#I’m saying this like my favorite piece of clothing as a kid wasn’t a bright orange Dutch football jersey

[nikilaudasgayson]

My fav team just HAD to be the one with bright orange merch.

[miekasa]

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn​​ for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex. 

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.  

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.  

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team. 

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”  

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”  

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.” 

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request more of the Mha biggest kinks? I really liked it. I would like to request two characters and the rest you can choose. The characters I wanted to request were Tokoyami and Aizawa. I hope you have a good rest of your day! Stay safe, and don’t get sick!

Alrighty! Let’s goooo!

Sorry, this took so long to come out, I had very little motivation and my brain was being mean, but I have motivation again now and so I'm ready to begin writing again.

Hopefully, I'll be able to get a fic out to you guys every three days or so.

Part One Here

Part Two Here

Genre: smut

Type: headcanons

Warnings: smut, heavy kinks, BDSM, NSFW

Characters: Tokoyami, Tsuyu, Mirko, Aizawa 

 Other: I must admit, I headcanon Tokoyami as asexual, so writing for him was a lil difficult, but It presented a unique challenge and well, I love writing challenges and you know that!

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore @popcatx0

Fumikage Tokoyami/ Tsukoyomi-

Submission- this man has 0% confidence. He doesn’t trust himself to dom. He’s gotten so used to not being in control being a bad thing, so according to trauma response, it’s likely that loss of control will become a kink for him. He needs this, okay? Needs to be taught that not having control isn’t always a bad thing. It really isn’t when he’s moaning beneath you.

Threesomes- he’s very used to not being alone, Dark Shadow will be there even during sex with you. It’s embarrassing at first, but you’ve gotten used to him being there during your dates, so it’s almost as if you’re dating Dark Shadow as well. Dark shadow indulges in Fumikage’s more... raunchy kinks, the ones that he’d be too embarrassed to ask you about.

Costumes- He just wants to be fucked while you’re both dressed like royalty. He doesn’t know why, but many types of fancy clothes turn him on. This may just be because his form of self-expression is rare, and so he has few friends who indulge in a more Emo style. He has no objections to being dressed like a prince or princess (he’d even wear bright colors for you).

Love and Affection- I headcanon him as Ace, so for this he’s Demi. And what leads to Demisexuals being sexually attracted to someone? Love and affection. Just kiss his beak and pet his head and tell him you love him. It might result in him crying because he’s never gotten that affection before.

Humiliation- He’s still kinky, okay? He likes being degraded, hit, and told just what a ‘silly little slut boy’ he’s being. He wants you to have him pressed into the pillow, whining as he babbles about what a bad boy he’d been.

Choking- Listen, a boy who wears a bright red choker wants it to be replaced with your fingers, okay? It’s best when you’re indulging in his costume kink + a little roleplay and you’re acting as some warrior or supervillain and he’s some hero boy trying to take you down. Usually results in him being choked against the wall as he grinds down on your leg.

Tsuyu Asui/ Froppy-

Look at that beautiful woman

Switch- Look at her and tell me she doesn’t have the capacity to top or bottom. Really, she’s quite incredible like that. She also has very little preference so it mostly depends on whether you want to top or bottom.

Bondage- this is more of a bottom Tsu thing, she likes shibari best, beautiful ropes (or silk for better comfort) keeping her body from moving away, while the patterns and colors compliment her soft and sweaty skin.

Praise- Doesn’t matter who’s topping and who’s bottoming, praise is wonderful. Once you called her a good girl after training (when she totally kicked Kaminari’s ass) she just kind hid her face and squealed. It was adorable. She’s also very honest, so when she praises you it’s usually just her being honest with you. It’s so very sweet and ugh- damnit now I just wanna hug her

Hand Kink- Nothing is better then feeling your hands tracing her body, cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass, pulling her hair, just touching her. You’ve caught her just kind of... staring at your hands multiple times. The best thing is when she’s pressed down into the mattress, clutching the sheets, and you grab her hand, curling your fingers between hers and flexing them. 

Hair Pulling- Nobody has that much hair and doesn’t develop a hair pulling kink, and that’s literally all I have to say on the matter.

Tongue Play- More of a Top Tsu thing (hehe alliteration), she will tie you up with her tongue if she wants to, and she’s done that before. The oral is great, ass, pussy, dick, no matter where you want her tongue it will be there, and it will be everywhere. You want to be absolutely at her mercy? Just ask her to use her tongue. She may or may not get carried away because it just feels so powerful, to be able to make you feel so many things with just one body part that she’s trained to have complete control over. 

Rumi Usagiyama/ Mirko-

Domination- Look, just- just look. Look at that woman. Tell me she doesn’t want to always be on top. Tell me she doesn’t take offense to being asked if she wants a break from topping. Tell me she won’t shove you against the wall, bed, floor, fucking table and just absolutely take control of you. Tell me she doesn’t own you. Now I’m not personally attracted to women but this woman is the one fucking exception. 

Mommy- She likes this mostly because it humiliates her bottom. It’s embarrassing to say something so lewd, to refer to her almost like your caretaker, and she loves it. Especially when her sub whimpers or stutters while calling her that, she fucking loves it.

Brat-Play/Punishment- If you’ve read the Team-ups special manga thingie, you saw her appreciate Bakugou’s pure rage towards villains, which makes me think she enjoys putting villains in their place. She lovess watching you misbehave, pretending she doesn’t care, then absolutely wrecking you when you get back home. Her favorite thing is the tears + plus barely being able to apologize for their brattiness.

Predator/Play- I mean, she’s an animal. She loves the chase, feeling so powerful over her helpless little sub. If her partner’s quirk makes them a wolf or something that traditionally hunts rabbits, then she’ll be estatic about competing with you for dominance before proving again and again and again that she’s the one who wears the pants in this relationship (or the one-piece hero costume ig)

Biting/Marking- Everyone. Everyone needs to know who you belong to. Even if your skin physically cannot bare marks, she will still bite and suck at your neck and shoulders to try and show off the marks. Show off the cute little sub that belongs solely to her.

Breeding- She’s a rabbit, it’s instict to want children. Even though she can’t get her sub pregnant, she will still babble about fucking a baby into you. Maybe if you’re AMAB and could get her pregnant, she’d just ride you until you get her pregnant (even though she probably doesn’t actually want kids, so protection is used).

Shouta Aizawa/ Eraserhead-

Bondage- He's a hero, he's conditioned to know that he's won when his opponent is all tied up. He feels like he's won you over when you let him tie you up, and he loves the feeling of knowing you can't escape him.

Daddy- I mean seriously, you can't just act like a literal father figure to every single person around you and not have a daddy kink! He likes to take care of you, and he loves it when you cry 'Daddy please!'

Teasing- Even if he's a caregiver at heart, he won't just give you what you want. You need to beg and whine and scream for it. He wants to stave off your orgasm, avoid touching you where you need it, just to hear your pitiful whimpers and the way you cry for him.

Teaching- now he doesn't enjoy a teacher kink as in 'you're my student' kind of roleplay, but he does enjoy teaching someone inexperienced just how to suck him off, how to hold onto him, and what to say to make him growl.

Praise- He wasn't praised much, still isn't, so being told he's perfect for you will either end up with him literally crying on you, or fucking you harder just to hear you tell him how much you enjoy his cock.

Cock Worship- Nothing gets a man going like having your partner on their knees in front of you, kissing and sucking on your balls, treating you like a god. It's incredible to have you take your time pleasuring him.

[jadequeen88]

Accidental Valentine

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This is my fic for The Citrus Dome Server Lover’s Day Literature Collab! Please go check out The Masterlist and support all of the amazing artists and writers that have contributed.🖤

A/N: WHEW guys... I don’t think I’ve put this much work into a fic EVER. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about my body and wanted to write a reader who struggled with it as well. Who better to boost your confidence than DILF Kiri feeding your praise kink?! I was heavily influenced by this amazing drabble by @rat-suki​ and got permission to use it as my inspiration for this fic.🖤 (for reference, reader is 30 and Kirishima is 42)

Thanks to @afictionalwhore and my dear friend Orchid for the beta read!🖤

RetiredProHero!Kirishima x YoungerF!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: size difference, oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink (lots and lots of praise), TBH the sex is pretty vanilla but very passionate, both are insecure about their bodies.

When you trudged into work this morning, you didn’t ever dream of meeting your childhood idol/crush, but here you are, staring up at a beautiful mountain of a man. Eijiro Kirishima, or retired pro hero Red Riot, had never come into your coffee shop before and you’d never imagined he would. He was huge. Nearly 7 ft tall and built like a brick house. His hair was back to his natural black with flecks of silver at his temples and hung long and wild around his shoulders. He had on a pair of glasses and wore a dark maroon sweater and jeans.

Even though he’s aged, he looks just as handsome as the young man you fell for as a girl.

The year he made his debut, you were only six, and like most other six-year-olds, you idolized the pro heroes. Most of your friends loved Deku or Dynamite, but you always loved Red Riot. His smile, warmth, and his fiercely protective nature made your tiny heart burst with admiration. Throughout his hero career, you kept up with all of his interviews, the battles he’d been in, the awards he’d won, and his hero rankings. You’d also gotten as much merch as possible over the years and still wore your worn-out, oversized Red Riot t-shirt to sleep in. When he retired a couple of years ago, you still scanned articles online trying to gather bits and pieces of information about the hero, but he wasn’t one to seek out the spotlight. You think that’s probably why he’d always been your favorite. He was a true hero. Serving the citizens and keeping them safe was his top priority. You didn’t want to admit it, but you kept up with him for one main reason… You wanted to know if he was seeing anyone.

You remember being eaten up with jealousy when you’d see his arm around another woman going to galas and award ceremonies. Your sixteen-year-old brain knew that of course, he’d date women. He was a grown man and a pro hero. But your heart would ache, wanting to be the one his soft eyes and pointy-toothed grin was fixed on.

Now those same eyes were fixed on you, his mouth moving and forming words, but you were too star-struck to hear what he was saying. When you snapped out of your daze and remembered you were supposed to be taking his order, you were mortified.

“I-I’m so sorry sir! Could you please repeat that?”

“Sure thing!” his bright smile was hypnotizing, “Just a venti-sized flat white. Have you had your coffee yet? Ya looked a little far away there for a second, kid.”

Your heart leaped at the little nickname. “Yeah, sorry about that! I guess I should get a couple of shots of espresso in me before I try to be productive.” You chuckle nervously as you scribble his order on the cup and turn to make his drink.

“Oh, uhh…” he peeks around the counter to get your attention, “Do you need my name? For the order?”

You freeze realizing you forgot basic, barista 101 etiquette…

“Actually,” you face him, a sheepish grin on your face, avoiding eye contact, “I know your name. You… umm, were my favorite hero,” you blush, and your eyes widen in embarrassment, “you know when I was a kid...”

You turn back to your work, kicking yourself for being so awkward. 

“Really? I think you’re the first person to recognize me since ya know,” he circled his head with his pointer finger, “I stopped dying my hair..”

You turned your head to peer up at him through your dark lashes, a light dusting of blush still on your cheeks, “Well, I like it. It looks good on you.”

The retired pro’s heart was bursting at how damned cute you were. Was this pretty, young girl… embarrassed? Over him?! He watched your tiny hands move as they worked on his drink order, wondering how small they’d feel grasped in his massive ones. Your soft hair caught in the sunlight making you look like a literal angel and he sighed. You reached up to grab a canister from the top shelf and a sliver of soft skin between your t-shirt and jeans peeked through. His gaze became far away and he damn near drooled at the sight. Just how long had it been since he’d touched another woman? Kirishima wasn’t one for casual flings. He always got too invested in whoever he was seeing. So when he and his long-time girlfriend broke things off a couple of years ago, he wasn’t rushing back into the dating scene.

However, things were a little more… complicated than just not finding the right girl to commit to. He was getting older and it was starting to show. Over the past few years, he’d lost his confidence. He’s bulkier around the middle no matter what workouts or diets he tries. Overuse of his quirk has caused stretchmarks and scars all over his skin. He was starting to get crow’s feet and he was overall just TOO big and TOO hairy. He felt like some sort of gorilla walking around in human clothing. Kirishima isn’t stupid or trying to fool himself. A young, gorgeous thing like you wasn’t looking for anything from an old, washed-up man like him. But, fuck… It was nearly impossible for him to move his gaze away from your ass… Oh, the things he’d do to you if he were a few years younger...

You turned to look over your shoulder and notice his gaze… and it’s apparent that he’s checking you out. He looks like a man starved, eyes glued to your ass.

“Well, well, well… maybe he wasn’t so annoyed with my fangirling after all.”

When he realized you’d gone still, his eyes met yours and he quickly averted his gaze. His cheeks turned as red as his hair used to be. You busied yourself with the milk steamer to hide your big, goofy grin. With a new burst of confidence, you decide to take a chance and when you go to write his name on his to-go cup, you write

 “Big Red <3” 

You pause, bite your lip, and think to yourself, “why the hell not?” as you scribble your number underneath the nickname. You turn to give him his drink and your nerves almost make you retreat and make a whole new drink. Then he meets your gaze and your world stops spinning. His vermillion eyes crinkle at the edges as his scared lips turn upwards into a syrupy sweet smile.

When Kirishima takes his drink from you, your fingers brush his for the briefest second and he can tell they’re trembling. “Oh no, I hope I haven’t made her nervous or uncomfortable.” He wanted to go crawl in a hole… That was until he saw what you’d written on his cup.

He stammers, looking from the cup to your face like he’s checking to see if you’re pulling a prank on him or not. Before he can say anything, you bite your lip and look up at him. 

“I’m off work this Sunday. Just… if you’d like to hang out or something.” your gaze shifts and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

After a moment or two, his face lights up in a huge grin. “Y-yeah, great!” he turns and walks a few steps, then turns around and motions at the cup, “So… I should just, ahh… text you?”

You giggle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard in a long time, “That would be nice, yeah.”

“Okay, great!... Talk later then!” He waves and leaves the coffee shop, feeling light as a feather and ten years younger.

*****

Sunday rolls around and you spend the morning making sure the place is cleaner than it’s been in weeks. Your place was small but cozy. For a fleeting moment, you’re a little insecure about how modest your apartment is. You don’t know exactly how wealthy pros are when they retire, but you know he’s more familiar with much nicer places than yours. You decide he probably knew just what to expect on a barista’s salary and tried to put it out of your mind. You checked on the cookies baking in the oven. When you found out through your text conversations that he loved chocolate chip cookies with the large chunks of dark chocolate baked in, you went out and bought everything to make them the same day. You kept watching over them like a hawk to avoid burning them. They still looked pretty gooey, so you decided it would be safe to get changed into something a little nicer. Just as you were about to turn the corner into your bedroom, your doorbell rang.

