#I think my favourite part is the half chest just for angst. I like imagining she was very particular about the armour placements

[puppyeared]

The garment, worn by those in good standing with Hyrule royalty, has been reworked with the latest improvements, such as a new shoulder guard.

[stsgluver]

TAKE ME BACK TO BEFORE – gojo satoru

summary. based off of this drabble. satoru loses his best friend, and, in the process, loses you too. PART ONE OF FOUR.

wc. 4.4k

tags. ANGST <33333 some fluff at the beginning, slight mention of some suggestive activities, cliff-hanger ending (neither happy nor sad), might be swearing I can't remember and it's 12am I'm too tired to check, may include spelling mistakes

a/n. sorry some bits are a little rushed but I wanted the focus on yn and gojo without making it too long!! hope you enjoy (unknown whether i'll pt2 it, might just leave it to the imagination)!!!! this is also my first long long piece of writing so i’m happy to accept any criticism xxx

chapped lips kiss along the back of your neck, soft hair tickling with each movement. you can feel the heat of the sun that peaks though the half closed curtains – satoru’s fault since the additional two seconds that would take is two seconds that he’s not with you and god forbid he’s not wrapped around you like a koala.

like right now.

you daren’t not open your eyes yet, enjoying the peace of being gently pampered by your boyfriend’s love as his kisses move down your shoulders and his fingers draw circles on your thighs and tummy. one leg is slotted neatly between yours and for a few blissful moments, he’s not the strongest sorcerer alive and you’re not his semi-grade one girlfriend that is constantly scrutinised for not coming from a well known clan. in their eyes you weren’t worthy to be in bed with a special grade. not that that had ever stopped you or gojou.

“i know you’re awake,” satoru murmurs against your skin, lifting his head up so that it rests against your shoulder. his voice is laced with sleep and you’re sure he hasn’t been awake much longer than you. he squeezes you impossibly closer, his bare chest against your back and your lips tilt up in a smile at the fact you’re the only one who will ever be this close to him. able to touch and kiss every inch of his skin with no infinity acting as a barrier.

after the fight with toji, gojo had reached a state of enlightenment. he declared himself the honoured one and suddenly you, suguru and gojo were no longer doing missions together. in fact, gojo would practically drop off the face of the earth for several weeks at a time as the higher ups took advantage of his new-found skills. you and suguru coped but it had changed the dynamic of your relationships entirely so these mornings were easily your favourite time of the day.

“i preferred it when you didnt speak,” you lie, twisting round in his arms to face him. it was becoming more of a rarity to see your boyfriend without his glasses on. as his power grew stronger, the consequential headaches were only worsening and shoko could only counter his cursed technique so much. “more kisses please.” squeezing your eyes shut and puckering your lips in an over-exaggerated manner, you hear satoru snicker lightly but he complies nonetheless.

one hand dips under your head to lightly grasp ahold of your hair, ensuring you stay tightly against him. the other reaches down, skimming past your shorts to grasp your thigh and pull it over his leg so your body is pressed against his. his hands are so gentle but they leave a fiery heat in their path that makes you wish you weren’t at the jujutsu high dorms with your friends either side of you.

“so demanding,” he mocks, his voice muffled against your lips. you’re almost embarrassed by how hard you’re trying to swallow the whine that’s stuck at the back of your throat. and satoru knows, he always knows, and he pinches your thigh as your hand wraps around his neck.

you bite down on his lip and squeeze your hand and he’s gasping and you’re kissing him harder until, finally, oxygen catches up to you both. satoru keeps you close, your foreheads pressed against one anothers as your quickened breaths mingle.

it’s a few more seconds till your heart has calmed down enough to hear yourself think and you open your eyes to see his ocean blue ones already staring at you. if your cheeks weren’t already red from your small make out, they definitely were now under his powerful gaze, so full of love and adoration.

satoru sees you so clearly, you look like an angel to him. sure, he has a strip from a photo booth of the two of you folded in the back pocket of his uniform at all times and hundreds of pictures of you on his phone to look back at when he’s away from you. but seeing you like this so up close is an image he wants branded into his brain permanently.

“we don’t have class today,” satoru says suggestively, drawing dangerously high circles that have you shuddering in anticipation.

your thumb brushes against his chin, tickled against the slight stubble that he’d shave off once you got out of bed. “what are you proposing?” you hum with a grin.

satoru enunciates each of his words with a wet kiss to your lips, cheek, nose and jaw, “you, me and a whole morning of s-” 

there’s a sharp knock against the door and satoru rolls over onto his side of the bed, letting out a very loud and very mature whine. you giggle quietly and press one last kiss to the crook of his neck, telling him to go speak to whoever it is. with a grumbled who the fuck is cockblocking the honoured one, satoru complies and slides off of the bed to find his pyjama pants to at least look half decent.

you watch him lazily, and you think you could fall back asleep if it weren’t for the fact your body is buzzing from the simple make out session. it was scary to admit the power satoru had over you.

“i’m trying to spend quality time with my girlfriend kento, this better be good,” satoru whines as he slides open his dorm door. you could almost picture nanami’s disgusted expression at the half-clothed, six-foot-something sorcerer who, quite frankly, was acting like a child.

“i need your help exorcising a few grade threes that were spotted,” nanami admits in a monotone voice but your heart instantly sinks.

“you’re grade two-” satoru tries to argue but you hiss gojo and the simple use of his family name has him reconsidering. clicking his tongue, he nods once at nanami with a more serious expression than is usually worn by the special grade, “give me five and i’ll be there.”

“i’ll be outside. bye yn.”

“stay safe kento!” you call back to him as you hear his footsteps get further away. 

satoru slowly closes the door. any trace of the sexual desires that were in the room previous have dissipated into a quiet sombre. he’s silent for a few moments before he turns his attention back to you, carefully assessing your response.

you stare up at the ceiling for a few more moments before you meet the eyes of your boyfriend. there’s an unspoken name between you and both of you are scared to say what you’re thinking.

the mission had initially meant to be one for you: it was supposed to be just a couple of grade two curses. easy. but you’d pushed yourself too hard the day before during train and could barely walk on your left leg. shoko had been away with family so the higher ups made the executive decision to send nanami and him. 

things went nasty quickly with the information being all wrong and satoru was the one who ultimately exorcised the curses as the rest of you mourned over what remained of his body. it didn’t matter that almost twelve months had passed. the guilt of ‘what if’ still tormented your memories and you’d be lucky if you went a week without seeing him in your dreams.

“i love you.” you turn your body to the left to see satoru having knelt down just in front of the bed. his icy blue eyes were filled to the brim with concern and pity for your situation. with satoru so often being away for missions now, you two had struggled to work through your guilt as you tried to pull further and further away from him. 

you offer him a small smile for reassurance. “i love you too.”

“always?” he tilts his head and grins. it didn’t take a genius to figure out that satoru had two very clear and distinctive love languages: physical touch and affirmations. he didn’t need the reassurance but there was just something about hearing you profess your love for him over and over that made his heart soar. 

you reach out to hold his face, and he practically purrs as he nestles himself closer into your touch. “of course pretty boy. who else would put up with your tantrums?”

“tantrums?! i would never,” satoru says, appalled by the accusations so much so he holds your wrists and kisses both palms of your hands. “that hurt my feelings.”

“you’ll be okay.” you roll your eyes, but your lips have quirked into a small smile and satoru mirrors it with a with a wide as he classes that as a  success. he places one little kiss to your lips, sighing reluctantly as he knows he’s got to leave you. 

despite the fact he was getting ready to go on a mission and not spend the day on a date with you, you do love the view of watching him get dressed. his back muscles in particular as he pulls a white shirt over his head that you wish you could bite—

“help?”

since you had started slipping into satoru’s room and spending the night, you two had formed a codependent morning routine. one part of which being the fact that satoru seemed to lose all ability to button up his uniform jacket the second you were in his bed. 

you shrug off the duvet and slip off of his bed to stand in front of him where he stood awaiting. a silence settles between the two of you as your hands gently pull his jacket together and slot each of the buttons into place. his glasses remain in his hand so you’re blessed with those ocean eyes watching each of your ministrations.

“suguru gets back from visiting his parents today,” you loop your arms loosely around his neck once you’re done, and he wants to laugh at the way you stretch up to meet his height. “him, ieiri and i are going to get boba if you want to join. bring kento too. i’m worried about him.”

“he’ll be okay,” you frown at satoru’s cheerful, but also dismissive, tone. “it’s just a part of-”

“-being a sorcerer. yeah i know,” you grumble. satoru is not an idiot, far from it, he’s just never known anything other than the jujutsu world. in such a world death has become normalised – even for a boy only eighteen. “but me and kento aren’t from families like you. we didn’t know what we were signing up for,” you explain and his lips pull into a thin line.

he presses an apologetic kiss to you forehead and gives your waist a soft squeeze, “i’m sorry, love you, baby.”

“i love you more,” you draw your arms around him more tightly and press your cheek to your chest as you hold him close to you, “come back to me safely.”

“answer my calls idiot,” you sigh as you press on geto’s contact for the third time. he should have arrived at the school twenty minutes ago but it had pretty much been radio silent since he’d arrived at his parents. other than the confirmation that he was there and safe, you hadn’t heard anything. you initially weren’t concerned – he was seeing his family after all – but he was never late to meet you.

“ieiri!” 

as you run down the hall to her, you notice your teacher, yaga, standing stony-faced with paper in his hands. you hold up your phone with suguru’s contact on the screen, “have you heard from sugu-“ shoko sighs, shaking her head and your stomach drops. not suguru too. you could barely recover from haibara. the only person that got you through that was satoru and you don’t think he can hold you together and keep himself sane if suguru had been killed by a curse too.

“someone tell me he’s still alive,” there’s tears welling up in your eyes as your grip tightens around your phone. what if you’d called him a day prior? would he have answered? asked for help? could you have saved him?

shoko can’t meet your gaze as she struggles to find the right words to explain so it’s your teacher that wordlessly answers your demand by handing you the letter in his hand, “read this.” 

you wish you hadn’t.

“what? what?” you repeat, eyes wide as you scan the word ‘execution’. your stomach is doing flips at this point and you really think you might be sick. your head pounds as you reread the words. “is this real?”

“unfortunately,” yaga confirms.

you think maybe it’s selfish, your friend is clearly suffering because no perfectly well being commits such a heinous act, but the only person that concerns you is– “does satoru know?”

“no,” he shakes his head, “i’m informing him once he’s back with nanami. i’m going to need all four of you to be on your best behaviour, keeping a low profile and completing any missions received as swiftly and efficiently as possible. we’re all going to be scrutinised for every decision we make from now.” yaga doesn’t have to explain himself fully to you both to know what he’s implying. all of you are under suspicion now of conspiracy – one mistake and the next execution letter could have your name written.

“do you know where is suguru now?” you ask shoko with a shaky voice once yaga has walked away back to his office.

“the boba shop,” shoko plays with the unlit cigarette in her hand. she, much like gojo, kept her true emotions hidden by a veil of grins and snarky comments, but there was a clear tone of defeat in her voice. “we planned to go there so he’ll go.”

you lift your head up from the floor, “but that was before he did… this.” there is a lump in your throat as you speak and find yourself feeling selfish as your concern shifts to your boyfriend and how he’ll handle suguru’s defection.

“he’ll be there,” shoko says firmly with the utmost trust in her voice. a true belief that he will never let you both down, that he will never do anything that has been accused of him.

-

that belief is quickly dashed, a day dream that isn’t real and the truth cut through you deeper than any curse ever could. suguru was nonchalant when you had spoken, apologetic that he had to leave all of his friends as opposed to his actions that caused that. shoko had called satoru and the rest had been a blur as she took you back to jujutsu high to give satoru and suguru their space.

time stills until a familiar aura of cursed energy enters the high school. he’s not wearing his usual dark shades so you can see his eyes are clearly bloodshot and puffy from tears – even if they’re partially covered by his growing white locks and his hunched posture.

you, shoko and yaga have been awaiting his return. there is a target on suguru’s head now and your teacher needs to know if satoru has pulled the trigger. you just need your boyfriend to come back to you in one piece, both metaphorically and physically. 

he doesn’t acknowledge any of you. there’s no words, no gestures, no shift in his energy to even let you all know that he’s responsive to the outside world. it’s like he’s just on autopilot as he pushes between the three of you and heads in the direction of the dorm rooms.

shoko sighs, flicking the lighter in her hand as she silently takes her leave. your heart feels like it’s ripping in two and you’re struggling to pick up the falling pieces as you watch her walk away. suguru is gone, shoko is shutting down and satoru…

yaga encourages you to go and speak to satoru whilst he discusses with other sorcerers about plans going forward regarding suguru. 

“toru? toru?” you knock lightly on his door, repeating your nickname for him when he doesn’t respond to you the first time. you know he’s in there.

another twenty seconds go by before you make the assertive decision to enter, pressing your palms against the door and slowly sliding it open. slipping in and closing the door behind yourself, there’s a slight ache in your chest as you mourn the blissful morning you had woken up to. a morning in a world that no longer existed.

the bed is still perfectly made as you had tidied it before you’d gone on your suguru hunt. satoru sits at his desk, his foot tapping lightly on the ground repeatedly as his knee moves up and down. you have never seen him in any state of anxiety before. it felt intrusive to witness the strongest in such a manner – even if you are his girlfriend.

you perch yourself onto the edge of his bed and wait for him to open up. which he never does. shocker. “did suguru say much to you?”

“no.”

“i know this is bad right now but-“

“do you know?” satoru snaps, hands slamming down against his desk causing you to jump. you’ve never seen him speak so angrily and act out – his emotions overruling his logical reasoning. “is it because i’m fucking cryin? is that what made you realise?”

“satoru-“

“you were here. you have been with him and not once did you mention that suguru wasn’t doing well,” satoru doesn’t sugarcoat his words as he layers the blame thickly on you, “maybe if you hadn’t been so fucking focused on how your last fuck up killed haibara, i wouldn’t have lost my best friend.” you choke back a sob, hand over your mouth as tears well up in your eyes. satoru doesn’t look at you. somewhere between this morning and now, your position has shifted – from the centre of his universe to just another weak person who burdens him.

“he is my best friend too,” your broken voice tries to defend itself. the attempt falls on deaf ears because now satoru is pacing back and forth, his fingers pressed to the sides of his forehead as he rotates them in small circles. migraine.

“satoru i get you’re grieving and you’re hurt but you can’t blame me,” you try to reason because god you love him so much and you think if he means what he says, if satoru truly blames you… you’re not sure how you’re going to be able to move on.

“cant i?” satoru lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “i ignored him for you. to make sure you were okay.”

“look we’re both emotional right now. i’ll give you some time to cool off and we can work this out–” you try to reach out and hold his hand but you're met with a force you haven’t felt in a very very very long time. he turned his infinity on.

“dont bother,” he slouches back down into his chair, forearm covering his eyes as he leans back. “there’s nothing to work out.”

those tears that you’d been holding back are freely flowing now, down past your reddned cheeks and dripping onto his bed sheets as you feel yourself become light-headed. “are you break-“

“go.” there’s a chill down your spine from the assertiveness in his voice. it’s monotone and without any trace of the love he had for you that morning. he really means it then, everything he said.

so you comply and you don’t look back.

– TWELVE MONTHS LATER

“ieiri, i just need two more minutes then i should be ready to go–”

“you’re leaving.” 

your breath hitches and your whole world comes to a halt at the oh-so-familiar voice behind you. one that had barely addressed you or acknowledged your existence for a year now. a ghost.

“gojo,” you know he doesn’t like your usage of his first name from the disgruntled sound he makes. there’s a brief pause as your brain hot wires itself back into function again and you refrain from repeating his family name that tastes so foreign on your tongue. “uh, yeah, my plane to korea leaves in a few hours.” 

“you weren’t going to say goodbye?”

you scoff, closing the last box with the remains of your tape, “this is the first time you’ve recognised my existence in nearly a year, gojo. can’t say goodbye to someone who’s already left you behind.” your tone is especially sharp as you utter the syllables of his last name. it hurts to speak to him, to hear his voice, to exist to him again. he doesn’t get to speak to you with a breeziness in his voice, like he never abandoned you in the worst way possible. like he didn’t shatter your heart into a million pieces when you were already at your lowest.

the world of jujutsu is cruel and had been especially to you since geto’s defection and the break up with gojo. you had shoko and nanami but shoko was slowly regressing into a shell of a former self and nanami had always had one foot out of the door. the last twelve months had only solidified his decision to leave.

the higher ups have little to no respect for you – that is a fact. gojo leaving you had removed any sort of political defence you had against them and they didn’t hesitate to question your position and capabilities as a sorcerer after every mission. you don;t need gojo to survive, you could stand up for yourself, but you deserved more than to be left in the lurch at such a volatile time with suguru’s defection. 

there’s a dampness in your palm and you wince as you realise how tightly you had been clenching your fists.

gojo reaches out for your bloodied hands and you flinch away, finally turning back to look at him.

he’s stunning.

“don’t touch me,” you are quick to widen the distance between the two of you, wiping your hands on your dark skirt. for a moment there’s a parallel to all those months ago – when he’d decided to break up with you and cut you off from touching him with the same infinity that had once brought you so much joy. initially, allowing you to touch him had been his way of opening up, learning how to be vulnerable to the person he loves. he hadn’t needed to tell you you were over the moment he forced that barrier between you once more.

“i’m sorry.” his blue eyes aren’t as blue as they once were, their light dimmed, and he looks genuinely apologetic for overstepping. it doesn’t ease the ache.

the two of you take a breath and just stare. your eyes scan the face and body of the man who you thought you knew like the back of your hand. every scar on his body and every thought in his mind.

his lips quirk into a sad smile, “i love you.” your jaw clenches at his admission and you turn back to your boxes. 

he doesn’t mean it. he can’t.

“gojo,” you warn quietly, your thoughts quickly going into haywire at his confession because you’d be lying if you said you don’t love him too. in fact, you know you do – it’s what has driven your hatred towards him to blossom into a garden of sharp, bleeding roses.

“please stop calling me that,” he always hated to be reduced to the clan he is from. he takes a cautious step towards you as the words continue to spill from his lips. “i love you, i love you so much, but i have lost so much. i got scared and i pushed you away and it was so wrong of me–”

“i lost everything.” you look directly at him and you can only hope that he knows you’re referring to him and him alone. it isn’t that you consider everyone else expendable, you’re just capable of coping with the loss of them. a piece of you died a year ago and 

“but you’re not the strongest are you?” you click your tongue and almost laugh. he belongs in this world of sorcery more than you ever could. everything is reduced to power. “i’ve been this prodigy since as long as i can remember and i couldnt save haibara, i didn’t even realise suguru was spiralling and you…” 

“i was right here,” you press a finger directly into the centre of his chest to emphasise your point. somehow you manage not to hesitate and stutter as you realise he’s dropped his infinity for you again – even if it is just to allow you to prod him in anger. “i needed you. i lost someone who i saw as a little brother and then one of my best friends kills his parents and an entire village. i needed you.”

gojo’s left silent for a moment so you finish off, “you know how i find this society to be a prestigious bunch of shit but i stayed for you and you still left me. i would’ve done anything for you.” there’s those tears again. you need him out of your room and you need out of this world as soon as possible.

“i have two kids.”

“what?” you don’t bother to hide the hurt in your voice, nor the underlying tones of jealousy. you’d been out of his life for twelve months and he’d already moved on? and had kids? at nineteen?

“they were about to get sold to the zen’in clan-“ your eyebrows furrow as the pieces of the puzzle come together. 

“fushiguro’s?” you cut him off to ask tentatively, and gojo nods. you take a seat on your bed. you’re not quite sure you can handle anything coming out of his mouth without risking passing out from the sheer overwhelmingness of it all. how dare he waltz back into your life, announce he has two kids that he was willingly raising to ensure they didn’t become victims of the zen’in clan? for what? as a favour for the man who basically killed him not even three years prior?

gojo flashes you a sheepish smile, clasping his hands together as he rocked back and forth on his heels nervously. “want to raise them with me?”

taglist ! @sanokiss ! @dummyf ! @erenssin ! @makiuchiha97 ! @sosoa ! @bontensh0e ! @cole-silas ! @fenrysashryver ! @istanuwow !

[thetormentita]

spes ultima dea - chapter 2

Audaces fortuna iuvat — Virgil.

Pairings: Ofc x Lucius Verus

A/n: maybe I left some things unwritten between first chapter and this one, maybe i’ll post some stuff in the future 🤔

Warnings: mentions of murder, sexual abuse and slavery; angst, maybe some fluff.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

She swings her legs from the second floor of the courtyard as she braids her hair, her eyes observing the lanista and the veteran gladiators training. The sun casts warm light on their swift maneuvers, spotlighting the sweat glistening on their skin, and she thinks they glow like the heroes of the tales she was told when she was a child.

Lost in reverie, she imagines herself among them, wielding a sword with courage, though she knows the life of a gladiator is far. If the Romans would not have come to her lands, she would be a ranger, or a soldier, bow in hand, eyes observing with attention her surroundings, or even a healer, but instead of learning from Ravi she would have been apprentice to the tiny woman with grey hair and crooked spine of her memories whose name is now forgotten beneath the mossy oaks of her village.

“Where are the new ones?” The thick accent of the Dacian old slave behind her almost startles her, taking her back to reality.

“Macrinus took them. Dominus says they were to fight in a private party for the Emperors’s favourite.”

“I hope one o’ them cuts the throat of those brats” mumbles the woman, taking a stool and sitting behind her.

“Kata!” Alan turns to face her fellow slave, a woman that could almost be her grandmother with fiery red hair tinted with grayish hairs and the darkest eyes she has ever seen.

“Shut up and let me do yer hair.”

It is not her tribe, those are not her lands, but a part of her feels that the gods have given her a small tribe in replacement, full with warriors to fight back the enemies, and companions to share the burden of captivity.

“Quintus looks worried.” Mumbles Alana, almost pouting, her arms hanging from the bannister as well.

“When does he not look worried, lass? If he does not train the men good enough the ludus loses coin, ‘nd the first to be punished is ‘im.”

“The ludus never loses coin.”

It is strange to have the place that empty. With their dominus by the private event with the newest men and Ravi to help and their domina enjoying the free time far from her husband, the place almost looks like a haven, people from half of the empire gathered in a peaceful moment that might never come again.

“It did” Kata scoffs, her fingers swiftly braiding her long mane as she speaks, never pulling her hair. “The last time you were just a pup, too li’l to know anything. A general fell in disgrace and was sent ‘ere, and he was the best I have seen in many time. Ravi met ‘im too, he was fond of ‘im. A good man.”

“What happened to him?”

“Dead. All the good ones end up dead.”

Alana clenches her jaw, thoughtful as she watches the horizon. She wonders if the same fate awaits to those she holds dear.

…

“Look at me. Look at me.”

The healer hisses as he takes his face with a hand, forcing him to look at his face. A quick glance is enough for the Indian to know that, at least, the strongest of the newcomers can return to the ludus.

“He savaged my people” the gladiator grits as his hands clench in tight fists, his knuckles turning white with fury. “He took everything from me.”

Despite the defiant answer in proper Latin to the emperors, it still amazes him to hear the gladiator speak other than Punic.

“Who did it?” He muses, forcing him to sit down before him.

“The general.”

Their gazes meet, and a pang of sympathy hits the healer. He knows too well how he feels, how it is to have everything taken from you only because somebody at the other side of the world fancies it.

How much it had hurt for him. The memory still lingers, like a scar that refuses to fade, but he has grown used to that dull pain deep down in his chest. It fuels him, makes him stronger, more determined to mend the broken and save what can be saved.

“Keep your mind clear, you hear me? Your priority must be to earn your liberty.” Hanno is spirited, it shows, but in that moment Ravi has other thoughts forming in his head “Forget the general, the emperors and all those rats around. You have to win your battles and get your freedom.”

“But how—?”

Ravi takes a deep breath, his own victory sometimes still feels too recent.

“Win. Make the people like you, make the other gladiators follow you. Prove your worth, and soon the chains that bind you will break. I lived it myself.”

“Why are you here then?”

A sad smile tugs from the corners of the healer’s lips, and he casts his gaze to the ground. “I had nowhere to go. My village was razed to the ground and my people are dead or captured and slaved at the other corner of the empire. I forged my own family here, and the dominus saw it is more cheap to have me here tending at you than to make somebody else come.”

Ravi glances at Hanno, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He has been at his side, he has been furious and violent, but he kept his mind straight. No chains, no walls could hold his spirit captive.

Hanno nods slowly, his resolve hardening like tempered steel.

“I saw good men dead because they were impulsive. Don’t make the same mistake.”

The distant echo of footsteps call the men’s attention, and Ravi is the one to stand up first, placing himself between Hanno and whoever approaches them. It could be the emperors, it could be their dominus, it could be one of the ladies witnessing the fight looking for a favour, it could be Nemesis herself finally claiming their souls.

“Should we call him our favourite this season, then?”

It is their dominus, visibly satisfied with the new acquisition. If he mourns the loss of the rest of the small group, his face does not show it. He approaches them like a vulture waiting for carrion, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Did anybody show any interest in Hanno?”

Ravi knows that for the man they are just faces, only his servants having name when it suits him.

“Apparently the general’s wife, and possibly a senator or two… The season is still young, don’t you think?”

Behind him, Hanno stays stiff, his eyes observing them, and it only takes a stretched palm for Ravi to make him think twice about engaging in any hasty confrontations.

“My advice is to rotate the men as last season, dominus. They all are strong, and whenever they expect the least, they will see Hanno fighting at his best, taking every bout with technique and strength. We all know he has it, and the commoners will adore seeing him in action.”

It hurts him to ignore the Numidian in such way in front of him, but he knows how things go by the tunnels under the amphitheatre, and the least he wants is to get him or himself hurt in the process.

The dominus chuckles softly, an unsettling sound that sends a shiver down Ravi's spine.

“Of course. You see it all, don’t you? Well then, let us make sure this season is as entertaining as ever. Send our favourite to the baths, and make the lass tend to him.” Ravi bows his head, concealing the discomfort beneath his calm demeanor as the dominus throws them a crooked smile “A gift. For his worth.”

A gift.

Ravi sighs when their owner is far enough from them, his breath mingling with the cool air. He turns to Hanno, seeing the silent questions etched on the man’s face like shadows.

…

A gift.

The last time somebody talked about her as a gift things had ended quite bad for her, with bruises and pain for days, and nightmares for months. But it is the curious stranger this time, not any brute with more muscle than common sense, and she thinks she should not be afraid of him, because he has let her tend to his wounds with unexpected gentleness.

Yet uneasiness flows her senses, almost making her flinch when she hears any noise, her eyes falling to the ground of the room, only the water from the pool providing a steady, soothing rhythm to calm her racing thoughts.

Would he be gentle or prefer to split her in half? Or maybe he wants her to do all the work? What if he prefers the company of men instead of women?

She is lost in her doubts and fears when she can hear footsteps approaching, soft against the stone floor. She closes her eyes for a moment, her instincts hitting hard, and she can spot two different people—no, it is three of them. Her heart races as the footsteps draw closer. The air grows tense, heavy with uncertainty, as she braces herself for their arrival.

But only one crosses the entrance.

“Alana…”

She raises her eyes only to meet his, the purest blue she has ever seen greeting her with a gentle warmth. It feels almost like a promise that perhaps things will be different this time.

“I heard you won. The dominus wants me to take care of you.”

Her hands, clasped at her front, twitch slightly. Her instinct is to pull them away, to melt into the shadows where she feels safe but, instead, she steadies her breathing, forcing herself to remain present.

“Ravi has tended to your wounds?” He nods, and his gaze softens. “Good. Now, you have to get into the water.” As she talks, she pushes herself to approach him, to help him get undressed. “I have soap and oils to help you get rid of the dirt.”

She bites her lower lip as her fingers work deftly to unlace his tunic. Her actions are clinical, but her eyes betray a flicker of hesitation. She wants to think that he is a good man, but she knows well that good men can turn into cruel shadows in an instant. Her heart warns her as much, a constant reminder of past betrayals, moments of despair that costed her a part of her willingness and her strength.

Still, she can't avoid the hope budding in the recesses of her heart.

“What happens?” He mumbles in a perfect Latin, making her stop for just a moment, her fingers pausing in their task, her brain trying to assimilate that she was right and he is more than a Numidian soldier subdued by the pet of the emperors.

“You… You can understand me?” She raises her eyes, wide open, to meet his again as a slow smile creeps onto his lips.

“Yes,” he replies quietly, a hint of warmth in his voice.

“But how—?”

“It is a long story.” He glances to the water with a weary face. “But something troubles you.”

She hesitates, her hands still over his garments, almost like wanting the clothes to keep his nudity to himself.

“I— I am your gift. From the dominus.” She mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze still observing his face, expectant of what his reaction will be. “I—It means that you…”

“I know what it means” his rough hands upon hers stop her words. His touch is gentle, not at all like how she imagined it. “I will not force you, I swear” he reassures, his eyes seeking hers with sincerity. “I give you my word.”

She releases a breath she doesn’t realize she has been holding, a flood of relief washing over her as his thumbs trace soft circles upon the back of her hands, almost like wanting to soothe her worries. All she can do is to lower her head and mutter her thanks, a single and betraying tear rolling down her face. He notices the tear, and she flinches when he brushes it away with a finger, softly, as if afraid to break her. Her heart pounds, both from relief and the unusual tenderness he's shown.

“Come on, to the water.” She mumbles as she tilts her head to the pool, letting his clothing slip past her fingers and lay on the floor.

His expression softens, caught somewhere between curiosity and vulnerability, as he steps towards the shimmering surface. A silent groan escaping his lips as the warm water envelops his weary body, easing tension he didn’t realize he carried. She observes him as he sinks deeper into the pool, watching the water ripple around him.

It certainly is a relief for him to not have to bear with his burdens alone. He glances up at her, grateful for her company, and motions her to join him.

“Oh, no.”

“Why not?”

Her gaze flickers toward one of the corners of the room, where the dancing light of a candle casts shadows that dance upon the water.

“I am here to take care of you. Maybe some other day.”

She looks at the gladiator and she doesn’t see a man defined by blood and battle, but rather someone yearning for solace, desperately trying to find peace in a world that refuses him rest. Others are fueled by vicious rage and sorrow, and she thinks that he may be keeping his own pains deep down where no one can see them. She finds herself wishing she could offer him more than a moment of tranquility, something lasting.

Hanno sighs when he settles himself in the water, steam easing his muscles and breathing life into his weary spirit. She observes his features sculpted by the flickering light and she decides he is handsome despite the filth clinging to his body.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Do tell.”

“You were the only one who came speaking Latin. How—?”

He bites his inner cheek, thoughtful, and she approaches him meanwhile, kneeling behind him with soap, oils and cloth.

“I grew up in the port. My father was a merchant.” He turns to face her, slightly surprised to find her behind him, ready to start “Got an idea. Why don’t we play a game? For every question you want to ask me, I can ask one in return. What do you think?” A soft smile curves her lips as she dips the soap bar in the water, his eyes observing her hands, her swift and bony fingers moving with gentle precision.

“Fine by me.” She mumbles, and with care she puts one of her hands atop his head, softly making him face the front as her fingers stroke his hair with care.

“My turn then. How old are you?”

“Don’t really know. I came here before starting bleeding. I have always been at the ludus.” She dips the soap again in the water before starting to scrub it gently against his hair. “How is Numidia? Ravi only said it is past the sea.”

“Boiling hot” a soft giggle escapes his lips as he lets her do, and she smiles at the sound of it. “But you get used to it. Most of all rocks and desert if you go to the south. I lived near the sea, and you can find some more life there. What about your home?”

Her home. It sounds strange to her, because she had forced herself to adapt to a life she never wished for.

“Forests. Enormous green fields” she tries to focus on what she is doing so the memories hurt less. “You can hunt deer and rabbit, and if you are lucky even boar… I once almost shoot down a wolf, but I was small and my arrows were too little for the animal. There was a tree in my village that was up to the sky, and I liked to climb it and see the stars at night, but Mama always got angry and said I would twist a leg or break my head…” She finds herself clenching her jaw, trying her best to keep herself serene. “Dip your head, I need to take the soap from your hair.”

He does as she says and she allows herself a trembling sigh when he can’t hear her. Despite having taken her own situation and forced herself to adapt and see the bright side of it, sometimes she can’t help but feel a longing for the life she had been forced to leave behind.

