thighs didn’t assuage your fears. If anything, it made your fear the deep-end of a night together more.

“Hey, you’re getting nervous, I can literally see it,” Hawks frowned, tipping up your head. Even the little, casual touches he got to give you made your hearts pound. “I don’t have to.”

“No, it’s like—” You ran a hand down your cheeks. “I want you too, that would be very nice, I’m just a little...”

You struggled to find the words, even feeling your quirk begin to stir. Anxiety prickled like jolts of sour berries across your tongue, burning your eyes and nose. You scrunched your face, shaking your head and willing yourself to relax.

“Overwhelmed?”

Hawks was right, of course, with his observational skills being so unmatched. He probably even noticed your quirk activating with the widening of your pupils.

“Yeah, you could say that.” you sighed, finding his hand to squeeze it. “It all just feels really fast, you know? I really want to sleep next to you, with you, yet... I don’t even know your real name.”

Hawks went still and tense.

Keigo hadn’t really thought about that part.

Of course, you’d want to know his name. It was only natural, every hero had a civilian name.

Except for him.

He was Hawks, the hero of Fierce Wings and unrivaled speed. That was him. His name was Hawks.

Keigo had been Hawks for years. His identity was tied to the name, melded to it. They were inseparable. He hadn’t been called anything else in so long, not since he was a shiny new recruit. Any other name had been torn from him, snuffed out and suffocated long ago.

Every news report and every article, all the calls from friends and colleagues, every scolding he received was always for Hawks.

Never Takami Keigo.

Yet, sitting there on your well-worn couch, surrounded by the warmth of your apartment and your own heat nestled into his side, his given name bobbed to the surface of his psyche.

It lay on the tip of his tongue, Keigo mulling over the personal consequences of telling you his birth name.

This was all different for him anyway, right?

Maybe it would be good to use his name for something good.

Maybe using his name would be okay.

(Even if it was scary.)

“Uh, Hawks? Are you okay?” You asked, rubbing his knee.

His eyes had gone blank, gazing far-off like you’d never seen before. Hawks even had a nervous bounce in his knee. His body was rigid against yours.

Concern bloomed in your gut.

“Hey, Hawks,” You tried to get his attention again. “You’re okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Hawks shook his head, biting his lips and mussing his already sexed-up hair. You bit your lip, refusing to move, not wanting to force any unwanted affections on him.

A sigh shook from his chest.

Carefully, he met your worried gaze.

His eyes, all prettied and honeyed, looked a hell of a lot more-wide and fear-filled then you’d ever seen.

“It’s Keigo. My name is Takami Keigo.”

You rolled the name around in your skull. Reaching for his hands, you brought them into your own lap.

It wasn’t hard to tell that it wasn’t easy for him to say.

“That's a really pretty name. Thank you for telling me.” Gently, you rubbed the pads of your thumbs into his palms. The sensation shot up Keigo’s spine, making him sit up a few degrees straighter. “People tend to hold a lot of tension in their hands.”

Keigo nodded, unusually silent (you got him that way a lot), unsure of what to say, genuinely and truly. His heart was pounding and he was sure you could feel the layer of sweat slicking his palms.

“You can’t tell anyone my name, (Y/N). Can’t even joke about telling people, okay?”

You squeezed his hands, “Whatever I need to do, I’ve got you, okay, Keigo?”

It was the first time he’d heard his real name in years.

He was incredibly glad that it was from you, assuring him in the same breath.

...

Vulnerability was terrifying.

Keigo liked you, irrefutably. A lot. But, all of the nuts and bolts of actually having a relationship (would you two even have that?) seemed daunting. There was plenty to figure out that you had been electing to ignore.

“There’s a lot I won’t ever be able to tell you,” Keigo forced himself to fess up. He had to lie strategically all the time, but it wasn’t the time to. “Even if I want to.”

“That’s okay. We’ll both have to be flexible.” You replied quickly, probably not taking enough time to fully mull over the extent of what you’re saying. You slid your hand into his. “Can I be honest too?”