“Shit!” you looked at your phone and sure enough, you let time get away from you. He was here and you were still in your cropped leggings and t-shirt, sporting a messy bun and dirty apron. You groaned as you realized you couldn’t leave him on your doorstep while you changed. Defeated, you hurried to the door.

You opened the door, hoping that you at least didn’t have flour in your hair, and looked up into the much larger man’s eyes. The realization that THE Red Riot was standing this close to you made your stomach flutter and a goofy grin slide across your face. While you stood there star-struck, he broke the silence.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here!”

“Oh!” you jumped a little then promptly ran over to your oven, “Sorry! Please come on in!” you said over your shoulder as you were pulling your oven mitts on. 

Kirishima walked into your cozy apartment and instantly felt at ease. He couldn’t pinpoint just what it was, but something about your place felt more like home than any place he’d ever lived before. As he finished scanning your apartment, his eyes landed on you taking the cookies out of the oven. The comfortable, domestic feel of the place coupled with your ass on full display as you bent down to remove the cookies from the oven had his jeans tightening. You stood up and he averted his gaze before you turned around, not wanting to get caught checking your ass out for a second time.

“Fair warning, I’m not a talented baker by any means,” you removed your oven mitts after placing the cookie sheets on the cooling rack and flashed a sly grin his way, “But when Red Riot tells you what his favorite cookies are… Ya kinda gotta make them, right?”

Oh… If you only knew how pent up this man was… he debated bending you over right then and there and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. He really hit the jackpot with you… a hot, younger woman with the perfect ass who bakes him cookies and for some reason thinks he hung the moon? Kirishima would have given you a ring right then and there if he didn’t think it would scare you off.

“Well,” he radiated warmth as he looked between you and the cookies cooling on the rack, “If you’re not the sweetest thing! I, ahh… might have gotten you a little something too.” he then held up a 6 pack of your favorite cider. “Because when Y/N, L/N tells you what her favorite cider is… Ya kinda gotta get her some.” he winked and you felt your knees buckle and your cheeks burn. You felt like you were in a fairytale.

Then you remembered that the princesses in fairytales definitely did not wear flour-riddled black leggings, old t-shirts, and dirty aprons.

“OH! Umm, I need to go get cleaned up. I’ll only be a minu-” his massive hand wrapped around your wrist as you walked past him. It covered half of your forearm and a shudder ran through you. You wanted those giant hands to roam every inch of your body.

“Please don’t,” his eyes were half-lidded and his voice was low, “...I think you look beautiful like this.” his calloused thumb traced little circles on your skin not meeting your gaze. His deep voice was impossibly tender.

Now that you’d felt his skin on yours, you couldn’t contain your churning desires any longer. You wanted, needed, more. Rising up on your tiptoes, you curled your fist into Kirishima’s shirt collar and pulled his face toward yours.

You felt him tense up for a moment, then relax into the kiss. His massive hands found purchase on your hips, digging into the pliant flesh there. A needy whimper caught in his throat spurring you on to deepen the kiss. 

It was like your bodies were working around each other in perfect harmony… lips parting at a slow pace, like honey dripping from the edge of a spoon and tongues meeting in the middle to taste each other. You both savored the kiss for as long as you could, eyes lazily drifting open and shared breaths causing your hearts to dance out of your chests. 

You saw him falter, his gaze dropping, and you feared that you overstepped. 

“Kirishima I-��

“Ejiro,” he stopped you with a hand against your cheek, “Call me Eijiro…” his thumb caressed your bottom lip slowly, back and forth. His touch held so much devotion in it.

“Eijiro…” you sighed, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “I need you…”

The giant of a man before you swept you up into his arms and began walking down your hallway. You quickly wrapped your arms and legs around his hulking frame as if you were climbing a tree. 

“Second door on the right,” you were panting into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it. 

You blew a cool stream of air along his damp skin and felt him shudder. A giggle bubbled up from your chest at being able to weaken a retired pro-hero known for being a human shield against the worst villains Japan has ever known. Your little stunt resulted in a grunt and a firm, warning squeeze to your thigh.

“So that’s what we’re doing today, huh?” he tosses you on the bed just hard enough to make you bounce up a little… then he’s on you, placing light kisses all along your neck as he prods your sides looking for a ticklish spot. You can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard and the fact that it was your idol drawing it from you made you dizzy with joy.

“Mercy! Mercy!” you were breathless and your abdomen ached from the forceful laughs Ejiro was pulling from you. He blew a raspberry on your neck as a final tease then relented, sitting up to meet your gaze.

You were absolutely smitten. You caressed the lines around his eyes and the scar that split his lips as your eyes roamed across his features. Every crease, every scar… you wanted to kiss them all. When his gaze faltered and he pulled away to sit beside you on the bed, the feeling you’d done something wrong resurfaced. You sat up beside him and placed your hand on his thigh.

“Eijiro…” your voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry, I know I can come on a little strong sometimes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just…” your eyes meet and his gaze is unreadable.

“No, no…” his ruby eyes drop to the floor, “It’s just that,” he chuckles nervously, “Well, it’s been a while. I’m not very good with casual flings and the like. So I don’t really date much…”

You rise to your feet and move to stand in front of him. Sitting in front of you on your bed, you’re only slightly below eye level with him. You place your tiny hands on his thick thighs and nudge them apart so you can slot your hips between them.

“When I told you that you were my favorite hero,” you reach for his wrist and remove the hair tie from it, “What that actually meant was that I’d watch the news every day just to make sure you were safe.” 

Slender fingers move through his wild mane of silver-flecked hair untangling any knots, “It meant that when that villain with the sludge quirk put you in the hospital for a couple of days, my mom let me stay home from school because I was so distraught,” you pulled all of his untangled hair to the nape of his neck and began wrapping the hair tie around it.

“It meant that my silly sixteen-year-old heart would ache when I saw you hand in hand with a girl in a magazine going out on a date,” you grinned at how silly you felt admitting that. Once his hair was secured in a low ponytail, your hands trailed along his broad shoulders.

“Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’ll get to the point.” your intense gaze held years of longing for the hero in front of you, “Nothing about this is casual for me.”

Tears pricked the corners of Kirishima’s eyes. Had anyone ever showed him this much tender devotion? All the years he’d taken beating after beating, a glorified human shield, content with leaving most of the game to his friends. He was all rough edges and bulk. He was the one doing the protecting every time. Even in his romantic relationships, he was the one who would give, and give, and give… never asking or expecting to be taken care of. Being handled with such care was utterly foreign to him and it stirred up a deep need he never knew was there.

“Eji…” his glassy eyes met yours, “Can I take care of you?” you sank to your knees, hands sliding up his thighs.

“Please…”

Your hands made quick work of his button and zipper. He shifted his hips upwards to help you ease his jeans down his thick thighs and you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one slow pull. Nothing would have prepared you for just how huge he was. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second, wondering how you’d get that thing to fit inside your cunt, much less your mouth… but it was something you were eager to find out.

Looking up at him from under your dark lashes, you made a show of lewdly licking your lips. You flattened your tongue and drug the wet muscle from his base right above his neatly trimmed patch of black hair, all the way to the swollen, red tip of his head. You felt the powerful muscles in his thighs clench as his head rolled back and a delicious moan escaped his open mouth. Making your hero come undone with one lick to his cock was intoxicating. 

“Fuck, baby…” Kirishima fisted the sheets praying he wouldn’t come just from your teasing. He’s not sure his pride could handle it. It became a very real threat when he dared to look down at you kissing and licking all up and down his length. Once your mouth had gotten him wet enough, your soft hands joined your warm mouth in worshiping his cock. You met his gaze as you kissed his tip and licked up the pre that was escaping in pearlescent beads. When you had teased him to your contentment, you swallowed him down as deep as your throat would allow, wrapped your hand around his base, and moaned.

Kirishima had many blowjobs in his life. In fact, he’d had some that he would say were pretty amazing… but in all his adult life, he’d never been so thoroughly and enthusiastically devoured like this. He threaded his fingers of one hand in your loose bun and fisted your bed sheets in his other to ground himself. After a minute or two, he felt his release creeping up much faster than he wanted.

He placed his hands on either side of your face causing you to stop bobbing your head and look up at him. He ran his thumb against your swollen bottom lip and you leaned into his tender touch. He bends forward and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Lay down on the bed,” he whispers into your hair. Nerves starting to catch up to you, you shook slightly as you stood from your spot on the floor. Before you lay down, you remember to take your apron off then lay on your pillows, heart pounding awaiting further instruction.

Kirishima hovers over you reminding you yet again just how tiny you are compared to him. His warm hand covers your knee and slowly travels up your thigh, stopping right before he meets your throbbing core. He runs his hand back down your thigh to gently nudge your knees apart. Leaning on his forearms, he positions himself between your thighs and you gasp at the friction created where your bodies meet. While planting tender kisses on your neck, he whispers, “I need you to promise that you’ll tell me if I need to stop or if something doesn’t feel okay. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes…” you moan as he nibbles on your earlobe, teasing with his sharp teeth but not breaking your skin.

“Mmm,” he places sweet kisses all along your jaw, your breath catching in your throat, “Good girl.”

Receiving praise from him made your chest swell. You wanted nothing more than to please this man you were rapidly falling for. He sat up, legs folded under his body, and slowly slid his hands under the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You felt his hands still on your stomach and looked up from where you were laying on your pillows to see what had made him freeze.

He met your gaze with a devilish grin, “Baby girl…” his thumbs run small circles on your skin, “Did you wear this for me?” 

When you realize what he’s talking about, you hide your face and groan into your hands. You completely forgot that you were still in your old Red Riot t-shirt that you usually slept in. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!” you mumbled behind your palms.

Kirishima chuckled and shushed you, “No, no, no… This is the sexiest thing you could have possibly worn.” He pulls the hem of your t-shirt up to expose your tummy, burying his face in the soft skin there. Gentle kisses were placed all along the waistline of your leggings, every squishy part and every little stretchmark that decorated your skin like tiny spiderwebs were lovingly caressed with his plush lips. Having the part of your body you were the most self-conscious of worshiped like this felt more vulnerable than sex.

As the kisses traveled higher, they became sloppier and more desperate. You lifted your arms to allow him to remove your shirt, exposing your plain white cotton bra. The feel of his stubble against your skin as he moaned into your cleavage sent shivers down your body. Instead of paying attention to your neglected nipples, his warm mouth carved a path up the column of your throat, head thrown back to give him as much access as possible.

Kirishima whispered against the tender skin under your earlobe, “This okay, baby?” two large fingers dip into the front of your leggings. You nod enthusiastically, unable to form a coherent answer, “Mmm… I need words, sweet thing. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes… it’s more than okay,” your chests are touching as he works his hand down the front of your pants.

When Kirishima’s thick fingers slid between your drenched folds, you arched your back and grasped his forearm. Slowly, he spread your slick around, dancing past your clit with each stroke. His teasing was turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. 

He had all the time in the world and having you melt underneath his touch was the best way he could hope to spend it. After what felt like an eternity of him gently brushing against you, only slightly dipping into your needy hole and barely grazing your clit, you were openly panting and whining. A steady stream of praises flowed from his lips.

“You’re such a pretty girl… such a pretty little pussy.”

“Look at how wet you are for me. Like this, huh? My pretty girl likes my fingers teasing her?”

“I can’t wait to lick my fingers clean. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”

You were so worked up that tears began to form in your eyes, “Eji… I-“

“Hmm? What is it, baby girl? Need something?” His finger drags around your clit slowly, adding a fraction more pressure. 

“Please, I need more Eji,” your nails digging into his forearm were leaving little crescents in his thick skin.

“Sweet girl,” he meets your mouth with a slow, wet kiss, “you can have whatever you want.”

Without hesitation, he sits up and pulls your leggings down with your panties. A groan rattles his large chest when he sees a thread of your slick attached to the crotch. Once his face is buried in between your thighs, it’s a real possibility he might come just from eating you out. 

All the teasing had brought him to the edge as well and he was out of patience. With a few hurried kisses to each thigh, he dove into your dripping cleft. His tongue plunged into your core as he nudged his nose into your puffy clit. 

You cry out and convulse around his face. His arms wrap around your thighs, firmly but gently holding your legs open to give him full access to eat you as thoroughly as possible. When he moves to suck your clit, you know you won’t last much longer. As he nurses on your sensitive nub, you feel the familiar tightening in your lower body. He picks up on this and moans into your skin as he greedily sucks. 

“Ahh… Ahh, I’m- I’m gonna….”

“Oh that’s it,” he encourages you by praising you and massaging your thighs in his massive hands, “let me have it, baby girl. Come on, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Your toes curl and back arches as you’re thrown over the edge. “Oh FUCK!! Coming, coming…. ooooh god… ahh D-daddy!…”

“Daddy, is it? Goddamn”

Kirishima felt his dick twitch and his breath caught in his throat.

He wipes his face on the back of his hands and makes a show of licking his fingers clean as he leans over you, nose touching yours.

“What was that baby?” His voice was strained as he pressed his dick into the warm, damp skin of your thigh…

You bat your lashes and ghost your lips over his as you whisper, “Daddy… please let me ride you. I need you inside me.” The nail in Kirishima’s coffin was when you licked his bottom lip then quickly followed with a chaste kiss.

You waste no time wrapping your thighs around his waist and twisting. He follows your lead and lays flat on his back letting you straddle him. You grab the hem of his shirt and similarly tease him, leaving a trail of kisses along his broad stomach. Kirishima flinches a little, self-conscious of his skin and how soft his middle had gotten over the years. You meet his eyes as you pull his shirt over his broad shoulders and run your hands back down his body. 

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” hands and eyes roamed over the expanse of skin in front of you, “It’s even better than in my dreams.”

He wondered for the hundredth time how got this lucky. You really loved his body? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t in as bad of shape as he thought…

“No,” his hands rubbed your hips, kneading your soft skin, “You’re better than I’d ever hoped to find.” He sits upon the headboard and pulls you closer into his lap, “Now,” he pulls your hair free of the messy bun, “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You lift your hips and place his tip at your entrance. That alone caused a delicious stretch and you knew it would be a slow process getting him to fit comfortably.

“Yes, Daddy,” your hands wrapped around his neck and he growled as he pulled you into a rough kiss.

“Good fuckin girl.” 

He helped lower you onto his cock with lots of kisses, praises, and gentle squeezes. When you got closer to his base, the pain was too much for a moment. Kirishima used his thumb to rub circles into your clit, shushing you sweetly against your parted mouth. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead with his free hand while his other is still working your clit over.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, “You fill me up so well. I love your massive cock filling me up.”

“You’re gonna make me crazy, you know that? Huh?” He pulls your lower lip into his mouth and sucks. You both sit for a while, exchanging kisses and whispers while you adjust to his girth.

“Are you ready to move now, sweet girl?” 

“Yes, Daddy…” he helps you move, dragging your hips up and down his shaft.