To distract herself she buries her fingers in his hair again, and allows herself to pass them along his scalp, brushing it softly, only returning her hands to both sides of her lap as he sits up, wiping the excess water from his eyes. “Thank you,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I never imagined a healer could offer comfort beyond just remedying the body.” He passes a hand along his hair, and a soft smile appears upon her face “How did you became a healer?”

“Well, healing comes in many forms,” she replies, allowing warmth to fill her voice. “I started to follow Ravi around the ludus, and he showed me. By the time they realized it was cheaper to have Ravi stay in the ludus, I was already helping him.”

There is a question lingering in the air, and neither of them wish to speak it out loud, because it only brings pain.

“I like your braid. It suits you.”

A smile lingers upon Alana’s lips. Maybe it is the first compliment she gets in many time. One of her hands go to her own hair, her fingertips brushing over the elaborated work of Kata.

She could swear she is blushing with Hanno’s words.

“Do you like it?” He hums in approval, leaning against the wall of the pool to let her do better, and Alana’s quick mind starts to imagine him doing what Ravi did, earning his freedom and being remembered fondly by it.

She realizes that when Hanno looks at her, something deep down stirs, like a distant echo of hope calling her heart to soften its guard.

“You were trembling before” Hanno takes one of her hands, studying it as if the answers lay in her palm, his fingertips tracing shapeless figures on the skin, almost trying to soothe her sorrow. “How many times—?”

She frowns, clenching her jaw. “It’s hard to say,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “A few. Too many,” she adds, her eyes distant. Hanno nods, sensing the weight of what remains unspoken.

“I— I am sorry” he murmurs, guilt lacing his voice. Yet, there is an understanding in his eyes, a silent vow to share her burden. “If you want, I can help,” he offers, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, offering his strength.

“I don’t see how you can help.”

“They won’t touch you as long as I am around.” She lifts her gaze, studying him intently. There is a resolve in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before, a fierce protectiveness she finds comforting. “I mean it,” he insists, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination.

[back2bluesidex]

Baggage

Pairing: Ex-Taehyung X Fem!reader

Summary: After six months of parting your ways from each other, Taehyung receives your handwritten letter. An unexpected one.

Wordcount: 1612

Theme: Exes au, Angst, Exes to (?)

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol consumption, hints of smut, broken relationship, heavy emotional weight.

A/N: Bracketed parts are Taehyung's POV and the italics are part of the letter.

Follow up drabble: Rainy Days

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

Hey Taehyung, 

Hope this letter finds you well. You might be finding it odd that I am sending you this handwritten letter while sending you an email would have been much faster and easier. But then again, you know me. Or at least, I think you do. 

I received the courier yesterday and… that was unexpected. I know we have parted our ways but we decided on keeping the engagement rings, didn't we? So, when I opened the package, it hit me hard. And made me write this letter while two glasses of somaek are already in my stomach. 

You should have just kept the ring, it wouldn't harm anyone. You could just keep it in the box and throw it in a corner of your closet or maybe in the storeroom, I would never know. You could also throw it away in a trash can and dispose of it on a fine bright morning. You absolutely did not have to send this back to me. But you already did and things like these can't be undone. So, why don't you return my other belongings too? 

[Taehyung halts reading the letter. A frown takes over his forehead as he tries to decipher what you mean by "other belongings". When you two parted your ways or more like, when he decided to part his way from yours, you left with every single piece of shit you own. Starting from the furniture that you bought to your hair ties, you left absolutely nothing. Other than that engagement ring. He kept it for six months but then looking at it made him feel things he shouldn't. So, he sent that back to you. And now there's nothing. Nothing at all… except for the hollowness that rings in this apartment in his waking hours. Then what might your belongings be? He continues reading.] 

Why don't you return my first kiss that you stole while I was tipsy during college fest? It could have been Namjoon if you didn't meddle in between. You should also return the booze that you drank from my red cup while you could easily refill yours. Return the confession that I made that night right after you kissed me on my doorway for a second time in five hours. 

It would be different if I didn't confess to you. It would be different if you would just let me kiss Namjoon. I heard that he has started his own chain of art galleries. So aesthetic of him, just like me. We would make a perfect couple, don't you think?

[A pang of uneasiness hits Taehyung's chest. He never liked Namjoon. Back in your University days, Namjoon used to be head over heels for you, he never liked that. He wanted you all to himself, all for him. The thought of you being with someone else never sat right with him and it still doesn't. You and Namjoon being a couple! No! He still can't imagine, even after he claims to have fallen out of love with you.] 

Back to the point, if you are returning those then make sure you return the dryness of my trench coat as well. You may not remember, but when we went on our first date, it rained cats and dogs. We bought an umbrella from 7/11 since we could only afford one. We had to share it all the way to your dorm. Half of my trench coat got dumped because the heavy rain. 

I want you to take that wetness back and give me back my dryness. Can you? You can, right?

[Taehyung thinks you have lost it. What have you even been thinking at this point? Dryness of trench coat? How the fuck that makes sense?] 

Now you must be thinking why am I writing about that damned trench coat. Well, because that was my favourite one. It was white, I know you don't remember it. The beautiful snowflake white colour is now ruined because we got soaked, because I got soaked. Can you bring me back the pretty white colour that it had before? Can you take back the ugly spot that now resides on the fabric? Please take it back if you can because it reminds me of our first date, reminds me of you, reminds me of us. 

[Taehyung's breath starts to get heavy as he deciphers the weight of your words. He remembers. He remembers it all. Your first date, that white trench coat you looked so pretty in, that heavy rain, he remembers everything. How can he forget when it's one of the most beautiful memories that he cherishes.] 

Do you remember the day when I was working in the kitchen and you back-hugged me all of a sudden? I was so startled that I burnt my finger? The burnt scar is still there. Each time I see it, it reminds me of the kisses that we shared in the kitchen, the joint baking endeavours that were never once successful, the fights that we fought over choice of take-outs, and more…. More. 

[Only you can do this to him. Only you can make his heart race without even being there in front of him, without even letting him hear your voice, seeing your picture. He questions himself, where did it all go wrong, how did it all go wrong.] 

So, can you kindly return my flawless skin that I possessed before that scar happened? I want to stop thinking about the moments we shared in the kitchen. I want to stop thinking of us. 

[Taehyung's heart drops at your words and he doesn't know why. He knows well that it's him who chose to walk away, it's him who sought warmth in unfamiliar embraces. It's him who ended it all saying he fell out of love but then why does his heart twists at you saying you don't want to think of him? It's not natural, is it? He should not be impacted with anything you say but then why is it happening whatever is happening? He wonders and wanders endlessly.]

Now if I have started about the kitchen then I have to get into the bedroom as well. I want my sleep back. I want my sleep back from when I used to be sound asleep on a weekend morning and you would wake me up with your wandering hands all over my body. You would always find your ways under my tshirts and shorts. Groping, squeezing, rubbing as if your life depended on it. You used to wake me up very cruelly, Taehyung, and then you would make love all the damn day leaving me sore for the rest of the week. 

I can't sleep these days, Tae and I wish to replace it with my uninterrupted sleep from those days. Please return it as soon as possible. 

[Taehyung's eyes have turned blurry by now. But he desperately blinks away the tears. He can't cry for you, he won't cry for you. What's the point of crying anyway? The damage is done and it's not a computer program that everything will be as it was with a mere Ctrl+Z.] 

I won't ask you to return my hugs and kisses that you savoured for the first five years and ignored for the last one. You can keep those. I hope those can make you feel a bit alright when you have to deal with another cranky stakeholder. Keep those, consider it a parting gift. 

But make sure you're returning the worries that I have wasted on you when you didn't return home for the entire night. Return each piece of self respect that I lost when my calls went unanswered and text were left read. Return the efforts that I have put to keep that broken hell of a relationship somehow going when you shamelessly found a different escape each night. Return the trust that I had over love, relationship and promises and now lost because of you.

Return it all. 

But most importantly, return the part of me that I have left with you, that I have lost for you. You must return myself, Taehyung. Return all of my baggage. 

I will be waiting for your next courier eagerly. 

Previously yours,

Y/N 

[A whimper left Taehyung's throat. He can't control himself anymore. He is finally letting it all go. The pain that he thought was long gone or maybe never existed, is more than prominent now. He knows he committed a huge mistake. He knows he has hurt you beyond words but never did once you say anything. You left, just left without a single word. No matter how many arms has he been in during all these times, none could make him feel like home. He would always return to this emptiness where once you resided. He misses you but he is too adamant to accept that. He never fell out of love with you, he knows but he is scared to admit that. He was a fool to give in to the flow. He is a fool because he listened to his friends telling him it's too soon for him to get engaged, he should explore. He is a complete fool to let you go, let your existence disappear from his life. He didn't even think twice before walking on your beautifully crafted dreams and trampling those under his high-end Gucci shoes. He wishes you would fight, slap him, scream at him but you did none. 

You left being broken, left him broken. And now he has no idea how to return your baggage to you. He is lost, lost without you.]

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[saltwaterburns]

as our worlds move on, in this shirt, i can be you

summary: lockwood reminisces about everything you were and everything you won't be

warnings: just sad rambles & stuff i suppose! 😁

pairing: anthony lockwood x gone!reader

a/n: Did el just?? Write angst?? While being an avid angst hater??? Could it be?? Yes. Yes it was. Whipped this baby up in half an hour while doing my bio homework. Ur welcome!!! This was written with a very specific song in mind. The reader isn't necessarily dead? Ghost touched or ghost locked, whatever your heart desires! Some of this text was taken from a tiktok caption i saw in May 😋

"My calendar's stuck on January, the month that you passed, and I haven't changed the sheets on my bed since. But it seems I still somehow find the strength to water the lilies, your lilies, because I know they were your favourite and I can't handle losing another part of you."

He stops scribbling and lets his pen drop to the table, closing his eyes from exhaustion. The hour is late, the silence around him overbearing, but his mind is amiss. His thoughts are like the wild, untameable sea, roaring out again and again and again, come back. Come back, come back, come back.

But you're not coming back. Not when he asks, not even when he asks nicely. Not when he begs, not when he cries. All he's got left of you are memories of fleeting looks, hushed giggles and gentle brushes of hands and lips against each other.

For a moment he thinks he can still smell and feel you. He thinks he can almost imagine your eyes, the mischievous sparkle in them. It's a fleeting moment if anything but it happens, his mind takes him back to when your eyes locked and that's when he realizes everything that's beautiful in the world started with you and the magic you held, the love you sprinkled like pixie dust on everyone you ever met. Then the moment passes quicker than it occurred, and he's left in a world where your touch still lingers, where your fingerprints still exist in the dust adorning his home and where the flowers beside your bed have just begun to wilt. Where the love that you carried has spread further than you could've ever imagined and made new again so many hearts you never broke.

He's left utterly alone in a world where every thing, every sensation and feeling is a constant reminder of you and who you were, who you aspired but never got to be. His mind is plagued by your essence when he wakes and it continues when he manages to somehow fall into a light sleep, his heart heavy with the knowledge that once again he shall wake with a startled gasp as the clock reaches 2 am, his hand reaching for you, only to be met with cold sheets that have long ago lost your scent and your warmth.

His gaze trails over the kitchen and falls to the umbrella holder next to the front door where your rapier, still untouched, resides. The golden hues of the kitchen light reflect back from the shiny blade, pink gemstones glimmering on the handle, and for a second he feels like as if they reflect the sparkle of his tears.

It's so you. Decorating your rapier, the one thing keeping you safe in a world filled with souls both dead and alive with cheap little gems. It's so irrevocably you that his heart leaps in his chest. This almost primal urge to tease you, ask if you want to stick some butterfly stickers onto the blade too arises in him and he gives in to it, turning to face your chair, but the words die in his throat.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing his hands into fists, letting his nails dig crescent shaped marks into his flesh. The pain sobers him up like a bucket of cold water, pushing arising tears back down his tear duct. He refuses to cry.

He refuses to cry because you aren't here to hold him, kiss away the salty tears pouring down his cheeks and muffle the sobs wrecking his body with your lips anymore. You aren't here and it finally dawns upon him. You aren't here and he's alone, just like it seems he's meant to be.

[selfcarecap]

Never Have I Ever [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: When Peter meets you at college and you two bond over your lack of sexual experience, you quickly become the best friend he’s ever had. But while he falls madly in love with you, he doesn’t know if you feel the same. You hold his hand when you’re out together, talk to him about the vibrator you want to buy and bless him with that beautiful look in your eyes that is reserved only for him… yet he’s not sure if you see more than a friend in him. Little does he know, you’re wondering the same about him, hoping for the same outcome.

Warnings: smut (all first time, oral f + m receiving, dry humping (semi-public? but it’s completely uninterrupted and unseen and in a remote location lol), masturbation (f with a sex toy and m with the reader’s underwear), vaginal sex – the second half of this is basically all smut), a sprinkle of jealous Peter, Professor Garfield lol, a little bit of angst ig bc Peter keeps doubting himself and thinks he’s a pervert but he’s just dumb as shit and oblivious, (all Peter’s pov <3), fic starts off with an awkward and embarrassing story lol, alcohol/drunk!Peter, (btw if first year of college sounds a little young to you you can always imagine they just took a break between hs and college), idk how college works in the usa, also I mention Peter's enhanced senses but it's not a Spiderman fic at all lol

Word Count: 23k omg, the longest thing I’ve ever written (if that’s too long for you i’ve put four ‘dividers’ in total so it’s split into 4 more or less equally long parts (the first is like 4k, second is 7k, then 4k again and the last is 8k) but of course you can ignore that and just read all of it in one go, all 23k are in this post, it’s a one shot)

It's finally here! Thank you for all the love I received for the teaser and just talking about this fic already 💘 This has been on my mind for so so long and I’ve been (sporadically and inconsistently) writing it since like September. I’m so glad it’s finally finished, this was one of my favourite wips I‘ve ever worked on, I really loved writing Peter and the reader and their dynamic and experiences and I hope you love reading it just as much 💖

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s Peter’s first week of college and so far he barely knows anyone. The guys in the rooms next to Peter’s are cool, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to know a few more people, so he decides to go to this party he’s been hearing about all week.

The party is exactly how he imagined it; loud music, drinking games, a pretty girl sitting next to him. So pretty that he doesn’t dare look at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him staring and think he’s being weird.

The game you’re all playing started as a simple never have I ever, but somehow people are now telling their funniest sex stories. Peter doesn’t realise it’s part of the game that everyone tells a sex story until it’s your turn and he notices how the last few people all told a story, one after the other, going around the circle you’re all sitting in.

His heart starts thumping harder in his chest. He doesn’t have a sex story to tell. But if he gets up now it will be obvious that he’s avoiding his turn, right? 

Fuck.

Besides, he wants to listen to your story. He just has to hope that his usually clever brain will help him come up with something when it’s his turn.

“Most memorable sex experience…” you hum in thought as you lightly drum the bottle in your hands against your lips. “Oh wait, this one’s funny. The guy I was with asked me if I peed myself when he took off my underwear because he didn‘t know that women get wet when they‘re turned on. I explained it to him but he wouldn’t believe me. 

“He was sweet about it and told me it happens to the best of us — and that he sometimes pees himself too. So at that point, I just saw it as a second chance from the universe to show me what this guy was like and I left.” 

The students around you laugh and comment on the story and as you look over at Peter a few seconds later he realises the other people are doing the same. 

They‘re expecting him to tell a sex story now. His mouth goes dry and his brain is empty. Think. Think. Think. Think of something. Anything. 

But he has nothing.

You speak up again, pointing at the guy next to Peter, “Oh my god, Brandon, you remember that story you told me earlier? You need to tell that one, that was the funniest thing I‘ve ever heard.”

A weight is lifted off of Peter‘s shoulders when the attention simply shifts to the guy next to him.

What felt like overthinking for hours when he couldn‘t come up with anything to say was probably only a short moment, less than five seconds, and not a single person noticed that they skipped over Peter. He lets out a breath of relief as other people tell stories and no one demands anything from Peter. 

He keeps glancing at you, trying to figure out if what you did was deliberate or not. 

The only thing he‘s gotten from you so far is a second of eye contact, your face neutral but your eyes holding something positive. The next time you stand up to refill your drink, Peter follows you into the kitchen.

You smile at him when you see him enter, offering some of the diet coke you‘re pouring into your cup to him. “No thanks,” Peter says, watching you fill the rest of your drink with rum. 

“I don‘t know if you did that on purpose or not but uh.. thanks,” he says, clearing his throat after, annoyed at himself for sounding so nervous. You’re gorgeous, but he doesn’t even know you yet. You’re a stranger, yet he finds himself caring about what you think of him.

You muster him for a few seconds before you realise what he’s talking about.

“Oh. You mean during the.. the sex stories? That was no big deal. You just looked a little uncomfortable so I tried my best to get the attention to shift to someone else,” you smile.

“Thanks, that... that was really kind. Although I was kind of hoping it wasn‘t obvious how nervous I was. I just don‘t have any special or funny sex stories to tell... or any sex stories at all,” he avoids eye contact when he says it but you immediately get what he means. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You say, taking a step forward to stand closer to him, his cheeks heating up. He nods.

“The story I told? That was completely made up. I‘ve never had sex with anyone either. And I‘m not ashamed of that fact, I mean I‘m so young and there‘s nothing wrong with waiting or honestly I‘ve just never... been in that type of situation with a boy…”

“I get it. You don‘t have to explain yourself. Same boat,” he smiles and nudges your shoulder but regrets it instantly.

Nudging your shoulder? He has never nudged anyone‘s shoulder. Especially not the shoulder of a pretty girl he just met. 

You don‘t take any notice of it though, much to Peter‘s relief, and you continue. 

“Even if I personally don‘t care how old anyone is when they have their first time, I just felt nervous saying it in a room full of frat boys. I know this year has barely started but so far all the frat boys I’ve met live up to their reputation and I didn‘t want them making any stupid comments. 

“If I was my ideal, confident self - or just a little tipsier - I probably would have just said that I don’t have any sex stories to tell but... I don‘t know. I was nervous.”

“I get that. That‘s exactly how I felt too. Only I wasn‘t creative enough to think of a story. My mind just blanked, I must have looked crazy when it was my turn to say something. You were calm though, the story seemed as real as all the others... maybe even more real, I mean what you said sounds very realistic to me considering how little most men know about women’s bodies.” 

“Yeah,” you giggle, “But you didn‘t look nervous either. It‘s just that I knew I might not be the only one too nervous to admit that I don‘t have any experience so I was hyper-aware of it, I guess.”

“Okay, I‘m glad. Thanks again.” The conversation is slowly dying but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

He holds his hand in front of him, “I’m Peter by the way. Biochemistry and computer science.”

His fingers tremble for a second. Who introduces himself like that? God, he’s messing this up before it even started.

But you grin, trying not to laugh and tell him your name and introduce yourself in the same way, “Oceanography and computer science.”

He takes a second to release the breath that he was holding in, “Oceanography? Wow, that sounds really interesting. You‘ll have to tell me more about that.” 

“It is. And I will once college starts. I‘m really excited.” 

“Me too. And computer science? That means we‘ll probably have a few classes together right?”

“Probably. Do you have your schedule yet?”

He takes out his phone and shows you the picture he took of it, and you lean in to look at it so closely that he can smell your lovely perfume.

“I don‘t have it on my phone but I recognise that professor’s name,” you point at a name on the screen, “I‘m in that class too, I heard professor Garfield is really good. I have two classes with him.”

And that‘s how you two end up talking all night. Peter walks you home and you realise your dorm rooms are merely minutes away from each other and you make a vow to meet each other again. He really hopes you don’t forget about him, or that you weren’t just being nice.

Peter falls asleep with a smile on his face and you on his mind. 

*

The next day, he realises with disappointment that you didn’t exchange numbers. He would like to text you and meet you in front of the lecture hall so it would be less nerve-wracking to go to his first-ever college lecture.

It would help to have someone he already knows with him and in case you were nervous he’d love to be there to calm you down too; make you feel less alone–you can do this together.

He knows one of his first classes on Tuesday is one that he shares with you. But he hopes he can see you on Monday to be each other’s support, or at least to see you for five minutes between classes.

He looks for you all day, but doesn’t see you again.

He’s giddy all night, knowing he’s definitely going to see you tomorrow. His plan is to get up extra early and casually and totally coincidentally lounge around in the hallway that your room is in, and then you can go to class together.

But one missed alarm later he‘s running through the building, trying to find the lecture hall that was shown to him during freshers week, but he didn’t quite manage to remember each one of the hundreds of rooms.

Time is running out and he has one minute until the lecture starts. He runs around the next corner and finally finds the hall he’s supposed to be in.

There are hundreds of students though, and he seems to be one of the last; he can’t even see if there are any seats left.

While his eyes scan the rows for an empty seat–but more importantly for you–he sees some movement directed at him. A wave.

His eyes travel down the arm that's waving at him and soon he’s making eye contact with you. He’s only met you once but he can’t stop a huge smile from taking over his entire face.

Peter blushes while he’s walking up the steps, on his way to you, but once he’s close he can see your bright smile and he’s immediately reminded of why he likes you so much.

“Hi,” Peter plops down next to you on the first seat of the row. You lean in and Peter’s breath gets caught in his throat when he realises you’re hugging him–just a friendly side hug, but it’s a hug nevertheless.

He takes his water out of his bag, trying to calm himself down by focussing on the cool drink running down his throat. It does clear his mind, the water, but he’s more and more comfortable with every second that he sits next to you. Your aura is so kind and calming, and he finds his shoulders losing the tension as you start talking to him.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it or something. We forgot to exchange numbers so I found your Instagram and was gonna message you there. But you‘re private so I couldn‘t.”

Ever since you said goodbye the night after the party, Peter has been worrying that that was all. That it was just an in-the-moment type of thing and you wouldn’t think it was anything special – or worse, you’d forget about him. But now you’re here, keeping a spot for him, telling him you’ve been thinking about him and wanted to message him. The warmth in his chest spreads when you smile at him.

And sure, just because you remember him doesn’t mean you’re best friends, but it confirms that Peter isn’t the only one who thought you had a connection that was worth remembering.

Peter most definitely also stalked your Instagram. It’s public but he didn’t want you thinking he was weird for spam-liking all your pictures–which he definitely wanted to do but he stopped himself in time. 

He put a timer on Instagram for the app to remind him when it’s been twenty minutes of looking at your pictures. Not that there were enough to be scrolling for twenty minutes straight – he simply enjoyed looking at you.

He takes his phone out and accepts the follow request you sent him and follows you back.

“Put your number in,” you place your phone in front of him, opened on a new contact card that Peter fills out with his number and name. You look at it and add a <3 behind his name and Peter prays he’s not blushing as hard as it feels.

You text him You up? and if his cheeks weren’t red before then they definitely are now. He can tell you’re just teasing but the fact that you’re already comfortable enough to joke around with him makes him grin.

He feels like he can be himself with you and you’re doing the same. You’re not holding back with showing Peter that you like him and it makes him feel good about himself. 

But his smile fades when he hears your next words

“The professor is so hot, I have no idea how I‘ll concentrate. I talked to him before I sat down and he has a really nice voice too. And that accent… But wait till he turns around and you see his face – or you could just stare at his ass.” 

Peter doesn’t know why it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart. And when he sees you further staring at the man, it’s like that knife is being pulled out of his chest and Peter bleeds out. 

“I-it’s not even that big,” Peter tries.

You look at him and now he feels stupid for having said that. 

“Butts don‘t have to be big to be hot. Little booties matter. And they’re really cute sometimes.”

“W-well yes, of course, but.. he‘s really not that hot,” Peter says, and then Professor Garfield turns around, “...okay he is that hot.”

“Told you,” you sing, a smile on your face, and he can’t be mad at you when you’re looking at him like that. He couldn’t be mad at you no matter what you did. While Professor Garfield, or Andrew–as he tells you all to call him–starts the lecture, Peter tries to figure out what’s got him so mad.

Yes, of course you’re pretty. You’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean that he has to have a crush on you immediately. Just because you’re a girl and he’s a guy doesn’t mean that this has to go beyond a friendship. Men and women can be just friends. He can’t just fall in love with the first pretty woman who’s nice to him.

Okay, maybe he already has a crush on you. So what? Who can blame him?

But Peter doesn’t want to rush anything with you. He’ll give you the time to figure out what you feel for him, and he’ll just follow your lead. He may think you already like him as much as he likes you, but it’s still only the second time you’re ever seeing each other. 

That and he just doesn’t want to overthink it all and end up losing the first person at college who genuinely feels like someone he could be friends with.

He tries to ignore how you giggle at every joke the professor makes and tries to focus on the warmth of you next to him instead. Not too much though, he’s already let your teasing get to his head and maybe even to a body part further down.

Even if it means he won’t have to witness you laughing at Professor Garfield’s jokes anymore, Peter is sad when the lecture is over. It’s the only lecture he has today and therefore also the only one he has with you today.

As you pack your things and people swarm out of the lecture hall, you and Peter stay back, taking it slow.

“What’s your next class?” You ask, looking him right in the eyes–like any normal person–but he’ll really have to get used to that. He can’t lose his mind every time you just look at him. But he's so attracted to you.

“I, um, I no. I mean, I don’t have any other classes today.”

You smile unexpectedly, “Cool, me neither. You wanna do something? We could get lunch together.”

You say it with such ease, showing your interest in him like you don’t know how it’s making Peter feel warm and bubbly inside.

Even if Peter still gets nervous around you, simply because he wants to impress you and doesn’t want to fuck this up, he realises quickly that he has no reason to be. 

Your friendship blooms effortlessly and quickly. 

A week later you’re texting like you’ve been best friends for years and he finds himself too happy around you to worry about what he’s saying or how he’s acting. You like him the way he is and he can feel it deeply and confidently. 

Yes, he still stutters a lot around you - but he does that around most people, to be fair - and once you part ways for the day he overanalyses every little thing you’ve said to him, overthinks every little touch of yours for some form of affection that is more than platonic.

And it’s hard, figuring out whether you like him as more than a friend.

But this friendship is so new and so exciting that Peter thinks it makes him just as happy as an average relationship in the honeymoon phase would. So even if he does crave more intimacy with you, it’s hard to complain when he has a friend like you.

*

You show up at Peter’s door at midnight on a Friday. His sleep schedule has been surprisingly healthy for a college freshman so if anyone else disturbed him when he was already in pyjamas, he’d be annoyed.

But with you, he’s ecstatic. He’s awake immediately, grinning from ear to ear at your surprise visit. You never left his mind but he thought he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

Peter is more than aware of the contrast between your done up state and him in his ratty old pyjamas. You’ve seen him in pyjamas before and he knows better than to think you’d judge him, but he can’t help but to want to at least try and match you when you’re looking as gorgeous as you are.

“Oh sorry, I thought you’d still be up,” is the first thing you say, ready to leave if you’re bothering him in any way.

“No, no, I am, don’t worry. What’s up?” Peter asks, trying to look cool as he leans against his door frame. He ignores how it hurts like hell where his elbow meets a sharp corner.

“Well… I was gonna ask if you wanna go watch a movie with me,” you give him a charming smile not knowing he’d say yes no matter what you asked of him.

“Now?”

“Uh, yes. Now. But it’s fine if not, genuinely I won’t be mad. I can see that you had other plans,” you smile at his pyjamas.

“No. Don’t worry, I’d love to go. Do you have tickets or…?” Jealousy bubbles up inside Peter when he realises you might have been planning to go with someone else. With some other guy. Maybe he bailed on you and Peter is the second option (which he would still be grateful for, but he hates the thought of you with another guy).

“No, but I checked online and they have plenty of tickets left. It’s the last day they’re playing this film. The one I told you about, the horror one.”

“Oh God.” He’s trying to pretend that you still need to convince him when really Peter just needs a second to realise he was just overthinking again. He is your first choice. Not another guy.

“Pleeeease, Peter,” you grab his arm and pout. 

Peter has been convinced since the moment you showed up at his door.

“Give me a second,” he smiles and you grin back, “Really? You’re the best,” you kiss his cheek enthusiastically and he goes back into his room fast enough to hide his blush.

He picks out an outfit, brushes his teeth and puts on deodorant just in case.

You take him to the cinema with your hand in his. Peter knows it’s not a romantic gesture, you’re just treating him like you’d treat a female friend, but his brain doesn’t know the difference. He’s just happy to be touching you.

When you buy the tickets the guy at the movie theatre shows you the available seats on his screen. He points to one of those love seats where two seats are joined together so you can cuddle.

You nod and when the guy gives Peter a congratulatory smile, Peter’s cheeks heat up. The guy probably thinks you and Peter are a couple. It’s not just good for Peter’s ego and the fake scenarios with you that he’ll imagine before bed, but it’s also better for the guy. Peter saw the way he was eyeing you, and Peter doesn’t know what he would have done if the guy had asked for your number.

“We can cuddle,” you grin as you sit down and pat the seat next to you. You’re almost alone in the theatre, you could sit anywhere you want but you want to be close to him.

While you wait for the trailers to start you take Snapchat videos with Peter, asking him if you can send them to your friends at home. His heart swells when you say that you’ve told them about him.

He takes pictures of you looking all pretty and perfect and he wonders if it would be too much to set it as his phone wallpaper. Your head is on his shoulder as you scroll through the pictures that he just took of you and your perfume is hypnotising.

How is every little thing about you so captivating? Peter has never met anyone like you.

He’s fucking scared during the movie, but with his eyes mostly closed he manages to be the guy you can hold on to during the creepy scenes. Your fingers around his bicep squeeze every time there is a jumpscare and at some point he has to force himself to watch the film after all if he doesn’t want to get hard from your touch. He knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help it.

You look beautiful in the light of the stars as you two walk home, your hand still around his arm, gushing about the film and thanking him for watching it with you despite the spontaneous change of his plans.

You spend some time in the common area by your dorms. It’s late and everyone else seems to be at some party elsewhere or sleeping. You cling on to Peter, still jumpy from the horror film and he nearly asks you if you want to sleep in his bed.

He nearly says it about five times, but he can’t quite get the words out. He doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression, even if you may be about to ask the same thing.

Peter sits there nervously, gulping as he’s about to ask. He really will say it this time. But before he opens his mouth he hears your deep breaths and notices how your body has gone slack against his side.

He kisses the top of your head in content and soon, sleep finds Peter too. He doesn’t have to dream about being close to you because it’s already his reality.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s a few weeks into the semester and it’s become a routine for you two to study together. Whether you’re helping each other with the classes you share, or silently working on other things and enjoying each other’s company, your study sessions have even managed to make studying a rather fun part of college. 

Especially when you’re both sitting on Peter’s bed, and your knees or legs or arms are always touching.

You’re not focussed today, scrolling around on your phone instead of studying. You throw your phone to the bed at some point and you hug your legs to your chest in thought.

“You think Andrew will let me suck his dick? For a better score?”

Peter’s heart stops beating for a second. 

You haven’t kissed, you haven’t said anything that should have led Peter to think that this is more than friendship, but it seemed like there could be something in the future. Apparently, you’re not even considering it.

“Who’s Andrew?” He asks, mouth dry and voice weak.

“Professor Garfield.”

“Oh. Well, I-I think that‘s illegal.”

“Is it though?” You tilt your head and give him a deliberately incredulous look.

“Yes.”

“Not if no one finds out. It’s don’t break the rules or don‘t get caught, Peter.”

He’s distracted by you saying his name for a moment. There’s nothing he loves hearing more.

But he has to stop you from doing… that. He can’t entirely tell how serious you are, but he has to make sure to convince you that it’s a bad idea.

“No offence, but what makes you believe you’ll be good enough for him to give you a better score? If you’ve never… you know, done anything like it.” He remembers your conversation from the first time you met, and if you haven’t given anyone a blowjob since then, he knows it would be your first time. Your first time can’t be with a professor, even if Peter disregards the fact that he wants to be the only guy you have sex with, it really is a bad idea.

“I’m a young and pretty student and he’s a kinda old guy. He’s like 40. So I’m sure that I’ll be enough for him.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a moment, thrown off by your casual tone.

“Don’t you think so?” you press, teasing in your voice.

“No- of course you’re pretty. You’re beautiful,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Aww,” you sit up and press a kiss to his cheek, “So are you, Pete.” You hold on to his shoulder as you lower yourself into his lap, your butt right next to his thighs and your upper body resting on his legs, and his breath hitches. 