“Of course.” Keigo tugged, urging you back onto his lap. He liked you there the best so far. He could wrap you in his arms so well, satisfying that deep need to keep you safe.

When you got situated on top of his thighs, you wrapped your arms tentatively around his chest, careful to avoid the base of his wings.

“I’m terrified.” You pressed your face into his chest. “That’s probably why I didn’t say anything for so long.”

“Oh, dove,” Keigo hugged you tight to him. “You don’t need to be scared of anything. I keep people safe. It’s literally my job.”

“It’s different, though, this kind of stuff,” You replied, voice soft and low. “Aren’t you scared at all?”

Of course he was.

A lot.

And he had to say so, didn’t he?

Honesty— real, cogent, emotionally mind-bending honesty, felt uncomfortably new on Keigo’s tongue.

He would have to learn to reflect your own.

“I’ve never been with anyone before, not like this anyways.” Keigo hated how weak his voice was, nothing like the silken charm he was used to exuding. “So, you could say I’m a little scared.”

“We can go slow,” You easily responded, tilting your face to meet Keigo’s. “I know it’s not normally your thing, but I think we have to.”

“I’ll manage,” Keigo cupped the side of your face, the remnants of tension bleeding from the muscles of his back as he let himself smile (hopefully). “So, you want to?”

“‘Want to’ what?” You asked, tilting your head in his hands.

Keigo relished the way you leaned into him, letting him bear a bit of your body weight. He accepted the responsibility without hesitation, an idle hand stroking at your hips.

“I know that functionally, we don’t know a ton about each other, but,” Keigo exhaled, noting how your eyes went soft and a bit glassy. “And I’ve never done this, but like, a relationship. Try it, anyway.”

You only took a moment to answer, hardly pausing.

It was a given, wasn’t it?

With the big, intense feelings that had made their home in your insides long ago and had been given so much time to grow, it only made sense to at least try. Your feelings had roots that ran deeper than just those suited for fucking for sport.

You already cherished each other.

“Of course, tailfeathers,” You stretched to kiss the stubble on his chin. “I like you a whole lot, you know.”

“I like you plenty too, but really?” Keigo falsely frowned. “‘Tailfeathers’? I thought we were passed that one?”

“I dunno,” You smirked to yourself, curling your free, uninjured leg over his own. “Maybe I could be persuaded to find another bird-adjacent nickname.”

“Like?”

“Is lovebird too cliche?” You looped your arm around his neck. “Maybe just birdboy, the classic.”

“Hmmm,” Keigo’s squeezed your sides. “Not sure if I’m much of a lovebird, dove.”

“You sure about that?” You flickered your eyes to note that Keigo had you entirely wrapped up in his arms, wings shuddering in time with your own breaths. “I think you might be on your way.

“Maybe,” Keigo huffed, pressing his lips to yours. “Just for you, dove. Just for you.”

You melted into each other, starting the beloved dance all over again, not caring how late the night wore on. You were both certain, silently, that this would not be the last time you’d find yourselves like this. You both could only hope that there would be many more nights spent tangled up in each other, both sweet and spiced.

For now, you, together, settled for the blessed slowness of it all.

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Keigo did stay the night.

You loaned Keigo an old shirt (that you didn’t mind cutting slits in for his wings) and a pair of sweatpants, even loaning him a toothbrush. Deliberately, you placed it in its own cup, just in case he stayed over again.

(He would.)

It was a little nerve-wracking, clambering into bed together.

Your room was decorated and lit the same way the rest of your home was. The same soft, diffused lighting cast your room with a yellow glow. You had taken a brief moment to hastily (but carefully) tuck several plushies on top of a desk in the corner, chatting over your potential embarrassment.

(Truthfully, Keigo thought it was adorable that you had a myriad of stuffed animals that you slept with. It made your bed look a whole lot more... nestlike. It scratched an itch deep in his bird-adjacent brain that he didn’t know he had.)

You two slid beneath the sheets, though you stayed sitting up, fisting the sheets in clenched fingers.