After a few deep thrusts, you both increase your pace, matching each other’s movements. It’s not long before your head is thrown back, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Loud moans and curses escape your mouth as one nipple is pulled into Kirishima’s mouth.

“Oh, Daddy! Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there… I… I’m… AHH!” Before you can even say anything, you’ve come undone, spasming around his cock. 

“Oh, good girl, good fuckin girl,” you go limp and bury your face into his neck while he slams your hips onto his, chasing his release. The feeling of him using your body to get off makes you dizzy with joy. You lean into his ear whispering, “Please come inside me. Wanna feel you come inside me, Daddy… please, need your come inside me, Daddy.” 

Your slurred pleas against his ear send him over the edge into a mind-numbing orgasm. As he comes down from his high and looks into your face full of adoration, he knows he’s caught… hook, line, and sinker. 

*****

The rest of the evening is spent eating cookies on your couch, drinking cider, and watching your favorite crime drama. The sweet kisses and touches sprinkled throughout the night feel so natural… Like you’ve been together for years instead of hours. 

You end up with Kirishima’s head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes and relaxes into your touch. The clock on your wall reads 12:30 am and it dawns on you what day it officially is.

“Eji?”

“Hmm?” He opens one eye and reaches up to scratch your scalp. 

“Will you be my valentine?” You bite your bottom lip to stifle a silly grin.

He sits up and pulls you into a bear hug. 

“What kinda silly question is that? Of course. I don’t ever want another valentine besides you.”

Your heart explodes and you kiss him, grabbing his cheeks in both hands. 

“Sixteen-year-old me is absolutely losing her shit right now,” you giggle, rubbing his nose with yours.

“Well,” he grabs your ass and raises an eyebrow, “Forty-two-year-old me is losing his shit right now over finding such a sweet girl with such a sweet ass on her,” he nips at your neck and you squeal.

“Ooh, you ready for another round, old man?”

He growls and throws you over his shoulder. A swift spank to your ass causes you to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh, so I’m dealing with a brat now? You want me to show you what this old man does to little brats?” He squeezes your thighs as he makes his way to the bedroom. 

“But I’m your good girl! Remember?!”

“Yeah, yeah… We’ll see about that.”

[agirlwhoisaphantom]

To Build a Home - Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

To Build a Home - Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Going baby shopping should be a great idea? Right? But things take a turn. You share a cute moment with Bucky as you read the pregnancy book he claims he bought for you. This ends with a moment with you and Bucky in the baby room.

Word Count: 3400

Warnings: Fluff, also a hint of insecurities and thinking about the past. Pregnant!Reader

a/n: This is Part 2 to my one shot. Read part one “Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader” Anyhow, Part two will be taking place when you are 6 months pregnant. You and Bucky get a little bit of help from some friends. Also, I would like to apologize for the first section of this, it might hurt a bit.

Five months later

Blue, Pink, Red, Purple, you could see every color of the rainbow on all four store walls.

Steve thought it was a great idea for you, Wanda, and Bucky to go to a baby store. You and Wanda were so excited to go and look at baby items. Meanwhile, Bucky's face was blank as a ghost. Even though it has been five months since him finding out you were pregnant, it still catches him by surprise that he'll be a dad in a couple of weeks.

In the store, Bucky and Steve were together looking at furniture since they were the 'strong one' out of the group. Meanwhile, you and Wanda were looking at baby clothes, plushies, blankets, and decorations. Without hesitation, you gravitated more towards the boy section than the girl section. Even though you and Bucky wanted to wait until they were born to find out their gender, deep down, you knew they are a baby boy. The first thing you get is a pair of suspender top and bottom set that came with a bowtie. The shorts were the color khaki and the shirt was light blue. You turn to Wanda to show her what you found. "Look what I found for him." your heart filled with joy and happiness. You had a soft smile on your face.

Wanda grabs the piece that you were holding and places it against your stomach "he is going to look handsome" she smiled and scrunched her nose. She was truly happy for you and glad that you picked her to help you throughout this journey.

Across the store, where the furniture was located, Bucky and Steve were looking at furniture. Bucky was tense; he wasn't sure if he wanted to be there looking at baby items. He stared at the same baby crib for the past 3 minutes when Steve notices that he wasn't doing anything "hey, is everything alright?" he pauses to place his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know this is new to you and something you least expected to happen. But you deserve this."

Bucky started to shake his head, and slowly tears form in his eyes "are you sure about this, Steve?" his voice gets small and shaky. "Just a decade ago, I was murdering people without my own will. Do I deserve this happiness? What if they don't like me because of my past?" His lips were trembling as if he were to let out a sob- but he never did. His nose twitched as his mouth suddenly became agape, and he drew in a breath of air sharply, turning his neck towards the entrance. He started to pull on the sleeve of his left arm, trying to cover his metal hand. "I can't do this. I need to get out of here" He rushes out of the furniture section towards the store's entrance.

Wanda notices that Steve and Bucky were walking fast out of the store. Steve gives her a look and holds up a finger. She tried reading his mind to see what was going on, but all she caught was "give me a moment to calm him down, he had a panic attack" she had a concerned look on her face, but she knew Steve would be able to handle it.

You notice that Wanda had a concerned look on her face as she wasn't paying attention to what you were saying. "Wanda, are you okay?" a frown formed on your face as you were looking around the store looking for Bucky. He was gone. "Where is he?" you raise your voices a bit. "Wanda, where is he?" you were demanding her to give you an answer. She points towards the entrance. You gave her the clothes that you were holding. You sped walk towards the door.

Outside of the store, Bucky was sitting on the floor, knees by his chest, heavy breathing, hiding his face from the outside world. You could hear Steve trying to calm him down, telling him things that would usually calm him, but this time it was different. Steve notices that you were there and gets near you to hug you. He leans forward "are you sure about this? I tried everything I could. He hasn't been able to calm down," he whispers into your ear. Letting go of his hug, you have a brief smile and a nod. He walks back to the store to find Wanda and let her know what is happening.

You kneel, placing your hands on his knees. You were now able to hear how heavy he was breathing. “Bucky?” you slowly move your thumb against his knee, trying to calm him down “what’s wrong, my love? What’s going on?” he lifts his head and looks at you, his face red and his eyes puffy from the crying he had been doing for the past couple of minutes. Moving your hand from his knee, you place it on his cheek, wiping the tears from his face using your thumb. “hey, hey, Bucky, it’s okay” Your eyebrows knit together. You hated seeing him like this.

“I don’t deserve this happiness, not after everything I’ve done” his lips were quivering, his voice became small “they aren’t going to like me. I’m just a monster.” tears falling down his cheeks. He pulls you in, holding you, wrapping his arms around you. He was sobbing on your shoulder. Now the material of your shirt was soaking wet. “I’m sorry. I’m so-“

You interrupt him. “James, what you did. That wasn’t you, that was never you. One thing I’ll tell you is that you deserve every little inch of happiness; you deserve to be happy.” You take a pause holding him tighter and trying to stop your voice from being shaky. “I know this is scary. I’m scared as well. But one thing I know for sure is that even though we will try to be the perfect parents in the world, we aren’t going to be, and that’s okay. They are going to love us and our imperfections” you gently pull away, still holding him in your arms, you softly press your lips against his forehead to calm him down.

You held him for a couple of minutes. You wanted to make sure that he was okay. There was silence between the two of you, but you didn't mind. Within minutes, his heartbeat slowed, and he started to breathe normally. He turns his head, giving you a brief kiss on your cheek. “I appreciate you so much, doll” he takes a big gulp before continuing talking. “Should we ditch them and go somewhere else?” a soft giggle escapes his mouth. “I’m kidding. Let’s go and pick things for our little one.”

With your sleeve, you wipe the tears from his face. He grabs your wrist and stops you from continuing. He brings the palm of your hand and softly kisses it, then he lets go of it, so you can continue.

As he was getting up, he helped you get up as well. He was grabbing your hand and pulling you upward. Every little move that he has done with you, he has tried his best not to hurt you.

You both stood outside holding one other for a couple of minutes until you were able to notice that Bucky’s face didn’t look like he had been crying for the past couple of minutes.

Once you walked into the store, it was fast to locate Steve and Wanda, as Steve had a pile of clothes over his shoulder, a mixer of girl and boy clothes. And Wanda with a cart full of baby items. “Are you sure we are having a baby and not them?” you and Bucky were in synch “jinx, no, you jinx.” you both said that once again. This caused you and him to laugh out loud. Wanda turns around and rushes with the cart in your direction. She seemed like a little kid showing their parents the toy she had just found. Steve was getting the clothes that were on his shoulder, placing them all in his arms.

Once Wanda was near you, her face lit up as bright as a firework. “I and Steve both agreed that for this trip, we are buying all of this plus whatever you guys want.” Wanda was breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath “consider this as an early baby shower gift” she starts pulling out items from the cart and showing you her favorite items. Once Steve got to where you all were, he dumps the pile of clothes in the cart. “Steve! I was still showing her thing” she rolled her eyes, and this made Bucky and Steve laugh.

Steve looks at Bucky. “I’m guessing you are feeling better, aren’t you” Bucky gives him a brief smile and nods.

You grab Bucky’s hand and start to walk towards the furniture section. You pointed at a white three-in-one convertible crib “Honey, We should get this one” your voice was small yet soft with sparkles in your eyes. A smile formed on his face, and he nodded in agreement. Anything that you liked, he would usually like it as well.

-----------------------------------------------

What a long day today was, you thought to yourself. You were now home resting. Wanda, Steve, and Bucky made sure to put everything away in the baby room. 

Every little chance that Bucky gets, he can't keep his hands off of your stomach. He wanted to be there for everything, the first kick, the first movement they ever make. He didn't want to miss anything.

You were sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, reading a pregnancy book that Bucky decided to buy for you. He bought it for himself since he wanted to be prepared for everything that might happen. But he is too stubborn to admit it, so he bought the book for you. 

Bucky was sitting right next to you, laying his head on your right shoulder, trying to read along to what you might be on. His right hand placed on your stomach, moving in a circular motion.  

Page 34

Around 18 weeks of pregnancy, your little one hears their very first sounds. By 24 weeks, those little ears are rapidly developing. Your baby's sensitivity to sound will improve even more as the weeks pass. 

"Did you know that he can hear you already?" you asked. You were looking down at him, and his ocean blue eyes were looking back at you. You pointed to the location where it stated that they were able to hear at certain weeks. 

With a small smile on his face and his left eyebrow risen "he? I think they are a girl" he giggles a little "but if my baby girl says we are having a boy, then I believe it's time for me and him to have a one-on-one talk" he leans in forward to kiss you on your cheek. 

He slow removes the blanket that was covering your stomach and kisses your stomach, placing his right hand on your lower stomach. “hey, I don’t think mommy can hear us,” he was whispering while looking up to you. You had a smile on your face while you shacked your head. “I can’t wait to have you in my arms, little Leo” he pauses for a moment and has the biggest smile on his face, “When you grow up, I’m going to tell you so many stories about my adventures with your uncle Steve and uncle Sam. I can’t forget about those stories with your beautiful, strong, amazing mommy” He looks up at you with a smirk on his face. You started running your fingers through his hair, feeling how soft it was. “Leo, could you believe it that right now, the world is a crazy place to be at? But at this moment, you are safe in there. Mommy and daddy will always keep you safe. No matter what happens, we will always protect you.”

He moves back to where he was resting his head on your shoulder, not moving his right arm from where it was located. “How was your talk with baby-“you pause for a moment, trying to process what just happened. “Leo?”

Bucky looks at you, slightly shaking his with left eyebrow rose. It looked like he had a soft disappointed face. “Doll, you weren’t supposed to listen to me and him having a boy talk” he stops shaking his head, and gradually a smile on his face started to form. “Yeah, Leo. I’ve always liked the name Leo” he paused, and a small frown started to show. “You don’t like it. If you don’t, we can-“

Pressing your lips against his forehead, you interrupt him. You knew what he was going to say “No, I love the name, Leo.” It seemed like he had read your mind. That was the name that you had a plan on naming your future baby boy. Removing your lips against his skin and a soft giggle escapes your lips “so are you planning on telling him about your little rolling over with Sam that one time?”

Bucky looks up to you, and he had an offended look on his face. “I’m certainly not telling him that,” he pauses to place his head back on your shoulder. “There are things he doesn’t need to know, and that is one of them.”

Out of a sudden, you can feel a sharp pain on your lower stomach where Bucky’s hand was placed. This caught him by surprise. “Did Leo just kick?” you can feel the excitement from his voice. You giggled a little in agreement “he kicks hard, aww, he is a strong boy. Just like his daddy” his voice went high pitched as he was talking towards your stomach.

Minutes pass by from the last time they kicked, and Bucky felt every little kick they did. It pained you but seeing him and the reaction he had on his face. The amusement written all over Bucky’s face was worth it, the pain they caused you. You have always thought of naming your baby girl Rebecca. You have liked that name for years. Also, you knew how close Bucky was to his sister, and you wanted her to be named by someone he holds dear to his heart.

You take a deep breath, unsure if you wanted to say anything. “Honey, if we have a baby girl. What are your thoughts on the name Rebecca?” you tense up a little, not knowing what other words to say. “I know how much your sister meant to you, and I just thought that-“

Bucky looks up at you and places his hand on the back of your head, pulling in you. Pressing his lips against yours, he gently and carefully kissed you. Pulling away from your lips, he had the biggest smile on his face. “Doll, I love that” He moves his hand from the back of your head to your lower stomach once again. “Rebecca isn’t allowed to date until she is 30,” he laughs, scrunching his nose. He loved that you considered naming her Rebecca. Bucky never thought about naming her that. He slowly moves his hand in circular motions. “Our little princess is going to be such a beautiful little girl, just like her mom.”

--------------------------------------

“Come on, cyborg, use your metal arm. You have it there for a reason.”

“Do you think that most of the time I remember that I have a metal arm? I’m fucking right-handed, Sam, not left-handed.”

“I swear to god if you guys wake her up. I am going to quit. Buck finish building the crib, and Sam paint the wall.”

Suppose the walls couldn’t be any thinner. You could hear Sam, Bucky, and Steve arguing in the room next door. You lay in bed for a couple of more minutes just listening to them. You were covering your mouth, trying your best not to burst into laughter. Before getting up, you took big breaths trying to control your laughter.

As you were opening the door, you notice Steve leaving the baby room. “See what you both idiots did? You woke her up” he sounded annoyed and irritated. He walks into the kitchen, grabbing his cup of coffee that he left on the counter. “Good morning, did you sleep well last night?” He takes a sip of coffee, placing his full attention on you.

You had the biggest grin on your face, and you tried to compose yourself, making sure you didn’t laugh. “I slept great. What are you guys doing at 9 am” you walk to the kitchen opening the fridge and gathering the ingredients to make a sandwich.