“Well if you think I need practice, then.. I could practise on you first.”

“Practise w-what on me?” He asks, feeling your hands on his abs.

“Going down on a guy,” you say, looking up at him. Now the feeling in Peter’s belly changes from raging jealousy into something else of equal passion. He’s thought about you doing that before, (and pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it appeared) but hearing you suggest it makes a new flame of desire light up in him. 

The first conversation you ever had was about sex. But anytime you mention anything sexual, Peter doesn’t know how to act.

“I- I mean. I’m not- I feel like, maybe that’s not—”

“Don’t worry, I’m joking. I won’t actually suck that guy’s dick. I just don’t wanna do this stuff right now,” you sigh, sitting up and closing your textbook.

“How about we do something to distract you for the night, and then tomorrow I’ll help you with the next assignment,” he suggests, relief still flooding through his body, happy that you don’t actually want to suck your professor’s dick.

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course. I’ll always help you when I can but I especially owe you after you did my homework last week when I fell asleep.”

You sit up, “I told you it was no big deal. It was just multiple choice and all I did was copy my answers.”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t woken up then I would have missed the deadline and failed.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. And besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping. I couldn’t wake you up to do some boring computational linguistics quiz at eleven pm.”

Peter smiles at the memory of last week. When he’s with you, he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to spend time with you. But he was tired and you were studying something Peter couldn’t help you with anyway, and he’s so comfortable around you that he just drifted off to sleep because he trusts you – he wouldn’t be okay with being unconscious next to just anyone.

“Well, it was still a very kind thing to do.”

Not sure what you’re doing yet, you go to your dorm room so you can change out of your sweats and into something prettier–even though Peter thinks you could wear sweatpants 24/7, and you’d still outshine everyone. He nearly stays outside but with a confused look you ask him what he’s doing outside and he reluctantly comes in.

Picking out an outfit, you pull off your shirt with no warning and even if he can only see your back an “Oh my God” leaves Peter’s mouth immediately, followed by a quiet, “Sorry,” as he turns around.

“Don’t worry. I’m just changing. It’s just my body, you can look.”

Despite your nonchalant words, Peter can hear your heart beating loudly and frantically in your chest. He tries not to let it get to him, it doesn’t have to mean that you like him. Maybe you’re just realising that you don’t want a boy to see you half-naked after all but you don’t want to say it now after confidently assuring him it was okay. 

Peter sits down on your bed, turned away from you even though it takes all the willpower he can muster.

A few moments later you jump onto the bed next to him, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Do?” He asks, still dazed from seeing your naked back, “Oh do, yeah. Uh yes, we can do something.” 

You giggle, looking at him expectantly. That’s when Peter remembers he was the one who suggested that you go out tonight.

“Oh-well yeah, I was thinking we could take a walk along the river, I heard they have these carnival booths up every Friday night.”

Going out in the evenings has become your and Peter’s thing. Sure, many people–especially college students–go out in the evening. But with you, it feels different. It feels special.

Illuminated by the streetlights and the LED glow from the booths, you and Peter play a few rounds of ring toss and throwing darts at balloons. You both swear it’s rigged because neither of you win anything.

You eat popcorn while Peter gets cotton candy and once again you hold Peter’s hand throughout most of your trip. It’s become a habit of yours, apparently meaningless as a romantic gesture, but platonically it means everything to Peter. You like him enough to constantly initiate physical touch; plus, he’s never seen you hold hands with any of your other friends.

Still, Peter is forever wishing for more. Sometimes he looks at you and wonders how he’s managed not to kiss you yet. But his fear grows with every day; the closer you get the harder it will be to confess his feelings because the risk of ruining something beautiful keeps getting bigger. 

He’s never been this attracted to anyone but he also thinks he’s never had a friendship as good as yours. He simply can’t risk something good, something beautiful, something that makes him as happy as he’s ever been. Your friendship is strong but he’s scared you wouldn’t be able to come back from Peter confessing his feelings for you and you not feeling the same.

It could weird you out, you could take pity on Peter and see him in a different light, or worst of all, you could think he’s been taking advantage of you. He’s never touched you anywhere that would be reserved only for a lover but you two are quite close. You’ve cuddled a few times, or just a few hours ago you were changing in front of him – he doesn’t want you thinking he intentionally got any sexual gratification out of it and for you to view him differently.

He already feels bad enough when nothing but the image of you clouds his thoughts whenever he jerks off. He can’t help it anymore. He used to be able to think of something else or simply watch porn but now that he’s with you so often and you’re so perfect, you’re like an intrusive thought; whenever he’s naked, there’s nothing on his mind but you, just like when a song is stuck in your head – there’s no easy way of getting rid of it.

Peter has never been one to feel shame after masturbating. But if you only liked him as a friend and ever found out what he thinks about when he’s fucking his fist late at night, he doesn’t even want to know what your opinion of him would change into. But the mental image of you alone makes Peter cum so hard, over and over, that he can’t stop, even if guilt plagues him right after as he cleans up the mess he’s made.

He looks down at your intertwined hands while you’re walking home across campus. He wonders what you’d do if you knew that the hand you’re holding right now jerks Peter off every night without fail, thinking precisely of how your hand could replace Peter’s.

On your way home, you walk past a frat house, the vibration of the music reaching Peter’s chest even from the outside.

“Shit, Chloe told me about this party. I forgot I said I’d be there.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s one of my friends from an Oceanography class. Do you mind if we go in? Just for half an hour.”

It’ll definitely distract Peter from thinking about you in a way that he’s not sure you’d be comfortable with.

You’re dragged away by some of your girlfriends as soon as you enter. They all say something about Peter but you quickly shrug off what they’re saying about you two always being together. He can’t tell if it’s a genuine no or just that feeling of embarrassment that you get when your friends tease you about your crush.

So your friends see it too? The indescribable chemistry between you two? Even with his enhanced hearing, he can’t hear the rest of your conversation because some of his own friends are urging him to go play beer pong with them.

Peter sees you every twenty minutes or so and you wave or smile at him and check up on him every time you walk past. Spending time with your other friends is good for both of you, but it’s also good to know that he’s still on your mind, just like you’re on his.

“Help me find the bathroom,” you tell Peter the next time you see him. He’s getting a little bored at this party so he assumes you also want to escape.

You walk into the bathroom together and Peter doesn’t realise that you actually just need to pee until he sees you contemplating on pulling your underwear down or not, “Can you wait outside?”

“Of course.”

Peter has no interest in being in the bathroom with you while you pee, but the fact that you nearly let him stay in there with you shows him once again how comfortable you are around him. He’s smiling like an idiot, standing by the wall opposite the bathroom until he hears your “You can come in.”

After you’ve washed your hands you sit on the edge of the bathtub and pat the space next to you for Peter to join you and you chat about whatever comes to your mind. So you did want a break from the party too, and Peter is glad to provide that.

“What song is that?” Peter asks. The music is loud enough for you to clearly hear it even upstairs in the bathroom.

“I don’t know, I’ll shazam it. You’re right, it sounds good.”

When you unlock your phone the screen is filled with the picture of a vibrator. You ignore it and go to Shazam the song, but Peter can’t let you off like that.

You always get to tease him so he smirks when he can finally get you back, “Wait wait wait,” he takes your phone from you, lifting it high in case you want to take it from him.

“What is this?” He asks, smiling, teasing you lovingly and in good fun but you look at him as if he’s talking about the most boring thing ever, not embarrassed in the slightest, but once more, that could be a good sign; another sign of your close relationship.

“Oh, it’s this vibrator. But it’s way too expensive for me.”

Peter licks his lips, trying not to freak out. He doesn’t know why he thought talking to you about a vibrator would be a good idea. But he tries to appear as calm as you, “Why is it expensive? What’s so special about it?”

“Well, it basically sucks your clit. But I don’t want to spend over 100 dollars on something like that when I can just go out and find a guy to suck my clit within like five minutes. It’s all those guys on campus think about, I swear. I’m glad you’re not like that, Pete” you smile at him and put your head on his shoulder, completely catching him off guard with your words.

He won’t be able to jerk off without thinking about you for days now; meaning he won’t be able to jerk off for days. Do you mean you’d hate knowing that Peter thinks about you sexually or do you just mean that there’s no pressure with Peter? And that any other male friend would have asked for sex by now?

Peter knows he’s not a perv, but he doesn’t know if you’d say the same if you knew you were the protagonist of his spank bank. 

“Wait, actually, a friend told me they’re way cheaper if you buy them in-store and they’ll have more to choose from... will you go with me?” You ask him with a big fake pout.

“To a.. a sex shop?”

“I don’t want to go alone. And you’re my best friend.”

He can’t say no to you after you call him that, even if having a constant reminder of what you use to masturbate is going to kill him.

“O-okay. But why can’t you just go with your friend?”

“I’m not as comfortable around her as I am around you. Unless you really don’t want to.”

“No no I’ll go,” he nods and you grin.

“I’m sure they’ll have something for you too,” you say with raised eyebrows. And even though his hand and the thoughts about you make him cum hard and fast enough that he doesn’t feel like he needs a sex toy, your words help him feel a little less guilty. You telling him to go buy a sex toy suggests that you’re not grossed out when thinking of him masturbating, so maybe you’d understand that he’s got to do what he’s got to do sometimes, and you actually wouldn’t completely hate him if you found out what goes on in Peter’s mind when he jerks off.

“But we’re not going before we finish our assignment.”

“Deal,” you shake his hand with a laugh and join your friends downstairs to play the last few rounds of drinking games before you go home.

You’re good, but the other team is better. 

You didn’t really want to drink tonight and are only playing for fun but Peter likes following the rules so someone has to have the drinks. You assure him he doesn’t have to but Peter downs all the drinks for you and the ones for himself, relying on his enhanced abilities to drink them like water. He has one drink and then five more and when you two leave the party he realises he’s drunk.

You insist on taking him to your room to make sure he’s okay but Peter is a funny drunk so he doesn’t feel too bad. If he gets to sleep in your bed he could never feel bad, and knowing you you would never offer if you weren’t okay with it.

“I like when you take care of me,” Peter smiles at you when you tuck him into bed and he takes your hand in his, “And I like when we hold hands.”

“I like it too,” you kiss his forehead and Peter practically swoons. You were holding his hand the whole way back home from the party, like one of those people keeping a toddler on a leash and he’ll probably be embarrassed tomorrow morning but right now he’s just grateful for the constant affection.

You seem no bit annoyed that you have to deal with a drunk Peter, you’re just spending time with your best friend (he hasn’t stopped thinking about you calling him that) who happens to be drunk.

“Will you need a bucket?” You ask as you pull down your skirt and leave on your cropped shirt.

“A what?” He asks, heart beating harder as he stares at your half-naked form.

“Do you think you’ll throw up?” You ask.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

When you walk over to the bed Peter sees everything in slow motion. You stand next to the bed for a few seconds, tapping on your phone, and Peter admires your beautiful body while he can.

“You know how much I love your legs? They look so good,” he says, and he can’t tell if he’s embarrassingly drunk right now or not. He just knows that your legs are perfect. You’re perfect. And that’s something his sober self would wholeheartedly agree with.

You smile and turn off the lights, leaving the window open so Peter can get some fresh air but it also leaves enough light for Peter to admire your legs some more.

“Scoot over,” you tell him and get in bed with him.

“No, you don’t understand how incredible your legs are.” He gets one last glance at them before you pull the blanket over your body.

“Thank you, Peter,” you smile, and he sees by the crinkles next to your eyes that it’s genuine and maybe you don’t hate him looking at your body as much as he’s been worrying you would.

You talk a little more but minutes later the conversation consists more of yawning than talking and Peter sobers up when he realises he will be sleeping next to you. It’s his first time sleeping in a woman’s bed, and he’s glad it’s yours.

He’s taken naps next to you and there was that one time you slept next to each other on the sofa, but this is different. You’re alone in your room, right next to each other, in one bed, sharing one blanket. He can feel the warmth of your half-naked body and before he knows it your familiar presence calms him down enough to fall asleep quickly.

*

When Peter wakes up next to you the following morning, it takes a few moments for it to all come back to him.

He knows there’s no way you slept with each other, Peter was kinda drunk, neither of you have even confessed any feelings and you wouldn’t have a one night stand the first time you have sex. 

But when he gently lifts the blanket, making sure he doesn’t wake you up, he’s met with the sight of your lovely belly and heavenly thighs, and Peter thinks from the outside it could look like you had sex. 

Not that anyone is going to see, but two hormonal college students, both half-naked, waking up next to each other.. It screams something obvious and that thing is not that you two are merely friends.

The thought of it alone makes Peter flustered and he shifts uncomfortably. His eyes widen when he realises that his morning wood is pushed right against your ass. He pulls his hips back as quickly as he can, waking you up in the process.

You’re facing away from him, and the first thing you notice is your and Peter’s interlaced hands. His cheeks warm up as he notices them too. His arm is resting above your head on the pillow, fingers next to your face where they’re loosely intertwined with yours.

He doesn’t remember waking up in the night, so you must have somehow ended up holding hands in your sleep, both finding your way to the other even while unconscious.

You squeeze his hand and twist your body to look at Peter’s face. “Hi,” you mumble, smiling sleepily.

“Hi,” Peter says, opening his mouth minimally just in case he has bad morning breath.

Your eyes flit across his face with a look he can’t decipher. “Goodnight,” you say a few seconds later and you lie back down in your tired daze, pushing against Peter and pulling his arm over your waist.

“Wait,” you turn around again, “Are you okay? Got a hangover or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. Go back to sleep,” he smiles, partially because he knows you still need rest but also because he wants you to go back to sleep so he can take care of himself. It’s becoming painful how hard he is.

“Okay. But stay, you’re warm.”

He most definitely is warm, he knows he’s blushing like crazy.

You pull the blanket further up your body and scoot back against Peter, and the way your ass pushes against his crotch nearly makes him moan. He doesn't know how you're not noticing what's going on.

He scoots his hips back as far as he can and waits a few minutes until you’ve drifted off to sleep again. He carefully removes himself from you and goes to your bathroom. You have a bathtub, big enough for both of you, he thinks, with a showerhead on the wall.

Before he can even bring himself to care about the temperature, Peter turns on the water and pulls his clothes off in a hurry, wrapping a hand around himself before he’s even really in the shower.

He leans a hand against the wall, resting his head against it as his other hand speeds up, jerking himself off while he thinks about you in the other room. You, so pretty, so caring, so sexy in just your underwear and a short shirt. You, not knowing that Peter is about to cum in your shower, so close to you, thinking about you.

The water is only barely louder than the sound his hand makes against his cock, and he bites his lip to stop any moans from coming out.

Peter cums when he hears the squeaking of your bed; you’re getting up, you could walk in any second. While he cums, Peter’s mind wanders to you on your knees, his dick sliding in and out of your mouth as you look up at him with your gorgeous eyes.

He washes his cum off the bathroom tiles on the wall and tries to wash the guilty feeling off himself.

Suddenly the door opens slightly, “Hey can I come in? I won’t look, I just wanna brush my teeth.”

Peter makes sure to slide the shower door to the side so it’s covering him and he tells you to come in.

He peeks out of the shower and you smile at him through the mirror. He catches your eyes drifting lower but you can barely even make out the outline of Peter’s body through the frosted glass. 

Peter casts his own glance at you and how you’re still not wearing anything but panties and that short shirt. You stretch your arms, still trying to shake the tired feeling, and your shirt lifts so that Peter can already see the flesh of your tits. But you stop stretching just before your top lifts over your nipples and he quickly turns to look at the wall in the shower instead.

He quickly washes himself using your shower gel, maybe he’ll smell just like you now.

You hand Peter a towel just at the right moment and he wraps it around himself before stepping out of the shower.

“Wait, leave it on,” you tell him.

In his still horny brain a scenario plays out where you said that a few moments earlier and joined Peter in the shower.

This time you don’t tell him if it’s okay for him to look while you’re changing so he diverts his gaze before you slip out of your clothes.

You squeal when you get in the shower, “Peter, why is it so cold? What’s wrong with you?” 

He must not have realised how cold it was, but once he got into the shower he only cared about coming, and he blocked everything else out. By the time he was washing his body, he must have become used to the temperature already and didn’t notice.

Peter brushes his teeth with his second toothbrush that he’s got in your bathroom and quickly goes into your bedroom so he won’t be in the same room as you while you’re naked and he’s only got a towel wrapped around him.

You come out dressed in the clothes you took into the bathroom with you.

“Sorry that I used your shower,” Peter says, sitting on your bed with nothing but your towel.

“You’re welcome here whenever and welcome to use whatever, you know that. But showering that cold should be a crime,” you smile at him, “Should I get you some clothes?”

You go to Peter’s room to get clothes for him and he changes into them in your bathroom.

“I know it’s the weekend but can we get that assignment done today? I wanna go buy my vibrator soon,” you pout.

Peter forgot all about that. How is he supposed to study with you if he knows you’ll go out together to buy a sex toy after?

But somehow he manages. Well, you realise you can do it mostly by yourself once you properly start and Peter is only there for moral support (even though he’s the one who needs moral support; he doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, pretend that he didn’t just jerk off while thinking of you and pretend that it–by far–wasn’t the first time.)

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask Peter as you’re both on your way to buy your stupid vibrator that Peter would love to replace.

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but your worried look tells him he looks exactly as nervous from the outside as he feels. He’s never been to a sex shop. Are they going to ID you? Are you going to meet someone you know? Is it going to be all dingy?

Normally, you’re like an anchor to Peter, your presence can make him feel comfortable in situations that would usually make him panic. But in this situation, you’re making him even antsier. Not in a way that he would describe as anxious but more like a, he’s scared he’ll get a boner any second. That’s always a risk when he’s with you but that risk quadruples when you’re going to a sex shop to buy a vibrator for yourself.

You stop Peter in his tracks and stand in front of him to wipe his sweaty forehead with your sleeve, his heart beating even faster now. “You know you don’t have to come in if it makes you that nervous. But it’s just a shop.”

“What? Yeah I’m fine, pff, like so fine. I’m just hot,” Peter says, watching your eyes go to the thick winter coat Peter is wearing. You’re wearing one too. Even in his jacket, Peter could do with a bit more warmth.

“Here,” you unzip his jacket, and even if it’s only to assist Peter with his stupid lie, you’re still undressing him. You’re not helping the boner risk decrease at all.

The shop is classy and clean and the employees leave you alone (unlike when you dragged Peter to Lush that one time and he was forced to try out bath bombs and oil that he didn’t know the purpose of).

Now he can tell you’re flustered too, just a little bit. Holding on to Peter’s arm the whole time, you find what you need, pay, and put your gloves on top of the packaged vibrator just in case anyone decides to look in your bag.

Even though it’s a Saturday afternoon, the shops aren’t busy so you go to look for some new clothes. Peter thinks you could wear a potato sack and you’d still look pretty, so he’s not the best judge when you come out of the dressing rooms to ask for his opinion on whatever clothes you’re trying on.

“This is so ugly, oh my god,” he hears you from inside the dressing room, laughing.

You pop your head out behind the curtain to make sure no one sees you as you show Peter a top that, yes–even on you, looks ugly. You still look gorgeous, that’s for sure, but even your perfect face and body can’t save the Shrek-coloured thing that is supposed to be a t-shirt.

“You know, you’re the only one who’s allowed to see me in something as ugly as this,” you say absentmindedly as you go back to try on something else and Peter’s heart beats faster at your words.

It might sound ridiculous to an outsider, but to Peter these little things mean the world.

He might not be able to tell if what you feel for him is platonic or more, but he knows you feel something for him. You feel a lot for him. He feels it every time you so much as look at him. 

With you, Peter feels loved.

The love you give him feels like it’s supposed to be for a lover, supposed to be for that one special person. And the lines between friendship and more are so blurry in your relationship that he can’t tell how much is spilling onto the romantic side already.

Peter contemplates paying for your new jeans but in the end, he’s too awkward (and too broke) in front of the cashier to interrupt when you get out your money. Besides things like cinema tickets, drinks and food, Peter has never paid for anything that you bought and it would feel very boyfriend-y.

You get food on your way home and by the time you’re in Peter’s room, it’s dark outside already. Peter was surprised that you even came to his room and when he keeps noticing you looking at the bag with your new toy in it, his assumption that you’d rather be doing something else now is confirmed.

You’ve been so casual when you talk about things like vibrators and getting off, but Peter has never had the courage to properly contribute anything to the conversation. But he decides to put on his big boy pants and before he can chicken out he nods towards his door and says, “Go on, try out your vibrator. I know you’re dying to.”

You give him a charming and apologetic smile, snatching your bag, ready to go. “I’d love to spend time with you, you know that but–”

“I know. But we have enough time for that tomorrow. Just don’t break your–” Don’t break what? Don’t break your pussy? Your clit? He’s never said any of those words out loud.

“I won’t,” you help him out and climb on the bed again to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Pancakes as always?”

“Pancakes as always,” Peter smiles, feeling himself blush, “Text me your review of the toy,” he says before you leave.

“I will,” you smile back at him, wave, and close the door.

Peter waits a few moments until he thinks you’ve arrived at your door. Are you going to throw yourself on your bed as soon as you get in? Shower first? Are you going to slowly take off all your clothes, caress your body to turn yourself on? Seduce yourself? Or are you going to push your pants down just a few inches and shove the vibrator between your legs?

Whatever you’re doing, thinking of any of those scenarios makes Peter hard immediately; that, and the tension from today that he can finally release.

He moves to the side of the bed that you were just lying on, and the sheets still smell like you.

Peter unbuckles his belt and pushes down his jeans, grabbing himself through his boxers and instantly feeling a sense of relief.

He imagines you lying in your bed, right now, two fingers between your legs. You’re so wet from being with Peter, the guy you’re into, all day, that your fingertips easily glide over your skin.

Peter shifts and runs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum. The warm, familiar pressure is already building up in Peter’s body, and he slides his fist up and down himself faster.

In Peter’s mind, you’re spreading your lips now, holding the vibrator against your clit. You jolt at the first contact and smile, knowing you’re about to feel nothing but bliss.

Your body relaxes and you let the vibration take over completely, chasing your orgasm that’s so close after only a minute. You throw your head back when you cum, your eyebrows scrunched together. Your legs start shaking once you can’t take it anymore, but you press the vibrator to your clit during the last few aftershocks.

Peter cums at the same time as you do in his imagination. He’s spilling over his abs and his hands, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He lies in his bed for a few more moments, sighing as he cleans up the mess he just made. He gets a message from you: Had a nice day btw :) Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow <3

He smiles and texts back, too exhausted to feel bad for what he just did.

Tomorrow will be the third day in a row that you’re spending time together and you’re showing no signs of getting tired of him. But at this rate, it seems like Peter will never know what being with you while you orgasm is actually like.

He can be patient, but he doesn’t know if he’s waiting for something that will never happen. 

He doesn’t even care about the sex, he just wants to hold your hand and know what it means, know that it means that you’re in a romantic relationship.

He’ll give you all the time you need, that’s all he can do. He simply can’t confess his feelings, he can plan on doing it and dream about it as much as he wants, but when he’s standing in front of you he can’t risk losing you.

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough, and who knows, maybe you’re thinking the exact same thing right now, trying to be brave but you just can’t.

Maybe.

*

Peter knocks at your door the next day, ready to get pancakes like you always do on Sundays. There’s a lot of commotion behind the door and you take a while to open it.

“You’re early,” you say, hair messy and overall dishevelled.

“Am I? I don’t mind waiting,” Peter says.

“I’ve just quickly got to shower, you can go back to your room or wait here, whichever you want.”

“No problem, I’ll just wait here.” Peter feels as if that’s the wrong answer because you don’t exactly look thrilled that he’ll be in your room, but you still let him in with a small smile. He knows that you can’t be mad at him and by the time Peter’s on your bed and you're about to go to the bathroom, you’re giving him a genuine smile and say you won’t be long.

Peter gets out his phone as he hears you turning on the water and he drops to his back on your bed.

Just as he’s about to go on Instagram, he hears a quiet, mechanical whirring. He wouldn’t be able to pick up on it without his enhanced hearing.

He hears how you smack your hand over your mouth, but you’re not quick enough. Peter still heard a tiny moan.

So that’s why you didn’t want Peter coming in. You’ve probably been making yourself cum all night and you weren’t finished with the last round.

Peter sits up and tries to stick his fingers in his ears, but even if he can’t hear you anymore he’s still got the vivid image of you in his head, only a wall separating you two.

He stands up and looks for something to distract himself before he gets hard, but to make things even worse, Peter’s eyes land on a pair of panties next to your bed.

He feels like a perv as he picks them up. He can see your arousal still glistening in them, and it’s like they’re calling out Peter’s name.

He’s about to lift them to his face when he hears you turning off the water. Peter stuffs the panties into his jeans pocket quickly and out of reflex. He stiffly sits on your bed, unsure if he still has enough time to pull your underwear out of his pocket again and throw it under your bed. 

He’s too nervous to hear what you’re doing, his ears ringing, and before he can bring himself to quickly put your underwear back, you’re coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go.

With your innocent rambling about college he manages to calm down but you and your stupid vibrator are still on his mind. But it’s a good thing that you two can talk about stuff like that, so maybe he’ll get his mind off it once he asks you about it.

“So, is it good?” He asks you as you slide into the booth at the place you always go to for pancakes.

“Is what good?”

“Your, your vibrator thing? You didn’t send me a review,” he says.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “It’s so good, oh my god. I’m so glad we don’t have roommates here cause I did it like six times last night. I get why people pay so much for it. I mean it’s supposed to simulate oral sex and I can’t imagine that it feels the same but I guess I’ll find out one day.”

“You always have me if you want to find out how it feels.”

He can only gather the courage to say that because of what you once said about sucking his dick for practice so you could suck Andrew’s dick for a better score. The only difference is that you turned out to be joking, but Peter is serious.

He probably sounds too serious too because you give him a questioning, “Huh?”

“Well- well I’m just saying if you wanna compare your toy to oral sex then I... you know... my tongue is available to you,” he says it exactly how it comes to his mind, unsure if he should make it sound more like a joke.

You laugh, declaring it a joke yourself, “Okay, thanks. You’re so cute.”

It’s not ideal but the fact that you’re not running away from him and gagging shows him that at least the thought of Peter going down on you doesn’t disgust you. The fact that you made a joke about going down on him first, even if that was weeks ago, gives Peter a tiny bit of hope that maybe his instinct has been right all this time. Maybe you do like him back and you just need a bit more time.

“Um, I heard that next week there’s going to be loads of shooting stars. I was thinking we could drive out of the city and go stargazing. I already asked James and he said we can take his car–the truck, it’s big enough for us to lie down in while we look at the sky, it’s going to be warmer next week too and–”

“I’d love to,” you grin.

He mirrors your smile immediately because it actually took a lot of convincing for Peter’s friend James to let Peter have his car. And more importantly, looking at the stars sounds very romantic. He wasn't sure if he should invite you to something so obviously romantic.

What if it makes you realise that Peter likes you and you distance yourself from him because you don’t feel the same?

What if you do feel the same, but you need your time and it’s too early for a date-like activity?

But what if... what if it’s just the right thing?

You hold hands, you’ve slept in a bed together, so Peter doubts you will be freaked out by stargazing. But Peter can already feel the butterflies just thinking about lying under the night sky with you, and what if you don’t?

But maybe Peter is ready for the risk after all. He’ll see if you’re enjoying yourself, try to see in your beautiful eyes if you’re as smitten as him. He's realised that he’ll have to try one day and now that you’ve agreed to his plan, it feels like this is the right timing, the right thing. Maybe he’ll even ask you how you feel, or make a comment about how romantic the situation is.

And if you and Peter belong together, then maybe it’s time for you. He certainly feels that he’s ready. He’s not expecting a kiss, he’s not expecting anything except the tiniest hint that a romantic night with Peter doesn’t leave you cold. That would be more than enough to keep him going for so many more months to come.

He can wait if you need time but he’s just one man and his passion for you burns so brightly inside him that he just needs something, no matter how small it is.

You two walk home, your bellies filled with pancakes and warmth from seeing your person. No matter if it’s platonic or romantic, Peter would be blind if he didn’t see that he makes you happy and how much you glow and grin and his presence. 

You hang out on campus for a bit more but you tell him you still need to study and you’ll see him tomorrow (he tries not to think about how you’re probably lying and are simply going to use your vibrator over and over).

Peter changes into sweats once he gets to his room and as he’s putting his jeans away he notices something pink peeking out of the pocket. Your panties. He completely forgot about them.

He carefully pulls them out, holding them like they’re a sacred treasure.

Making himself comfortable on his bed, he takes a deep breath before bringing your underwear up to his face.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting your arousal to smell like, not like this, but it’s even better. 

It smells heavenly, just like everything else about you.

He bunches your panties up in his hand and presses them against his face, inhaling your scent while he reaches a hand under his sweatpants and strokes himself. 

He’s been hard since he remembered he had your panties and he doesn’t even think about you making yourself wet, your smell alone has him coming undone within seconds.

He does it again before going to bed, this time wrapping the panties around his hand so he’s jerking himself off with them. He bites his t-shirt in an attempt to muffle his moans as the material slides up and down his cock.

He fucks his fist as hard and as fast as he can, his bed starting to squeak from the intensity of it.

Your wetness on your panties has long dried but the thought of your arousal so close to his dick has him–once again–reaching his orgasm pathetically fast. He sighs after he cums, examining the panties to make sure he pulled them away in time and there’s none of his cum on them.

He wants to save them for another time; as many times as they’ll still have your addicting smell on them.

He cleans the mess off himself, his cum ending up in a tissue that he throws into the trash can with all the other tissues. He’ll empty it before you come over the next time.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, the city nothing but a few lights in the rearview mirror. 

You find a spot next to a field, not a soul to be seen anywhere near you. You get the blankets and snacks to make yourselves comfortable in the back of James’s pickup truck that Peter borrowed.

“Look,” you point towards the sky, but Peter misses the shooting star. He goes back to looking at your beautiful face, only to find your eyes already on him.

He feels your hand on the side of his face, pushing his head to face the sky again, “Look at the stars, not at me,” you say and he can hear the grin in your voice. You’re enjoying yourself, and that’s all that matters. You want him to enjoy himself too, not knowing that your face is so much more interesting to look at.

After a few moments of staring into the brightly lit sky–it never looks like this in the polluted city–he has to admit, the night sky isn’t bad either.

It only takes a few seconds until another shooting star races across the sky and you share an excited look, “Did you see that?” You ask.

“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Peter whispers, eyes closed as he wishes for a relationship with you.

You’re still looking at him when he opens his eyes, your gaze intense, eyes flitting across his face.

“Did you make a wish?” Peter asks. You nod and slowly divert your gaze towards the masterpiece of nature above you again.

He can’t shake the feeling that your wish also had something to do with him. Something romantic. He always overthinks and doubts himself but this is one thing he’s sure about.

But the moment is fleeting and Peter doesn’t find the words to say. You’re back to looking at the stars, and he doesn’t want to have to grab your face to kiss you.

He swallows down the disappointment and tries to enjoy the time with you, his dear friend. Not many people have a friendship like yours and at this moment he just tries to be grateful for that.

“Peter?” Your voice is quiet.

“Mhm?”

“I’m so glad we met,” you turn to your side, your whole body facing him now. He can hear the raw emotion in your voice, he thinks he can even see tears in your eyes. That’s what your shared love does to Peter too. He could cry just thinking about it.

“Me too,” he says, reaching for your hand, trying to bring the monstrosity of his feelings into words to let you know that nothing has made him as happy as meeting you, but the words won’t come out. 

“Our friendship means so much to me,” you say, and it stings. In this romantic moment, cuddled up beneath the stars, is that all Peter will ever be to you? A friend?

You continue, “I‘m sorry if I ruin it with what I‘m about to do.”

“What–”

You lean in and kiss Peter.

The world stops. Nothing matters, nothing but your lips on Peter’s. He always thought he’d be overcome with great excitement when you first kiss, an explosion of fireworks in his mind and his insides, but he feels at peace. It simply feels right.

“Did I just ruin our friendship?” You whisper, and it’s then that Peter realises that he barely kissed you back. He was too stunned to.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours over and over.

“You didn’t ruin our friendship, you turned it into something better, so much better. And you know that our friendship is hard to beat,” Peter says.