You knew the implications of sleeping together, obviously.

“H-hey, you know how we said we’d go slow?” You swallowed, glancing down at Keigo.

“Yeah, dove?” He flipped onto his side, peering up at you.

You fidgeted.

It was a conversation that you hated having. It was always met with disappointment or confusion or both.

“I meant it.” You sighed, relenting and fluffing a hand through his messy hair. Remaining blunt about your reality was always the best option, you’d danced around it enough that night as it was. “The overstimulation part of my quirk makes sex really... hard? I guess.”

You wished there wasn’t so much damn internalized shame shoved into your brain about this particular facet of your quirk. You didn’t give Keigo much of a chance to respond, good or bad.

“Like, I can, don’t get me wrong, it just gets to be too much really easily, and like, I just need a bit more time—?”

Nervousness ticked and writhed in your voice as you scrunched the duvet in your hands.

“Hey, (Y/N), It’s alright, I promise.” Keigo shifted, tugging you down into the sheets, facing him. “Come down here.”

You lowered yourself cautiously, a mix of expressions crossing your face, all of which felt unfamiliar to Keigo.

As much as he teased and embarrassed you at the teashop, you’d never looked genuinely upset. Even when you were struggling to tell him how you felt, just earlier that night, you’d never looked so...

Uncomfortable?

Keigo saw the crinkle at the corners of your eyes and the scrunch of your nose and quickly corrected himself:

Guilt.

“We can go slow, as slow as you need. I mean it.”

You laid facing each other, the duvet settling over the two of you. Carefully, Keigo took your hand by the wrist, laying a soft kiss at the joint.

The guarded look in your eyes wasn’t one Keigo was used to.

“Really? You don’t mind?” Your gaze was trained on the sheets below, picking at a loose thread.

“I really, really don’t mind at all. I want you to be comfortable.” Keigo assured you the best he could, heart aching with your nervous glances. “Slow, remember?”

“Slow.” You repeated, finally giving him a bit of eye contact. “You sure? I don’t want to force you to curb your hero’s libido because of my quirk’s bodily side effects.”

“Okay, one,” Keigo huffed, tugging you chest to chest and peppering your face with the kisses he’d always wanted to. “How often do you think I bang?”

You snorted and relaxed visibly, “I mean, I’ve seen the tabloids, so I’m assuming all the time. Like, rabbit-level.”

“God, no, please don’t believe that shit,” Keigo groaned as he threw an arm over your waist. “I am bird-adjacent, as you say, not bunny-adjacent. Then you’re talking about Mirko—”

“Keigo,” You stopped him with a finger on his lips. “I’m not sure if I can handle the details of any of the top-ten’s sex lives, sans yours. Which hopefully includes me.”

He spoke besides, “You’re telling me you don’t want to know about Wash’s—”

“Keigo—”

“I’m just saying, I have pictures—”

You silenced him, thank god, with a firm kiss you dragged him into by the collar. You made a point to hold him in place even as his wings twitched, nipping at his bottom lip. He licked into your mouth, pulling you forward by your hips.

You decided to make it a habit to kiss Keigo breathless more often.

...

Keigo traced nonsense shapes and phrases on your sides, you sucking a few bruises well below his collar.

(You both opted that, sex or otherwise, Keigo wearing a shirt was... unnecessary.)

You settled under the covers spooning, your back against his bare chest.

After everything that had happened that night, all of it, you were exhausted.

“I have patrol pretty early tomorrow,” Keigo pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “I’ll let you sleep when I leave, okay?”

“No, I’ll get up a little too,” You could hear the slur of sleep in your words. “I’ve got a shitty little espresso machine. I’ll make you a drink, to go.”

“You sure? You need all the rest you can get with that leg of yours healing,” Keigo tapped your booted calf with his foot.

“Of course, Kei’,” You can feel sleep tugging you down, Keigo’s heat lulling you. “I miss making you drinks.”