“What do you mean what we both did? It was all- oh” Bucky notices that you were awake preparing yourself food. He gets near you and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer so he can give you a brief kiss on your head. “Good morning, doll. I’m sorry if we woke you up” he takes the sandwich that you prepared and takes a bite out of it.

Watching him take a bite from the sandwich you had prepared yourself made you a bit upset. You crossed your arms and walked away with the sandwich he just bit. “First, he wakes me up, and then he takes a bite of my sandwich.” you thought to yourself. You had a frown on your face.

Steve looks in Bucky’s direction continuing drinking the last bit of his coffee with his eyebrows lifted. Then it clicked to Bucky that he had messed up, so he quickly turns around and prepares another sandwich. He opens the fridge and grabs your favorite chocolate, and speed walks in your direction. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken a bite” he hands you the sandwich he prepared and the chocolate “here you go, doll. I’m going to go finish up the crib.” He points to the direction of the bedroom.

Before he could walk away from you, you grab his wrist “can I come help with whatever you guys might be doing” you knit your eyebrows together and push your bottom lip forward, making a pouty face. “Please” you knew that he couldn’t say no to you when you did this facial expression.

He takes your hand and starts walking to the bedroom. You see Sam on a ladder with a paint roller in his hands “sorry, we woke you up” you go near him and hand him the sandwich that Bucky made for you “thank you, you didn’t have to make this for me.” he gave you a brief smile.

Bucky had a blank stare, and his facial expression read ‘really.’ You giggled a little “I didn’t make it. Bucky did,” you whisper and placed your hand on your cheek, trying to cover your lips and from what you were going to say next “so if it tastes bad, that’s why,” you whispered and scrunched your nose.

“I heard that” Bucky sounded annoyed and had a frown formed on his face.

This made you and Sam laugh for a couple of minutes.

You walk towards Bucky wrapping your arms around him and getting on your toes to kiss him on his chin. “You know I’m just messing with you.” Still pressing your lips against his skin, “You are an amazing cook, and your sandwiches are always going to be my favorite” a little smile formed on your face while your lips were still pressed on his skin.

You walk towards the dresser where a bag full of baby clothes was at and you start organizing them by pajamas, formal, underwear, casual category.

Sam and Steve both left to take a mini-break. But Bucky, he stayed with you, he wanted to make sure that you were safe, and if you needed anything, he would be there for you. Looking through the bag, you found the pair of suspender top and bottom set that came with a bowtie. You turn around to showed Bucky the little outfit. “Honey, look, Leo is going to look so adorable in this” you place the outfit against your stomach.

He had a smirk on his face and nodded. You couldn’t wait till the day comes where you can hold them in your arms.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 21}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Before Nesta even opened her eyes, she knew that she’d gotten some of the best sleep she’d had in months. She knew it was early, since Nyx hadn’t even woken them up for his morning bottle yet. Sighing comfortably, she settled deeper into her pillows, the weight of a heavy arm slung over her waist, pulling her in close.

With sudden clarity, she remembered the events of the night before. She remembered the damn kiss that had started it all. She remembered the orgasms Cassian had given her over and over. She remembered seeing something shining in his eyes that had nothing to do with lust or sex.

She was sure it was reflected in her own, but couldn’t work up the nerve to let herself think about what they’d done last night, what it may have implied. What lines they may have crossed.

And the fact that she really didn’t give a damn.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy, and as much as she tried to pretend it wasn’t thanks to the man sleeping soundly behind her, in her bed, she couldn’t lie to herself.

So she gently rolled over, careful not to wake him, and took in his sleeping face.

It was kind of funny.

Nesta had known Cassian for a while, for five years, and before that in passing, considering Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship. She had watched him age, had watched him grow from a young man into the man that had taken her the night before, but looking at him now…

There was an innocence about him when he slept.

He snored, quietly, completely unaware that she was awake, that she was watching him.

He was cute.

So, so cute.

If he awoke at that very moment and saw her watching him sleep, she would have surely been mortified, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she couldn’t look away.

Memories from the night before flashed through her mind, and it only made her that much happier. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fallen asleep in a man’s arms, but with Cassian, she had fallen asleep peacefully, nearly instantly, and slept amazingly.

There was something about Cassian that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she knew that she liked it.

She dared to gently brush a kiss over his cheek, before carefully climbing out of bed, his heavy arm making that a much harder endeavor than she was expecting. But he slept on soundly, not even stirring as she slipped from beneath the sheets and hurried into her closet. She wasn’t embarrassed by her nakedness, not after everything that had happened last night, but she knew that if he caught her naked, they were likely to take far longer getting downstairs to start their morning.

Not that she would have minded, but she was pretty sure neglecting Nyx was not a good enough reason for sex.

No, she’d enjoy him again later, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed her last night, if he was willing. And she had no doubt that he would be.

Tying her robe around her waist, Nesta slipped from the closet into her room, glancing to make sure Cassian was still fast asleep. His snore confirmed he was.

Her chuckle was quiet as she entered the hall, sneaking down a few doors and opening Nyx’s. He was still asleep, as well, and with a smile, Nesta cracked his door and quietly padded down the stairs.

The kitchen was still a mess, his half-smashed cake on the counter and their clothes strewn around the room. Blushing, she picked them up one by one and tossed them into the laundry room, before making Nyx a bottle and starting on some scrambled eggs for his breakfast.

She could hardly focus. She was constantly thinking about the man upstairs, still sleeping soundly in her bed. Mixing a little cheese into the eggs, she stirred the eggs up in the pan before dumping them directly onto Nyx’s high chair tray.

Last time they’d slept together, Cassian had made her breakfast and then they’d both agreed it would never happen again. Regardless of the fact that it very much had happened again, Nesta didn’t like the sinking feeling she felt in her heart when she thought about having to agree to that once more.

Staring at the ingredients she’d pulled out of the fridge, Nesta sighed and braced her hands on the counter in front of her.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had feelings for Cassian anymore. At some point, he’d gone from being a pain in her ass to the favorite part of her day. And that terrified her.

Letting him continue to sleep, she crept upstairs and gently woke Nyx up before he could start screaming, and carried him down to the kitchen, his sleepy head resting on her shoulder. He rubbed his eyes as she put him in his high chair, handing him the bottle, and she started working on their breakfast.

The entire time he ate, Nyx watched Nesta curiously, as if he knew something was up.

Maybe it was just her paranoia. Then again, he was Feyre and Rhysand’s kid and they were always snooping into Cassian and Nesta’s business.

Feyre and Rhysand.

Nesta bet they were pretty damn proud of themselves at the moment.

She heard him moving around upstairs and her heart began to beat a little bit faster. This was it, the moment of truth.

She cursed, all the while Nyx kept watching her as he stuffed his mouth with scrambled eggs.

Making herself busy at the stove, she quickly dropped some bacon into the hot skillet, sizzling filling the kitchen. Within seconds, a few pieces of bread were in the toaster, and she was rummaging through the refrigerator for the blackberry jam she knew he preferred.

Nyx’s babbling announced his arrival, and she turned to find Cassian standing behind his high chair, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. He picked up a small clump of eggs and popped it into his mouth, and Nyx angrily began talking at him, though the made up words were unintelligible.

“He doesn’t like to share,” she said, closing the fridge door with a hip.

Cassian grinned. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I worked up an appetite last night.”

Nesta’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded and walked toward her, slowly. Nesta remained still until he was standing just in front of her. “I have to confess that I was hoping you’d be there when I woke up this morning.”

Nesta stepped closer to him. “Breakfast and the baby called.”

Cassian scoffed and muttered, “Priorities.”

Nesta laughed quietly, but the sound was muffled by Cassian’s lips against hers.

It was almost instinct to lean into him, to smile against his lips. When she pulled back just a hair, his hazel eyes were bright. She whispered, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he breathed, his mouth still so close to hers.

She blushed, even though she couldn’t figure out why and turned to the stove. “I…wasn’t sure what to expect this morning.”

Cassian hesitated. “What did you think I’d do?”

Nesta sighed, scratching her head. “I don’t know. I thought you might act like it never happened. Or, you’d say it was only a one time thing like last time.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Last time I didn’t sleep in your bed.”

“And that changes things?” Nesta asked, quietly.

“Last night changed things,” Cassian replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. “At least, for me it did.”

“Me too,” Nesta replied, without any hesitation.

Cassian’s eyes softened. “Nesta, I-.”

“NANANANANANANANA!”

They both spun around, where Nyx was watching them with the most precious of pissed off expressions. His tray was empty, practically licked clean, and Nyx was not having it.

Cassian chuckled as he took a banana out of the fruit basket and peeled it before cutting it up into slices. “He’s awfully full of it this morning, isn’t he?”

“I think he knows,” she said, rolling her eyes as she flipped the bacon. “Not specifically what happened, but he knows something is…different between us.”

He paused his cutting and turned back to her, pausing with a hip resting on the counter. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” she said, smiling. She cracked a few eggs into a bowl and mixed them up with some milk. “Definitely good different.”

For a moment, Cassian didn’t say anything, but when she turned he was grinning. “Really good different?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” She turned back around. “But yes.”

“Good,” he breathed, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “What’ve you got going on today?”

“Work,” she said. “Seeing how the bar renovation is going. Looks like you’ll have to hire your replacement soon with how quickly everything is moving.”

Cassian groaned. “That’s the part I’m looking towards the least. I hate interviews. I hate being in them, I hate giving them, they’re awful.”

“But the sooner you give them, the sooner you leave that bar and come work at mine,” she crooned.

“Yours?” he repeated, offended.

Nesta snorted. “Ours.”

He and Kallias had both given their notice to the owner of the dive bar they worked in. He wasn’t thrilled, but he had always been a gruff bastard. He’d informed Cassian he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d hired not only his replacement, but Kal’s, as well.

“Speaking of,” he sighed, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got one scheduled for eleven-thirty. What time are you going to the restaurant?”

She poured the egg mixture into the skillet she’d cooked the crispy bacon in moments before and began laying the bacon on the toast she’d made. “Whenever,” she shrugged. “Helion is opening today. What time can Viviane be here?”

“Ten. I’m not working a shift today, so after the interview I can either come back here and give her the rest of the day off, or I can come to the restaurant.”

Nesta chewed slowly as she thought about it. “I wouldn’t mind if you came to the restaurant.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Cassian said, placing the cut-up banana in front of a cranky Nyx. “And you, little man, better be good for Viv today. Because you’re grumpy.”

In response, Nyx spit out the piece of banana he had put in his mouth and smushed up the rest on his tray.

After scarfing down the breakfast that Nesta had made, and making a show of thanking her for it, Cassian was cleaning up the kitchen then hurrying upstairs to shower. Nesta was left cleaning up a fussy, banana-covered Nyx.

“I don’t even think you wanted to eat the banana, kiddo,” she muttered, cleaning off his tray, before wiping him down with an ungodly amount of baby wipes. “I think it was just to play in.”

He had plenty to say about that, just nothing Nesta could understand.

A few minutes later, freshly showered and dressed Cassian came downstairs, where Nyx was playing on the living room floor. She was up the stairs a minute later, hurrying to take her own shower. After an hour, she returned, purse and keys in hand. “I’m going to go ahead and head to the restaurant. I’ll see you in a little while?”

He nodded and as she made for the door, Cassian stood, catching her by the elbow and tugging her back to him. She stumbled a step, but he crushed her to his chest and pressed a kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, they were both grinning like fools. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She was backing towards the door, that smile looking like it was a permanent fixture on her face, before slipping out and leaving he and Nyx alone.

Who was watching him again, looking so much like Rhysand with that little eyebrow raised.

Cassian couldn’t help but snort and say, “This is your fault you know.”

A few hours later, right after Nyx had gone down for his mid- morning nap, Cassian heard a knock on the front door. Opening the door, Viviane rushed in. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, shaking her head.

Cass glanced at the clock on the mantle. “It’s barely ten-fifteen,” he chuckled. “No big deal, you’re fine.”

She nodded. “Sorry, just— It’s been a crazy morning.”

“Everything okay?” Cassian asked. Viv was usually steady, so sure of everything she did or said.

“Yeah,” she replied, waving off his question. “I’m fine. Ran into my ex at the coffee shop and— Ugh, ignore me. Don’t worry about it. Is Nyx down for his nap?”

“Yeah, he’s been out for about fifteen minutes. He had a pretty big breakfast, so I doubt he’ll be too hungry when he wakes up.” Cassian gnawed on his lip for a second debating on whether he should ask what was on his mind. After considering how well throwing caution to this wind has worked for him last night, he decided why the hell not. “Does that mean you’re single? Since you bumped into your ex?”

Viviane froze and blinked. “Yes, but I don’t date my employers—”

“No, no,” he quickly said, holding his hands out in placation. “It’s not me. It’s a friend of mine and I think you two might hit it off.”

Viviane raised a brow. “A friend, huh?”

“Guy I’ve worked with for years,” Cassian went on. “Great guy, in fact. You’ll enjoy yourself, guaranteed.”

“Guaranteed?” Viviane chuckled. “Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Cassian grinned. “No, you can’t, and neither can he. Tomorrow night, you free?”

“I suppose I am, if my boss is giving me the night off,” she laughed.

“He is, and it’ll be great, we’ll all go out,” Cassian said. “You and Kal, and me and Nesta.”

“Kal,” she said, the shortened name rolling off her tongue. “Yeah, alright. That sounds fun.”

“Perfect,” Cassian said, patting her on the shoulder as he swept past her. “I’ve got to get going, but we should be home around five or so. Call if you need anything.”

Viviane chuckled. “You say that every time, and have I ever called?”

“It’s a habit!” he called, as he hurried out the door.

When he got to the bar, Kallias had everything under control, which meant Cassian was taking a table in the far corner, waiting for his interviewee to arrive.

Sadly, this wasn’t the interview to replace his own job. That was proving to be far more tedious than he was expecting. But an hour later, after shaking the young man’s hand, Cassian let out a sigh of relief as he left.

“And how’d that go?” Kallias asked, wiping down a few glasses that were drying atop the bar.

“Well, your position is officially filled,” he replied, sitting across from him at the bar. “So congratulations.”

“Cheers,” he chuckled, raising the empty glass towards Cassian. “When are we celebrating?”

“Tomorrow night, actually,” Cassian said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kal snorted. “Seriously? I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Cassian replied, shrugging. “We’re going out tomorrow night. You, me, Nesta, and Viviane.”

Kallias blinked. “The hot nanny?”

Cassian grinned. “Yeah.”

Kallias looked at Cassian suspiciously. “I thought you were kidding when you said you were setting us up.”

“Oh, I never kid about love,” Cassian said, winking.

Kallias raised a brow. “Love? Who the hell are you?”

Cassian filled his glass and took a gulp of beer. “Just meet us at Rita’s at eight tomorrow.”

Kallilas continued to stare at him for a long while. “You slept with her again, didn’t you?”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Tomorrow. Rita’s. Eight.”