You let out a laugh of joy, “It is,” and you kiss him again, slinging your arms around his neck to pull him as close as you can.

Your lips are soft, so so soft, and even in the cold night, Peter feels warm because he has your body against his.

“Could you maybe uh… slap me?” Peter asks.

“Um, what?”

“Just so I know I’m not dreaming. Please.”

You pinch his cheek instead and you both smile. Peter’s not waking up. He’s already awake. It’s not a dream, this is actually happening.

The fireworks come after all, an explosion of happiness shooting through his chest when he realises that this is real.

He hugs you tight, as tight as he can without breaking you.

Peter’s heart drops when you pull away and tears stain your cheeks, “What-what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m just so happy.” Your voice breaks as more tears rush down your face but your eyes are full of happiness.

Tonight, Peter was hoping for a hint that maybe in the future you see something more than friendship between you two too. What he got was all of you. A confession of your feelings, a raw exposure of your deepest emotions, vulnerability. But you trust him. And he’s so glad you do. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and safe and comfortable. 

He starts crying too, just a few tears, either because he’s seeing you cry or because it’s the first time in his life that he’s ecstatic enough to experience happy tears—he’s been waiting for this for so long, unsure if it would ever even happen. All the doubt from the last months tumbles away – none of it matters anymore. You kissed him. 

“I really want to blow my nose but I don’t want to leave you,” Peter sniffles.

You look at him, “Go blow your nose, Peter.”

“Okay.”

“I have some tissues in my bag.”

You keep your hand on Peter’s leg while he reaches for your bag and half a minute later you’re reunited again with you lying in Peter’s arms.

You drove all the way to look at the stars but you can’t keep your eyes off each other, never going more than a minute without kissing. It takes a few more minutes for you to pretend that the stars are more interesting than Peter, and you straddle him once you decide you can’t go any longer without being as close to him as possible.

Peter wraps his arms around your waist, enjoying your weight on him. The kisses turn from pecks into something more, but it’s soft and unhurried. You’re taking your time with Peter, savouring the feel of him while Peter takes it all, takes all you give him.

Your wet mouths on each other is the only sound far and wide; even mother nature is quiet as you kiss Peter in the back of this truck, out in the country with no one else around.

You shift, your lips never leaving Peter’s, and start grinding against him, slowly.

He squeezes your waist harder as it becomes difficult to control himself. The only thing stopping him from ruining his pants is the fact that you’re both wearing jeans, so you’re narrowly missing Peter’s hardness, doing what feels good for you.

You stop abruptly with horror in your eyes and Peter strokes your back, “Everything okay? Why’d you stop?”

You look down, a bashful smile on your lips, “I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

Peter stops himself from groaning. He’s getting more turned on with every passing second.

“You don’t have to stop on my behalf.”

After two seconds of contemplation, you kiss Peter again, adjusting your position. You both gasp into each other’s mouths when you’ve perfectly aligned your bodies, and they start moving perfectly in tune with one another.

“I’ve been dreaming of having you on top of me for so long,” Peter says, hands now on your hips, feeling your every movement.

“And I’ve wanted to be on top of you.. for so long,” you’re distracted, pushing yourself up with your hands on Peter’s chest, your voice faltering as you hold in a moan.

Peter feels incredible – everything you do makes him feel incredible. 

So incredible that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t cum yet, but he’s trying so hard not to.

He nearly moans when you grab his hoodie harder and you whimper, “I’m so close.”

One hand is at your jeans, trying to undo the buttons but you can’t, too lost in pleasure.

“Peter, unbutton my jeans,” you say–or rather whimper, “Please.”

And even though he’s on the brink of coming, nothing matters more than your orgasm right now, so he quickly fumbles with the buttons and opens them, your hand disappearing down your pants immediately.

Peter grabs the backs of your thighs as you cum on top of him, your face more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, so pretty and so vulnerable just for him. He cums at the same time as you, trying to hide it but his hips push up against yours nevertheless.

You let yourself fall to Peter’s side, hiking your leg up over his lap. Peter puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Did you uh..” you look up at him, half teasing him, half unsure if it even happened.

Peter drags a hand over his face, “Yeah… I.. came in my pants.”

“Oh,” you try not to laugh, “Sorry.”

He looks at you, “No, don’t apologise, that was one of the best moments of my life.”

You give him baby wipes from your bag while you pack the stuff and wait for him in the car. He reluctantly hands you the baby wipes when he gets in next to you, looking at your lap.

“What?” You ask.

“I’ve known how you smell for nearly a week now and I don’t know how much longer I can go without having a taste of you.” He’s thinking about your panties, safely stored in his room but they’ve lost even the last traces of your smell.

You follow Peter’s eyes towards your crotch and figure out what he’s talking about, “How… how do you know how I smell?” 

Shit. 

He forgot that you’re not supposed to know that. 

But maybe, subconsciously, he said it on purpose so he can get any secrets out before you two get serious. Or maybe he’s just a dumbass, but he’s trying to look at the bright side. He’s not capable of any negative feelings when you just kissed him.

“Peter?” You ask. You don’t sound mad, you’re just curious.

“I uh, I took a pair of underwear from your room,” he starts.

“The pink ones? I’ve been looking for them.”

“Yeah, they’re pink. And it was the day after you got that clit sucking toy thing so I kept imagining you using it and then the smell made it so much more real…” he says, head hanging low in shame. You still don’t sound mad or grossed out but you haven’t heard all of it yet.

“Go on.”

“I used your underwear to um… jerk off,” he doesn’t meet your eyes until he hears your next words.

“That’s kind of hot,” you bury a hand in his hair, looking at him like you want to eat him up.

“R-really? You’re not mad?”

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him and Peter feels his blush up to his ears.

“I do want my panties back though.”

He tells you you’ll get them back and starts the engine to drive back.

“Wait,” you say, “Didn’t you want a taste?”

He immediately stops the car and leans over. 

“I- well, I didn’t get a chance to get that wet but..”

“I’ll take anything,” Peter pleads.

You kiss his nose and unbutton your jeans, your fingers disappearing beneath them. He hears the wetness and is hard at once. And that’s when you didn’t have a chance to get that wet? You pull two glistening fingers out and bring them in front of his lips.

His cheeks heat up when he leans forward to take them into his mouth. 

He moans at the taste. Sweet yet tangy. He wants to bury his face in you immediately; but you seem tired and he’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that another time.

Peter pulls you close and kisses you, he’s not that good with words so he hopes his tongue in your mouth tells him how much he wants you. It doesn’t have to be now, he just wants you to know.

“I like you.” It slips out of Peter’s mouth when you pull away from the kiss but his words make you connect your lips to his again.

“I like you too,” you smile, nearly laughing because it should probably have been obvious to Peter as soon as you kissed him. Leaning back in your seat in content, you look at Peter with those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Those four little words could make him cry happy tears again but he pulls himself together when you turn on one of your favourite songs and he turns away when you use the baby wipes. 

Before he drives you two home, a thought pops into Peter’s head; a thought that he’s had time and time again and he has to make sure that you know exactly how he likes you.

“But I um… I want you to know that I really do like you, as a person, romantically. I– of course I enjoyed what just happened–you have no idea just how much–”

“I think it was obvious how much you enjoyed it, Peter,” you interrupt him with a teasing smile that makes him blush and stutter for a few seconds before he continues.

“So, while, of course, I’m into you sexually, the emotional and romantic part is so much more important to me, and I need you to know that. But I’ve had so many sexual thoughts about you and, now that I’ve told you that I had your underwear and everything–”

“So you feel bad that you’ve had sexual thoughts about me?” You sum it up and Peter closes his mouth and nods.

“Well, don’t. Peter, in the last month I’ve spent every minute away from you with my fingers between my legs, imagining–wishing they were yours. I’m glad I was not the only one, it’s nice to hear that you’ve been as affected as I’ve been.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember that time when you said how all guys on campus just think with their dicks and how I’m different from them but I’m really not that different. If I’m not thinking about hugging you or thinking about your smile, then I’m always thinking about getting in your pants. And that is a lot of the time. And I’m sure that, even if you’ve thought about me in that way too, I’ve thought about you way more and I just need to know if you think I’m a perv or something.”

“Peter, hey,” you cup his cheek, “I don’t think that. And you don’t think with your dick. You just said you’ve wanted me for months and you didn’t even kiss me. You’re the opposite of those guys that have nothing but sex on their minds so that they can’t even think straight and ruin friendships with girls. You didn’t do that. You thought about my and your feelings and about our connection rather than getting in my pants.”

“But I did think a lot about getting into your pants,” he sighs.

“I thought about you getting into my pants too. That’s fine. That’s the beauty of liking someone, there’s not just the romantic side but also the sexual side. But you didn’t let the sexual side control you and you cared about my feelings first and foremost. Don’t feel bad for thinking about having sex with me, I’m glad you do. But you do so much more than that. You’re nothing like those guys.”

“I’m not like the other guys?” Peter laughs and then kisses you. (He still can’t believe he’s been kissing you all night). You shake your head, reassuring him.

Hearing you say that helps him immensely. He never felt bad about imagining what having sex with you would be like. It was the fact that it was without your knowledge and he had no idea if you’d be grossed and creeped out if you knew about it because you only saw him as a friend. He was scared of making you uncomfortable if you ever found out.

But you’ve found out now and you’re not just saying that it’s okay for him to think about that, but that you have thoughts about it too. (And now his thoughts are going to be even better, knowing that you might be thinking the same thing as him and his fantasies might turn into more than just fantasies).

The journey back has both of you smiling; what just happened still seems unreal, but every shared grin reminds Peter that it really did happen.

It breaks Peter’s heart when he delivers you back to your room, but he can tell you need sleep and he’s not exactly wide awake either. You kiss him like you mean it and you don’t pull away until you’re breathless.

When he gets to his room, Peter quickly puts your panties in his laundry basket so he won’t forget, and then he throws himself onto his bed and squeals loudly. He doesn’t care if anyone hears, he’s happy and he doesn’t mind if people know.

He gets a message from his next-door neighbour Brian:

Bro, you okay?

I heard a weird noise

He texts back: Y/n kissed me :)))))

Brian: About time, happy for you!

Peter considers going over to talk to his friend and tell him all about tonight. He’s tired but there’s no way he’ll sleep now anyway.

He then gets a phone call from you, and he picks up immediately.

“Peter?”

His face drops at your unsure voice. Did you change your mind?

“Yeah?”

“Did… did that really happen?” He thinks he can hear something positive in your voice but it’s hard to tell over the phone.

“It did.”

“Oh,” you say, “Good. I’m having a hard time believing it actually happened. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

He smiles again immediately, “Trust me, it hasn’t fully sunken in yet for me either.”

“Do you maybe wanna come over?” You ask, “I know it’s late but it’s the weekend so..”

He jumps to his feet and sets off instantly, “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that before.”

You giggle, “Me neither. I guess I was tired, but I’ll just be thinking about you all night anyway.”

You stay on the phone with him until he’s at your door, pulling him in for a kiss before he’s even in your room.

You push Peter onto the bed, lie on top of him, and hug him so tight that he can barely breathe. This would be the best way to go.

You’re both exhausted yet excited and interrupt each other with a kiss every few minutes while you’re talking about anything that comes to your mind.

“How long have you liked me?” You ask.

Peter smiles as he thinks back to the first time you met, “You made me nervous from the start because you’re so pretty, and then we talked about such personal things the first time we met. But I didn’t realise just how attracted to you I was until class a few days later when you were laughing about Professor Garfield’s jokes and talking about his ass.”

You pout and cup Peter’s cheek, “And then later I even made that joke about sucking his dick for a better score. Aw no, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “You just came on top of me and not him.”

You hide your face in his neck at the reminder that you just nearly had sex with Peter outside. His hand rubs over your back as if he’s not blushing at the thought of it.

“When did you start liking me?” He asks and you lift your head again.

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you and then when we talked in the kitchen I knew I’d have to keep you because I immediately felt comfortable around you. And then… I don’t know. You just did your thing. And then my heart did its thing too.”

“I’m glad my charm worked on you.”

“It worked wonders,” you push yourself up on your hands and kiss Peter again, staying on top of him for a while until his lips feel sore.

“But regardless of this romantic… and sexual side,” you shyly smile at each other, “I meant what I said. Our friendship means a lot to me. And I’m glad we became friends before anything else.”

“Me too.”

He knows what you mean. Being friends allowed you two to get comfortable around each other first without any pressure to do things to make you attractive to the other person. Now you have a solid base of trust and you know each other; you don’t have to worry about only showing your best sides like other couples do in the beginning stages. You know each other inside out, (except for the fact that you’ve liked each other for a while — but that’s different), the good, the bad, the ugly – yet you’re still choosing each other. Happily so. 

You both lie on your sides, Peter’s hand reaching over to rest on your hip. He can’t help but smile the whole time.

“Were you planning to kiss me? Or was it spontaneous?”

“I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to kiss you for months now, but for some reason it never occurred to me to make the first move. I was pretty sure you like me but the time went on and you didn’t make a move and I got scared that I’d ruin our friendship if I totally misinterpreted everything and you didn’t like me back. 

“And I would have never forgiven myself for that. But when we were lying in the back of that truck, underneath the stars, I don’t know, it was so romantic and you were looking at me with so much adoration that there’s no way I wouldn’t have kissed you. My heart was leading me, I only gathered the courage because my body did what it knew I had to do, I was not in control at that moment, but I guess sometimes it’s good to give up control. But it was definitely spontaneous.”

Peter leans down so his face is right in front of your chest and he whispers, “Thank you, heart,” to which he hears your gorgeous laugh. Your whole body moves with your giggles, pushing your chest even closer to his face. It takes a second for him to get the willpower to pull his face away again.

You connect your lips to his a few more times, Peter’s heart fluttering with every passing second.

“Just so you know, I have liked you all this time, you were right. But I felt the same as you and you’re the most important person to me so I didn’t want to take even the slightest risk when it came to us. There were times when I thought our friendship would even survive me confessing my feelings and you not feeling the same, but by not telling you there was always the hope that you did like me. 

“But if I told you and you didn’t feel the same, even if our friendship survived, it wouldn’t have mattered because it would have broken my heart into a million pieces. And I couldn’t put myself through that-”

“I’d never do that. I’ll take good care of your heart, Peter.”

“I know you will.”

You share a small kiss, Peter intertwining your hands.

“Okay, looking back, I probably should have known that you like me as more than a friend. Your love for my legs gave it away, but at the time I didn’t realise-”

“How do you know that I love your legs?” Peter asks as he turns red, looking at your thighs and resisting the urge to put his hand on one of them.

“When you were drunk, you told me how much you love them. You were basically drooling because of them.”

“Oh.. I don’t remember that. But I do love them.”

“I know,” you smile as you place one of his hands on your thigh and he squeezes the flesh.

You lie next to each other for a while, breath evening out and Peter thinks you’ve fallen asleep until he hears your voice, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I still can‘t believe that this is actually happening. It‘s like when you‘re at a concert and you don‘t realise that you‘re seeing your favourite artist live and in person, and afterwards you still haven’t realised, and you never really get how lucky you were.”

Peter turns to his side to face you, his tired brain taking a while to answer, but he’s satisfied with what he says, “But a concert only happens once, and we‘ll be together forev— a long time. And longterm. We have plenty of time to realise that it‘s real. Maybe we‘ll realise if you kiss me again.”

You grin immediately and lean in to connect your mouth to Peter’s.

He understands what you’re saying, he can’t quite believe it either. It’s been too long for it to be a dream, he knows that it’s real, but it’ll take a few days for him to realise that he really is the luckiest person on earth. 

He’s grateful that you two have something so beautiful that it nearly feels impossible.

You touch each other for a bit, not sexually, you’re just touching each other’s skin, realising more and more that this is reality.

You lazily make out for a few more minutes until Peter drifts off into the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had, with you in his arms.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡ 

It’s been a few weeks since that one eventful night and you’re spending even more time with each other than before. Making out with you has become Peter’s new hobby.

He loves that you’re experiencing all your sexual firsts together. You haven’t actually done anything more than kiss since the night under the stars, and he’s more than happy to be patient if you need it but he’s looking forward to more.

“Is it okay if we don’t go all the way yet?” You ask him while you’re both hydrating and eating fruit between makeout sessions, “I definitely want to soon, but maybe not… not yet.”

Peter pulls you on top of his lap and holds you, “We established that the very first time we met, didn’t we? Of course it’s okay if we wait.”

“Okay,” you kiss him, “I don’t mean that we can’t do anything though.”

Peter licks his lips when he realises you’re planning something. You push Peter’s chest so he lies on his back and you slot your hips over his. His eyes flutter shut when he feels your mouth on the special spot on his neck and you slowly start grinding on him.

He grabs your hips and opens his eyes again when you stop kissing him to focus on that sweet place between your legs rubbing against Peter.

You stop when your eyes meet, “You have to close your eyes.”

“I wanna see you though.”

“It’s different from the first time, we’re not out during the night. And the position’s uncomfortable.”

“Then let’s change it.”

He’s already hard and if you continue like that he won’t take much longer; but your pleasure is more important to him so he pulls his sweat shorts further up his leg and lifts you onto his thigh. 

Your eyes go down and you realise what he wants you to do, “But you–”

“Shh, this is about you right now, okay? And I’ll cum as soon as you do anyway so don’t worry about me. This okay?”

He sees how his words give you confidence and you nod, letting yourself fully sit down on his thigh. Peter knew he liked your pretty skirt for more than aesthetic reasons because the only thing between your warm pussy and Peter’s skin is your underwear. He could cum from the feeling of your wet heat through your panties alone, but he tries to focus on making you breathless with his kisses once you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face close.

He holds you as you rock yourself on his thigh, becoming surer in your movements after a while, finding what feels best for you. Peter instinctively flexes the muscles in his thigh when you change your position slightly, and your little gasp tells him to continue doing it.

Your wetness slowly but surely drenches your panties and reaches Peter’s skin. You grab his shirt hard and bury your other hand in his hair, pulling. Peter tries bouncing his leg up and down and is rewarded with the sweetest moan coming from your mouth, followed by a gasp and a whispered: “I’m gonna cum.”

Your legs get weaker while you’re coming but, through his own approaching orgasm, Peter pushes your hips in whatever direction you want them to go and together you try to savour your highs for as long as possible. 

Out of breath, you’re still holding onto Peter tightly. As your hand in his hair slowly lets go, you press a kiss to his head, your hand on his shirt easing too as you smooth down the material.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask carefully but Peter shakes his head and purses his lips for you to give him a kiss, and you smile when you do.

“Oh, wait did you really cum?” You’re glancing down at the wet spot on his pants but your eyes widen when you get off him and realise how much you leaked onto his thigh yourself.

“I don’t know how I couldn’t cum when I have the prettiest, sexiest woman in the world having an orgasm on my lap.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, hiding your face from him while your cheeks heat up. You get off him and he goes to the bathroom to clean up.

You’re absentmindedly biting your lip when Peter comes back and he pulls you out of your daydream with a kiss.

“Do you wanna eat my pussy?”

Peter freezes for a second and then jumps onto the bed. You laugh, “Wait, I need a break first.”

“Okay,” he sits down next to you and swallows. He’s hard already just from the thought of going down on you. He couldn’t be happier that you want him to do it, he’s had daydreams (well, he’s mostly thought about it during nighttime) about it so many times.

“Do you want me to give you a massage?” He asks. It’s something you’ve done for him countless times and he doesn’t return the favour as often as he’d want to because your massages are heavenly and he can barely get up after.

“Yes please,” you lie down on your stomach, “But don’t stand on me.” You both chuckle.

Your massages consist of kneeling or standing on Peter’s back. It sounds painful but to him it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He doesn’t just like your weight on his lap, he likes you on top of him in various scenarios.

He’s kneading your shoulders for about a minute when you suddenly sit up, “Okay, the break is over, can you eat me out now?”

A smile spreads over Peter’s face and you kiss him, a similar expression on your lips.

You get comfortable on your back and pull your shirt over your head and slip out of your skirt.

Peter sits between your legs, speechless, thumb rubbing over the large wet spot on your panties. You gasp when he touches you there but Peter can’t continue before showing you how much he loves your tits first. They're perfect.

He kisses his way up your stomach, inching further up until your nipple is in his mouth and your hand goes into his hair. He gets lost in the feeling of one of your boobs in his hand and the other one against his tongue until you push his head away.

He worries he’s hurt you but you whimper and spread your legs, pulling them up against your chest, “Please,” is all you can manage to say. Peter’s hands wander down your sides and between your legs, his fingers gliding over your panties.

Peter drags your underwear down your legs slowly, a string of your arousal staying connected to your panties momentarily. He licks his lips and kneels in front of the bed, pulling you to the edge of the mattress.

With your legs on his shoulders, Peter kisses your clit once, watching as your eyes flutter shut. He’s forgetting that this is your first time too, so your expectations probably aren’t too high. And you’re wet from your earlier orgasm and it seems to be doing wonders for you; you already start arching your back when Peter licks up and down your clit a few times.

He savours the taste of you on his tongue, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and knowing that he’s tasting you because you’re wet for him makes things even better.

As he plays with your clit, his tongue in your pussy, he puts a hand on your stomach. It’s just because he doesn’t know where else to put his hand, but you grab some of his fingers, holding his hand and Peter’s convinced his eyes must be shaped like hearts right now. He’s always loved holding hands with you.

He makes out with your pussy, your juices all over his mouth, and he starts sucking your clit.

“Peter..” your voice comes out as a whimper and you grip his hand harder. You arch further into him and your eyes squeeze shut, and Peter can tell you’re coming – on his tongue, with his face between your legs, just like he’s imagined so many times but it’s so much better than what he ever could have wished for.

He only pulls his mouth away from you slowly, not wanting the moment to end. You don’t let go of his hand, instead using your intertwined fingers to pull him up so Peter can kiss you. 

You hug him like you never want to let him go again and Peter gladly complies. He wraps his arms around you and lies on top of you for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m too tired to return the favour,” you say after a while.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

He’s glad you said it because then you won’t need to find out that he came in his pants ages ago, yet again, and you don’t need to be reminded of what a loser your boyfriend can be and how you’re the opposite.

Peter lifts his head so you’re looking at each other, and you cup his cheeks to kiss him on the lips a few times.

“I’m getting cold,” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

You smile and kiss his forehead, “I should get dressed. And I need to pee. But you can cuddle me again after.” Peter gets up and scoops you up in his arms, earning a squeal from you.

He carries you to the bathroom and even though he’s completely dressed and you’re naked and vulnerable, he can tell you’re content and comfortable by the way you drop your head to his shoulder and let him hold you.

You’re in the bathroom while gets the clothes you asked him to get from your room, but he changes first so he’s not walking around the student accommodation with a mess in his pants.

You’re sitting on the bed in all your naked glory when he gets back. He stares for a second, smiling softly as he realises how lucky he is to get to see you like this, that he’s the only one in the world who does and that you want him to see you like this.

It’s later in the night and you’re in bed, you sitting on top of Peter, kissing him. It’s not sexual; you’re enjoying each other’s company, touching each other, locking lips over and over and over. Peter couldn’t be happier. There’s a smile on his face the whole time.

“I like kissing you. Like a lot,” you say.

“I love kissing you.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna be my boy—”

“Girlfriend? Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He interrupts you, somewhat surprised.

You grin and throw your arms around him, “Yes.”

“Sorry, I wanted to say it. After you made the first move I wanted to do this.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, realising he’s not telling you everything simply by looking at him.

“Well I don’t know, I kind of thought we were together already,” he says and your face softens.

“Oh. I mean we may as well have been. But we never properly talked about it. And just now I realised how sad I was that I couldn't officially call you my boyfriend, so I wanted to make sure that I could.”

“You’re right, now we have talked about it. And now it’s official. The most beautiful woman in the world is officially my girlfriend,” he beams as he cups your cheek and kisses you again. 

You lie down next to him, his arm around you as you cuddle into his side.

After a few moments of looking at Peter, you start giggling, as if you just remembered something funny or embarrassing about him.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing just, I’m so into you, and you really weren’t sure if I liked you? I know we‘ve talked about how we were both too scared to ruin the friendship but we were both idiots. 

“I mean, I tried to give you the boldest, most obvious signs. I kept holding your hand, talked about me getting off. I changed in front of you, slept next to you half-naked? Peter, I said I’d suck your dick.”

“Yeah but it was only in relation to you sucking professor Garfield’s dick for a better mark.”

“Knowing me, do you think I’d really suck a professor’s dick to get a better score?”

He shrugs, “Well, not when you say it like that, no. But we didn’t know each other that well yet. And hearing the girl you like say she’ll suck another guy’s dick isn’t nice regardless of if she’s being serious or not.”

You pout and cup his face, kissing him a few times, “I only want your dick, promise.”

“And my dick only wants you,” he says, earning a small laugh from you.

“But seriously, I contemplated peeing while you were in the bathroom with me at that party. If there was an obvious sign that I liked you, it would be that,” you joke.

“Just so you know, you can pee in front of me. And as long as you’re okay with that, I’d also feel comfortable peeing in front of you.”

You scrunch up your face, “We’ll avoid it if we can.” You both laugh but you know it would be no big deal and you’d be comfortable with it. It sounds like a weird thing to bond over, but Peter thinks it’s sweet.

“Anyway, I know I brought it up but can we stop talking about peeing so you can go down on me again?”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Yes, yesyesyes,” and he starts kissing down your body.

*

“So,” Peter asks you a few days later, “You know how you said your sex toy is supposed to feel like oral sex? So who’s better? Me or the vibrator?”

You give him an exaggerated pout and scoot closer to him on the bed, ”Don’t make me hurt your feelings.”

You’ve just come back from a date Peter planned. You got take-out from your favourite restaurant and ate it next to the river that goes through the city. You walked for hours, holding hands, talking, getting ice cream and just being with each other.

While Peter loves going out with you, he’s not sure if anything can beat spending time alone with you, in your bed, utterly comfortable and being nothing but yourself. Not to mention that you two can have sex whenever you want to.

“I don’t mind if you say it’s the vibrator, I mean it’s made for making you feel good and I’m just some guy,” Peter says, “It’s literally called a clit-sucker.”

“Sex with you is better but if you’re comparing the toy with you sucking my clit, then the vibrator is better, yes,” you move to his lap and put your arms on his shoulders, linking your hands behind his head.

“Can I use it on you?”

You bite your lip when he says it, “There’s not much you can do, you just hold it against my clit.”

“I’d love to do that.”

You grin and start kissing him.

He flips you around so you’re under him. He slowly takes off all your clothes and you pull off his shirt. He can’t resist getting a taste of you before he starts, humming as he begins eating you out, tongue in your pussy and his thumb on your clit.

You whine when he stops but you both remember that you wanted to use your toy. He kisses his way up your body, your arousal on his lips.

“You’re so hot, I don’t know if I deserve you,” he whispers into your skin as he’s kissing your belly. You tug him up to you to kiss him with such intensity that tells him he deserves you, all of you. You’re made for each other. And you feel it too.

You reach into your bedside drawer and pull out your vibrator. Peter smiles as he spreads your legs and lies down between them.

“Like this?” He turns it on and you adjust the setting, lying back when Peter presses a kiss on your clit and places the toy on your pussy.

You put your hand over his, shifting it so it’s in the perfect place. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and rests his cheek against your other thigh, occasionally kissing the skin there. He brings his arm over your body, smoothing his hand over your tummy and grabbing one of your tits, playing with your nipple.

Your hands absentmindedly find his hair, burying your fingers in it as he tells you how pretty you are and how he wants you to cum.

You glance at Peter between your legs, smiling and laying your head back down on the pillow. A few moments later he notices your breathing changing and how your hips slightly buck up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, your back arching, and Peter puts his hand over your lower belly to keep you down. Your hand tightens in his hair as frantic breaths and strangled sounds leave your mouth, not able to form any coherent sentence.

After a few seconds, Peter wants to pull the toy away, thinking you’re done, but you hold his hand in place until your legs shake and he feels your belly convulsing under his hand. You’re coming until your head drops to the side and you let go of both his hair and his hand so he pulls away the vibrator.

“Oh–God. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Sorry if I hurt you,” your hand goes through his hair once more but he kisses your hand instead, “Don’t worry.”

You let your head fall back, your eyes not leaving Peter. The way you’re looking at him is nearly enough to make him cum right then and there, but he takes your hand and kisses you instead.

You wrap your legs around Peter’s waist and pull him as close as you can, “Can we go all the way? I feel so empty, I need you inside of me.”

Peter gulps at your words, pulling his hips away from yours so he doesn’t finish before you’ve even started. “Are you sure? Last week you said you wanted to wait.”

“Yeah, I am. I thought it would take me longer to be comfortable around you when I’m naked but I feel so good, and I like being naked in front of you. I like how you look at me and how it makes me feel,” you smile softly and kiss him.

“I like having you naked in front of me too.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so comfortable. And the fact that I want this so quickly shows me that it’s the right thing and also I just really really need you inside of me.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers, closing his eyes to refocus, “I have to get the condoms.”

“Make sure to hide this first,” your hands go to the front of his sweatpants and he playfully narrows his eyes at you because you know exactly that what you’re doing is not helping his situation.

After another kiss from you, he manages to pull himself away from you and hides his hardness as well as he can. He slips back into his shirt and runs to his room to get the condoms you two bought the other week just so you’d have them.

When he comes back you already have your fingers between your legs, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Peter says before taking off his clothes in record time and joining you on the bed. 

You make out for a few minutes, forgetting everything else. His fingers wander to your pussy, playing with your clit until you can’t keep kissing him anymore, distracted by the pleasure.

He slips one finger into your pussy first, then two.

“Peter, it’s not enough,” you moan with a desperation in your voice that makes him even harder which, up to this point, felt impossible.

“‘M just checking you can take it, get you used to having something inside of you.”

You sigh into his mouth and give him the dirtiest kiss you ever have. “Just so you know.. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he warns you, afraid of disappointing you.

“I don’t care, I just need you right now.”

“What if I cum immediately once I’m in you?”

You hold his face in your hands, “Fuck, Pete, that’s so hot. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Don’t say that because I will.”

“Please, please, I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Wait, you mean with a condom right?”

You laugh and nod, kissing him on the nose.

“Okay, just checking,” he says, putting on the condom. 

You hold on to his neck as he lines himself up with you, feeling how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, making sure you’re okay once he’s inside of you completely, “You okay?”

“Yeah, it feels even bigger inside of me.”

He blushes at you calling his dick big and runs a hand down your cheek, “Should I pull out?”

“No, no. Just give me a second.” 

You both take deep breaths once Peter starts rubbing your clit – you because you’re relaxing, Peter because he’s about to cum if he doesn’t focus.

He has you coming around his dick quickly. You press your chest against Peter’s when your back arches from the pleasure and you kiss the side of his face when you’re coming down from the high.

“Lift me up,” you tell him and you end up pushing Peter down on the bed, straddling his lap.

You place your hands on either side of Peter’s head, leaving him with your tits right in his face. You tell him to fuck you and with his hands on your hips, Peter slowly thrusts into you from below.

Your pussy squeezes him so tight, and you’re so warm, “Fuck, you feel so so good,” he groans. 

You start bouncing on him, meeting his thrusts halfway, now more used to him inside of you.

He closes his eyes, trying to think of something else but your quiet moans and your earlier words about wanting him to cum in you make him orgasm after a few more seconds.

He fucks you until he’s too exhausted to move and you grin down at him, both of you lying down to cuddle. 

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, both exhausted and content, only grinning at each other and occasionally giving the other a lazy kiss before you sit up on him again, your nipples right in front of his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to run his tongue around one, but you lean back, dazed, “No, no, you’ll make me horny again,” you smile, “And I don’t think I can take another orgasm right now.”

He kisses your sternum instead and picks you up in his arms so you can take a shower together.

Peter washes your body for you, taking his time to massage every part of you for a few seconds. He wants to spoil and pamper you and take as much work off your hands as he can. He knows you’d do the same for him.

Once you’re both clean, you stand under the water for a while, Peter’s arms around your waist, your back pulled to his chest. Your breathing is calm and your eyes are closed, completely relaxed against Peter.

“I came in here once,” Peter interrupts the silence.

You slowly open your eyes and turn around to face him, a smile making its way onto your face before it turns into a laugh, “What?”