You didn’t see it— you were already half-asleep by the end of your sentence. But, Keigo hid his biggest smile in your shoulder, wings fluttering in time with the butterflies in his tummy.

It felt good to sleep next to someone else, especially when it was someone you loved.

—

But, all good things must come to an end, or at least to a momentary pause.

Keigo was out the door as dawn rose, kissing you hard and long with a travel mug of a coffee in his hand.

“I threw together what I could, making one of those warm feelings drinks,” You’d said as you pressed the hot tumbler into his hands. “It’s cinnamon, caramel cappuccino, pretty simple compared to what I’d normally make you.”

It didn’t matter, truthfully, you making it meant the world.

Keigo flew from your balcony, flying high physically and mentally. He took the time to stop at home and change into his hero costume.

It gave him ample time to mull over everything.

Despite the months of (mutual) pining, a lot had happened in such a short amount of time.

He was happy, overjoyed, that things were finally out in the open. Getting to be near you and feel you was a luxury he was ecstatic to be able to indulge in. His heart would leap and jump against his sternum if he thought about it too hard or for too long.

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t to be challenges or complications.

There were, of course, many details that would have to be sorted and straightened.

Hawks was a hero after all.

His patrol was fairly calm, sunrise didn’t tend to be a time of high crime.

Though, his sharpened eyes caught the telltale plumes of smoke on the other side of the city not long after he’d launched from his apartment.

He flew as fast as he could, dodging between buildings and sending his fast feathers in front of him. The closer he got, the more the smell of smoke stung his sinuses.

When he arrived at the scene, he dove into action.

An apartment burning was burning, nothing new or surprising.

Except, this was a well-groomed highrise, a nicer building in a very nice part of town.

It took Keigo a moment or two to realize that he’d seen the building before. He recognized it from the brochures and pamphlets he was occasionally given at heroes sponsorship events. He’d gotten plenty of papers and pitches for buildings like it too.

...

Jets of orange flames burst through the windows, shattering them down its many stories. The blaze was thick and hot, searing Keigo as he flew around the building.

For this reason, there wasn’t a ton he could do to help, not with how flame and fire. The feathers he managed to send in burned up after only a minute or two. Even if he dulled their sensitivity, the feeling of flame licking the sensitive plumes made him want to shudder and writhe.

He eventually opted to just help with rescue operations on the ground. He felt somewhat more adept at doing so, following what had happened in the shopping district the tea shop was in. His feathers were far more useful running supplies from place to place than trying to outpace flames.

There were plenty of heroes around.

Plenty were local, lesser-known pros. He recognized a few from the charts, top thirties maybe. They were mostly in plainclothes, no costumes or regalia. Some still wore house slippers.

And very few of them appeared to be alone.

Usually, they stood with at least one other person, maybe a child or two.

It dawned on Keigo once he saw Edgeshot appear from the rubble, helping a young man walk with a hand around his waist. As Edgeshot walked past Keigo, regarding him with a firm but curt nod, he noticed their twin wedding bands glinting against the mixing light of flames and the early morning.

Oh.

Keigo took in the remnants of the burned-out building, recalling its splendor from the ads he had been sent so many times and dismissed.

It was Hero Affiliate housing.

He’d been given the spiel so many times as a young bachelor, that’d he’d tuned them out long ago.

It was a trend that had caught on a few years prior, specific luxury buildings made for the family and partners of heroes. Better security, better resistance to disaster and villain attacks(sure), and a community of people who all dealt with the same struggles of being closely attached to a hero.

They were supposed to be safer.

Yet, he was staring at the corpse of the building, burned out and soggy. Around him were soot-covered civilians that should have never been in harm's way. That’s what complexes like this were built for. That was the intent, anyway.

Yet, there stood reality.

Keigo’s kept the calm, laid-back smile on his face, his veneer up and solid as limestone, unfractured like it too.

As Keigo aided where he could, his mind was elsewhere.

It was on you, undoubtedly curled up and asleep, safe.

But, could he keep you that way?

...

He’d have to.

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ko-fi

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