And with that, he chugged his beer and left.

*

The next night, Cassian and Nesta dropped Nyx off at Elain’s before making their way to Rita’s.

“Our first date,” Cassian crooned, reaching his hand across the car to Nesta’s.

She took it fondly. “Our first date? After all we’ve been through, do we even qualify for a first date?”

“Why?” Cassian scoffed. “Just because we’ve been sleeping together and living with each other and raising a kid together?” He snorted. “Of course, we deserve a first date.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but did not protest.

Cassian had slept in her bed last night after another night of lovemaking. Even though it didn’t seem possible, it got better with each time. The more they got to know each other’s bodies, the more familiar with one another they became, the more they became one in intimacy, the more amazing it was.

“You look amazing tonight,” Cassian said, quietly. “In case I haven’t told you that yet tonight.”

He had.

Multiple times.

But, Nesta couldn’t blame him. She did look amazing in her navy blue dress and her blush heels. She looked over at Cassian, in his jeans and button down shirt.

Coincidentally, it wasn’t much different than what he had worn on their actual first date five years before. She chuckled, and he looked over at her, brow raised.

“This is actually our second date,” she said.

Cassian shook his head, amused, before looking back out the window as he turned into the parking lot. “Well, hopefully this date goes better than that one did.”

Nesta agreed.

As soon as Cassian opened Nesta’s door, they spotted Viviane pulling into the parking lot. They knew she was a pretty girl, but she usually showed up to work with a ponytail, jeans, and a t-shirt. Now, she had really dressed to impress.

Cassian whistled as she got out of her car and Vivane blushed as Nesta’ jabbed him in the ribs.

“You look beautiful,” Nesta told Vivane.

“Thanks,” she said, and Nesta could tell the nanny was a little nervous, a little uncomfortable.

“I see Kal’s truck,” Cassian said, gesturing for the women to follow. “I guess he’s already inside.”

Indeed he was and he’d already gotten a table for the four of them and was working on a pitcher of a beer.

“Hey, man,” Cassian greeted him as Kallias stood and shook his hand. “This is Nesta,” he said, placing a hand on her back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching for his hand as well. They shook hands and Kallias smiled.

“You, too,” he replied. “I guess I should call you boss now, huh?”

“No, no, no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

“And this,” Cassian interrupted, rolling his eyes at the two of them, “is Viviane.”

As if he somehow hadn’t noticed the blond beauty behind Cassian until this moment, Kallias looked up at her and blinked. He was about to make some sort of hot nanny joke when Kallias breathed, “Viv?”

She was looking at him with the same dumbfounded look Kallias had on his face. “Kallias… Hey.”

Cassian and Nesta looked between the two, then at each other, and after a moment, Nesta asked, “You two know each other?”

Kallias still looked like he was trying to figure out what planet he was on, so Viviane answered, “We were…childhood friends. But my family moved to Velaris when I started middle school.” She shook her head, but she had been looking at Kallias the whole time. “I had no idea you were in Velaris.”

He finally remembered to speak, though Cassian was beginning to wonder if he’d need to answer for him. “I came out here for college. Loved the city and decided to stay.”

“College?” Viviane repeated. “You’re telling me that you’ve been here since your freshman year, and you’ve never called?”

Kallias chuckled. “I didn’t even know you still lived here!”

“Hmm,” Viviane said, taking a seat across from him. “Well, what a small world, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Kallias repeated, “small world.”

Cassian took a seat by Kallias and Nesta sat across from them as they went a little bit more in depth into their long lost friendship. Apparently they had grown up in the same neighborhood and had always gone to the same elementary school. Kallias was a year older than Viviane, but when he went into the seventh grade and Viviane was going into sixth, her family moved to Velaris for her father’s work.

They had never talked again after that. Their friendship was nothing more than a simple, joyful memory.

Seeing them now, Nesta thought, she just knew the two of them had gotten into trouble when they were little. Between their jokes and sly looks at one another, and the obvious chemistry, they had surely been up to no good and gave both sets of parents a run for their money.

“I’m going to the bar,” Cassian announced, looking at Nesta. “Care to join?”

Nesta had a feeling that it was less about going to the bar and more about giving the newfound couple beside them a few minutes alone. She nodded, and took his hand as they walked toward the bar on the other side of the room.

“They’re cute together,” Nesta said, sitting on a barstool.

Cassian sat on the one next to her. “Oh, I know. You know, I’ve gotta say, I feel pretty damn accomplished right now. I definitely made this happen.”

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, even as she leaned into his embrace. She wanted nothing more than to poke fun at him, to mess with him about his unexpected matchmaking skills, but as she looked at the two happy people laughing at the table across the bar, she couldn’t help but wonder if that’s the gift that Rhysand and Feyre had tried to give them all those years ago.

Even now, Nesta’s chest tightened as she smiled, so thankful for her meddling, baby sister.

[reputationmunson]

Right Where You Left Me

Summary: During a rough patch in their relationship, reader gives Spencer one last chance to make things right

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst w/ a (somewhat) hopeful ending

Content Warning(s): Breakup, swearing, mention of food, mention of alcohol, allusion to depression (Please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first fic and I hope you enjoy it! I wrote this in about an hour after listening to “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift, so it’s not the best and a bit rushed but I’m excited about it! 

I sit in the dimly lit restaurant, patiently waiting for him to show up and prove me wrong. Prove to me he still wanted me as much as he did when we first met. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes and before I knew it, an hour had passed. I was still alone looking at the empty seat across from me, imagining he was sitting there looking at me with that doe-eyed look and a smile upon his face. I found myself slightly smiling at the fantasy before I was interrupted by the waitress.

 “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if you don’t order something we’re going to have to ask you to leave. Are you still waiting on someone?” I gave a small chuckle before replying “Uh- no, I’m sorry. I’ll take the check to pay for the wine.” “Don’t worry, it’s taken care of.” She gives me a pity smile. 

He left me. He actually left me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though, things had been different for almost a year. We were less intimate, he was sleeping on the couch or at the office, and whenever he looked at me he no longer had that sparkle in his eye that always reassured that he would love me forever.I never would have guessed our forever would be this short lived. I shamefully walk out of the restaurant and I’m so embarrassed that all these people witnessed me getting stood up by a man I never thought could make me feel this way. 

How am I supposed to go back to our shared home? Would he be there? Maybe he got off work too late and is waiting to surprise me with flowers? My anticipation was too much to handle and I press the gas pedal with a bit more pressure, hanging on to the last string of hope I had. Unfortunately, my instincts were a bit off as I walk into what was once our happy home that was always filled with love and laughter that I never thought would end and now there was just an empty feeling. 

It’s colder than usual and without him, it already no longer felt like home. Spencer is, was, my home. I need to be in his arms. He was the only one that could put me together and he’s the one that is fucking breaking me. I don’t remember who I was before him besides a girl who had never been loved the way he loved me. The love you read about wasn’t something I believed in until I met him and now I’m right back to square one. 

I walk back to our bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but I stop when I see a piece of paper folded on the bed. I feel the tears forming before I even open it up. This was the last thing he touched and the last piece I have of him. It feels so delicate in my hand like it’s made of glass. I dread reading this. Our story is ending with a single piece of paper that lies in my hand. I take a deep breath and work up the courage to read the inevitable. 

Y/N, I’m a coward. I couldn’t even face you tonight to give you the proper closure you deserve. You deserve someone who is able to give you that, and so much more. While I was packing, I noticed your red dress was off the hanger and I’m assuming that’s what you wore tonight. That was always my favorite dress on you. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I need you to know that I never have stopped, and probably never will stop, loving you. Sadly, love isn’t enough sometimes and I wish it really fucking was. Don’t think for a single second any of this is your fault. I could go on and on about how you deserve more than me, but I know you and you would fight me on that statement until you were blue in the face. I could write forever, but I should get going. I left you that cardigan of mine you like so much, the one I wrapped around you our first date. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but please never forget me. -Yours, Spencer. 

-------------------------------------------------

I still think about it everyday. I think about him everyday. Five years later it still hasn’t escaped my mind. But, on the bright side, I only think about it for about half of the day instead of letting it consume my entirety. I felt pathetic. Everyone in my life was married, having kids, or getting promoted and here I was still holding onto this false dream that he would come back to me. I pretended that I moved on. I even lied about going on dates. What was the point? I already had the greatest love I could ask for. I would rather be alone right now than try to recreate what I had with Spencer with some stranger. 

I distract myself with the music on the radio, considering thinking of Spencer while driving was about as dangerous as driving while intoxicated. Moments later, I’m pulling into the grocery store. Maybe I’ll meet someone new here. The love of my life could be right under my nose, but I wouldn’t even know because I’m stuck in a delusion. 

I stroll the the cereal isle and laugh quietly at myself, realizing that the most exciting thing this week was trying a new flavor of cheerios. “This works” I whisper to myself as I throw the box in my cart and make my way down the isle. 

“Y/N?” I stop in my tracks. I know that voice. It’s the voice that never leaves my thoughts. I can’t turn around. Is he actually here? He can’t be. What are the odds of this happening? I bet he would actually know the statistics on that. I put on a fake smile and turn around. “Spencer! It’s been what? Five years? How are you?” I think I might be overdoing the friendliness. “Yeah five years, two months, and eight days.” He nervously laughs. “Still have that big brain, I see. And who’s this?” I was so distracted by his presence I didn’t even notice the literal child sitting in the shopping cart. 

“This is my son, Oliver, like the Charlemagne Knight from the twelfth century poem, Chanson de Roland. He’s turning two next month.” He smiles at his son in awe. “It’s my weekend with him. My ex and I are trying the whole shared parenting thing. It’s hard to be away from him” He continues. “I’m sorry to hear about your separation. I hope the note you left her was different from mine” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. “Sorry. Bad joke.” I add, causing us to laugh through the tension. “Ouch. I -uh- guess I deserve that” He looks down and shakes his head. “I should get going. It was nice to see you, Spence. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.” 

“Maybe we could grab coffee and truly catch up.I still have your number, unless you’ve changed it.” I shake my head in response to his last statement. “Um, yeah, that would be nice. Just don’t ask for your cardigan back” I joke and immediately regret letting him know I’ve held onto it all these years. “Of course not. You always looked better in my clothes than I did.” “Goodbye, Spencer.” It’s the last thing I say. I turn around and try my hardest to keep my composure. 

“Y/N, wait.” I turn back and meet his eyes once again. I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or if the sparkle in his eyes is back. “What about you? Are you happy?” There is a sincerity in his voice. “Yeah. I am.” I lie, hoping it was convincing enough for him to not question it and we went our separate ways after sharing a final smile.

My mind is having a thousand thoughts a minute. Spencer had a baby. Not only did Spencer have baby, he had another relationship. I didn’t expect him to wait around like I was, but I really didn’t expect to get hit with all this at once. All the things I wanted, needed, with him had already happened with someone else. He had moved on with his life and I was still right where he left me. 

[sslow-dancer]

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

[ontheblock]

i know that i‘m a little behind with my inbox requests but i will come around to finish them soon !! i just to be a little selfish with this self indulgent fic of sal<3 enjoy, fuckers. the next post will hopefully be henry bowers once i get to finish it-

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•warning: gore, angst

Sal never imagined that he would be scared to see her. The steady dripping and the weight in his hand made him uneasy as he stared at the door for a moment - probably not more than ten seconds or maybe it was twenty minutes, he didn’t know. He barely remembered stumbling out of Room whichever-the-fuck. Sawwy Face. I’m proud of you, Sal. Fuck.

Sal‘s hand hovered over the door knob. She probably left it unlocked again. Sal always told her to lock up at night but he knew her too well. She would stay up way too late just to pass out on top of her covers or tangled up in it from her determination to find the best position to lay in. He knew because of course he did. Sal would be the one to come over more often than not when his bed was just too cold and his night terrors just too real at night. He would slip under her covers, holding her against his chest and whisper sweet nothings into the dark room if it made her stir. No matter how bad it was, he didn’t like to wake her up - no matter how much he wanted to be the one to be held and caressed, soothed and lulled into sleep. Eventually he settled with her presence alone, lying on the rough carpet next to her bed, tracing her hand hanging off the bed with his eye. The carpet usually hurt his tender side if he rolled over in his sleep and he woke up with a rash too many times. It made his prosthetic sit on his face uncomfortably for days. She would scold him for sleeping on the cold floor but he was giddy for her kisses and they always followed immediately after - the softest butterfly kisses on his scars and they were better than any cream she bought him for the rash but he let her apply it on his face anyway. Sal never told her how gross a moist face felt under the prosthetic. It made her happy so it was ok.

He stared at the bad paint job on the door. The shadow he casted on the room number plate taunted him as he turned the knob. A wave of her scent faintly hit him under the ever lingering smell of copper as soon as the door creaked open. The shitty hallway lights barely lit up the room. He shuffled the knife handle in his clammy hands as he entered the apartment. He knew that her bedroom was the first brown door. He could find his way to her blind and he knew that if he didn’t go now he would never go. It was so quiet as he approached the closed door. So quiet as he pushed the door open. The janky blinds were only half closed, letting the moon cast its light into the room. It was so dull now. Everything in Nockfell was dull now or maybe it always was this way. Maybe the bright moments were only so bright because they were moments he shared with her. Sal’s foot nudged against a soft pile of her clothing as he stepped foot into the familiar room, a room they would jokingly call their detached house when they were in their late teens, sharing a cigarette on her unmade bed surrounded by each other’s clothes until he promised her that one day he will give her exactly that but real. Not some run down apartment with wet walls. She told him that anything was fine but he chased that pipe dream anyway.

His blood caked shoe kicked a stray sock back into the pile, smearing blood on it along the way. Whose blood? But it was fine because she only piled her clothes by her door if the next day was laundry day. Tomorrow was laundry day, it was going to be ok. He slowly lifted his head back up to look at her, tangled up in her favorite blanket. He didn’t understand what made the blanket so special. He never liked the way the fabric felt on his skin until Ash told him that the blanket matched his hair color perfectly and she just missed Sal after he moved in with Todd, missed the way he would drape his arm over her, missed the way he would stay up until she was sound asleep even though he was the one who saw nothing but death when he finally closed his eyes. It made his chest ache a little and he made sure to send her a SMS almost every night. But now she looked so peaceful - as if he could just lay down next to her and wake up to a normal day. A day before he killed 12 people that watched him grow from the 5’2 kid with pigtails in the 5’6 man with hair hanging loosely over his shoulders because he liked how she would sit behind him to brush his hair while he drowned himself in his college classes.