“It was after that night when I got really drunk. I woke up with this perfect ass right against my crotch,” he squeezes one of your ass cheeks for emphasis. 

“You mean back when we were just friends?” You ask, pulling his arms around your body again, “That feels so long ago.”

“And at the same time like it was yesterday.” “Yeah,” you smile, “I probably would have helped you out if you’d asked.”

“Really?”

“I was already into you then and there’s no way I would have been able to–or wanted to–resist if I found out you were horny because of me. I was coming on my vibrator three times a day wishing it was you instead.”

Peter runs a hand over his face, remembering how scared he was that you’d never like him back, “I was wishing it was me too. I heard you that one time, when you were masturbating while I was waiting for you in there,” he nods his head towards the door to your room.

“You can’t blame me, you saw how that thing makes me cum,” you lean your head on his shoulder, hiding your embarrassment.

The moment you look down and see that Peter’s hard again, he stiffens even more.

“You’re getting harder from me looking at your dick?” You ask, licking your lips.

He nods, putting a hand around the back of your neck and gently pulling you towards him, kissing you to distract you from the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

While your teeth tug at Peter’s bottom lip, your hands smooth down his chest, over his faint happy trail and eventually you wrap your hand around his cock. He gasps at the first contact and opens his eyes, meeting your lust-filled gaze, “I can’t believe I haven’t done this before,” you say, starting to jerk him off with a slightly unsure look on your face.

“Is this okay?” You ask and Peter nods, “Show me how you do it,” you urge, lifting Peter’s hand to wrap it around your own.

With a firm grip, Peter guides your hand, “F-fuck,” is all he can manage to get out apart from a shaky breath. Your free hand runs across his chest, occasionally rubbing over his nipples, making him gasp. 

“I really need you to cum for me right now,” you whisper, looking down at your hand sliding up and down his dick. Your words make him groan and before he can prepare, waves of pleasure flow through him, his cum splashing all over your tummy. He can’t stop coming, especially not when you angle his cock further towards you, your belly now covered in him.

“Fuck,” you both moan at the same time and then you smile at each other. You step away from the spray of the shower, sliding a finger across your skin and sucking it into your mouth.

If he hadn’t already cum three times today, Peter would be hard in half a second. He shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what he did to ever deserve a girlfriend as sexy as you. He runs his thumb over your belly, picking up the rest of his cum on you and you open your mouth before he even asks you to.

He pushes it into your mouth slowly and you hum as he does it. Grabbing your face right after, he kisses you until neither of you can breathe. “Can I eat you out again now?”

You grin immediately, “Yes, but I’m tired.”

After you’ve dried off, he carries you to your bed, making sure you’re comfortable on it before his mouth disappears between your legs. He’s proud of how you grip his hair, grinding your pussy against his face and how you cum on his tongue.

He gets a notification on his phone just as he’s done kissing you after he made you cum. He ordered some food before you two went in the shower and it’s about to arrive.

“Go and get it, I can wait,” you tell him, but he makes sure to kiss your forehead and give you water and baby wipes before pulling on some clothes and rushing downstairs to get the food.

You eat it on your bed with a towel laid down to make sure nothing gets dirty. Peter likes how you randomly grab his hand while you’re eating or asking him to pass you your drink.

With some quiet music playing, you make yourselves comfortable in your bed, cuddling.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at him like he’s responsible for all good in the world.

“For what?”

“For everything. For taking care of me. For being you,” you slide your fingers between his. He picks up your intertwined hands and kisses yours, “It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being you, and for being with me.”

“There’s no one in the world I’d rather be with,” you lean over to kiss him, leaving your lips on his for a few seconds. “This white shirt looks so good on you, it’s my favourite,” you tell him, smoothing down the material and then resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you tight, “You know what looks even better on me?”

“Me?” You ask, already knowing what Peter is going to say and he adores you for it.

“Yes,” he smiles, “You.”

“I like this position, I like hearing your heart beating so clearly,” you say, nuzzling up against him.

“And I like that I can feel a heartbeat as soon as I put my hand here,” Peter smirks, sliding a hand between your legs and immediately feeling the pulsating warmth, even through your panties.

“Don’t blame me for getting turned on when the man I love touches my pussy,” you say, grabbing Peter’s hand into yours and away from your underwear to stop you from getting horny.

It takes both of you a second to realise that you just said that you love him. Probably because you’ve both felt it for a while; first as friends, then as lovers. Even if no one’s said it yet, it was obvious.

“I love you too,” he says softly and that’s when you realise what you just said. You turn towards him and start grinning, meeting Peter’s own wide smile. You start littering his face with kisses until he holds your face in place to kiss your lips. It’s like you melt right into his mouth once your lips touch his.

You spend the rest of the night telling each other that you love the other, giggling and cuddling and kissing until the early morning hours.

  *

Peter wants to sit through this lecture with you on his lap when you get to the lecture hall one minute before the lesson starts and there are no two seats free next to each other.

But you two promised yourselves that you weren’t going to be that annoying couple that has to be together at all times, so you two sit at opposite sides of the room.

Peter’s stomach tingles with jealousy when he sees that you’re sitting next to a guy you know. Brandon. Peter remembers him from the day you and Peter met. When it was Peter’s turn to tell an embarrassing sex story and he had nothing to say, you told Brandon to tell his story instead, distracting everyone and saving Peter.

He smiles when he thinks back to it; who knew that you two would end up in love?

But he hears your giggle through the entire lecture hall, over all the over murmuring, and Peter frowns. He knows it’s stupid if not wrong to be jealous about something so trivial. He’s more than okay with you having a male friend as long as he’s a good person; Peter’s happy about every nice friend you have.

But he’s spent the last few months getting to know you inside and out and you never mentioned Brandon. Now you’re talking to him like you’re best friends. Okay, the thing that bothers Peter the most is that you apparently knew Brandon’s sex story before he told it to the whole party.

Why were you talking to Brandon about sex? And why did you never mention it to Peter?

He knows you’ve done nothing wrong, and it’s ridiculous that he feels like this over a story and you laughing at another man’s jokes. If he was sitting next to you, he’s sure he’d be fine, but it doesn’t help that you’re out of reach.

He’s more curious than jealous, or that’s what he’s trying to tell himself, knowing he has no right to feel this way about such a little thing.

He tries to accept the feeling, tries to focus on what Professor Garfield is saying but throughout the whole lecture Brandon is in the back of Peter’s mind.

By the end of the lesson, he’s more mad than anything else – mad at himself for being jealous. He doesn't want to turn into one of those possessive, toxic and controlling boyfriends. He trusts you and he should be okay with you having dozens of male friends.

He waits for you by the door when the lecture is over, and in the sea of students you and Brandon leave the room separately. Peter’s so focussed on Brandon that he only notices you standing next to him once you hold his hand.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately. Peter didn’t know he was being that obvious.

He doesn’t want to drag you into his unnecessary jealousy and insecurity. “No-nothing,” he presses his lips together in a smile and you walk him into a quiet corner.

“What is it?” You sit down and pat the seat next to you for Peter to sit down.

“Well. I don’t know. It’s just, we usually sit together in this class and then we didn’t get to sit together and then you ended up next to a guy you know and I just…” It’s the shortened and less embarrassing version.

You smile, half with pity and half out of amusement, but he knows you’re not trying to make fun of him. “You were jealous? Of Brandon?”

“I don’t know. Kinda. I‘d honestly rather have you look at Andrew’s ass than have you talk to Brandon and giggle at everything he says and–like, I don’t even know him and I just felt insecure because I didn’t feel like I was a part of it,” he looks down, taking a deep breath, “Sorry, of course I don’t mean it like that. Obviously it’s fine if you have male friends. I was just wondering why you haven’t told me about him, because I remember him from the party the first time we met and I realised you never brought him up. And then I got so into my head about being jealous that I felt even worse and now I can’t even tell the jealousy from the being-mad-at-myself apart.”

“Okay, take my hand,” you say, “I love you. And-”

“I love you too,” Peter grins instantly, leaning over to kiss you.

“So, I didn’t tell you about Brandon because I wasn’t thinking about him. If he was important to me I would have introduced you two ages ago. I didn't even realise I was in this class until today. I met him the same night I met you and I was talking to a group of people before we played that game where he told that sex story. But wait.. Peter,” you furrow your eyebrows, “So you remember the story Brandon told?”

“I remember that he told a story, but I was too busy looking at you and being grateful that you helped me out of the situation.”

“Well, his story was about the first time he had sex with his boyfriend. And they’re still together.”

“Oh,” Peter says, dumbfounded, “Now I feel even worse. Why was I so jealous about a guy who has a boyfriend?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve been attached at the hip lately, so of course we're not used to being apart. I’m sure we’ll get used to it in a few days. But you’re jealous for the first time and we’re already talking about it, I’m sure we’ll sort it out. I promise we’ll work it out together.”

He pecks your lips again, “Thank you. I think I was way more surprised about my jealousy than actually being jealous. I trust you and I love you and I do that more and more every day. It’s just that I want you so much that I assume every guy feels the same, because why wouldn’t they? Forgive me if I project that onto them and don’t trust them. But I trust you and that’s what matters and what I’ll try to rely on. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of something small.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m glad you told me how you feel. You’re already not jealous anymore and you’re talking about it and working it out. That’s what matters. You recognise that it’s unreasonable but jealousy is a normal emotion.”

He gives you a small smile, already understanding himself better thanks to you. You’re right, jealousy is something everyone feels from time to time. He’ll learn how to deal with it, and now that he’s with you, feeling loved and appreciated, he can’t even imagine ever being jealous again. He can tell his love is reciprocated. He trusts you, and that’s all he needs.

You sit together for another while, smiling and saying goodbye when Professor Garfield walks past you. You wait until he’s turned around the corner to say, “Wait, what did you say about his ass earlier?”

Peter chuckles, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just the first time we had this lesson you said something about how nice his ass is.”

“Oh, now I remember. But your ass is the only ass I wanna look at now, you know that?” 

“Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t have asked you to be my boyfriend if I was interested in anyone else’s ass.”

There’s a comfortable warmth in Peter’s chest at you calling him his boyfriend. He’ll always be happy to be that.

“Well,” he thinks out loud, “There are some guys with nice asses, I can’t deny that. But then we can both admire them, okay? Together.”

You laugh, “You’re so cute. Okay, I’ll let you know when I see a nice ass and we’ll appreciate it together.”

“Good,” Peter smiles, okay with you liking other people’s asses because, after all, those asses don’t have this great connection with you like he does. He’s so much to you than a person with a cute ass.

“But your ass is the nicest,” he adds.

“Thank you," you laugh and kiss his cheek.

You lean back on your hands and tilt your head towards your shoulder. This time Peter feels warmth rushing elsewhere.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about during the whole lesson?”

He nods.

“I was thinking,” you look around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear, “about how I can’t wait to have your dick in my mouth.”

Peter’s heart starts beating twice as fast as it usually does, “My-my- my dick? In your- why would— do you want it to be in your mouth?”

“I do. I had a dream about it last night. And I was gonna wait until tonight to do it but maybe we should do it now to relax you.”

“I.. don’t know if relax is the right word,” he says.

“I’ll do it to show you that I only like you then. And because I really need you.”

Peter’s face falls, “No, shit, I have this class now… no, nevermind, let’s go to my room–”

“No, we said our education and college come first, and that we wouldn’t let our academic performance fall off because of each other.”

“Yeah but I didn’t know that that meant saying no to you…” he looks at his lap and back at you again. 

“To me sucking your dick?” You’re teasing him on purpose now but despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants he’s enjoying it.

“Y-yeah..”

“Go to your class now and I’ll see you tonight,” you kiss him and get up.

“No wait–”

“Bye, baby,” you call out and walk away.

A class has never lasted as long as Peter’s next class. He leaves his bunched up hoodie on his lap the whole time even though he’s cold in just the shirt he’s wearing.

After class, he runs home, going to his dorm room first but you’re not there so he rushes to your room instead. You open the door as if Peter hasn’t been suffering for the past two hours, giving him a quick kiss and sitting back down to read a book.

He gets on his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your thighs, “Please. You can’t be serious right now. I need you.”

You pat the bed next to you and he lies down with a sigh, hoping to get your attention but you keep reading; maybe he can take a nap to make the time pass quicker. You pretend to read for another minute or two and then grin at Peter and straddle him, starting to kiss him. 

“Sorry, I thought it would be fun to tease you but I don’t know what I was thinking. I really want you.”

He’s panting into your mouth after a few moments, already feeling relief as you pull at his belt, taking off Peter’s pants and your and his shirt.

“Let me know uh, how I’m doing,” you say as you get down on your knees in front of the bed.

Your words clear Peter’s mind for a second and he leans down to give you a kiss, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, by the way.”

You shake your head, “No, I really want to. I just don’t know what to do, so, be patient with me.”

“Always,” he reaches for your hand to kiss it, “So I guess you just– oh my god.” He moans as your mouth wraps around him, all wet and warm.

He makes the mistake of looking at you, the head of his cock in your mouth, your pretty lips against his skin, eyes big and gorgeous and so innocent. He’s close so quickly and motions for you to stop.

“Everything okay?” You ask, already knowing what’s going on though. Peter’s eyes go to your chest, perfect tits pushed together by a pretty bra. If you take that off he doesn’t want to know how fast he’ll cum.

“Yes, more than okay. I love you so much, you know that?”

“I do, but Peter, this is torture for me,” you say seriously.

“What?” He sits up straighter.

“I wanna make you cum so so bad, please just let me, I don’t care how long you last.” You sound so horny that it makes Peter’s cock just that much harder in the way only happens when he’s with you, never when he’s alone.

“Okay. But try to go slow, I wanna enjoy it as long as I can.”

You smirk and he already knows you’ll give it your all, but while he wants to enjoy it as long as possible, he also really wants to cum.

You wrap a hand around him, slapping his dick against your tongue a few times, putting on a show for him. But once you wrap your lips around him, there’s no stopping you.

Peter’s skin glistens with a mixture of your spit and his precum and you keep taking him deeper and deeper until all of him disappears in your mouth. “Fuuuck,” he groans, huffing with a smile, accepting that he’s about to cum.

You start going faster, your wet mouth making a loud, obscene sound against his skin. Peter lies down on his back, barely able to keep his noises in.

“God– oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” his mouth falls open as he cranes his neck to look at you taking his dick. He puts a hand on your head, feeling your every movement up and down his cock.

He cums right down your throat as soon you start moaning, mouth stuffed full of Peter’s dick. You taste the first few drops and then jerk him off so his cum lands on your cheek and the sight is so dirty yet so beautiful.

You’re both panting when Peter is finished and you’re smiling at each other, in silent agreement that that was one of the hottest things you two have ever experienced. Your smile has something shy to it too, unsure how you look with Peter’s cum on your face.

But he’s looking at you with pure admiration, not believing how lucky he is for a bit before pulling you up to kiss you.

“Wait, Pete, you’ll get cu–”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses your mouth, and tasting himself on you is the sexiest thing in the world. He kisses his cum off your skin, connecting your lips afterwards, his tongue in your mouth until the cum is gone.

He wipes his mouth, asking something he’s been thinking about for a while, and he can’t go a second longer without it. “Do you wanna sit on my face?”

You’re taking off your clothes before the question even fully leaves his mouth and he takes in the sight of the prettiest woman alive getting undressed in front of him, for him.

He licks his lips when you slip out of your panties, the holy place between your legs shiny with arousal that’s started running down your thighs.

“You’re so wet.. from going down on me?” He asks, grabbing your thighs as you come closer, straddling him.

You simply nod and while you’re making your way up Peter’s body there’s a moment where your eyes meet for more than a few seconds. You don’t say anything, there’s just mutual appreciation and adoration for one another.

This is something good. Maybe it’s the best thing in the world. It is the best thing in the world.

“I love you,” he says, feeling so much more than those three simple words.

“I love you,” you say, your eyes holding such intensity that he doesn’t think there’s a single person in the world who has ever been as loved as Peter is by you.

He hopes he’s making you feel like the Goddess he sees you as, he adores every inch of you, all the things you’ve ever said to him and every second he’s spent with you.

The moment feels like it goes on forever, and at some point, you both move your heads towards each other, lips meeting in a kiss.

He grabs your ass, ready to drown in your pussy and to make you cum as many times as you want.

“Can I…?” You ask as you lower yourself. 

Peter pulls you towards his face and makes love to you all night. 

You spend the rest of the weekend in each other’s arms, feeling like the luckiest people on earth and you probably are.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

[books-and-catears]

Right everyone hold on to your feels, you will shortly be boarding Angst Express 101. Just look at this brilliant and angsty ask I'm speechless. Even the pairings you asked for are so unique and well thought this is a perfect angst concept. And I really hope I could do this justice. Thank you so much for this ask @saltypaperdestiny

So very sorry for the delay, this was the longest ask I've ever written and boy was I delighted. Though I have to admit I had to cry through some of them myself. This is PART 1. Rest of the brothers and the newly Dateables coming soon in part 2.

Who loved you first? Pt1

Lucifer : Simeon

It was time, he decided. After months of being in your presence, his prideful heart had melted enough to recognise his feelings for you. You were the only he'd truly humble down for, because the affection and care you displayed was unparalled.

"MC please get dressed in something nice. I'm taking you to Ristorante Six as a thank you for helping me with Cerebus and the council paperwork" He says to you, barely containing the excitement. He couldn't wait to see the look on your face when he confessed and how you'd blush when you kissed your knuckles and your cheek and wait - What is Simeon doing in your room at this hour?

He didn't want to interrupt, surely it might be nothing to bother about. He patiently waited outside until he heard what Simeon said.

Simeon: MC... You look beautiful, what's the occasion?

MC: Aw thank you Simeon. You're always so kind. It's nothing much, Lucifer is taking me out as a thank you.

Simeon: Oh do you have to leave right away...?

MC: Oh no no. It's okay I have some more time.

Simeon: Well I originally came here to invite you to try Luke's latest attempt at some new recipes but now there's something else I feel like I must tell you. *Blushes* Something I've been holding back for too long.

MC: *joking* Oh what have you been hiding from me, angel? Speak I beseech you!

Simeon: *laughing and then going solemn* MC... *Takes your hands in his* I love you. I love you with all my heart.

MC: ....me? You love..me? But I'm not nearly-

Simeon: You're the most beautiful soul I've ever met. You radiate kindness and forgiveness and everything pure, overcoming the seven biggest evils you reside with. How can I not love you? Tell me, MC, will you accept me as yours?

Lucifer had a half a mind to storm in and laugh in Simeon's face. What a failure this attempt was going to be. His pride grew inside him as he stifled a laugh. MC was his and only his and now he would take pleasure in watching Simeon learn that. Surely MC was going to turn him down nicely but still. He creeped closer to the door, looking through the open crack.

MC: *in tears* Oh Simeon, I love you too! I never thought an angel could ever love me back!

Simeon: *kisses her knuckles* So... It's a yes?!

MC: Yes yes yes! Oh of course it's a yes! *Hugs him tight* My guardian angel who protects me in the dark, oh how I love you.

Simeon: *laughing as he picks you up and spins you around* Oh how happy you've made me MC! I'm the happiest being alive!

MC: *kissing his cheek* So am I, Simeon. I love you with all my heart.

It took Lucifer all his strength to not collapse or go into a violent frenzy. He balled up his fists so tight, the gloves started tearing at the seams. He watched you smiling so gleefully in his arms, looking so radiant. When Simeon dipped his head down to kiss you, the moonlight poured in through the window as if blessing your union.

It was supposed to be him. If only he made it to your room sooner, it could have been him. Embracing all your beauty, being the cause of the shining smile. IT COULD HAVE BEEN HIM.

At his best

"Are you really that happy with him?" he asks you later that night. The blush on your cheeks and that cheeky smile says it all.

"Congratulations MC." You look so joyous even at the thought of Simeon, how could he ruin that?

His temper is worse, more unforgiving towards all his brothers. He has to bear with your absence in the house all day. The fact that he knows you're at Purgatory hall, sipping tea and arm in arm with him pains him to think.

You bring Simeon along to the council to help him too. He outright denies and asks both of you to leave.

He only ever feels calm to see you alone, but that is even rarer with his brothers around to hog his remaining time.

Eventually makes his peace with it, maybe you're better off with someone as pure as yourself than a demon like him.

At his worst

His wrath is back. It's almost bad enough to birth another Satan. His sense of entitlement is through the roof.

He snaps three weeks later when Simeon and you tell everyone about it and decide that you'll be moving to Purgatory hall soon. Everyone claps and rejoices while Lucifer, drunk off Demonus, crashes the fun.

"Simeon, you dirty cheat, pretending to be all pure with your white wings and devious smile. How dare you?!" He says in calm and deadly rage.

"Lucifer... what's wrong-" You approach him to ask. He looks at you and you see the little tears in the corners.

"MC WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MINE THAT NIGHT. MINE. NOT YOURS. THE ONLY BEING THAT CAME CLOSE ENOUGH TO STEAL MY HEART AND YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME."

Lucifer was louder now, hysterically angry, throwing his glass on the floor. "AND I KNOW THEY WOULD HAVE PICKED ME IF I GOT TO THEM FIRST! I LOVED THEM TOO DAMNIT." Simeon stood in front of you to protect you from Lucifer's rage. You hid your face in your hands, breaking down in sobs. What is happening? Where did you go wrong?

"Look at them, Lucifer. Look. At. What. You've. Done. And don't tell you've forgotten how many times you've threatened their lives before." Simeon said, holding you tight as you cried into his chest. "How dare you still feel like you deserve them?"

Lucifer sees you broken down, clutching onto Simeon for dear life, crying. You were smiling just a minute ago what has he done? Simeon blocked off his view with his pearly white wings. A reminder of what Lucifer used to be and cannot be again.

Mammon: Asmodeus

You were his human. And he was your first demon. No one was more territorial about you than him. So he finally made up his mind to seal the deal. No more lying about his feelings. He was going to claim you, once and for all. He imagined you smiling and running your hands through his hair and kissing him returning his feelings.

"MC! I brought the movie of the day!" He barged into your room excited, but you were nowhere to be found. Where could you have gone? It was your movie night with him. You were supposed to be waiting for him inside. He asked his brothers and they said you were with Asmo. He stomped his way up to Asmo's room and called out your name. No response. Not till he peeked inside the dark washroom. You were holding Asmo who looked very unstable and weak, sitting at the side of the bath.

MC: Asmo why don't you listen to me when I tell you not to drink so much!?

Asmo: I'm sorry MC *hic* I needed it today...

MC: Why? What's so scary that you don't have the confidence to do sober?

Asmo: MC do you think I look beautiful?

MC: Of course Asmo, you always do.

Asmo: Even with my runny make up, red nose and swollen eyes and this horrible complexion?

MC: *grabs his face* You're always beautiful to me MC.

Asmo: I...I stopped sleeping around MC. I couldn't do it anymore. *tearing up* Because to them, I'm only beautiful with a perfect covered up face.

MC: Asmo...they're blind and shallow demons who don't know anything! I know you, and I know how much more beautiful you are inside out. Don't listen to them.

Asmo feeling insecure about his appearance? What a big fat lie. Is this his new ploy to get to you? How irritating. It's not going to work, Mammon knows you're smarter than that. The Avatar of Lust can manipulate in many ways. Surely his human was smart enough to see through that!

Asmo: MC, I knew you were the one only who truly loved me. And today, I found the one I love too. Much more than I love myself. So I needed a drink to tell you this.

MC: Asmo...

Asmo: *holding your face gently* MC you saw past this pretty face. You saw the things I do more than what I am. Or what I pretend to be. I know it's hard to believe coming from the Avatar of Lust... But MC, I truly really love you. *looks down and sobs* But you probably can't believe me right?

MC: Asmo. Look at me. *You run your fingers through his hair and he looks up with teary eyes* I believe you. And I've loved you too. You're the only one who never hurt me. The one who willingly made a pact with me. You've been so sweet to me since I came. How could I love anyone else?

Asmo: MC I want you all to myself. Will you be mine? Only mine? I swear I'll keep you happy always!

MC: Of course Asmo. I'll all yours. I'm your little human. *giggling and kissing his head*

Asmo: *grabs and kisses you* MC, if you want, I can be your actual first tonight.

Mammon fell to his knees. He wanted to barge in and scream. He wanted to wrestle Asmo to the ground. He wanted to break his face for saying the words that were special to him and you. But your response had him paralysed. You...accepted him. You agreed to be his.

Silent tears streamed down his face as he watched you embracing Asmo, peppering kisses all over his face, running your hands through his hair, laughing and frolicking in the water with him. The colored moonlight through the stained glass danced on their skin like a scene from his favourite movie.

At his best

He cries to himself for days. Spends as much time outside as he can.

Maybe he is an idiot for thinking he had a chance with him. How could he compete with Asmo's charms.

Maybe it hurt more because Asmo didn't even have to use his charms.

Only ever tries to talk to you if he's sure your alone. One time he barged into your room and caught you and Asmo tangled up together and it broke him all over again.

He watched as you twirled around in a new outfit Asmo bought. He scoffs. He could have bought it for you too.

You both look so cheerful and in love, he decides to accept it. For the sake of his little brother and the human he loves.

At his worst

Breaks down and lets his emotions out in the worst way possible. Too desperate to win you back somehow.

Asmo and you were just telling Solomon and Simeon about your relationship when Mammon barged in through the doors of Purgatory halls.

"MC look! Look what I got you!" He came in all ragged. He knelt down and pulled out a ring. "Take me instead! I was your first wasn't I MC? Don't let him take my place please!"

"Mammon no... No please don't be this way...I'm sorry..." You kneel down next to him as he screams and sobs like a child. You feel guilty. You caused this. You lead him on. You fight your own tears as you keep apologising.

Asmo yanks you up and wraps his arms around you, staring down angrily at Mammon. "Mammon, leave."

Mammon lunged at Asmo. "I was going to tell them. That night was our movie night. You stole that night from me. YOU STOLE MY CHANCE AND MY MC!"

Asmo mocked at him with a sardonic laugh. "You still assume MC is yours without even telling them. You kept lying about your feelings and hurting them in the process. And yet, when they finally look happy, you come and make them cry. You are a scumbag Mammon."

Mammon looked at your tear stained face, nestled inside Asmo's arms and wings. He really felt like nothing but a scumbag.

Leviathan : Belphegor

Levi fell in love with you since your first act of kindness. As a shut-in whose only conversations were with his own eccentric and dismissive brothers, you were an angel who had brought him the gift of true companionship. Honestly he was okay being your best friend, until the day he started craving more. So he decided it was time to tell you.

'MC come to my room! I have a new game to show you!' It was a virtual dating game where he was going to confess digitally. You always loved his creative ways of doing simple stuff after all. He decided to play your favourite game while waiting for you. He even left the door ajar. Now he wished he didn't.

Belphie: MC do you have a minute?

MC: Yeah I was just heading to Levi's room what's up?

Belphie: I think I fallen in love with you, MC.

MC: .... Huh?

Levi almost burst out laughing hearing Belphie's confession. What kind of a bland confession is that? How can someone say that so easily? No that was definitely a joke on MC or something. Surely MC wouldn't take this seriously.

Belphie: I had a dream just now. About you.

MC: Uh huh?

Belphie: In that dream, we were up in the sky, among the stars. And you looked so pretty glittering along with them all. So I kissed you impulsively. And you kissed me back.

MC: ...that's a sweet dream. *blushes*

Belphie: *takes your hand* I woke up and my first thougt was I wish that was real. And then I realised it can be.

MC: ...

Belphie: I want to be able to kiss you always. I want to be able to take you far away. I want all your time. I love you MC. Be mine.

MC: Belphie I-

Belphie: I know, how can you possibly love your own murderer...? *Sighs* I cannot undo what I did. I'm sorry MC. I can only swear that I won't ever let that happen again.

MC: *smiles and cups his face* You were locked away for 3 millenia I can imagine your endless anger and grief for your sister. I forgave you long ago.

Belphie: So does that mean you'll accept me?

MC: You're already mine, silly. And now I'm yours. You're the only one I can relax with in the whole realm.

Belphie: MC... Come here. *holds you close and kisses you*

Levi's game screen displayed the message "GAME OVER: You lose". Levi couldn't see it clearly. His vision was blurred by the tears brimming on his eyes. You and Belphie looked to distant shadows on the moon.

He blamed himself for even thinking he had a chance with you. But maybe just...maybe if he had gotten there before? He stared at the screen and then at his spare console that he had declared yours. He picked up it, and locked it inside. Probably won't be needing it anytime soon.

At his best

He barely comes out of his room anymore. He tries to return your smile at breakfast but then returns hurriedly, leaving Beel to finish most of his food.

"Are you sure you want to play games? Wouldn't you rather go up to the attic" He mutters under his breath sometimes and then says it's nothing when you ask him.

Pains him when he sees you curled with Belphie in random places, dozing off. Might cover you with a blanket. Just you though.

Spites Belphie. A lot of people have said they look and act alike. But somehow you like sleeping more than anime and gaming?

Just accepts it as his fate. Atleast he's still your best friend, right?

At his worst

He's called the Avatar of Envy for a reason. He can barely hold it in seeing the both of you together constantly.

Belphie you and Beel were having a jolly time watching a movie and eating snacks while Belphie slept curled up in your lap. Levi happened to walk in while you were rubbing Belphie's head soothingly.

For some reason, Levi couldn't hold it in anymore. "UGH YOU FUCKING NORMIES!" he screamed out of frustration.

Belphie woke up drowsily when you stopped at stared at Levi holding back tears in the doorway. "Levi..what's wrong.." you call out to him.

He barges in and pushes Belphie off you and grabs your hands, tears falling and him screaming. "Why do you care, MC?! I'm a just disgusting shut in otaku right?! But guess what even as that I do more than just sleep and drool all fucking day! AND MORE IMPORTANTLY ATLEAST IM NOT THE ONE WHO KILLED YOU! So why him? WHY NOT ME MC?!"

"Levi...no..." You plead with him to calm down, tearing up yourself. You should have known. You should have known this would happen.

Belphie violently pushed Levi off you and grabbed him by the collar. "You were the first one to attack MC in this house. And I'm sure you would have killed them if not for Lucifer. So stop pretending you're better than me, you ridiculous creep. A shut in like you is worthless. The only thing you're good at is making MC distressed."

Levi looked at you trying to pull Belphie back, tears streaming down your face and hung his head low. It was simply an Otome game and MC didn't choose him.

Satan: Solomon

Satan took his time to fall. With late night studying session, every cat cafe date, every trip to the museum - he fell more and more each time. To the point where he wanted to spend every waking moment with you. And he was ready to tell you.

For a whole week, he kept writing and scrapping the perfect love letter for you. Then he realised you were someone who preferred simple honesty. "MC please wait for me in the library I'll be there shortly." He'd said before he dashed out to bring a boquet of your favourite flowers and a book which reminded him of you. He'd almost made it to the library, he saw you waiting inside for him eagerly. That was until someone flew in through the window.

Solomon? What's he doing at this hour? Satan peeked in through the half open library door. He wanted to be alone with you so he'd wait till Solomon was gone. He shouldn't have waited.

MC: Solomon! You scared me silly!

Solomon: *laughing* Your face just now MC...so adorable! Like a scared kitten!

MC: You wooshed in through the window!

Solomon: Okay okay my bad. Now what are you doing in the library so late at night. I went to your room and couldn't find you.

MC: Oh Satan called me out here. Told me to wait for him. Maybe there's a new book he wants to read.

Solomon: Do you guys do that often? Reading books this late?

MC: Haha yeah usually we just read in my room or his at night, in case we fall asleep.

Solomon: *sigh* So unfair.

MC: What's unfair?

Solomon: You and I are the only humans here. Why did they put us in different houses? Shouldn't we... be together more often?

MC: Well logically yes we should. Just classes and magic lessons aren't enough! You should live here too!

Solomon: I doubt Lucifer would be okay with that. But well.. here's the real reason I'm here now. *brings out a little basket*

MC: That's...that's a kitten! Hi baby! What's her name!?

Solomon: MC.

MC: Yeah what?

Solomon: No I named the kitten MC. This way I get to call your name as much as I want haha. The silly things us humans do for love, huh?

Satan had a sick feeling in his stomach. Watching you and him sitting in the moonlight, surrounded by books, cuddling a kitten and confessing...that should be him. Him not Solomon. He didn't like where this was heading. But just like you can't help but stare at disaster - he couldn't look away. What was MC going to say...?

MC: Solomon... *blushes*

Solomon: Does my affection scare you? *reaches for your hand*

MC: Of course not...I.. *gets closer and intertwining your fingers together*

Solomon: Is this your way of showing-

MC: *blushes* Yes. I love you too.

Solomon: I believe I've lived for a 1000 years just to hear those words. *kisses you against the bookshelves*

MC: I believe you've gotten 1000 years worth of romantic lines stored away in that head of yours. *Laughs and kisses him back*

Solomon: Let's take this to the moon shall we?

Satan watched as he took you and kitten in his arms and flew out the window. Satan rushed in not wanting to lose sight of you, dropping the flowers and books. Balling his fists, he choked on his angry tears as he watched you both laughing and kissing against the bright light of the moon. He felt like his own happy ending was stolen from him.

When you disappeared from view, he let out a blood curdling scream, pulling at his own hair and knocking over the bookshelf against which Solomon kissed you. The wrath inside him made him thrashing around in pain, burning him inside out. The flowers he dropped, lay there next to his sobbing body, wilting in his pain.

At his best

He manages to put on his best fake smile and go about his day. Tries hard to hide his annoyance if you bring him up.

But you seem so happy and you often invite him to new cat cafes and shelters. So despite Solomon's presence, he feels calm because of you and the cats.

Is secretly happy you get to spend more time with him than Solomon. Takes advantage of that and hogs you all to himself while in the house

While he can't hold or kiss you the way the Solomon does, you're here next to him, reading his recommended books. That's enough to soothe his yearning heart.

At his worst

The war for love is on. He doesn't care if Solomon already won. He will still declare his love no matter what.

It started out as subtle, he did what he knew Solomon couldn't. Cooking MC's favourite dishes whenever it was his turn to cook.

Tries to subtly reinforce his intelligence over Solomon when you're around. What's 1000 years of knowledge worth, Satan has been there since the first millenia ever

But the day Solomon and you announced you'll be moving to Purgatory Hall, he charged at him, his demon form angry and glowing. "How dare you think you can take them away from us? You think you can win against us... against me? You may have taken my chance with them but I won't let you take them away! They belong here with me!"

You inched closer to Satan's form. You'd never seem him this angry. "Satan please calm down-" Satan wasn't listening. He let out a feral growl and attacked Solomon.

Solomon held MC by his side and made a protection shield Satan couldn't get through. You started crying, watching his wrath take over, he must be in so much pain.

Solomon felt you curl up against him in fear and guilt. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed Satan by the scruff of his neck, like you'd do with a misbehaving cat.

"You say you want to protect them and yet look what you did instead." Solomon said. Satan looked helplessly at you, crying with your face buried in your hands. Glancing at his horns in the mirror, he called out to you sadly, "MC..."

Solomon creeped closer and said in a deadly low voice. "You love fairy tales right Satan? Well in the story of Beauty and the Beast, they could only be together because the beast was actually a human." And Satan was far from being a human.

Asmo : Mammon

It happened the day Asmo looked into the mirror and felt something missing. Suddenly his own reflection wasn't enough anymore. He pondered what it was when you happened to walk into his room and hug him from behind. And then he found the missing piece. You. He simply had to make sure you would become a part of him now.

Now contrary to popular belief, he did get nervous while thinking of proposing. This man is all about lust and a little kid when it comes to love. It's a whole new emotion and he's unsure how to deal with it. With some advice from Satan's romance books he lights your room up with candles, groomed himself perfectly, waiting for you to return to your room. Only you don't come. "What's taking MC so long?!"

He headed out and found you in Mammon's room instead. Asmo saw in the reflection off the mirror, Mammon's shirt off and him lying on his front as you poured ointment over his scars.

Mammon: Oi MC please don't be so upset...

MC: You didn't deserve this. You didn't. I did.

Mammon: MC, not again.

MC: You took my punishment. You took the blame for the broken vase for my sake.

Mammon: I didn't want ya getting hurt ya stupid human!

MC: Don't be calling me stupid and then go off doing stupid stuff yourself! *cries*

Mammon: MC...no don't cry. Please I'm sorry.

MC: Don't apologize for this! Mammon you're too kind... You keep taking blame for others, and the others just UGH.

Mammon: I've gotten used to Lucifer's punishments, MC! I'm more used to it than my brothers so I can take it!

MC: .... You're such a sweet big brother. You can't stop protecting the people you love, can you?

Mammon: *turns around to lie on his back* Now you get why I need to protect ya, don't ya?

Asmo's eyes flew open as did yours. Mammon just confessed to you. Albeit indirectly, but really did. But he felt pity for his older brother. Sure he was caring and sweet sometimes, but mostly he was a thief and a scumbag who constantly gets into trouble. He didn't stand a chance against Asmo's charms.

MC: Mammon... You silly demon. I love you too. *Lays their head on his chest*

Mammon: *blushes and coughs* Of course ya love the Great Mammon, human!

MC: *smiles against his skin* Swear to me, you won't ever do that again else I will fight Lucifer myself!

Mammon: *smiles* He's attacked ya thrice and yer face still loses its colour whenver he's around and yet yer thinking of fighting him for my sake, MC?

MC: OF COURSE!

Mammon: But I don't want that. Ya did too much for all of us when ya sacrificed your life to bring Belphie back. I should know, I held ya in my arms. *Tears up* Ya know ye were smiling still?? So calm and undisturbed as if ya didn't care what happens to ya now that all the brothers are together?

MC: You caught me...

Mammon: And I never want to catch ya like that again, get that human!? I will be a good protector as I was meant to be.

MC: Mammon... you're far too kind to be a demon. *Kisses him and gets on top of him*

Mammon: *grips their arms and holds them close* Stay with me tonight.

Asmo watched as you nodded and took off your top and lay down over him again, your skins in gentle and intimate contact and you both wrap your arms around and you presses kisses onto each other. The moonlight danced on your entangled bodies.

He stared and stared, his insides burning with an alien feeling. He hadn't known envy till you came along. His signature move would be to call both of you out and suggest a threesome, but what you both seemed to have was impenetrable. And in the mirror where he saw your reflections, he couldn't see himself.

At his best

This demon had never known love. He might have if Mammon hadn't decides to confess that very night.

But who cares? What's done is done. It's time to root for the both of you. He still has his followers to turn to.

"Mammon finally confessed huh?" He asked jokingly. Until he saw you blush and nod.

"You both must have fun together huh?" He says with a dry laugh.

Your hugs and headpats still keep him going. He takes you buy new dresses knowing it's to impress Mammon instead.

Tries so hard to conceal his tears and tantrums around you. He doesn't want to lose the small part of you that he had left.

At his worst

He cannot stay home. The sight of you both together makes him irritated and stressed both very bad for his skin.

He drinks and parties uncontrollably, bringing home demons and succubi that always seem to resemble you.

One night, Lucifer had enough and caught him by the collar, forbidding him to go to his room. Asmo giggled until Mammon and you showed up.

He swiftly escaped Lucifer's grasp and lunged at you, holding your face between his trembling hands. You look at him closely, his make up was messier than usual, the cresent underneath his eyes was darker than usual.

"MC...look at me. Look at only me. Just for a little while." Asmo said and his eyes glowed. He'd turned on his charm on full force as he leaned into you for a kiss.

Mammon pushed him back and stood before you protectively. Asmo fell back, laughing like a maniac. "Stupid Mammon they are with you out of pity! How long do you think you can make them stay with that stupid brain and sub par beauty?"

You teared up and screamed, "Asmo stop saying things like that! You dont even know anything about him!" Mammon hugged you tight, trying to calm you down.

And then in a lowly growl he said, "Asmo don't let me see ya laying a finger on MC again. Ya would see how people really see ya if you learnt to look away from your own reflection!"

But Asmo did. He did look away from his reflection. He looked at you. Only you didn't look back at him.

Keep reading Pt. 2

[sebstanns]

Deserve

Summary: You broach a tricky subject with Bucky. Recovering / soft Bucky x female reader. Angst / fluff / smut.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Unprotected sex. Language.

A.N: I kept meaning to write for Steve but this happened. I usually write for Boyd Holbrook characters on my sideblog - Masterlist.

I didn’t tag anybody but let me know if you’d like to be, possibly a part 2 or a prequel to this. I’d like to thank @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook​ for her constructive feedback! It’s my first time writing for Bucky so please be kind!

Your heart skips a beat when you see Bucky waiting outside your office building, holding a bunch of flowers no less. He's awkwardly leaning against a wall, eyes darting around searching for you.

"You shouldn't have." You smile as you approach him.

"I was just passing." He murmurs, cheeks flushing as you kiss him.

"Passing a flower stall too?" You ask, accepting the blooms.

"Yeah, I guess so." He smiles.

"Mr Barnes, sorry to bother you." A voice pipes up. You turn and vaguely recognise the guy, you've seen him in the office building. What does he want with Bucky though?

Bucky eyes him warily. "Do I know you?"

"Oh no, I'm uh....I'm a big fan." the guy stammers, starting to sweat.

"So you're a fan of my work as the Winter Soldier or...”

"No no, I mean since then. Saving the world and everything."

"Sure, thanks." Bucky sighs.

You kind of feel for the guy, Bucky wasn't exactly known for accepting compliments, you know that better than anyone.

"Hey, can I get a selfie?" the guy asks, pulling out his phone.

"He's off duty, sorry." You say diplomatically, taking Bucky’s arm. "Let's get going."

"I'll never get used to that, " Bucky mumbles, as you steer him away from his fan. "I spent so much effort trying to hide and now..." He trails off.

"You saved the world, that's what people know you for now." You say, determined to put a positive spin on things.

"It wasn't just me." He says, as you cross the street. He moves his arm and grabs your hand instead, squeezing lightly. He's wearing gloves as is usual in public, concealing his gleaming hand in black leather.

You fall into a companionable silence as you head in the direction of your apartment. You can't help noticing that you're taking the route that happens to pass Bucky's favourite diner - where you first met in fact, a little over four months ago.

"Feel like coffee and pie?" He asks casually.

You grin at his predictability. "Sure."

Your flowers sit on the table in a kindly donated water jug as you and Bucky tuck into pie and ice cream, apple and cherry respectively.

"This...is...the...best...pie." Bucky says between mouthfuls.

"I knew you were going to say that." You tease.

He smiles, his eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. Oh, he seems so happy and relaxed, you impulsively decide to broach a tricky subject, figuring now to be a good a time as any.

"So, you know my sister's getting married in a couple of weeks." You begin, glancing at him as you toy with your food.

Bucky's eyes flicker and he fills his mouth with pie. "Hm-hmm." He mumbles.

You take a deep breath. "Well, I was wondering if you'd consider coming with me, as my plus one?"

He pales a little and offers a tentative smile. "I don't know sweetheart."

"Clare wants to meet you, that's all. You don't even have to stay for the full day, just to say hello."

"Sounds more like a family thing." Bucky says tightly, shifting in his seat.

"Well yeah," you swallow, feeling yourself flush. "But you are my....I mean..."

He sighs. "I don't think it's a good idea, you saw what happened outside your office. Imagine that times a hundred."

"Everyone will be focused on the wedding, my family won't bug you, I promise. They aren’t like that.”

Bucky scoffs. “You might be surprised how brave people get after a couple glasses of champagne.”

You sigh impatiently, feeling something inside you break. "What are we doing here Bucky?"

"I thought we were eating pie." He half-smiles.

"You know what I mean. Us." You hated to push him like this, you really did, and you already knew that he wouldn’t react favourably to it, but your developing relationship had seemed to come to a standstill lately.

"We agreed to take things slowly, didn’t we? One day at a time." He says quietly, reaching for your hand.

"But that was four months ago, I thought that we might have progressed beyond that by now. It's like one step forward two steps back with you." You say, your voice cracking with emotion.

"You're not my shrink, ok?" He snaps suddenly.

You slide your hand away from his and reach for your bag, tears forming in your eyes.

"I'm going home." You say softly..

"Don't go, please. I'm sorry." He says, looking up at you, a note of quiet desperation in his voice.

"Enjoy your pie." You sniff, not looking at him. You’re halfway home before you realise that you've left the flowers on the table.

X - X - X

By the time you get home you're angry with yourself more than anything else, cursing the fact that you even mentioned the wedding. You had agreed to take things slowly, but the truth is that you’re falling for Bucky and you want him to be a bigger part of your life. The wedding seemed like the ideal opportunity to introduce him to your friends and family, but on reflection, you realise how overwhelming it might be.

Half an hour later when there's a knock at the door, you know that it's Bucky. He's carrying the flowers, still in the water jug.

"The waitress said we could have this, I think she just felt sorry for me." He chuckles dryly, following you into the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the image of him walking down the street with the flowers.

"I'm sorry." You murmur, setting the flowers on your coffee table.

"Why are you sorry? I was a jerk back there." Bucky frowns.

"I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"You weren't pushing." He sighs.

"I spooked you.” You say softly, looking up at him.

"Yeah." He smiles. "A little. Look, I’m still trying to figure this out."

"I know. Me too. I've never been in a relationship like this."

"I should hope not." He says wryly.

You chuckle, fighting the urge to just throw youself into his arms.

"I like you, so much." Bucky murmurs, his eyes searching yours as he strokes your face. "But I can't help thinking that you'd be better off with someone else."

Your stomach drops. "No, Bucky-”

"I mean like someone who doesn't get spooked when you want to do regular relationship stuff, it's not fair on you." He says, brow furrowed.

"Look, forget the wedding, I'll ask one of my friends to come."

"It's not just the wedding though is it?" He sighs.

“I don’t want anybody else.” You state firmly, placing your hand on his chest - you can feel his ever present dog tags through the thin material of his sweater.

"You've been so patient with me, it's more than I deserve."

"This is what you deserve." You say, and kiss him gently on the cheek. "And this." then corner of his mouth. "And this." finally the hollow of his throat.

He lets out a soft groan and grips the nape of your neck, kissing you deeply, opening your mouth with his tongue. He tastes of cherry and vanilla, his lips soft but insistent.

"I want you." He breathes. "I want you."

Without a word, you take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Bucky was so gentle and hesitant when you first started sleeping together, terrified of hurting you with his strength and self-conscious of his arm. You managed to convince him that you could take - even sometimes desired - a little roughness. He loved to take his time undressing you, kissing and touching your soft flesh as he went. And when you reciprocated, he'd been touch starved for so long that the feeling of your hands and lips on him was almost enough.

Tonight he didn't deviate, pulling off your clothes and kissing you everywhere as you laid on the bed. He hovers over you, still half dressed, and you stroke his hair, fingers entwined in the short strands as his lips travel down your body, making you squirm. Finally he kneels between your legs and tugs at your panties, eyes dark with lust.

"James." You sigh, touching yourself, wetness coating your fingertips.

"You're so beautiful." He says gruffly, eyes focused on you as he removes his jeans. You'd seen him naked a number of times now but you never failed to be impressed by his magnificence, even his cock, now hard and leaking at the tip, is a thing of beauty.

You hold your hand out for him to return to the bed but his hands reach for your waist, indicating for you to turn over; you comply and he moves behind you, lifting your hips and pushing into you in one swift movement. You cry out as he fills and stretches your pussy, digging your fingers into the mattress as you back up against him.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He growls.

"Yes, please...don't stop." You mewl, as he buries his cock to the hilt.

Bucky’s flesh hand is between your legs, fingering your aching clit, while his metal one still grips your hip. You place your hand over his, interlacing your fingers with his vibranium digits.

The rhythmic clink of Bucky's dog tags and the sound of your soft cries fill the air, he continues to work your clit in tight circles as he moves inside you, leaning down to pepper kisses on your shoulder - it isn't long before you feel the familiar tightness building at your core.

"Oh, Bucky, I'm going to-" you trail off as he drives into you harder, making you come apart and you moan loudly as your orgasm rolls through you in hot waves.

Compared to you, Bucky's almost silent, quietly panting and groaning, his hold on you tightening as you feel him throbbing into you.

Afterwards he spoons you, his bionic arm around your waist like a vice, kissing your hair.

"Look, about the wedding-" He starts.

"We don't have to talk about it now." You yawn. “Let’s leave it until tomorrow. One day at a time.”

“One day at a time.” Bucky repeats, softly.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The former God of Magic resents The Mother for sticking him on Earth, and plans on causing as much havoc as he can to punish Her;

Version 2, Dark!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 1, Good!Merlin)

TW: A lot of emotional manipulation, a little violence, a lot of angst.

~

“You’re late.”

The woman’s well practiced blank mask falls into a scowl as she stares at Merlin with mistrust:

“Well, perhaps I was putting off coming to see you, no matter how necessary it is.”

The gang can see the bob of Merlin’s head as he lets out a low chuckle, and they have to stop themselves from recoiling; they’d never heard a noise like that from their young friend before, it sounded almost... cruel.

He lifts a hand to cover his heart as he says in faux offense:

“You wound me, sister. You didn’t want to see your favourite sibling?”

Everyone frowns in confusion, Merlin doesn’t have... siblings. That’s not even mentioning the fact that this woman barely seems human.

The woman doesn’t hide her slight disgust, taking a step back from Merlin and letting out a harsh breath:

“I came here to tell you that you need to hurry up. Time is running out.”

Merlin chuckles again, turning to the side and taking a few short paces, his hands held leisurely behind his back. The amusement on his face is disturbing, and Arthur gulps, not noticing the way Mordred is growing paler and paler by the second. Merlin doesn’t turn to look at the woman as he speaks, and his smirk stretches wider:

“But I’m having so much fun, Ava!”

The woman, Ava, huffs again, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. If the gang weren’t so semi-sure that Merlin wasn’t dangerous, they’d think she looked scared:

“Mother sent you here to complete a task. Get it done, and you can come home. Isn’t that what you want? To come home?”

Merlin’s smirk falls, and the snarl that the gang briefly see on his face before he whips around to face Ava takes their breath away. They barely notice the thunder, snapping in the distance in time with Merlin’s anger:

“Mother’s the one keeping me here in the first place. She could accept me back any time.”

Ava takes another step back, and Merlin tilts his head ever so slightly at the movement, but waits for her to speak:

“As punishment for your cruelty. She isn’t happy, you’re making a mess of things.”

Merlin chuckles again, tilting his head even further, and his words have an immediate chilling effect on the group hiding in the bushes:

“Well, if she insists on sending the God of Chaos to fix a problem, perhaps she should expect a little mess. Plus, I’m having more fun here than I’ve had in centuries. These humans... so gullible.-”

Ava shakes her head mournfully, but before she can say anything, Merlin continues, now pacing calmly around the clearing, waving his hands and grinning in his excitement:

“-I mean, they’re just so... easy. To play with, to manipulate. You know they all trust me? They all come running to naïve, innocent, loving little Merlin, spilling all their secrets as they go. Did you know, the drunkard is the son of a noble? “Fuck nobility” my arse, he is nobility.-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw and looks to the floor, ignoring the stares of Arthur and Leon, but before anything can be muttered, Merlin continues, listing their greatest secrets off on his fingers:

“-The gentle giant is terrified that someone’s going to find out that his preferences lie with men, which is ridiculous considering the way he stares at the aforementioned drunkard when he thinks no one but little old me is watching. The blacksmith, even years on, is terrified that his whore sister will never forgive him for... something or other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Camelot’s first, The King’s most trusted, has a debilitating fear of heights, and oh if it isn’t just hilarious to watch when he has to patrol the city walls. And then, there’s the-”

Ava rolls her mournful eyes and interrupts him:

“Your point, Em?”

Merlin laughs, fully and from the belly, but the sound doesn’t bring the gang joy like it normally does:

“My point, is that I’ve got these idiots wrapped around my finger. Mortals: the universe’s most fun toy. I haven’t even gotten to half of them yet. There’s the noble one, who thinks he holds my trust, the Druid boy, whose only redeeming feature is that he’s destined to kill the King Prat one day; believe me, if it weren’t for that I’d have killed the annoying little twerp years ago. Then there’s the King Prat’s magical sister, who is full of such terror. I play with her dreams some nights, force visions of pyres and hatred and destruction to play over and over in her mind. It’s rather amusing, watching her thrash and sweat and whimper in her sleep.-”

Arthur’s head had whipped around to Morgana when Merlin had mentioned her, but the tears streaming down her face and the way her hand was clamped tightly over her mouth stripped his anger from him. Which left him with no distraction, no way to ignore the simple fact of what was happening right now. Merlin was... not what they thought. He was powerful, he was using them. He was playing with them like puppets and pulling their strings this way and that, watching as they could do nothing but follow. Arthur didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t notice the tears on his own cheeks.

Mordred was pale to the point of looking like he was about to faint and Lancelot had a deep frown on his face, tears in his eyes but not quite falling, not yet. This was... a misunderstanding. He... he knows Merlin, this is a trick, or a trap, he’ll explain later and everything will be just fine. He just has to... to trust him. Everything will be fine.

Gwaine keeps his gaze on the floor. A small part of him was feeling a little prideful that Percival liked him back, but the rest of him... had no room for anything but grief. He had suspected that Merlin had magic, but this was something else, this was... a whole new person. Did he ever really know Merlin? Did any of them? 

Elyan and Gwen sat pressed together tightly, though Gwen had one hand on Morgana’s shaking back, and her other was reaching around Elyan, gripping Leon’s shoulder tightly. Leon was just staring blankly at the scene in front of him, though anyone that knew him well enough would be able to see the tight clench of his jaw and the anger (and grief) in his eyes.

Ava interrupted Merlin’s gleeful ranting, the tears in her eyes a little more prominent as she took on a slightly more desperate tone:

“Please, Em, just... stop. They’re important, they have destinies, you can not destroy them or push them too far; this is cruel, even for you. This... you never used to be like this.”

Merlin turns around, facing away from his sister and giving the hidden group full view of his rage-filled face. His voice is quiet and clipped and angry as he asks:

“Oh?”

Another roll of thunder echoes through the clearing, closer this time, and fat droplets of rain fall harshly from the sky, mixing with the tears on everyone’s face. Ava sighs, tears overflowing as she gulps before answering, her voice shaking slightly as she takes a step towards Merlin:

“You’re meant to be the God of Magic, not Chaos. You were so... beautiful, balanced. You saw wonder in everything, every little spark of magic and every single prayer put a smile on your face. You loved humanity even more than Mother did. Now look at you, you’re tormenting them, torturing them. This isn’t you, Em, please. Help them, and things can go back to the way they were, help them and you can come home.”

The anger on Merlin’s face had only grown as she spoke, and each individual hidden in the bushes had to make a concerted effort to stop themselves from bolting. None of them had felt terror like it, and the fact that it was Merlin they were all so scared of... well, it didn’t help.

Lightening streaks across the sky and wind howls violently through the forest, calming only when Merlin shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, straightening his back and smirking slightly before he replies, still not turning around to face his sister:

“You’re right. I loved humanity, I was desperate to see them succeed. And then they butchered me. I gave them this universe to frolic in, and in return they call me a monster, a beast, they call me evil, they make nightmares out of me. I still listen to every little prayer, and do you know what I hear? I hear my people, my wonderful little creations, my creatures of magic, begging for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. The humanity I so used to love turned on them, began to burn them, out of spite and fear and hatred. I will not show them any more grace than they have showed me, I will give them exactly what they deserve, and that blonde idiot is at the top of my list of people who have to fucking pay. I won’t destroy him entirely, because ultimately I want my creatures to stop suffering, but I will break him. I will rip him apart piece by piece for what he has done to me.-”

The absolute fury in Merlin’s words, the hatred, translates to thunder in the sky and agony in Arthur’s chest. The King can barely breathe, muffling the sobs tearing from his mouth with both hands, both terrified of being discovered, and desperate to... to let Merlin punish him for the pain he has caused.

Leon settles a shaking hand on his shoulder, but Arthur doesn’t look his way, his blurry gaze focused on Merlin, now finally turning back to his sister:

“-You know, I’m this close to getting that big blonde idiot to fall in love with me. How pathetic is that?? All it took was a few touches here, a few lingering stares there, saving his life occasionally. The man is so pathetically starved for attention I imagine he’d fall for anyone who showed him the barest amount of affection. That is how I will break him.-”

The only thing stopping Arthur from sobbing aloud is Leon collapsing behind him, pulling the young King back into his chest and wrapping a tight arm around his torso, one hand clamped over his mouth as he mutters desperate reassurances into his ear. Morgana pulls Gwen close in a similar way when the servant’s cries grow harsher, her brother burying his face in her shoulder.

Lancelot barely notices Gwaine gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises for weeks, or Percival pushing his forehead into Lance’s shoulder blade. All he can do is sit and stare at the ground, his breathing slow but shaky, tears streaming silently down his face as he rethinks everything he’s ever known.

Mordred sits on his own, rocking back and forth rhythmically as he tightens the clutch he has around his knees. Tears drip from his young cheeks, poisoning the ground beneath him as he struggles to consider his faith. His faith in magic, in Emrys, who was meant to be balanced and beautiful and giving. Emrys, who he now knew was twisted and angry and desperate for revenge.

All of their hearts are splitting, cracking down the middle.

“-It won’t be physical pain, no, that’ll be down to the Druid boy. He doesn’t want to kill Arthur now, but he will, one day, when I give him one final push. He’ll fall so far into the darkness there’ll be nothing of him left to save, and when he plunges his sword into The Pendragon’s chest, I’ll sit back and watch with a smile on my face, and Arthur will realise that the man he loves, the man who claimed to love him in return, hated him all along. Tricked him. I will watch the life drain from his eyes, and he will spend his last few moments on this world in every kind of agony imaginable, lost in the knowledge that I wanted him to suffer, that he is being punished for his sins.”

Ava shakes her head, silver tears dripping from her emerald eyes as she stares at the floor:

“Are Sir Mordred and the Lady Morgana not your creatures? Do you not wish to save at least them?”

Merlin chuckles darkly:

“I had faith in them once, but they made their decisions. They sided with a Pendragon over me. Mother may be fond of her precious Once and Future King, but to be fair, she’s fond of anything with a pulse, and I, for one, can not wait until she’s not quite so fond of him anymore.”

Ava gulps, taking a desperate step towards her amused brother, but before she can say anything, before she can make one last plea for mercy on humanity’s behalf, Merlin tilts his head, smirking dangerously:

“Do you think they’re scared?”

She halts in her tracks, blinking in confusion, and Merlin’s smile grows into a chuckle as he gestures behind him:

“The King and all his little friends, hidden in the bushes. Do you think they’re scared?” 

The gang barely have time to look up in shock before their bodies are moving, out of their control. They stand rigidly and walk single-file out from their hiding place, coming to stand in a line at the side of the clearing. Merlin hasn’t even looked at them, but his hand floats in the air, a sickly looking yellow mist swirling around his fingers as he tilts his head at his sister, staring in horror at The King, the knights, the Lady, and the servant.

Merlin drops his hand and they all fall to their knees, not even bothering to be brave as they sob. The angry God finally turns, and the serene smile on his face is chilling as he walks towards them, coming to stand in front of Lance and Mordred first. The two of them are the calmest, though calm in the way that they don’t really look... present. They stare blankly ahead, breathing shallow and tears still falling as Merlin crouches in front of them, gripping a chin in each hand and shaking their heads roughly. His voice comes out a whisper, the frown on his face looking more disappointed than anything:

“So much faith, so much trust. It’s a little pitiful, if I’m being honest.”

They don’t react to his words and he smirks before letting them go and standing, moving on to Elyan and Gwen, gripping the knight’s shoulder and saying with mocking sympathy in his voice:

“You were right, by the way,-”

He glances at a fully sobbing Gwen with disgust:

“-she’ll never forgive you, but she’ll never tell you that. You’ll just spend the rest of your life wondering why your relationship was never the same.”

Next, he shuffles over to Gwaine, not even bothering to see the siblings’ reactions as he passes Leon and Percival with a look of disinterest on his face. He leans down in front of the knight, running a soft hand through his hair, waiting for the man to relax slightly before gripping his hair harshly and yanking back, so he has to look up at him. Merlin gives him a blindingly cruel smile:

“You're grateful that Percival is just as in love with you as you are with him, but don’t think yourself too lucky. You’re a hypocrite and a drunk, and my dear old Percy has too much self respect to put himself through that. I’d go for a good tumble in the hay and give up while you’re ahead.”

Once again, he moves back, his sister having to look away in her grief, her empathy drowning her. The God comes to stand in front of Morgana, who is desperately trying to look brave but failing miserably:

“And you. You’re meant to be The Darkness, but I couldn’t very well have you outdo me, could I? Try your hardest, I’ll still be the end of you, and I wait with baited breath for the day you fall, and the day soon after that, when I get to kill you.”

She break down in tears again at that, horrified with the idea that she might one day be on the same end of morality and cruelty as this monster in front of her.

Merlin smirks before rolling his eyes and finally coming to stand in front of Arthur. The King calms his breathing just enough to look up at a smirking Merlin, his voice cracking and barely-there as he mutters:

“Please... Merlin, please...”

The smirk drops from Merlin’s face as he brings his hand up, the sickly yellow mist back again. Arthur rises from the floor, hands clutching at his throat as the air is drawn from his lungs. Merlin steps closer to his with a snarl, his free hand gripping Arthur’s chin like a vice, though his voice eerily calm as he murmurs:

“You. You and Uther were so desperate for a scape-goat, for a villain, for a monster. And you picked magic, you picked me. So stop being so fucking pathetic, I’m just playing the part you gave me to perfection. You picked the premise, I’m writing the ending.”

Ava finally speaks up, her voice loud, despite the waver:

“Brother please, this is... this is beyond cruelty, please just stop.”

Arthur is dropped, and The King can barely find it in himself to choke for air as Merlin turns back to his sister, the amused smirk back on his face:

“Why? None of them are going to remember in the morning anyway. I’ve had my fun, this has been cathartic, but I can’t have them ruining my plans. So run along now sister, tell Mother that her precious task is being completed, I’m just taking the scenic route.” 

She shakes her head in defeat, staring at the floor. She lifts her head, opening her mouth to make one last attempt, but she closes it, realising that there’s nothing she could possibly say to persuade him to suddenly have mercy, mercy that no one had ever shown him. She gulps, letting out a deep breath before shaking her head again and turning around, walking back into the trees, the way she came.

The God looks back to his puppets, shivering in time with their knotted strings, smirking once more before he clicks his fingers and everything goes dark.

~

Arthur wakes the next morning feeling oddly refreshed and surprisingly unannoyed at his idiot manservant’s lateness. He rolls his eyes at the bright sunshine glaring through his curtains, the sun certainly a lot higher in the sky than it should be at the time The King wakes, but oh well. Merlin has been chipper lately, and the warmth that Arthur feels in his chest at the younger man’s happiness makes him more likely to forgive him his tardiness.

As if thinking of him had summoned him (wishful thinking on Arthur’s part), Merlin bursts through the doors, not bothering to knock as per usual, a breakfast-laden tray in his arms and a cheeky grin on his face. Arthur rolls his eyes again, chucking a pillow at Merlin half-heartedly as he grumbles, also half-heartedly:

“You’re late.”

Merlin chuckles, setting the tray down on the table before jogging endearingly over to Arthur’s bedside, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand upright:

“Something tells me you don’t mind all that much, Your Pratness.”

Arthur huffs, but only to stop himself from smiling, and resolutely ignores the way Merlin’s hand is still in his. The servant squeezes his palm softly, and Arthur gulps, pulling away and walking towards his meal, hoping the food would squash the butterflies in his stomach.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, smiling to himself softly at a whole range of things: the good night’s rest he’d had, the bright sunshine, Merlin’s good mood, the sensation of Merlin’s hand in his own, Merlin’s dazzling smile, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...

Merlin stares at his back as he goes, noting with a dangerously satisfied smirk the red blush of his ears.

The scenic route indeed.

~

THE END!!

Oops I made myself sad. Sorry to say but I hope this makes you sad too.

This was SUPER fun to write and I’m so glad I decided to do two versions😅

Link to the Good!Merlin version (much MUCH fluffier, I promise) at the top!!