He didn’t lay down, didn‘t have the chance to dwell on that thought as her phone gave a shrill pinging sound into the dusty air. His head snapped to the small nightstand. It was cluttered with a lamp and some stray pieces of paper and sticker packs ranging with designs for kids like hello kitty and sanrio characters - no, he didn’t care that hello kitty already was a sanrio character, no matter how often she would tell him - to band logos like korn and sanity falls. She would randomly ask Sal to stick them on his mask. He would say no because it was hell to get the residue off afterwards. She would pout like she always did, and he would cave like he always did. In the middle of a paper pile sat her phone, blinking with a notification.

Anniversary <3

Fuck. Sal swallowed hard. His prosthetic clung to the sweat layer on his face. Or was it just the tears? Both? Was it blood? Maybe it was all but the rusteling of fabric made him painfully aware that it was the least important worry right now. She was stirring and as soon as he got a good look of her face he saw the tell tale sign of her waking up - the scrunch of the nose and the fluttering lashes. Ah fuck.

“Sal?“ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Sal? What is it?“

He opened his mouth just to close it again. Not that she saw it anyway. Slowly, she pushed her upper body up onto her elbows, finally blinking up at him. It was dark but her breath caught in her throat when she finally took in the man looming over her bed. “Is- Is that blood?“ He didn’t know when but he stopped breathing, just holding everything inside to ground himself but was it worth it when the oxygen felt like acid slowly corroding everything it touched - every square inch from what lining was left inside his nose to his throat all the way inside his lungs? The corruption would split him open again again again again and eat her whole the second his fingertips grazed her familiar skin. Skin he painted with his own, skin he kissed, skin he was about to split before it split him. If he just didn’t touch her would it be ok? If his skin wouldn’t touch her this time would she still be there tomorrow? Sal finally released the air trapped inside him against his mask as she sat up, sucking more air in as she clutched the blue blanket.

There was a moment of silence, of nothing, of her exhaling shakily with a fear in her features that rendered him completely still, of him just staring at her wide eyed and breathing erratically now. A silent moment for her to consider any possibility to get the fuck out this room and for him to find it in himself to finish the job. He couldn’t but funnily enough she gave him the final shove by kicking her legs out of the blanket and throwing herself off the creaking mattress past Sal - or trying to. He saw it coming the moment her hands twitched and shoved the frayed hem away. Sal just had to extend his right arm for her to fall into it with a yelp. He slung it around her waist tightly, afraid it would bruise her, and slammed her back into the mattress. It knocked the wind out of her for just long enough to straddle her body, arms pressed up against her sides by his thighs and it left her kicking wildly. It was just like the times they would wrestle on the bed because it made her laugh. She wasn’t laughing this time. She was yelling. He knew because he saw her mouth hung open, tense and afraid. But he only heard noise and he felt bad that he couldn’t make out her words, if they even were words. Sal swallowed. Would he make it worse if he told her that he loved her now? Would she just thrash out his grip if he held her with blood coating his hair, blood dripping from his fake chin and nose, blood making the knife handle a little too slick to hold properly? He didn’t want to find out so he settled with wiping the back of his hand on his jeans and putting his other hand on her stomach to catch himself from the way the room spun around him. She flinched. She never flinched from his touch before.

His hand yanked up the tank top covering her stomach, all the way up to her ribs. She was breathing so hard that her skin kept stretching and shrinking to make room for her expanding ribcage. Was she still screaming? She was. His hand flew up to her face by instinct, pressing against her mouth to muffle her screams to throaty groans and whimpers as she struggled to focuse her eyes on him. He knew she was trying to slip out his name. He didn’t know how, he just knew.

Sal didn’t look at her as he brought the knife closer but he felt the way she tensed and pressed backwards into the mattress, away from the knife, away from her murder boyfriend on their anniversary. He wanted to guide her through but there really wasn’t a way around it. It would definitely be worse if he confessed his undying love to her like he wasn’t about to scratch out the undying part, like she wasn’t already dead meat. He would have to be quick like with Soda. He wanted to throw up. It was so easy to just plunge the knife through the ribs but where was that sweet spot on an adult woman? Fuck. He let her shirt fall back down, clutching her left shoulder instead to push her deeper into the mattress. He didn’t mean to but he automatically looked into her eyes. She was crying, pleading with him the way he didn‘t let her plead with her words. Nothing but fear, confusion and adrenaline pooled in her eyes, overflowing as tears down her temples. Her eyes never held so much resentment against him. His were bloodshot, hollow, wet with old tears, staring back at her without any expression like a void opened behind the only good eye he had left to shield his pain.

Sal thought about the time Ash told him how to pierce an ear. “Breathe in, hold it and push it through while exhaling. Won‘t feel a thing.“ Maybe he was stupid, delusional. Maybe he was clutching the last straws. But he filled his lungs and held his breath for just a few seconds before exhaling and shakily pressing the tip of the blade down. God, she was screaming so loud, it pierced through every static in his head, heaving and twitching as blood soaked her shirt, soaked her blanket and sheet. His hand slipped off the wet handle, leaving the blade buried in her chest about six inches deep with two sticking out. Why was she still thrashing? Why wasn‘t she fucking dead yet? Sal panicked as he yanked the blade back out, making her blood coat his mask as it sprayed out from the force. His heart was beating in his throat in an attempt to finally stop hers. Her blood felt like it was scorching his skin off his flesh, his flesh off his bones and he thrusted his knife back inside all the way, dragging it down, tearing her chest in two as he finally reduced her screaming to gargling chokes, sobs and broken calls that he sometimes identified as variations of his name.

“You killed her, bud.“ I know. “Her mother told her to leave your sorry ass, yknow? But she offered you her pinky and you cut it clean off, fucker.“ Yeah. She should have done that. “You’re going to die, rotting in a cell to live with the guilt.“ I deserve it.

Sal watched the light drain from her eyes while the blood drained from her gaping chest. His home he was longing for since 1984, it crumbled like her mother predicted, maybe not under for the reasons she expected. The static in his ears left, offering a moment of silence until there were too many voices screaming behind him.

“You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.“

“I loved you. You killed me, Sal.“

He clenched his eyes shut. The voices whispered, cried, screamed. Her voice was the loudest by just calling his name with a smile on her face and their hands intertwined - calling his name with fear in her eyes and his fingers curled around the knife sticking out of her chest. He finally shuffled off of her, dropping onto the blood soaked mattress next to her, staring. She was screaming. Not his name, just screaming so loud it made his ears ring until he couldn’t bare it anymore. Sal pulled her close like her used to do on the nights approaching August 16th. He laid her head against his chest, draped an arm over her back and rested the other on her hair. It felt wet. The knife handle uncomfortably dug into his stomach but he rested his chin on her soft hair. Sal always thought it was his prosthetic that made him whole. He felt lost without it, bare and incomplete. The nightmares manifested into real life fears. Nightmares like his scars just opening back up, ripping him apart all over again. But now she was gone and the mask did nothing to stop the feeling of falling apart under her weight on his chest. He felt like splitting apart inside the shell that was him, Sally Face, filling his prosthetic with gore until it started to seep out the eyeholes like it was seeping out her open chest. But right now he wasn’t Sally Face. He was Sal Fisher, assailant and guilty for the mass murder of 13 tenants in Addison Apartments.

Sal studied the top of her head in silence, watching her own blood drip from the tip of the mask‘s nose to be soaked up by her hair. She always took relatively good care of it and scolded him for not doing the same until they fell into the routine of her brushing his days old knots out of his hair as he let his fingertips ghost over his guitar. He was always so relaxed as she searched his hair for split ends to cut off every few months. He loved it but now he wasn’t sure if he would ever get a hair cut again. He mindlessly leaned against the headboard. His prosthetic started to itch from the sweat that stuck it to his skin. His prosthetic that scared her at first. They were 15 and she just moved in five months after Sal arrived with his dad. He wasn’t offended when she would quickly walk past him in the hallways. It was fine to just be strangers until Ash brought her along at school and she laughed at everything he said. It was a week of this until Larry decided to be the best wingman ever. He made it his mission to get them together before gradation. And like a true Johnson he stuck to his plan because Lisa didn’t raise her son to be a quitter. True to his promise, he convinced Sal after eight months of pining to finally make his move on her. They were 16, bordering onto 17, when Sal very awkwardly asked her on a little trip to Lake Wendigo.

“Would you go to the lake with me? Not- Not as a date, yknow. I mean, unless you wanted that. It’s not a date though.“ - “Yeah, I’d like to go, Sal.“

It was absolutely a date. Larry tried to tickle a high five out of Sal after hearing the news but god, he was so embarrassed, pressing his clammy palm against his prosthetic to will away the heat in the mask.

“So“, Sal started as they sat on the edge of the water, tossing pebbles into the large lake. “So“, she mirrored, digging her shoe into the mud. “I asked you to come here because Larry told me to.“ He quickly shook his head probably because Larry told him that he should leave that detail out. “I mean- I mean, it was my idea. Yeah, it was. I wanted to tell you something. You know how Ash told you about how I‘m weird about touching and hugging as a heads up to not freak me out? Yeah, I don‘t really like that usually. But- But I don‘t care about the way you touch me.“ She saw the way his throat bobbed once he realised how mean that sounded. “Not that I don‘t care, uh, I just don‘t mind. I dont mind when we ride in the back of that shitty cramped car that Ash lends from her aunt.“ Sal started to fiddle with his sleeve. “And it was kinda sweet how Larry taught you how to inhale smoke. You were, like, really excited about getting cancer but it was- cute. How you were proud when you got it. Sometimes you do these small things and they just make it really hard to breathe. And it‘s not your fault or anything. I- Larry said I would know what to say when the time is right. But I guess there is no right time.“ He rubbed his neck nervously. “Say it, Fisher“, she said, much too quiet but his head snapped towards her. Her face was blank of any expression but her eyes glimmered and gleamed like those gemstones she told him about before. He didn‘t know the name. “I can‘t- I don‘t know how.“ He couldn‘t look away as she put her weight on one arm, leaning towards him. She was scooting closer and Sal felt his heart beat behind his face. “Go out with me“, he suddenly blurted out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Please“, he added breathlessly before she took his hand, intertwining their fingers. She loved how his long fingers rode up her hand, how cool his touch was.

“Sal, please. I know Larry has seen it before.“ She trailed behind her boyfriend of roughly one month on their way to the buildings elevator. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped off.“ His voice was so distant as he pressed the button, watching the number close in to the 1st floor. “Do you not want to?“ There was a brief silence as she stood behind him, sounding so small and it made his heart ache. “That’s not it, love“, he tried to offer but she didn’t answer as the elevator doors slid open. She pushed past him into the empty space, he followed. She waited for him to press their respective floor numbers but didn’t say anything else. The doors closed again when Sal faced his girlfriend. “Listen. It’s not- easy.“ She didn’t reply, only shuffled in place a little as her sole scratched across the elevator floor. “I do want to. I want to kiss you but-“ He cut himself off. They both knew how he felt about his face. They both knew she was being unreasonable but could he blame her? He held her hand in public after two weeks of dating because he was anxious. He held her in private a week later while watching a movie with her. But he refused to kiss her. She resorted to kissing the lips of his prosthetic and it made his stomach flutter but she just wanted more. She wanted real. On the rare occasion that he slept over he slept in his mask, taking the pain of the hard shell pressing into his tender side all night instead of sharing the most private moment with her by showing her his everything. He felt like an asshole, sure. But the thought made him want to vomit into the small space.

“I said that I would let you go at your own pace but at this point, you’re in parking on the side of the road, Sal. You can‘t hide from me forever.“ Her words stung like daggers. “I’m not hiding. This is my face. I will show you my past, I promise.“ He stepped closer, offering her his pinky. He found it silly when she first brought up pinky swears but it became their way of showing they were serious. “Really?“ She searched for something in his one functioning eye, a lie. But there was only warmth for her so she curled her pinky around his. “Really. You aren’t my past but you’re my present and will be my future.“

She flushed at that. He knew how this sappy shit fucked with her head and they held onto each other’s pinky when they reached her floor. Sal walked her to her door in silence but his heart was lighter than when he stepped into the elevator. “So“, she started. “See you tomorrow, Sally.“ She turned around only to feel his lips on hers and his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her in place.

The punch was horrible sugar water, the snacks went stale an hour ago, the jocks snuck in booze so a good amount of soon to be graduating kids were drunk off their ass, Larry was high and sharing his spliff with Ash and holy fuck, the music was ass. But it was the best night of Sal’s life - their prom. Him and Larry always said how stupid prom was, how they wouldn’t dress up and how they wouldn’t go in the first place. And now here he was in dark blue dress pants and a button up, holding two cups of the most disgusting juice he ever got to taste. And he loved every second because she kissed the gap between his mask and his ear, whispering a little “thank you“ for holding onto her drink while she used the bathroom. And god, his heart jumped in shapes that weren’t even known to man yet at how utterly, completely, deeply and horrifyingly pretty his girl looked. His throat ran dry everytime he had the chance to look at her in that dress. He knew that she went shopping for it with Ash, he needed to thank her for that some other time.

“You‘re pretty.“ She could barely hear him over the music and it was the eleventh time he said it that night. She still giggled, taking his hand to lead him to the crowd of students. “Will you dance with me?“ His knees felt weak at her question, how she held his hands, how she looked at him with the love he never thought he would be able to receive. “Anytime“, he croaked as they both found the rhythm of some badly mixed song they already played last year but he would never get the song out of his head again as he lost himself in her movements.

The night went beautifully until it didn‘t. The moment the beats got heavier and the crowd got louder Sal found himself get bolder until his mask had no more grip and the buckle just gave up. Suddenly everything was silent around him with his mask on the floor and seconds felt like minutes before his hands flew up to cover himself. He heard how she called out to him, felt how she lead him out of the gym to escape into the much less crowded hallway.

“Sal? Honey, look at me.“ Sal wasn’t sure if she was whispering or yelling. Everything was muffled by the intense nausea building in his stomach. He was too scared to reply because the bile was threatening to boil over and just spill onto her shoes and the skirt of her dress. His already impaired vision swam with tears as he felt fingertips gently trace the back of his hands. Sal swallowed a sob as he allowed her to pull his hands away but he didn’t pick his head up. His wild hair dropped over his face like a curtain and it was the only thing blocking the tears from just pouring until he reached the privacy of his room. “Please, love. Please. Let’s leave, please“, he choked out with a thick voice. A voice that deep had no business sounding that small. Sal felt a familiar comfort on his face as she gently pressed his prosthetic to his skin. He let her buckle it onto his head before finally looking at her. “It’s ok. Let’s go home.“ Sal nodded, taking her hand and letting her guide them outside into the pouring rain.

“Ah shit“, they said almost at the same time. He stayed under the roof for a moment, unsure if she wanted to ruin her look in the rain but she already stepped into the rain and pulled him along. She was still so beautiful, it made him ache. “I’m sorry“, he breathed into the droplets hitting his mask. “You can’t control the weather. It’s ok, I don’t-“ He tightened his grip on her hand. “I ruined your prom night“, he blurted out, making anything she wanted to say die on her tongue before she could discover what it was. Sal felt a little resistance as she stood still but held his hand tight enough to make him stop too. “What is-?“

“Sal, will you finally dance with me?“ His breath caught in his throat. She looked like she was sculpted from the image of a goddess, dripping in rain with mascara running down her face and her dress clinging to her skin. His first response was to close the gap between them, pulling her close. They didn‘t mind the cars driving by because tonight the world belonged to them even if it was only for a few hours.

“Anytime.“ She was warm despite the steady rain prickling her like needles. It was like she was his source of light and warmth that refused to let him go cold again. She was so warm.

She was so cold. Sal pressed her harder into his chest, digging the knife’s blade in her squelching flesh and the handle just above his ribs. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t the one facing the sharp end after all.

Flashes of red and blue dully lit the room’s walls from the outside, siren’s pierced the aching silence. The room never felt this cold before. He never told her about the building being haunted. He never told her about the cult. He never told her that he wasn’t mauled by a real dog. He wanted something normal for once. And it was the best thing he ever had because she was his only pilar that no man, no ghost, no freaky demon could bend or chip until Sal crushed his Eden.

When the cops busted the door off its hinges he realised he never got the chance to show her his notebook full of songs he wrote for her.

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking 

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

[therenlover]

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...) 

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask. 

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16) 

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?” 

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation. 

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,” 

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?” 

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket. 

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?” 

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly. 

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded. 

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him. 

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?” 

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,” 

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

 A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,” 

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?” 

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,” 

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,” 

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence. 

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips. 

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian… 

Y/N. 

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…” 

------------

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,” 

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,” 

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,” 

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him. 

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already. 

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?” 

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily. 

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it. 

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!” 

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it. 

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,” 

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause. 

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,” 

The jab didn’t land, though. 

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense. 

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name. 

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?” 

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,” 

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,” 

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature. 

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers 

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it. 

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much. 

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach. 

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,” 

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,” 

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed. 

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,” 

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia. 

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch. 

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?” 

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be. 

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games. 

------------

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up. 

They did quite the opposite. 

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw. 

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,” 

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right. 

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them. 

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all. 

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike. 

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning. 

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th. 

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?” 

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for. 

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up. 

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves. 

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though. 

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed. 

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey. 

“A drink, dear leader?” 

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?” 

“Too many,” 

“For once, I agree with you,” 

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it. 

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,” 

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan. 

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?” 

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?” 

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?” 

“You know that’s not what this is about,” 

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked. 

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing? 

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with. 

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,” 

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?” 

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?” 

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?” 

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all. 

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that. 

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too. 

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan. 

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible. 

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,” 

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible. 

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,” 

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,” 

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips. 

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,” 

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?” 

“Why would that be wonderful?” 

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own. 

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first. 

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one. 

------------

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine. 

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him. 

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained. 

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself. 

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?  

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group. 

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached. 

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch. 

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too. 

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this? 

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end. 

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,” 

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,” 

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?” 

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over. 

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back. 

“I’ll try not to,” 

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,” 

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours. 

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed. 

“What?” 

“You weren’t invited,” 

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?” 

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,” 

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?” 

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,” 

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,” 

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”  

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been. 

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,” 

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it. 

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky. 

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,” 

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,” 

“Do you think I don’t know that?” 

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,” 

“Yeah, he would have…”  

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick. 

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again. 

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?” 

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?” 

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,” 

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-” 

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,” 

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,” 

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,” 

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip. 

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,” 

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,” 

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it. 

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea. 

It fell on deaf ears. 

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave. 

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live. 

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before. 

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again. 

------------

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better. 

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued. 

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck. 

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded. 

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth. 

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died. 

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life. 

What remained now? 

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it. 

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”  

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N. 

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen. 

It was only right that they go together. 

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,” 

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun. 

“Quiet,” 

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them? 

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles. 

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,” 

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time. 

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet. 

------------

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end. 

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it. 

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that. 

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be. 

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him. 

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there. 

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side. 

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it. 

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.  

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment. 

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly. 

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back. 

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning. 

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,” 

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead? 

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,” 

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,” 

Married. 

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?” 

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,” 

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,” 

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips. 

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

------------

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it. 

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all. 

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,” 

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them. 

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket. 

“We buried them in Ciczheni,” 

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand. 

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,” 

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word. 

Ciczheni. 

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks. 

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two. 

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home. 

Making a family. 

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been. 

For Y/N, though... 

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling. 

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives. 

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare. 

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace. 

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer. 

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them. 

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know. 

They both would. 

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying. 

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[lubdubsworld]

City Lights . ( Namjoon x OC)

Pairing : OC x Kim Namjoon.

Genre : Angst. Romance.

Rating 18 + 

Word Count : 2900

Warnings :  Mature Themes , Explicit Sexual Content . Slow burn. Like slower than a snail.

Summary :

Widowed and destitute, Son Yang Mi leaves the comfort of her small , secluded  fishing village and travels to the intimidating city of Seoul with her young son. She has a plan, one that involves finding a job, getting her son into a good school and building a life for herself.

Now, three years later she has a job , working as a live in house keeper for the Kim family, specifically for the son,  Kim Namjoon, a famous rapper and producer. 

Its a job that puts a roof over her head and she’ll do anything to keep it. 

But fate has other plans.

Chapter 1 ~

Akogare (ah-koh-ga-reh)Often translated directly as a sort of frustrated “yearning”, “desire”, or “longing” .

Seoul in summer was a sight to behold. I blinked back against the bright sunlight, staring out into the stunning skyline of the city as the sun rose over it , and although it was just a little past seven in the morning, the air was warm and invigorating. The mid July sun shone down with no mercy, and there was no trace of the rain that had lashed city just the previous night.

It had been three whole years but the relief that came from breathing fresh air, untainted by the damp musk of fishing trowels and sweaty men, was still unrivalled.

I shook off the feather duster in my hand, moving to carefully clean the wicker woven chairs on the artificial lawn in the balcony. Dusting the entire condo down was a mind numbing exercise in patience, so i tried to get it out of the way, early in the morning when my son was still asleep.

At six years old, Junsu was a bright , happy child. Summer vacation meant days sleeping in and evenings spent frolicking with the other kids in the building and he was content with being alone in our small shared room, reading or playing with his toys while I went about the day’s work.

I glanced at the clock, grimacing.

It was almost eight . And although Mr. Kim wasn’t due back home for another twelve hours, I felt a little jittery and nervous.

Kim Namjoon , renowned rapper, producer, writer , poet and what not. The apartment was his but he was usually on tour, traveling all over the world to promote his book and to perform in sold out stadiums. For an A list celebrity, he was surprisingly humble.

For the past three years, him and his model fiancée  Lee Mina had spent a total of maybe seven months in the condo. They were a sweet couple, or so I’d always thought , a bit formal with each other but clearly in love . Mr. Kim was a kind, soft spoken young man and I’d never heard him raise his voice unless he was in the company of his very dear friends.

Just a little over a week ago , both of them  had left Korea for the States , the tabloids screaming about a luxurious destination wedding in the Caribbean and I had been asked to take a few weeks off . The newly weds wouldn’t be back for quite a while and they would let me know when I had to come back to the condo.

I’d been toying with the idea of visiting my in laws in Gwangyog, maybe even dropping by to see some old friends there but yesterday , Mr. Kim’s mother had given me a call letting me know her son was coming home. 

[ 

The conversation went something like this :

Yang Mi, I hope you haven’t left yet?

No, Ma'am, I haven’t.

Joon-ah is going to be back tomorrow.

Oh, is Ms Lee arriving as well?

No, Just him He’s going to be alone.

Yes, Ma'am.

Please don’t mention anything about Mina or the wedding.

No ma'am of course not.

I’ll drop by later . Cook him something warm and filling. And make sure the house is cleaned well.

Yes, Ma’ am.

]