[fairyoftbz]

impossible love | j. changmin

🍞 pairing: tailor son!Changmin x baker!fem! reader 🍞 word count: 3.9k 🍞 genre: angst, fluff, sort of crush-to-lovers, Middle Ages!au 🍞 tw: swear words, jealousy 🍞 synopsis: your relationship with your sister has never been good, and you completely lose it when you see her flirt with your crush. 🍞 a/n: everytime I write for Changmin i have to tag you @sainthwngs 🤍🤍🤍 i hope you will enjoy this "small" work of him!! 🍞 requested: nope!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“Y/N, darling! Make some more bread after serving the Gatsby family, please!” your mother exclaimed from outside the shop as you actively kneaded the dough at the back, wiping your hands on your off-white apron before offering a smile to your customers.

The stretch on your face immediately disappeared as a sight on the other side of the street caught your attention. Sweat rose to your face, and shivers erupted in your body, resulting in you almost dropping the two loaves of bread you had subconsciously grabbed for the middle-class family. They didn’t even spare you a glance as you messily placed their order in the jute bag the servant was holding out to you, hands shaky as thoughts clouded your brain.

The woman threw a few crowns on the wooden counter with disdain before walking away, the servant hastily grabbing the bag and the son’s hand as the family walked out. You leaned your elbows on the counter and rested your hands against your forehead, biting your lower lip to prevent your tears from spilling out as your heart started hurting.

The tailor’s son Changmin was leaning against the shop doorway, a playful smirk painted on his face as he talked to your sister. While the man was completely oblivious of your feelings, your sister took the advantage of it. Much to your dismay, she knew that you liked him.

You didn’t want her to know at first, but you were a little too obvious of your attraction for the man when you stammered as you talked to him. He was really handsome, all the women wanted to marry their daughters to him, but he wasn’t interested at all. Changmin was nice to you, cracking a few polite jokes when he came to the bakery to buy some bread for his mother, making you feel like you could potentially have your chances with him. But you were wrong, oh so wrong. So naive and innocent to think that your sister wouldn’t seize the opportunity to plant you a knife in the back at this marvellous occasion.

You were trembling in rage as they were clearly flirting, and there was nothing more infuriating at the moment. You scoffed when she had the audacity to quickly turned around to check if you were in the shop, purposefully leaning closer to him with the same seducing smile she offered to every single of her conquests.

The relationship between you and your sister had always been difficult, her constantly accusing you to be your parents’ favourite child since you were born, and the time didn’t help at all. Many fights broke between you two for various reasons, but the most recurrent ones were about money. You were the most hard-working child, spending days and nights at the bakery to help your parents and make everything ready for each following day. Your sister, on the other hand, was busy roaming the streets, flirting and spending all the money you and your parents had given up hours of sleep to earn it in alcohol or street bets. You couldn’t even remember the last time you saw money in the clutch bag your grandmother sewed for your 18th birthday a few years ago, one of the many items your sister had the bad habit of stealing.

Anger boiled through your veins, letting the tears spill out of your eyes in rage. Stomping your ankle boots on the floor, you almost tripped on the pans of your dress as you went in the back office, slamming your fists on the table before crouching down while letting all the sorrow in your body come out in choked sobs. The smell of freshly baked bread gave you a small wave of warmth and comfort as you desperately tried to get this image of Changmin and your sister swooning over him out of your head, but it was to no avail.

And again, she had won. She was prettier, more confident than you, and there was nothing you could do against it. No matter how hard you fought, she’d always have the upper hand and take the slightest opportunity to ruin and humiliate you.

You don’t know how you found it, but you managed to gather some strength and get back to work as if nothing had happened. You were a bundle of nerves, kneading the dough angrily, imagining that it was your sister’s face instead of a pile of flour mixed with milk and eggs. Since you were the only bakery in town, you didn’t necessarily need to be nice, but you didn’t want any rumours to start about you. Some people got twisted brains and were ready to say some blatant lies to hear gossip and witness street drama.

Once you closed the bakery from inside, you walked upstairs and locked yourself in your bedroom without sparing your parents a glance. They asked you if you wanted to eat, but you just paid no attention to them, slamming the heavy wooden door behind you as an answer.

Without freshening up or eating, you drew the curtains and went to bed, head facing the wall. A few choked sobs escaped your pursed lips as you tried to control your emotions, but it was to no avail. You cried a major part of the night, your body fuelling with rage again when you heard your sister walking through the main door, shutting it like it was the middle of the afternoon, visibly drunk and in desperate need of attention. You almost went crazy when she stopped at your door and snickered, loving the way you had reacted to her provocations the same afternoon.

Chest heaving up and down heavily, you clutched your teeth to control your anger, not wanting to give her the satisfaction to get what she wanted. You heard your father scolding her for coming home so late and being so loud, and she immediately changed her tone, apologising to your dad profusely before going into your room. Your dad tried opening your door, but it was locked, whispering a few sweet words in case you weren’t asleep.

When you woke up a few hours later, the sun still hadn’t risen, but it was time for you to go to work. You felt sick to the stomach and dizzy, your lack of sleep and your self-inflicted fast from yesterday were not helping you to feel any better.

“Y/N, dear, come and eat something,” your father said as you got out of your bedroom, ready to start your day. His face saddened when he saw your tired state, resting a kind-hearted hand on your shoulder. You offered him a brief smile before shaking your head.

“I’ll eat some bread downstairs, don’t worry about me,” you mumbled, eyes flickering as you just wanted to go back to bed.

“Promise?” he said, raising his forefinger towards you. You nodded and offered him a tired smile before exiting your home.

Since you promised your father, you half-heartedly munched on some bread, watching the closed tailor shop in disgust. Your brain made you imagining again Changmin and your sister flirting together, your teeth angrily ripping apart a piece of bread from the small loaf.

“Woah, easy there Y/N, who came in your dreams and turned you into a beast? What’s gotten you so angry?” a deep voice got you out of your trans, mouth filled with bread as you noticed Eric, your childhood friend but also the farmer, holding a wooden crate filled with all the ingredients you needed to make bread.

“Sorry Eric, it’s just my sister again. Thank you for all of this,” you said as you walked around the counter and guided him in your workplace, putting everything in its place. “Your relationship between you two will never get better, will it?” Eric sighed while helping you in your task, only to see you half-shrug as an answer. “As long as she won’t behave, no, nothing will change. But it’s better like that, it’d be weird to have her being nice to me,” you said, and Eric shook his head. “I saw murder in your eyes when I arrived, I highly doubt it’s better like that,” he smirked, and you sullenly chuckled through your nose, walking with him outside the bakery, where his horses and his dog were waiting for him.

Eric’s hand landed on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing the edge of your jaw. His friendly gesture helped your muscles to relax, offering a small smile as a thank you, paying his products by sliding a few crowns in his pouch.

“Hey! That’s way too much, you’re not buying me a donkey! No please Y/N, take it back,” he said as he gave you back half of the coins you gave him, but you shook your head. “Take it as my way to thank you for being there for me since day one,” you sadly said, wrapping your hand around his to close his palm and pushed it back towards his pouch. “I don’t need your money to prove that you are my friend, I love you for what you are,” you rolled your eyes at his words and petted his dog’s head, who happily yapped at the display of affection.

You waved at him with a tired smile as he rode his horse further into the village, going back into the bakery once he was out of sight. This little encounter with your childhood best friend helped to clear your mind, reducing your anger close to zero. Of course, it was still there, but you will manage to tame it down for a moment.

However, this peaceful moment got interrupted when the bakery door creaked open, head peeking from your workplace, hands kneading the dough. Your heart skipped a bit out of anger as you rubbed your hands together to get rid of the flour before going behind the counter.

“If you’re looking for my sister, she’s still sleeping,” you spat as you stared at Changmin, who was surprised by your aggressiveness. “Well good morning to you too, Y/N,” he said, and you huffed, your hands gripping the edge of the wooden counter. “Well hello Changmin, welcome to the bakery. What can I serve you today?” you imitated the fake nice, high-pitched tone and body movements of your sister, your face falling back to neutral a few seconds later.

The tailor’s son was completely taken aback by your actions, not expecting this type of behaviour from you, who had always been sweet and helpful to him and his family. You placed the loaf of bread he usually asks for on the counter between the two of you, Changmin not moving an inch, still gazing at you with questioning eyes. His gaze fixated on you, and he was surprised when you didn’t blush and look away like you used to, your orbs boring into his with boredom.

“Anything else?” you dryly asked, and Changmin shook his head, extending a few crowns towards you. When you were to grab it, his other hand seized your wrist, your eyes widening. “What’s gotten you today? You didn’t look this mad when the farmer came here before me,” he said, and you raised your eyebrows. “Now you’re spying on me? Is everything alright in your head?” you frowned and freed your wrist from his grip, taking the crowns before turning your back to him. “It was hard for anyone to miss your little flirty moment in the street,” he bitterly snickered, and you scoffed loudly, feeling the anger boil back into your veins. All the hard work Eric had put into calming you just flew out the window in a millisecond.

You turned around to face the tailor’s son, your head shaking side to side at the boldness of his remarks. Changmin looked kind of angry, but it was nothing compared to your fury when you slammed your palms against the counter.

“The fucking cheek of it! You dare to accuse me of flirting in the street with my childhood best friend, when you and my sister were the ones making a spectacle of yourselves just yesterday, swooning and courting her like Romeo and Juliet!” you spat at him, feeling the tears rise in your throat. You swallowed them, as well as your pride, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you hurt by his words. Moreover, you never knew when your sister could appear, and you were not giving her the opportunity to humiliate you again in front of him.

“What on Earth are you talking about? I am not courting your sister!” he retorted, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t try to act all innocent, it’s not gonna work with me, I saw yours and my sister’s little game. Don’t take me for a fool Changmin,” you said through gritted teeth and went back to your workplace, kneading the dough as a way to reduce your anger.

Once the front door closed, you fell onto your knees, tears flooding your cheeks. You felt so remorseful for talking to him that way, you were never this impolite and aggressive, but your anger spoke before your reason and values. But at least something was clear, your chances with him were reduced to zero. With the way you behaved this morning, there was no way for you to win against your sister. It’s not as if you had the slightest chance, but it’s always good to keep dreaming.

Later in the day, your mother asked you to go and get her and your dad’s shoes repaired to the cobbler down the main street. You sent a death glare to your sister as you noticed her smoking tobacco in front of the tavern with the innkeeper, who was around the same age as your dad, sometimes extremely inappropriate and shameful for your family reputation. She discreetly raised her middle finger to you, and you ignored her, her fake laugh sending chills of anger down your spine as you walked past her.

Despite being the richest man in town, the cobbler had always been humble and sweet with you. Maybe the fact that he was Eric’s uncle helped, but you always appreciated going there. The dim atmosphere and the smell of the different types of leather always made you think of the bakery, feeling like you shared something for your respective jobs with the old man. He loved making and repairing shoes as much as you loved making bread, so you understood the other when you enthusiastically talked about your passions.

“How’s your sister doing? I heard she got a job at the flower shop,” the cobbler chuckled at your flabbergasted state as he finished his sentence, readjusting himself in his seat. “My sister is jobless, flirting with every man she encounters and spending all the family savings in street bets and alcohol, I highly doubt she hit upon a job by Mr. Kim,” you said as he handed you your mother’s pair of shoes, thanking him with a nod. “This is what she told me last week when she came. She had this wonderful pair of black heels that got stuck in the pavement,” you nodded, clicking your tongue as you found out that she stole something from you, again.

“Hey, hey,” the cobbler shook your shoulder across the counter, trying to prevent you from crying as he noticed the tears of exhaustion filling your eyes. You nodded your head as if to convince him and yourself that you won’t break, smiling through your glossy eyes. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll deliver your bread tomorrow as usual,” you mumbled and he offered you a reassuring smile, almost seeing some similar features with your best friend, knowing that you could always go back to the Sohn family if you weren’t doing well. “Take care, Y/N, take care,” he said as you walked through the door, waving at him before wiping your eyes and walk back to your home.

For once, your sister was at the bakery, swooning excitedly over a flower bouquet resting on the counter in a clay vase. Your eyes widened at the sight of the bouquet, your sister swatting your hand away as you were about to touch a yellow rose.

“Stop it! You’re gonna ruin it with your ugly fingers. Plus they’re not for you, so you’re not allowed to touch them,” she spat, and you walked past her, purposefully bumping your shoulder against hers, making her whine like a child and take a few steps back to take in the shock. Your mother was cooking lunch in the kitchen on the higher floor, and she asked you who was making this much noise downstairs.

“Your daughter, Mother,” you dryly said, clearing your throat before continuing. “She apparently received a bouquet from a special someone, and she feels the need to let the entire neighbourhood know about it, just like when she has a man over. Here are your and Father’s shoes,” you said as you placed them down next to yours, your mother thanking you as she reflected on your words.

“Sometimes I wish she was more like you,” she said as she stirred the liquid in the cauldron, her words making you bitterly chuckle. “I don’t think that will ever happen, Mother, she despises me too much to even consider me as a family member. Anyway, I’m going back to work,” you stated and walked back to the entrance, hearing your mother disagree. “Y/N, dear, what do you mean? Y/N!” She yelled, but her words fell on deaf ears, closing the door behind you before going back down in the bakery.

Your sister and the bouquet had vanished, much to your delight. You breathed in deeply as you started working hard again, focusing on your tasks to forget everything that happened today that scarred your heart. The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye, but it seemed like your faith had prepared still more trouble to come.

Just as you were about to finish your last loaf of bread of the day the front door opened again, this time you didn’t even bother to look.

“I’ll be there in two minutes!” you yelled from the furnaces as you pulled out freshly baked loaves with your big, wooden spatula, letting them rest on the side. You quickly checked if they were baked all around and nodded, inwardly praising yourself for your nice job.

Once you arrived behind the counter, you huffed heavily as you noticed who is standing in front of you.

“You know that the door to our home is on the left side of the house, you can go and knock there if you wanna see my sister,” you stated, lazily showing him the wall. “Stop thinking I’m here to see your sister,” Changmin said, looking annoyed at your words, “I’m here for you.”

You snorted and immediately apologised, letting out a true laugh as you thought he was joking. The tailor’s son frowned at your reaction, making him look ridiculous. His tongue poked his inner cheek and waited for you to calm down, his serious expression making you frown.

“Why did you want to see me, then? You had to come back to humiliate me again since doing it this morning was not enough?” you said, a sarcastic smile on your face. “I don’t know who planted this idea in your head, but I am not in love with your sister. She does not interest me. At all!” he exclaimed, and you had to laugh again. “Of course, you want me to believe that. That’s why you delivered flowers here this morning, right?” you said, and Changmin’s face decomposed in front of your eyes, his shock state making you raise your brows.

“No. No, she bloody didn’t,” he said and swiftly turned around to look outside, a hand pressed on his mouth. He quickly turned back to you and leant over the counter, resting his palms on it. “It was a bouquet of white tulips and yellow roses, right?” “Yes, in a white clay vase,” you confirmed, “those are not her favourite flowers by the way. She prefers purple hydrangea,” you added.

“Is nothing ticking inside your brain right now? Your mind is so clouded by hatred towards your sister that you don’t understand where I wanna get at?” he said, his face nearing yours closer and closer at each word. “Mh, who do you think those flowers were for? Why would I be gifting your mother some, my mother did that for her birthday a few weeks ago. Then if it’s not for your mother nor your sister, who’s left?” You thought in silence for a second before opening your eyes wide.

“They were for me?” you whispered, suddenly feeling all the pressure and anger reducing in your body as you pointed at yourself. Changmin was so close that his breath fanned against your face as he sighed deeply, his eyes searching for yours as you took in this confession. “Of course they were for you, Y/N. Sunwoo’s father told me that yellow roses were gifted as a form of apology. I was asking for forgiveness with those. But of course, I now understand your reactions if you believed they were for her,” he said, and you glanced at him.

“I don’t know what you imagined or saw yesterday, but I was only polite with your sister. I don’t want to be one of her conquests or just a one-night stand, this doesn’t interest me at all. I wanna mean something for someone. All the times that I came here, your sister was working, except for this morning. I was happy that you were the one behind the counter, I wanted to have a nice chat with you, but everything became so confusing to me when you were this dry and rude to me. But now I understand, I understand everything,” he quietly explained, and you felt like an utter idiot, looking at his large hands resting on the wooden counter.

“I should be the one apologising. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, but I was just… close to exploding,” you said, head hanging low as you realised you behaved like a temperamental child.

“Y/N, I’m responsible too. I shouldn’t have assumed you and your childhood best friend were a thing. I guess I was... jealous and upset that you gave another man attention and probably scared to see you slip through my fingers,” you looked up at him, and he smiled, your heart skipping a beat as you feel like breathing again.

He was interested in you. Not in your sister, in you.

And that simple thought just stretched a smile on your face, your breath mixing with Changmin’s as you were staring in each other’s eyes, so close to the other. A delicious shiver ran down your spine as your nose bumped into his, smiling as he rubbed them together. You closed your eyes, still smiling, millions of butterflies erupting in your stomach as you felt his lips locking with yours in a sweet kiss. It felt even more magical than you had always imagined in your dreams, and a groan got stuck at the back of your throat when he cupped your cheeks with his slender hands to deepen the kiss over the counter.

And for once, you were the one winning. Your sister had better watch out, because you were already excited to rub your relationship with Changmin in her face, a feeling of sweet revenge creeping up in your stomach as you kept kissing your crush.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Whistle

Yelena Belova x reader, oneshot, mentions of Natasha's death, angst, hopefully ending, took a few liberties with Yelena's fake family

You woke up alone. Again. Third time during the last two weeks. Even with your eyes closed, you knew she wasn't around. Familiar anxiety was already crawling under your skin, coming up to your throat.

Cold floor, soft fabrics of the robe, click of a lamp. Exactly the same occurances and exactly in the same order.

And then you heard it. That damn whistle. Harmless by itself but so critical for you both. For Yelena it was a constant reminder of something terrible, that she never shared with you. For you it was an indication that this very moment your girl was drowning in pain and regrets you couldn't possibly fathom.

Trying not to wake up your dogs, you followed the note. Yelena was sitting in the kitchen, staring blankly at the half full bottle of vodka, she didn't even bother to use a glass. Smoldering cigarette in her hand and who knew how many already burnt ones in the ashtray.

"Oh, isn't it my favourite girl?"

You could barely understand her. Her usually adorable accent became so much thicker. You were surprised she didn't attack you with her favourite Russian curse words. Maybe everything wasn't as bad.

"Yes, I'm here."

You wanted to get her at least a glass and clean the ashtray, but Yelena caught you with her free hand. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere, I'm with you." You let her hug you. "How are you?"

"Great. Don't you see it?" She smiled in your chest.

"Yeah, I do."

You started massaging her scalp, carefully trying to bring her back to you from that whistle.

"You're so good, girl." She moaned. "I'm sorry, I woke you up."

"It's ok." You felt her grip on your back tightening. "Nightmares again?"

"Yes."

"Wanna talk?"

"Nope."

Sometimes you were wondering how strong this woman actually was. Being able to overcome so many obstacles, so many enemies and still being able to show her vulnerable side. Fighting, surviving, sharing a life with someone. You admired her. And you hated the world for making this woman suffer so much.

"How long have you been here?"

"Well." She looked at the bottle. "An hour or something."

Not long enough for her to get really drunk. But enough for her to muffle the memories.

"How are so warm?" Her nails were already digging in your skin.

"How are you so adorable?" You kissed her forehead. "Let me go, Lena. I'm going to make us coffee. Since it's already 5 a.m."

"Fine." She reluctantly freed you.

"Oh, and no more smoking."

As an answer Yelena mumbled something inaudible. But it was Russian and it wasn't a praise.

When she returned from the bathroom, she already felt better. Cold water helped her to sober up a little.

When she came back her cup of coffee was waiting for her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." You were already sipping yours.

"I can only imagine how much you hate me right now." Yelena preferred not to look at you at all, already feeling the guilt.

"Don't say that. I'm worried about you. You're sleeping less, drinking more, being somewhere very far from here. How long will you be able to go on like this?"

"I don't know. It's just...maybe it's because of the anniversary or..."

"Anniversary of what?"

Yelena saw genuine concern in your eyes, heard it in your tone, felt it for months in your touches. She had to tell you. What if it freed her, what if it helped her to cope with the loss. She couldn't handle it on her own any more.

"In three days. I promise, I'll explain everything."

Those three days were so ordinary. With routines and talks, and reality. Both of you carefully avoided the subject. Until Yelena told you to get ready.

She didn't tell you where you were going, remaining silent for hours. Seeing her like this was devastating. But from time to time Yelena glanced at you as if to remember she wasn't alone.

You don't know how many hours you spent on the road. It didn't matter, once you got to your destanation.

A graveyard. Yelena never told you about this. Never told you about deaths of her close people, you were not even sure she had them.

When you were about to enter it, she whistled as if to hear something in return. But she only heard rustle of leaves.

You held her hand, interwining fingers. Her veins needed to be filled with trust and love, yours with her despair and fear.

She looked at you and nodded. Your walk took around 20 minutes, when Yelena suddenly stopped. You followed her gaze to the one of the tombstones.

Natasha Romanoff. Of course you knew who that was. Everybody knew. A hero who saved you all, a woman who defeated pure evil. Her and Tony's monuments were in every big city. But apparently this was her real grave. Or rather symbolic one. You knew Yelena had her ties with Avengers, but she never told you she knew Natasha.

"Daughter, sister, Avenger."

Sister. Natasha was the sister from Yelena's dreams, the one whom she so loudly was searching for. Not the metaphorical black widow from the same mission.

"I'm sorry, I never told you about her. She was a part of a past long forgotten." Yelena regretted, she didn't bring you here before. How could she be so ignorant to think, you could make it worse for her.

"Your sister."

"Yes. Adopted one. We didn't have much time together. She just had to save the world, you know?"

"She was a hero. The one others aspire to be."

You walked closer. Now you could see all the flowers and toys, and letters, and candles, and who knew what else.

Yelena got down on her knees and whispered something. She was greeting her sister, was telling that she was not alone. Not anymore.

"She would be proud of you. You've come a long way since the old days." You carefully avoided all the mentions of the Red Room.

"I hope so. Red on the ledger. That's how she used to call it."

"You whistle to her?" You knelt down to Yelena's level.

"Yes. That's a stupid thing from childhood. Whenever she whistled back, I knew I had a family to come to. With my fake mother being the mastermind of the mind control and fake father being a jerk, Natasha was the only family I had. Do you think... you think... one day we can become a family?"

This question caught you off guard. You never talked about it. You loved Yelena deeply, but you were not sure she was ready for such commitments.

The pause was too long. Yelena could read the doubts in your look.

"It's not because I need a replacement or something. I thought about it a lot. And I'm ready to have a responsibility."

"Are you sure?" You didn't want to give to both of you false hope.

"I know, I'm far from perfect. But... yes, a family."

"A family. I want it with you." How could you say no to her. To the woman you already knew, you wanted to spend your life with.

"And you will always whistle me back?"

"Always."

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 7: The Wedding ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2000>

Warnings: arranged marriage mention, angst angst angst + feelings! SO MUCH HAPPENS IN THIS CHAPTER.. IT’S A RIDE AND A HALF SO FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS.

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! :( i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

This was not how you imagined your wedding day.

Eloping wasn’t necessarily a big deal for Mandalorian’s, however, it was a big deal for Mandalorian royalty. Typically, the ruler would announce a colourful festival filled with vibrance and happiness to celebrate the occasion, and the entire planet would be in joy. There would be no conflict; just smiles and laughter and love. But ever since the Imperials took over, you honestly didn’t think you’d ever see the day of a marriage. You remembered when you were a little girl, dreaming of the dresses you’d wear on your special day. You weren’t very particular about Mandalorian gowns, although your mother, the Duchess, donned some beautiful ones. You preferred the seamstry of Nabooian dresses, even consulting with one particular handmaiden of an old queen who would send you materials to create your own garments with.

Part of you wished it had been different, but you understood that this marriage wasn’t going to be like any other. It was a marriage to protect you, to keep you safe. Marriage was typically a celebration of love, two people committing to one another for life. And Din didn’t love you, did he?

You contemplated it for a few moments but shrugged it off. Sure, he’d shown you a strange level of kindness and protection over the past few days, and he acted like he’d known you forever, but no, of course he didn’t love you. He was simply just doing his duty as a Mandalorian to protect the Mandalo’r. Only, you weren’t exactly the Mandalo’r. He still didn’t know the truth about you. You were marrying this man, and honestly? Your life as he knew it was a lie.

But Maker, you were so afraid. If he learned who you really were, he’d never protect you. He’d have no reason to. And you had to put yourself first. You had to escape Moff Gideon’s pursuit and restore Mandalore to its former glory. You couldn’t afford distraction. And Din… was probably more of a distraction than you’d care to admit.

You combed your fingers through your hair, attempting to make yourself look somewhat presentable for the ceremony. Taking a few sourberries, you squished them between your fingers and applied the pink paste it had created to your lips, adding a little colour to your face. You weren’t as glammed up as you’d like to be, but it was certainly better than you could’ve expected, given your lack of resources.

To your surprise, Grogu came waddling in, holding a bunch of pink Sachi blossom flowers. He presented them to you with the most adorable smile on his face, his small teeth poking out from the corners of his lips. Babbling away, he crawled into your lap and nuzzled his green face into your tunic.

“Din… got me these?” You asked in disbelief, unable to even imagine the Mandalorian going out of his way to pick them for you. Grogu explained that they were wildflowers which grew around Nevarro, and Din chose these ones because, well, they were pink. Your favourite colour.

He was so thoughtful.

Grogu explained to you that Din and the Armorer were ready and waiting for you by the altar, in the depths of the covert. This was it. You were about to swear your life away to this man.

Din was nervous too. He rocked backwards and forwards on his heels, the knot in his throat tightening considerably as he waited for you. The Armorer, as his mentor, did her very best to comfort him and assure him he was doing the right thing. Marrying the Mandalo’r would come with so much duty, and Din just didn’t believe he was good enough for you.

He reminded himself to push his feelings to one side. You were marrying him for your own safety. Not because you loved him. When Din heard your footsteps enter the room, his heart began to slam against his chest. He turned to face you, and was completely blown away. Suddenly, he was looking at you in a completely different light. You looked like a real-life angel. He didn’t know what it was… perhaps the way the amber candlelight basked you in the most perfect glow, your blush lips, or the way you held the flowers he’d picked especially for you, tight against your chest. Part of him thought that maybe you wouldn’t show. You were a runaway princess, afterall.

Grogu led the way as you slowly walked down the short aisle, trying your hardest to relish the moment. You offered Din a small smile of reassurance by the time you reached the altar, so he knew that you were still okay with this.

The ceremony began with the Armorer bestowing a beaded necklace, decorated with Din’s clan emblem; the Mudhorn, in sparkling silver beskar. She placed it around your neck, and explained the meaning of the Mudhorn signet. She then turned to Din, and told him that his clan of two was now officially, by Creed, a clan of three. 

As the ceremony progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder how something so wrong felt so right. You imagined your body to be rife with nerves. After all, you were marrying into your rival clan to a man who you’d only known for mere days. But you weren’t afraid and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to run. You were happy, here with him. You were happy to be uniting with a man like Din. 

“Have you prepared vows?” The Armorer asked, taking a step backwards and ushering for you and Din to break your distance with one another. Din slid his mustard coloured gloves from his hand and stuffed them into his utility belt. You thought, for a split second, that you saw his hands shaking, but nevertheless, he held them out for you to hold. And so you did. They were warm and calloused, the pads of his thick fingers slightly rough.

Your own fingers interlocked with his and just for once, you wished that you could see him-- see the face under that damned helmet off his.

“No,” Din said, not tearing his gaze from you. “We were going to do the traditional Mando’a vows.”

“Very well,” The Armorer replied. “Whenever you wish.”

Din swallowed thickly and squeezed your hand again. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” (“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.”)

Raise warriors. You looked down at Grogu who’s dark eyes were wide with curiosity as he witnessed the ceremony. After you repeated the vows, you and Din exchanged beskar rings. 

“I’m glad I met you, Din.” you told the Mandalorian quietly. 

Din’s heart blossomed in his chest at your revelation. You hadn’t even realised that you’d been holding it in for so long. So long that ‘like’ was beginning to feel like an understatement. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” The Armorer declared. “I shall leave you both in peace for the night.”

She bowed down to both you and Din before whisking Grogu away and leaving the room. 

“So… I’m a prince now?” Din asked cautiously.

Your lips curled into a smile that he’d grown to adore so much. “Yeah, something like that.” you laughed. If he remained married to you after you reclaimed the Mandalorian throne, you’d be queen and well, he’d be king. Your smile quickly fell from your lips when you realised how foolish it was for you to think he’d remain married to you even after this was all over. 

“I can’t believe we’re married,” you revealed quietly, your voice shaky. Din muttered something that sounded like agreement but what he said wasn’t exactly clear. You turned away from him, feeling shame well in your stomach. “But, it’s for the best, right? And I mean, we can always separate once this is all over.”

You felt Din place his hand on your shoulder and squeeze it gently. His touch was like magic. Sure, you felt safe when he was near… but when he touched you? That was like a whole new unfamiliar sensation. You turned around to face him, and he brought both of his hands up to his beskar helmet.

He was going to take it off.

He was going to reveal himself to you.

Although you didn’t necessarily agree with the ways of the Watch, you knew that unmasking himself would be a huge deal for Din. It was only in marriage, could a Mandalorian reveal themselves to another living person. And even though your marriage to Din was extremely unconventional, he still felt the need to take off his helmet. You didn’t understand why he was voluntarily going to take off his helmet, because he certainly didn’t have too. You didn’t understand why he trusted you so much when, of course, you’d been lying to him.

The shame you were feeling flooded your entire body and became over-bearing. You didn’t think you could take it anymore… living like this with your husband and pretending to be someone you weren’t.

“No!” You blurted out, moving your hands to his helmet and stopping him from taking it off. Din stiffened up when you raised your voice in that panic tone. You noticed his change in demeanor and took a deep breath, making a conscious effort to calm down so you wouldn’t worry him. “No… I can’t let you do that.” you said.

Din was puzzled as he tried to search for answers in the expression on your face… but you weren’t exactly easy to read. 

“You-- you don’t want to see my face?”

Was he hurt? Offended? You shook your head quickly, your eyes going wide. “No, I mean yes-- I mean… I want to see your face. I’ve thought about it a lot. Believe me.”

“You’ve thought about seeing my face a lot?” Din quizzed curiously, a teasing lilt to his voice as he tilted his head. 

You scrunched up your nose and began to nervously pick at your fingernails. “Yeah, uhm-- I just… I know how important the sanctity of an unmasking is to your culture. It’s a trust exercise, is it not? To do with your loved one?”

“To do with your partner,” Din corrected. “And we, by Mandalorian Code, are now partners. A Clan of Three.”

Kriff, he was right. He was always right.

Your stomach was twisted in knots, realising that this man married you to protect you. He trusted you enough to show you his face. The same face he’d kept hidden from the rest of the world for the past thirty or so years.

He was wrong to trust you. You couldn’t let him do this, no matter how much you wanted to.

“Din,” you looked away from him, trying to avoid choking up. “I haven’t… I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Din stood and stared at you in complete silence before proceeding. “What are you talking about?”

Why was this so hard? You wanted to scream, or curse out loud. It shouldn’t have been this hard. It’s not like you loved him. Right?

“I’m not who I say I am.” you explained, your voice shaky.

You wished now more than ever you could see his face under that damn helmet, and get some kind of judgement of how he looked. You could feel your lips trembling as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Maker, you felt sick to your core.

“I don’t understand…” Din said wearily, his voice completely modulated and monotone.

You had to do it. Just come clean.

You had to tell him the truth.

He deserved the truth.

“Din,” you sighed, exasperated and looking at him completely helplessly. “I’m not the Mandalo’r.”

_________________________________________

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[bestofbucky]

The Signal (1/2)

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, canon level violence, swearing.

Summary:  You go on a mission with Bucky.

A/N: Part 2 will hopefully be up sometime soon.

“You ready doll?” Bucky asked as you were nearing your drop off point. 

You nod back, not trusting your voice. No matter how many times you have had to parachute from a quinjet it will never get easier. Of course, Bucky can tell how nervous you are by the way you avoid eye contact and start tugging at the straps of your harness. He pulls your hands away replacing them with his own as he safety checks your parachute.

You know that you have done it all correctly but having him double check it is the reassurance you need. You watch him, his slightly furrowed brow and tongue poking out giving away how concentrated he is. 

He finishes his final check and looks up at you, “What are you smiling about?” He can’t stop his own grin from spreading across his face. Bucky didn’t just smile with his mouth, he smiled through the crinkles in the outer corners of his eyes, he smiled through the scrunch of his nose and he smiled through the relaxation of his whole body.

“You.” The contentment you feel, that comes from simply being near Bucky, is obvious in your body language and voice. His eyes glimmer as he leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Bucky had joined the team about two years ago. For one of his first missions you were paired up, you worked so seamlessly together that it would be silly not to put you with each other for more missions. This resulted in the two of you becoming close friends, he trusted and confided in you and you felt the same. 

It would be normal for the two of you to be holed up together after a tough mission, looking after the other but not wanting any social interaction with anyone else. You were both extremely similar like that, tending to fall inwards but you both became experts at drawing the other one out.

It was a natural transition from friendship to romantic relationship. You had just come back from mission and you were cuddled up in Bucky’s bed watching a film. Bucky had turned to you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to go on a date with him to which you immediately agreed. The feelings were already there from the bond you had formed, it was just the physical side that was needed.

This wasn’t a difficult thing to develop for either of you. Bucky had never met someone who completely overwhelmed his thoughts and feelings as much as you did. You were always on his mind whether it was a comment Sam made that he knew you would be on the floor laughing at or a mental picture of you sleeping, the morning light making your skin glow softly. He thought you always looked like an angel but especially in those moments.

You had never met anyone who's laughter was so infectious, it had become addicting to be the one to pull those noises from him, to lose yourself in his lopsided grins and crinkled eyes. He drew you in like a butterfly to nectar. You couldn’t get enough of him. His voice, his hands, his kisses.

This mission, on paper, was a simple one. Apart from jumping out of a quinjet and landing onto a moving train, all you and Bucky had to do was stop an illegal trade. That’s it. The mission file didn’t cover who the parties involved in the deal were. From your experience, being trained at the Academy and moving up the ranks of SHIELD before finally becoming an Avenger, you know that illegal trades are normally between civilians who are in over their heads in some kind of criminal group. However, not long into the mission you realised it wasn’t simple at all.

It turns out that one of the ‘unknown parties’ is Hydra, never a good sign. The weapons they are dealing are enhanced with alien technology and they somehow knew that you and Bucky were coming. The only reason the mission didn’t get pulled is because the rest of the team was on standby, ready to step in at any moment.

In fact, the job got so complicated, so quickly, that you and Bucky found yourselves at the back of the train, severely outnumbered and being pushed closer and closer to the edge of the train where the back wall had been blown to pieces by the very weapons involved in the trade.

It was loud, the sounds of fighting were drowned out by the noises of the wheels on the tracks. The train was moving fast and the wind was whirling around the carriage meaning just one misstep could send you flying off the train and landing on the tracks below.

There was a moment when you thought you were a goner, but Bucky managed to haul you back into the carriage, putting himself between you and the edge of the train. A move that warmed your heart, knowing his history with trains was not a good one.

“I fucking hate trains.” You remember him saying when you had first got the mission brief. “Nothing good ever happens on trains.” You had laughed back then, but there was nothing funny about the situation you were in now.

The next ten seconds seemed to happen so quickly. One of the attackers yelled something in what you assumed to be German, he was holding the weapon you recognised to be the same as the one that blew out the back wall of the carriage. Next thing you knew Bucky had wrapped his arm around you and was launching you both off the train. 

Time slowed and you seemed to float mid-air as you watched the carriage go up in flames, shrapnel flying everywhere, the heat burning your eyes and forcing them closed. Then came the impact of the fall, quite luckily Bucky had managed to aim for the snow on the sides of the train tracks and not in the train tracks themselves.

Bucky immediately sits up and sends the signal for extraction, he then starts checking himself for injuries. You are lying on your side facing him, half your body concealed by the snow, the other half just poking out. His eyes travel to you as he looks over your body.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” The concern was clear in his voice.

“No, I think I’m ok.” You try to move yourself but wince slightly. “I think I landed funny though because my side hurts.” You manoeuvre yourself onto your back. As soon as you get your right side out of the snow a gasp causes you to snap your head towards Bucky who is just staring in shock at your stomach.

His eyes are wide, eyebrows slanted upwards and mouth open slightly. You know whatever it is can’t be good. Gathering up the courage to look down at your stomach, you lift up onto your forearms. Finally looking down, the sight causes bile to rise and you have to stop yourself from gagging. A piece of shrapnel about the size of an A5 piece of paper is sticking out of your side. There is so much blood around it that it is hard to tell what it is and how deep it has gone.

It’s as if looking at it made it real because the pain suddenly hits you. Out of instinct your hand flies towards the wound to try and hold it or soothe it but Bucky quickly catches your hand stopping you. It’s like a flip switched in his mind. He suddenly starts stripping off his clothing. He takes his shirt and undershirt off before putting the rest of his gear back on. He moves behind you, placing his legs either side of you and lifting your upper body carefully, so you are now leaning on him. He manages to wrap your wound, careful to go around the shrapnel to try to stop the bleeding, but not push it in anymore. He continues to do the same with as much of his clothing as he can afford to lose in the snow. He takes your left hand and puts it over the clothing, then places his hand on top, telling you to press down as hard as you can, as he does the same.

You start to feel lightheaded, the pain in your side only getting stronger.

“Stay with me doll, backup is on its way. They’ll find us.” Bucky is practically begging and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open.

“You were right.” You say after a while and Bucky gives you a puzzled look. “Nothing good ever happens on trains.” You chuckle at your own joke but quickly stop when it causes shooting pains to fly through your body.

Bucky lets out a sharp breath from his nose. “When you get through this you will be able to join my ‘I survived a fall from a train’ club.” He jokes smiling down at you.

“I can’t imagine there are very many members of that club.” You smile back at him and he laughs, you can tell he is trying to distract you but you let him anyway.

“No, at the moment it’s just me. The events the club holds are very fun though!” His eyes light up as he continues to look down at you. “We’ve had freight night, that was watching scary movies that have a train in at some point. There’s train reaction, which is like the telephone game, that one was quite difficult with one person.” He laughs at himself which makes you giggle, trying not to contract your stomach. It doesn’t work and the shooting pains are back. The smile is still clear on your face and Bucky reaches his free hand up to push a bit of hair behind your ear.

“Bucky.” You whisper to get his attention, the words you want to speak are clear in the look of longing in your eyes. 

“No, baby please I don’t want to hear you say whatever you are going to say. You fight through this and you can tell me whatever it is when you’re better.” A frown is clear on his face.

“But I-“

“Please doll. You want to tell me whatever it is so badly, then use it as a reason to fight this. To come out the other side.” You scan his face and from the crease lines in his brow and the desperation in his eyes you can tell he already knows what you want to say.

You both fall into a comfortable silence. You realise being in Bucky’s arms is probably your favourite place to be. Feeling his chest steadily rise and fall, your head gently moving with it. You feel so protected, cherished, peaceful.

That is until Bucky looks down at your stomach to see that all the clothing he tried to use to wrap the wound has been completely soaked in your blood, he visibly winces. You move your head slightly to try and get a look but Bucky uses his free hand to tilt your chin up so you are looking at him instead. He holds the eye contact as he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you, covering your wound from your sight and warming you up as much as he can.

As secretively as he could, he sent the signal out to the team. The signal only used in extreme emergencies. Three long holds. The signal to say an agent doesn’t have long left to live.

The sharp sting of the cold has faded into exhaustion as the pain retreats from your body leaving behind a numbness you have never experienced before.

“I always thought I’d be alone.” You say pensively, “I never thought about death too much. I just always assumed I’d be alone when it happened.” You were slurring your words. If you were more aware of your surroundings you would have felt Bucky tense up at your words. Looking up into his blue eyes you wondered if death would be as serene as them.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” Bucky’s once motivational words, convincing you to hold on, shift to words intended to comfort you, to draw out the fear of your final moments and replace them with solace. You had closed your eyes, his reassuring whispers gradually fading away as he cradled you close to his chest. You wanted to be able to hear his heartbeat but all you could hear was the erratic beating of your own heart pounding in your head. 

In the far distance you felt commotion around you so you used what was left of your energy to open your eyes one final time. The sight you were greeted with sent a wave of emotion through you. Your team members, your friends, they were all gathered around you, kneeling or standing in the snow.

“My family is here.” You smile to yourself as you let the tiredness overtake you. The last thing you feel is an ice cold tear rolling down your cheek. An overwhelming sense of calm consumes your body and your worries and fears simply fade to nothingness. 

Bucky knew even before the Avengers turned up that your chances of surviving this were slim. You were bleeding out fast and it was showing no sign of slowing. It killed Bucky to know that all he could do was make you as comfortable and reassure you as much as possible in your final moments of life.

When the team got Bucky’s first signal, the plan was for just Tony to go down and retrieve you both. Then the second signal came in. They all silently agreed they would land the quinjet and all go together, maybe to say goodbye if they had enough time. If not, just to be with you when you take your last breath. They all knew that there was nothing any of them could do.

What none of them could have predicted was Helen Cho and a SHIELD team transporting the cradle from one base to another. The flight path directly over your current location. Their quinjet picked up Bucky’s radio signal and they made the choice to land to see if they could help.

Upon arrival Helen rushed straight to you, checking for signs of life, she must have felt something because she ordered for you to be put in the cradle as quickly as possible.

Bucky was frozen, no he wasn’t cold, he was a super soldier, the cold barely affected him. He was simply in a state of daze, unable to move himself to get you into the cradle. Steve could see this and swiftly took you into his arms carrying you onto the other quinjet and placing you down in the cradle. As soon as you were secure Helen was directing a team of people to all do different things. Steve stepped out of the jet, not wanting to get in the way.

No one spoke, they all had their hopes that you would be ok, but no one was particularly optimistic. 

“We’ll take her to my lab, she’s not in a good condition and this jet can only sustain the cradle for so long, we can take one or two of you in this jet with us, but feel free to follow in yours.” Helen had stepped out and as soon as she finished her sentence it was like a flip switched inside everyone.

The team made their way back onto the quinjet but Bucky hadn’t moved, he was bathed in your blood, a ring of red surrounding him a stark contrast to the blinding white of the snow. Bucky gratefully accepted Steve’s hand helping him onto his shaky legs. He looked down at where he had just been. The red crater left in the snow told the story of what had happened but Bucky still couldn’t quite believe it.

Steve’s hand on Bucky’s shoulder guided him to the quinjet you were in. He sat there staring ahead unable to do anything more, Steve stayed close by his side but knew not to push anything.

“She wanted to tell me something.” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence but his gaze stays fixed ahead. “She wanted to tell me something and I couldn’t let her finish because I wanted to stay strong for her.” Steve stays silent knowing he wasn’t finished. “I didn’t let her say anything because I knew I would have broken down in front of her.” He continues as tears start to fall from his eyes. He feels everything, guilt, regret, pain, loss, hope but at the same time feels nothing at all. His body numb and still in shock.

“What if it was her dying wish to say whatever it was and I took that away from her.” A crack in Bucky’s voice causes Steve’s heart to contract. He pulls his friend into a hug, Bucky gladly accepting the comfort.

“We both know what she was going to say Buck,” Steve takes a deep breath to try to stop himself from crying, “and we know how she is. If she thought for one second you didn’t know what she was going to say, then she wouldn’t have let you stop her from saying it.” 

Of course Bucky knew what you were going to say because he felt it too. He knew, because to kill you both only one of you actually had to die.

Taglist: @vampirewithbedsidemanners @townwitchbitch @velvetcardiganbucky

[implexedactions]

Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear.  Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes. 

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things. 

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks. 

 Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

 That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

 To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

 You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

ahh i’ve read all ur childe fics and they are absolutely amazing 🥺 i also live for angst and the way you portray ur characters emotions is emasculate *chefs kiss* is it possible if i may request an angsty childe fic where his s/o feels betrayed after finding out hes only been with her as part of the fatui’s plans but throughout the process childe actually falls in love and never meant to hurt them? and pls a fluffy ending bc my heart can’t take angst 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Pairing - Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Reader

Warnings - Spoilers for Childe’s background.

Other Comments - Hello!! I am so glad that you are enjoying my stuff! I never would have imagined that I would receive so much positive feedback as I just started doing this but everyone has welcomed me with open arms hehe!!  (//▽//) Anyway you are in luck because I absolutely love writing angst so lets go! Also these are heavily inspired by the songs Decode and All I Wanted by Paramore so I kinda recommend listening to them while you read. (๑˘︶˘๑)

      Everyone you have encountered along your journey have been so friendly; all of them going out of their way to assist you. You have gained many friends along your way which have caused you to become quite a trusting person, to a fault at this point. Every person you have met with try their best to help you with your journey and leave a lingering friendship which you are incredibly grateful for. When you first decided you wanted to become an adventurer, your parents were extremely apprehensive, not trusting the world around you. You were determined to prove them wrong, and so far you have. 

      You had decided you wanted to settle down in Liyue for a while, exhausted from the constant traveling. This way you were always able to stay close around the Adventurers Guild. Along your journey of living in Liyue you had continued to meet many lovely and helpful people; one being a tall copper headed man. 

      During your travel and adventuring you had started to become a fairly big name, as you were incredibly skilled and managed to help save Mondstadt on a variety of occasions; even getting to know the grand master of the Knights of Favonius. So when a tall young man approached you, already knowing your name you weren’t all too surprised. You had already settled down into your small cozy apartment when he had come up to you.

      “Excuse me, you don’t happen to be (y/n) do you?” You looked up, your eyes meeting bright blue ones as you found the owner of the soothing voice.

      “Oh uh, yes that’s me. Is there something I can help you with?” A pleasant smile graced your face as the tall man gave a polite smile back before continuing. 

      “I was wondering if you could assist me with a domain, I seem to be having a bit more trouble with it than I had expected. I’ve heard you’re one of the best out there right now.” Your face flushed, something about this man was so endearing, and helping him out couldn’t be too hard, you had been able to defeat most of the domains in the area anyway so why not?

      “Sure, I’d be more than happy to help you out! Are you an adventurer like I am?” You heard Childe let out a low chuckle.

      “Oh no I am a Fatui Harbinger.” Wait- did he just say he was a Harbinger? You didn’t know much about the Fatui, but what you did know and have heard from other people was that the Fatui were always bad news. He didn’t seem like what everyone was saying though.

      “Well then, when would you like to go?”

      That was the beginning of your relationship with the Harbinger. After that you two both seemed to get along surprisingly well, and you found yourself struggling to stop seeing him. He was always on your mind, and with him almost always being around you that wasn’t helping either.

      “So, where shall we go today darling?” Childe had decided to take up space in your already cramped apartment, not that you were complaining. It had been about six months since you had settled down in Liyue and you decided it was finally time to start traveling again. You had formed a really close connection with Childe, he always seemed to be your savior in situations that you needed it. You hoped that Childe would come along with you, but part of you had a feeling that he had to stay here for some reason.

      “Well I was thinking I would go back to traveling again, I have stayed for about half a year so I think it’s time.” The smile that always seemed to find its place on Childe face quickly dropped, and you saw something change for a split second before returning back to normal.

      “Oh well if that’s what you want then I am not going to stop you, but I can no longer accompany you, you better leave as soon as possible though.” Now what could he have said that for. 

      “So you can cover as much ground of course!” Childe must’ve picked up on your questioning gaze when he said that, as a reassuring smile found its way back to his face.

      “I suppose you’re right, I need to say goodbye to the friends that I’ve made here though. Could you help me pack my things while I go do that?” A strong nod came from Childe before you granted yourself permission to leave.

      It took you longer than you had anticipated to track down and say goodbye to all of the friends you had made here and Liyue, which you could blame Xiangling for as she made sure to make plenty of your favourite dishes for your trip.

      As you approached your building you saw the back of the boy you knew so well, duck into a dark alley. Something could’ve been wrong, so to make sure he was okay you quietly followed a little ways behind. 

      “Are you deaf or just stupid? Your job was to get close to the dumb bitch and then bring them in. What is taking so long are you kidding?” A shorter man with a large hat was currently talking to Childe, surely they couldn’t be talking about you.

      “Listen I know what my orders were, I was just waiting for a good time.” Childe’s voice was quite and his eyes were focused on the ground.

      “If they’re leaving today, you better hope that they are still in Liyue for your own well being.” With that the shorter man quickly turned away and stormed off. So it was all a setup. Everything they did and talked about... All the things he told you... You as you were backing away in disbelief your shoe scuffed against the ground, causing Childe to whip around, those once familiar blue eyes meeting yours blowing out wide.

      “(Y/n) wait-” You didn’t let him finish before you took off sprinting up to your apartment, hoping to get up there and lock yourself in. Was he going to kill you for over hearing?

      You tripped a couple times going up the stairs hoping to the gods that you would still have enough time to shut and lock your door, all the while Childe was behind you begging for you to stop, for you to come back. Relief washed over you as your eyes found your door, adrenaline still pumping wildly through you. 

      “Please please please gods let me in!” You franticly attempted to unlock your door, the adrenaline making you shaky causing you to miss the keyhole. Your feverish prayers were answered when you flung the front door open, Childe’s loud footsteps pounding against the floor behind you. Right as you were slamming the door closed Childe’s body flew against the door, causing it to swing back open, hitting you in the process and tossing you to the ground; knocking the wind out of you.

      Childe stood over you, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Was this the end? Were you going to die? Your wild eyes found his, the fear in them causing him to falter. He never wanted to see fear in your eyes, especially not because of him. The darkness of the night made it hard to see, the only light spilling in from the hallway through your open front door, spotlighting your face and the tears you had falling down your cheeks. You don’t remember when you started crying but it was obvious now. Neither of you spoke for a while, not knowing what to say. It was clear that Childe wasn’t going to kill you, but that still left a plethora of issues.

      “You...” You began to speak, your voice shaky and uncertain. Childe’s eyes silently begged for you to stop.

      “You took advantage of me. Everything was a lie. Was anything that came out of your mouth true?!” Sadness and anger flushed your face and you slowly rose to your feet.

      “(Y/n) please... I never meant for it to go on this long.” That didn’t help his situation, that sentence having the same effect of putting water on an oil fire. Anger bloomed from your chest, almost making it hard to breathe.

      “I trusted you! I guess this is all my fault for putting my trust into a Fatui Harbinger! Childe’s not even your real name! I know NOTHING about you!! And... and I let you stay with me! Keep me company! I let you put your filthy hands on me! You kissed me!!” Tears began to spill faster, but not just from you this time.

      “(Y/n) please my feelings and actions towards you were no lies!! I admit this was all set up, but then I began to truly fall in love with you!! You have to believe me!” A loud broken laugh escaped your lips, almost like a bark.

      “Believe you?! Again I don’t even know your real name-”

      “Tartaglia.” This stopped you in your tracks, you couldn’t quite make sense of what he said.

      “What?” Your words were barely above a whisper.

      “My name. It’s Tartaglia. My family calls me Ajax. I am the 11th Harbinger of the Fatui. I moved to Liyue as a debt collector. I don’t want to be in the Fatui, not ever since I met you. You knew who the Fatui were and still chose to trust me. No one except my family has ever looked at me the way you do. I am from Snezhnaya. My birthday is July 20th. I enjoy ice fishing and combat. I have many siblings, a couple younger brothers named Teucer and Anthony and I have a sister named Tonia. See? You know so much more now!” You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, you just stared at him. Childe or Tartaglia rather, was clearly getting anxious at your silence, as he shifted around more or fiddled with his gloves. He was normally so confident, so seeing him like this was shocking.

      “(Y/n) please, say something; anything.” The desperation in his voice made your chest tighten. What could you say? On one hand you wanted to just forgive him and fall into his arms, on the other hand he had completely destroyed your trust; were you really willing on forgiving him that easily?

      “Childe... I...” You could see Tartaglia flinch, not used to the tone of his code name on you tongue. He wanted so desperately for you to just say his real name. He wanted to embrace you, for you to forgive him. He would find a way out of this for the both of you. 

      “(Y/n) I will help you. I fell in love with you. I knew the second I set my eyes on you that I say going to fall for you. I will get you out of this situation, I have to. I know it’s stupid to say this now, but you have to trust me on this. After I get you out of here is when you can hit me scream at me and tell me never to see you again. I just need to make sure you’re safe.” You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore as you began to cry again. Tartaglia stepped close to you, slowly to make sure that you had a way to back up if you didn’t want him to get closer. When you didn’t move he took that as an ‘okay’ to get close, and that’s what he did.

      Slowly the distance between the two of you closed as Tartaglia sunk to his knees and clung to you. His hold on you was iron tight, as he waited and hoped for you to return the hold; which much to his surprise you did. You clung to him and cried. 

      “I will make you trust me again (y/n). I will make you trust me and I will keep you safe. You have my word. I love you.”

[tomtenadia]

Till food do us part - Rowaelin one shot

Good evening everyone.

I am back with a quick Rowaelin oneshot. This short fic came to me last week while I was in my hotel in Inveress getting ready to check out. Once on the train back to Aberdeen I had two hours and a half and I wrote this.

It’s a simple story and  just pure undiluted Rowaelin domestic fluff. I think I had to compensate for the angst in ALB. There’s no angst, just our two lovebirds being their adorable selves. 

The title is ridiculous. It took me more time to choose it than to write the whole fic. And it’s still bad. Sorry, I hate choosing titles.

Ach well, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy.

Word count: 2.5k 

Aelin was in the kitchen all alone, in front of her on the counter she had all the pots and pans she would require to prepare her meal. At one side she had her cooking book and on the opposite side she had lined up all the ingredients needed. 

That was meant to be a special night and she wanted everything to be perfect. And because of that she had been nervous. She was not good at cooking like her boyfriend so for her to prepare a full meal from scratch was a monumental task. She just hoped not to burn down the house. He had been teaching her slowly, starting with very simple things but that evening, no matter what she was going to cook for him.

The plan was to prepare everything a part from the dessert which she had bought from the local bakery. Although her boyfriend was not a fan of sugary stuff, the night called for dessert. 

She and Rowan had been together for five years. They worked for the same company but on different floors and departments. She was in marketing, Rowan was part of the legal team and was one of the company’s lawyers.

They had a bit of a turbulent start. They met in the cafeteria and Rowan had the bad habit of being always a bit of ahead of her in the queue and always take the last portion of the food she wanted. Far too many times she had ended up eating food she did not want because of him. She had even tried to go to lunch at a different times but the man was always there. Her own personal hell. So after a whole month of that she had decided to take matter in her own hands and slowly plan her revenge. Rowan was a creature of habit, so she spent a few weeks studying him and his routine. Aelin had learned he loved to eat alone. He had friends but the lunch hour was his time to wind down and he did not want any drama or any shop talk. That would make her plan much easier. Eventually she hatched her plan. She started swapping the content of the salt and pepper shakers or even replacing them with other stuff. Aelin had also started making his table sticky or cluttering with empty trays. He still had no idea it was her but she enjoyed watching him muttering and probably cursing whoever did that to him. She had quickly learned that the man was hard to tick off completely. She would notice some small signs of irritation but that’s all the reaction she got, so she decided it was time to go big. 

And her final plan came into existence the day the cafeteria served mac and cheese and he took the last portion from her. She was fuming. If she could not have mac and cheese so wouldn’t he. 

She waited for him to make his way back to his table and then she walked straight into him. Their trays smashing against each others and the food landing on his shirt. She had muttered a weak sorry and had fled with a grin on her face.

She had later found out that she had made him late for an important meeting and caught hell from his boss Lorcan.

Until one day he started to retaliate. Apparently, she had found out, he knew all long it was her messing with his meals.

And so a long series of pranks had begun between them, most of them taking place in the cafeteria since that was the place they used to share the most.

However, sometimes along the way, Aelin realised pranking him was not fun anymore and that pesky feelings had started to take root in her.

Until one day he showed up in her office with two portions of mac and cheese from Emrys and a peace offering. They had the lunch in the privacy of her office, they talked and she realised very quickly that he was quite a fascinating man. Also, she would have lied to herself if she had ignored the fact that the man was hotness incarnated. He was tall and had a healthy muscular build. He would always wear impeccable tailored suits which made his backside very prominent and more than once her eyes had wandered. He had the most beautiful pine green eyes and she adored his silver hair.

Soon she had to admit that she had a crush on him. And then some.

And when Rowan finally asked her out she could not believe her ears. The sexiest man in the company wanted to go out with her. So she said yes.

Fast forward five years and Aelin was now cooking for their fifth anniversary and as a joke she had put mac and cheese on the menu. It was their dish and their own joke as well.

Aelin had a look at the clock and realised she had half an hour tops before he came back home.

While preparing mac and cheese she took a sip from the glass of wine at her side. She had bought two bottles of Rowan’s favourite wine and she had started the celebrations a bit earlier.

In the oven in the meantime, the pork roast and the potatoes were cooking and she was busy checking the food that she almost missed the sound of the front door opening and closing.

“I am home,” shouted a happy voice.

“Kitchen.” She shouted back.

When she stood she saw him in leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms at his chest and a strange grin on his face “you are cooking?” He asked surprised, raising an eye brow in a question.

Aelin grabbed a glass of wine, took a step closer to him and gave it to him “Happy anniversary, buzzard.” And she went to him for a kiss he did not deny it to her.

“Oh, so you waited five years for your final revenge and win with food poisoning.” Still leaning against the doorframe he took a sip of wine and looked at her with a smirk.

Aelin just glared at him “I can cook.”

“Aelin, I love you, but cooking is definitely not your strongest asset.”

She waved her wooden spoon in his face “I’ll show you.”

Rowan chuckled happily and stooped for a kiss “happy anniversary, menace.”

Aelin moved another step in his direction “now go,” and she patted his chest “get changed and let me finish.”

Half an hour later the dining table was all set, with some candles on to set the romantic mood and a new bottle of win in the middle. Everything looked perfect and she was chuffed.

“This looks lovely,” his voice reached her as he re entered the room and his arms wound around her waist.

“I hope it’s good as well.” She said while pulling back from the embrace and pushing him to his seat. 

“Let me help,” he offered but Aelin pushed him again.

“No, just sit down.”

Quickly she went to get the appetisers: she had prepared raw smoked salmon on oatcakes with cream cheese and chives. They had that at a party and they loved it and realised it was something easy to make and almost impossible for her to mess it up. The only thing she had to do was to assemble the ingredients in a nice display.

Rowan in the meantime poured some wine for both and made happy noises at the wine.

“Fancy,” he added, commenting on the appetiser.

“Easy mostly. I took inspiration from the last party we went to.”

Rowan took one of the oatcakes and she relaxed when she saw him smile. Oh well, at least if the rest of the meal was a disaster they could eat oatcakes and salmon.

“Did you have a good day at work?” She asked, she had a day off and she hadn’t seen him since the morning when he left for work.

“It’s the end of the month and as you can imagine Lorcan has been his unpleasant self.”

“I need these reports on the desk by the end of yesterday?” She said, imitating the man’s voice.

Rowan chuckled and took another oatcake “that’s the gist.”

Once the appetisers were over, Aelin stood and went to get the next course. That was the surprise and the dish that meant the most.

She brought the oven dish to the dining table.

“You made mac and cheese.” Rowan’s tone was full of love.

“I did.” She took his plate and was ready to serve him his portion. It looked great and for a moment she had hoped. The recipe was for the baked version and the crust at the top looked golden and crunchy. Then she dipped the spatula to cut it and terror took her. It was runny. 

“No, no, no, no, no…” she panicked.

“What happened?” Rowan stood and moved at her side.

“It happened that I should not be allowed to cook.” She sat on the chair and sniffled.

“I am sure it’s not that bad…”

“Ro,” Aelin almost shouted in frustration at his tone “you can drink it with a straw, mac and cheese is supposed to be creamy.”

He looked over “I think you put too much milk,” and with his hand he brushed her lower back in support.

Aelin started sobbing “I messed up the main dish. It was meant to be like the one we shared in my office.”

Rowan was about to reply when he smelled smoke “is something burning?”

“Holy fuck,” Aelin stood abruptly and ran to the kitchen and when she opened the oven a cloud of smoke engulfed her. The roast and the potatoes where charcoal. She sat dejected in front of the oven  and Rowan joined and sat at her side “you have the most useless girlfriend ever.”  

He brushed her hair off her face “ I do not.” A gentle kiss on her lips “my girl is brilliant, fearless, intelligent and very, very hot.” She gave him a wet chuckle. Gods, she loved him.

“I ruined our anniversary.”

Rowan stood and offered her his hand “you did not.” She took it and stood in front of him.

“We are going to Emrys, he does some amazing mac and cheese.”

“Fine,” she conceded.

Rowan cupped her face, refusing to let her be sad. He knew Aelin was not good at cooking and he had tried to teach her but once on her own she seemed to struggle. 

But as the boyfriend madly in love with her he was more than happy to cook for both, everyday, forever.

Aelin did not seem convinced and still pouted at her mess. Rowan noticed that and cupped her face in his hand and kissed het tenderly “Hey, it was a lovely gesture and I am proud of you.” He took her hand in his, “now let’s go.”

They got changed and not long after they were walking to Emrys. Rowan’s arm on around her shoulder.

Aelin looked up at him and noticed a strange light in his eyes and a small grin. Whatever it was, he did not seem bothered by her fiasco.

Once they reached Emrys froze and cursed the evening that was turning into pure hell “it’s Monday, they are close. We are two idiots.” But all Rowan did was to push her toward the front door.

“Ro, they are closed.”

“Shush,” he said gently placing his hand on her lower back.

A moment later Emrys’ smiling face appeared on the door “hello Rowan, come in, it’s all ready.” Said the man stepping aside to let them in.

Aelin was stunned. speechless. He had an evening planned.

She turned to him “did you know I was going to mess up so you had a plan b?” Her tone full with irritation at his lack of trust in her.

Rowan looked at her, his eyes dancing with mirth “I didn’t even know you were going to cook. I booked all of this over a week ago.” He told her “I knew our anniversary would fall on a Monday, so I asked Emrys and Malakai if it was okay to use the place for our dinner.”

She stood on her tiptoes “I love you.” And kissed him. Rowan took her hand and walked inside the main room of the restaurant and Aelin again was stunned. The whole room had been decorated with white fairy lights, the table had candles and there were kingsflames in a vase as well.

“Happy anniversary, Fireheart.” And pulled her to his chest “I hope you’ll love this.”

“It’s perfect,” she said to him, feeling teary.

They sat down and Malakai brought wine “Emrys is just finishing up the last few things, it should not be too long.” Explained the man while pouring the wine.

He came back a moment later and brought back freshly baked pitta bread and hummus “just as a starter.”

Aelin attacked the appetisers, realising she was starving.

Once the appetiser was out of the way Rowan took her hand.

“I am glad I burned dinner, this is so much better.”

They had gone to Emrys for their first date which turned out to be their favourite restaurant and slowly their weekly dinner treat. It had become their place pretty quickly.

She was talking to Rowan when she noticed Emrys walking to them with a large oven dish and when Aelin looked, she saw mac and cheese. And it looked incredible.

“Of course,” said Rowan at her expression and poured more wine. It was a good thing they walked. Emrys plated their dinner and then walked away with a Cheshire cat grin.

“Go on, tuck in,” Rowan said to her once he noticed her eager expression.

Aelin did so and almost moaned savagely. It was divine.

After a few bites Rowan put the fork down and took her hand again, brushing his thumb on the top of it “thank you for walking into me that day in the cafeteria.” He told her, his green eyes on her “I know we had our ups and downs but these five years with you have been incredible.” He stood and took her hand inviting her to follow him. She stood with him and Rowan pulled Aelin to his chest. She wanted to complain she was eating, but whatever he was doing it seemed important.

Violin music spread in the room and Aelin recognised one of her favourite pieces of classical music. He swayed gently as if to dance, placed her hand on his shoulder and held her, his hand on her lower back.

“And I hope we’ll have many more together.” Aelin looked up at him and nodded, emotions threatening to overwhelm her. He kissed her with passion and then he pulled back a little “Aelin, my fireheart, will you do me the honour of joining me in the next adventure of our life and become my wife?”

Aelin sobbed loudly “only if you promise to keep cooking for me.”

Rowan laughed “Always.”

She threw her arms around his neck “yes, yes I will marry you.”

Rowan placed the ring on her finger then lifted her in his arms and kissed her. 

He would cook for her, make her happy until his last day.

To whatever end.