And that was that.

~~~~~~

It took the better part of the day to finish cleaning and setting up the house . I washed the window slats, changed the sheets, arranged the books that had been left scattered all over his bedroom. The walk-in closet was littered with a bunch of his clothes and I made sure his gym bag was stocked with fresh towels, spare clothes and his favorite head and wrist bands. 

For someone so careful and calculated, he was really quite a messy man. 

i did his laundry, making sure he had ample clothes at least for another two weeks, creasing the handkerchiefs and carefully removing lint from his jackets. 

I also carefully sorted out the feminine clothing from the laundry and from the cupboard, folding them neatly and placing them in the lowest shelf of the closet, where he wouldn’t find them. It wasn’t hard, hiding traces of his fiancee from the condo, because it had never really been her home. other than a few spare pieces of underwear and a couple of t shirts and skirts, there weren’t many articles of clothing belonging to Ms. Lee. 

But I still got rid of the bobby pins and hair ties, the spare lip gloss and mascara.

Junsu spent the entire day in our room, reading and drawing, only venturing out every few hours to grab a snack. I left him with his drawing tab ( a gift from Mr. Kim for his 5th birthday )  and his favorite book, asking the security guard at the end of the hallway to keep an eye on the door, while i went out to buy groceries.

Lots of meat, no sea food, healthy snacks and high protein fiber bars. I stocked up on sauces and bought a fresh batch of eggs, oranges and grapes . Mrs. Kim had sent a large amount of kimchi a few weeks ago and that was still in the pantry.

i stopped for a second, staring around at the almost deserted store. Most of the other housekeepers shopped at the bigger, more exclusive store on the other side of the residential complex. But Mr. Kim had a very selective palette, which meant that I had to be very particular about the brands i bought.

When i came back home at around six, Junsu was on the floor in the living space and i felt my heart jump in panic.

“Baby!! I’ve told you not to come out here when I’m not home!” I protested bleakly and he pouted.

“I need to show you my gift for Mr. Kim!!” He said softly. I smiled moving to put away the groceries and glancing at the clock. It was a little past six. I had to call Yungyu.

“Did you draw him something ? “ I asked curiously, checking to see if the beer shelf was stocked. probably should have done that before going out for the groceries, I thought regretfully.

“Yeah! Look!!” Junsu held his tab out and my heart dropped.

For a six year old, Junsu drew very well. And there was really no mistaking the very obvious wedding scene on the screen.

Oh, Good God.

“ That looks amazing honey.” I said gently. “ But, I heard that Ms Lee isn’t coming over this time..”

Junsu frowned.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure. But remember how we spoke about saying the right things? When something upsets someone, we do not bring it up.” I reminded him gently. My son hesitated but nodded.

“Okay. I’m sorry. “ He said softly.

“No baby, its not your fault. It’s just that we want Mr. Kim to be happy right? We don’t wanna upset him...”

He smiled at that.

“When he’s happy, his dimples come out.” He said with a giggle. I laughed.

“yes they do... So let’s try and get those dimples out as often as we can alright? Why don’t you show him that picture you drew of yeontan the other day? He’ll really like that....”

“Okay...but i need to go color it!” Junsu yelled, already running back into our room. I watched him go before reaching for the phone and dialing, Yungyu, the chauffeur.

“Are you on the way here? ” i said briskly.

“Just starting from home...” Yungyu muttered, “ I’m supposed to be on vacation now! Why is he coming back so soon?” 

“Just hurry up !! We can’t keep him waiting!!” I said sharply, before hanging up. 

I made a quick check of all the rooms, filling up water bottles for his gym routine in the morning and stashing them in the fridge before moving to get dinner started. 

i set the water on boil for the stew, before moving to peel cucumbers for the salad. I chopped the cucumber , along with some fresh cherry tomatoes . I watched the water boil, thinly slicing an onion and adding it to the bowl as well. The dressing was pretty simple,  soy sauce, rice vinegar, honey and sesame oil . I sprinkled some sesame seeds on the bowl, used the salad tongs to give the whole thing a nice toss and set it aside. 

I braised the chicken first , peeling and chopping potatoes and carrots to add to the stew . In a few minutes, the rich smell of lightly spiced chicken and garlic and perilla  leaves began filling the kitchen and I turned on the rice cooker as well. 

The door bell rang at six forty and i opened the door to reveal Yungyu. 

I grabbed the keys to the Palisade, handing them over to him.

“Did you hear?” He whispered urgently.

I frowned.

“What?”

“They say Mr. Kim called off the wedding!” He whispered, wide eyed. 

I glared at him.

“Who told you that?” i demanded...

“Seojoon from the gate said-”

“Why don’t you ask Seojoon from the gate to mind his own damn business?” I snapped. 

Yungyu looked suitably chastised. i felt a little bad. Yungyu was still young and curiosity was hardly a sin. 

“His flight lands at eight exactly. Hurry okay?” I said with a smile, ruffling his hair.

He brightened, peering over my shoulder into the house.

“Where’s the little one?” He asked curiously.

“ Painting something for Mr. Kim... Go ahead, hurry up.” I shooed him away, locking the door behind him. I fixed a plate of food for Junsu and sent him to eat, before moving to check on the stew. +

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

By the time eight thirty rolled around I had the table set and ready. I washed my face quickly in the small bath attached to our room , making sure I was dressed well. Junsu wasn’t allowed in the main house unless Mr. Kim specifically asked for him and my son usually stayed in. 

Junsu and I stayed in a bedroom , not large by any means but big enough for a queen sized bed, a table and chair for Junsu and small dresser where I kept a comb and a tube of night cream. I stared at my face, licking my lips as I smoothed my hair out. 

I glanced at the bed. 

Junsu was asleep , having dozed off while coloring his picture and I carefully extracted the tab from under his fingers, moving him around to lay on the soft pillows. I tucked him in gently, brushing the hair off his face. 

“In peace , I will lie down to sleep, for You alone will let me rest in safety.” I whispered gently against his forehead, kissing the soft skin. I felt my lips wobble , a debilitating wave of affection flooding me as the sweet scent of my baby, filled my senses.

 I would die for you, I thought fiercely, kissing him again. 

The sound of the front door opening made me jump. 

Swearing, i smoothed the fabric of my skirt, running to the kitchen. 

“Thank you for picking me up Yungyu, I’m sorry you had to cut short on your vacation.” Mr. Kim’s deep voice filled the hallway and I quickly grabbed a glass, filling it with water and placing it on the dinner tray.

“Not a problem, Sir. “ Yungyu’s cheerful voice responded.

“How are you going home?” Mr. Kim asked. 

“I’ll take the bus.”

A pause and then, 

“Here’s some cash. Get a cab.” 

I could hear the relief in Yungyu’s voice as he let out a , “ Thank you sir.” 

I fixed his plate carefully, the bowl of rice, the bowl of chicken stew, and the salad neatly arranged next to the napkin and the chopsticks. I heard him move across the condo, the sound of his suitcases as he wrestled them towards his bedroom and I frowned. Yungyu should’ve have brought those in for him. 

I finished reheating all of the food and carefully carried the dinner tray to the bedroom. 

Mr. Kim’s bedroom was right at the end of the hallway and the door was open. The full length mirror on the opposite wall showed him sitting on the small couch in his room, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

I raised my hand, ready to knock on the wood. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, kicking out at the coffee table with enough force to send the furniture skidding half way across the room. 

I froze in the hallways stunned. 

“You’re such a fucking fool , Namjoon !!” He muttered angrily and I swallowed, turning on my heel and quickly walking back to the kitchen. 

Maybe I ought to wait till he asked for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t ask for dinner. 

I stayed sitting on the floor of the kitchen, waiting and lightly dozing as I heard him talk to his parents on the phone. I heard him open the liquor cabinet in his room, the sound of ice sloshing against glass, the sound of whiskey being poured carefully and i sighed. 

I had to get to bed. It was already a little past eleven. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in the night, I woke up sweating.... 

Wondering what woke me up, I blinked groggily, glancing at Junsu. He was still sound asleep. 

Sighing, I climbed out of the bed, carefully making my way to Mr. Kim’s room, peering in carefully. 

He was asleep on the sofa.

I stared at the way his long legs stretched over the armrest, his lean hips twisted to accommodate his broad shoulders on the couch and I winced. He was definitely going to regret that in the morning. 

I stared at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and sighed, moving to take off his shoes carefully. He didn’t stir. 

I grabbed a pillow from the bed, carefully lifting his head and slipping it under. I placed a comforter over his shoulders, pulling it down to cover his legs. 

Force of habit almost made me brush his hair off his forehead but I stopped myself. 

The clock on the wall read three fifty am. God, I was going to feel terrible tomorrow. I carefully tip toed out, shutting the door behind me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I picked the comforter from the floor, carefully folding it and placing it on the bed, before grabbing the empty bottle of whiskey and glass . i could hear the shower running. The curtains were still drawn in and I tugged on the strings to get them to open. Sunlight spilled in through the floor length windows. The bed wasn’t slept in, so I opened the closet to grab a couple of towels, laying them on the bed for him. 

The bathroom door opened and i quickly straightened, wanting to race out of the room but it was too late. Thankfully he was dressed,  a pair of loose sweats and a loose t shirt . He was running a towel through his hair and his face brightened at the sight of me. 

“Yang Mi! You’re here....” He said cheerfully. 

“Good morning sir.” I said softly, offering him a small smile. 

He smiled brightly, hair damp and dimples deep. The white t shirt he had on was almost fully soaked through and he shook his head, sending stray water droplets all over the place, a few landing on my cheeks. 

“I didn’t see you last night...” He said casually, moving to drop the wet towel in the hamper, grabbing one of the fresh ones I’d laid on the bed. 

“I thought you would like your privacy sir, you looked exhausted.” 

He smiled.

“ Thank you for the blanket and the pillow by the way. And the shoes.” 

I bowed quickly.

“I’ll get your breakfast done, sir.” I bowed again before quickly getting out. 

I moved to the kitchen grabbing the oranges I’d got the previous day . Mr. Kim wasn’t fond of traditional korean dishes in the morning. He preferred freshly squeezed juice and toast, sometimes with an omelet perhaps. 

I fixed his breakfast quickly, setting it all in the tray . He was still moving around in the bedroom and I heard him drag his worktable to the windows, which meant he was going to stay in the bedroom. 

Pouring his coffee into a cup, I carefully picked up the breakfast tray , moving to his room slowly. 

I used my foot to knock on the door.

After a pause of a few seconds, 

“Come in Yang Mi!”

I carefully moved to the small table in front of the couch, placing the tray right in front of him. The scent of his body wash, green apple and strawberries, hit me hard. 

“Where’s Junsu?” He asked casually.

“Still asleep sir. It’s Summer so school’s out.” I smiled, grabbing his phone from the table to make space for his tray. 

The phone buzzed just as I was about to place it back down and I blinked.

 Mina calling.......

 I swallowed, not sure what to do, placing the phone down quickly.

“Uh..you have ...” I waved vaguely at the device before bowing again and moving back. 

“close the door on your way out, Yang Mi...” He said gently and I quickly obeyed. 

I moved to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee for myself. I stayed leaning over the counter and even through the locked door, I could hear him . 

“Just don’t call me Mina...i don’t want to talk about this!!!” 

I swallowed, glancing out of the window again. It was a bright, clear morning. 

A second later, the door to his bedroom slammed open and he stormed out. I watched him from my spot in the kitchen, his fists clenched as he rushed out to the front door.

The door shut behind him and I exhaled. 

Once I as done with my coffee, I moved to his room to clear the breakfast tray. His phone was still on the table.

It began ringing again just as I left the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mrs. Kim.” i said respectfully, bowing . She gave me a short smile.

“Where’s Namjoon? I’ve been calling him for the past hour.” She pushed past me into the house and I bit my lips.

“He went out about an hour ago. He left his phone behind.” I explained.

She stopped, sighing. 

“Fine, I’ll wait for him. “ She moved to sit on the couch, glancing around the room. 

“Should I get you something ma'am?” I asked softly and she smiled.

“Get me a glass of lemonade, Yangmi.” She said brusquely and i nodded, running to the kitchen. 

“Did Mina come over?” She called out as I got the lemons out of the cooler.

“No ma'am.” i replied.

“Did she call?” 

  I remembered the phone ringing, how upset it had made Namjoon, how he had stormed out.

“I don’t know ma'am!” I said softly. 

She nodded.

“Okay. You can leave.” She said quietly. i bowed and went back into the kitchen. 

I peered out of the window as I fixed her a glass , and my eyes fell on a familiar figure, coming back in through the front gate. Even from this distance there was no mistaking the long legs and messy blonde hair. 

I bit my lips, mind racing.

 Mrs Kim and her son had a volatile relationship, to say the least. 

And something told me that Mr. Kim was probably not in the right frame of mind to argue with his mother, now. The man was upset but apparently, neither his mother nor his ex fiancée understood that. instead of giving him space they were hounding him. 

I hesitated for a second  before making a quick decision. 

I grabbed the tray with her lemonade and moved to her quickly.

“Thank you.” She said sharply. “ Turn on the Air Conditioner for me, will you?” 

I fumbled with the remote, grabbing his phone from the table , turning it on before moving to the front door and rushing out. 

I almost ran into him as he came out of the elevator , and i jerked back stumbling a bit to stop myself from crashing into his chest. He let out a , ‘ Whoa, “  his hands reaching out to grip my elbows. 

“Careful. What’s wrong?” He asked gently and I swallowed.

“Your mother’s here.” I said quickly, “ Sir.” 

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned. I swallowed.

“You can leave.” I blurted out. “It’s Tuesday. She has her charity work meeting at ten. Its almost nine. She won’t stay long....” 

His eyes met mine, lips parting in surprise. 

“I really can’t meet her now.” He said apologetically.

I nodded.

“Of course, I understand , sir. Just be back in an hour , she’ll be go-”

The elevator buzzed , the doors nearly closing over my shoulders and I flinched. He swore and stuck his arm out to keep it open. 

I stared at him before holding his phone out.

“Here you go sir. “ 

He chuckled taking it from me and shaking his head.

“i feel like a kid, sneaking away from my mom.” His eyes reached mine, twinkling, “ Who would’ve thought the quiet, timid Yang Mi would be my partner in crime. “ 

I didn’t reply, just smiled. 

And then he hesitated. “ Is Junsu awake?”

I blinked.

“Uh...yes sir,...he’s playing in the park downstairs with the other kids.”

“Great... Would you mind if i take him out for ice cream?”

I stared at him. 

“Oh..uh...of course not. Sure.. I mean.. he’ll love that... Sir. Thank you.. You don’t have to -”

“Consider it thank you for helping me with my mother.” He smiled again and i found myself staring at his dimples again. i swallowed. 

“in that case, he loves butter scotch.” I smiled. 

The dimples appeared and i bit my lips. 

“Thank you Yang Mi.” He said slowly. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Finally a hyungline fic !!! ugh... I’ve been wanting to write a Namjoon fic for ages and I really hope you guys will like this one :’( Feedback is much appreciated. 

[goldenxddeonu]

Unravel His Soul

paring: prince!niki x princess!reader

genre: royal au x rich kids au

warnings: violence, mentions of death

Word count: 2.4K

Authors note: this is my piece for the collab <33

Fall was slowly disintegrating, making winter the talk of the kingdoms. Winter might just mean snow and cold weather to anyone, but to the royal families it meant the annual winter ball. Fabrics and shoes swiftly snatched off of racks, whispers filling the cold air on who the prince will choose this year as his partner. “Rumor has it, the prince isn’t even allowed to choose, it’s all set up. And then, the prince shoos off the princess in the with money. These modern day princes throw around money like it’s nothing.” You heard a group of girls gossip over. You didn’t care about silly things like that, you had your own kingdom in your hands. You didn’t need to care— just yet. 

“Find your way to the door. Now.” A sharp raspy voice stated, followed by a thud. An envelope, which you supposed was money, thrown at a girl who looked about your age. “You were here for this anyways, no need to beat around the bush.” You stood there in the door way of the extravagant castle. Sunoo, the eldest brother, stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at his brother, he looked tired, tired of this ongoing cycle, a cycle you never knew about, but felt the presence of. Both doors open, causing a gush of wind to come fleeing in, causing everyone to turn their heads to look at the commotion. You standing there, followed by two knights, each by your side. Riki’s anger in his eyes softened, turning into confusion. The boy at the top of the stairs jolted towards you, powered by the strike of understanding what was going on. You weren’t stupid, you knew what was going on too. You showed up too early and you saw something you weren’t supposed to see, backstage work that wasn’t for display, the secrets of the magician.

The girl’s eyes brimmed with tears, embarrassment smeared all over face. She grabbed the money and stormed out. Just as she did, one of the knights got ahold of her to let her know a few things before she leaves. “If any of what just happened now is spoken about to anyone, you and your family’s head will be hung above the kings’ bed.” The room went painfully quiet. Sunoo offered you to sit, and you did. Right in front of you was the one and only, Riki. He looked ashamed. “Is this what’s been going on?”, you stated. “You imbecile” you scoffed. “Let me guess, I’m next? I’m not going to spend my time and love into someone who’s going to shoo me away with money in the end. No need to worry about hurting me, I wasn’t expecting anything anyways.” Riki’s eyes flickered anywhere towards you. You stood up and adjusted your dress. “Which way to my room?”

Sunoo quickly got up, leading you up the stairs. “I’m so sorry you had to see that princess..” you laughed, “No need to ponder in the past, plus all of the royal families had a feeling something was off.” he laughed with you. You had finally made it to your room. “Here you are princess. Let us know if you need anything, from food, to clothing, or just company!” he said beaming. You felt your self unintentionally smiling back. Everything about him was so contagious, his smile, his peppiness, and his overall aura. “I shouldn’t get too used to things here, it’ll all be over soon..” you thought to yourself. You spent all your time mocking all the gossip about this family, and swearing you would never even come close to the Kim family. And now you were apart of them. Who knew the king would choose you, of all people to accompany his son. You took a look around the room, soaking in every inch of it, white cabinets embroidered in gold, shiny marble that covered the floor. You laid down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, concealed in beautiful colors, every bit told a story. Angels holding harps, clouds on clouds.

Just as you were about to unpack, three little knocks on the door were heard followed by a, “Princess, the Prince requested to meet you outside!” One of the servants stated. You prayed it was Sunoo, there was no way you would face Riki after being so harsh. You got into your outside attire, and left the room. You were lead to the garden, bright pops of pink and yellow flowers showered the garden, beautiful vines wrapped around the bright white gazebo right in the middle of it, trickles of water were heard due to the fountain, kissing the air as it gracefully spewed water. You looked around eagerly waiting for Sunoo. Sadly your prayers were not answered. There stood Riki. Just as he showed up, the servant placed two cups of tea and left. “Do take a seat, please.” He said quietly as he pushed your chair out and bowed. “Well, someone straightened out.” You said slightly taunting him. He was about to open his mouth to explain what happened but you cut him off. “You don’t need to explain to me. I know what’s going on.” You said as you took a sip of your tea. He smiled, looked you in the eyes and thanked you. Those eyes. So sharp yet so pretty, bittersweet. The servant walked in. “I hope didn’t interrupting anything, but it’s almost time for the ball.” Riki thanked her for letting us know and she left. “We should get going” he said. And with that you both took a leave.

Riki left first, he got to his room and immediately started to get ready. You and Sunoo on the other hand, decided to play around. Looking at the frost bitten windows, You gasped, “It’s snowing!” You heard you voice echo through the halls of the enormous castle, causing you to go red, and Sunoo to laugh. He grabbed your hand and pushed the doors open. You two were running and chasing each other like children, chucking snowballs at him and screaming after. Riki looked down at you at the window. He felt his heart ache. A tightening feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He was jealous. Jealous his brother got more along with his partner more than him, and angered more by the fact that you saw him at his worst.

You and Sunoo were pulled inside by the guards like children. Still laughing over what just happened. Your cold hands aching at the feeling of being in the cold for that long. You and him were thrown in your rooms, getting your make up and hair done. You were quickly thrown into your dress, and you were done. “That felt like a blink of an eye, you guys work so quickly!” You exclaimed. “It’s our job.” The servants said smiling softly. You were escorted out of your room, and to the stair way. At the bottom of them stood Riki and Sunoo. As you walked down the stairs, Sunoo was clapping, cheering you on. You flashed a smile, and as you did breathless Riki’s eyes shot down to the floor, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, except he did. He had all the cares in the world . “Alright it’s time we go in, everyone’s waiting.” You slithered your hand into Riki’s and whispered “Shall we?” He looked down at you and replied, “We shall.”

Just as he said that, the doors of the ball room opened and there was everyone. You even spotted your family. You two walked down the stairs, all eyes on the both of you. You two taking steps at the tempo the orchestra was playing, gracefully glancing at the guests. You made your way to the table. You sat down next to Sunoo and whispered, “Was I okay?” “You were magnificent.” “I hope so..” you laughed. “I’m going to go say hello and pay my respects to the people of the other kingdoms.” Riki said to you. “Alright! I’ll be here with Sunoo.” “That’s the problem..” he whispered so ever quietly. “What?” “Nothing-“ he shot back and left. As he left, music started to play. “Oh my gosh, this is my favorite song to waltz to-“ Sunoo stated. Just as he did you pulled him up and took him straight to the dance floor. You both bowed and placed your hands in each other. You two swayed left and right, immersing yourselves into the music. Riki was with a group of his prince’s he grew up with, looking at you two. “Isn’t she supposed to be yours?” The brothers Sunghoon and Jake stated laughing as they jabbed at him, throwing their hands over Riki shoulders. Riki pushed their hands off of him angered. Not just angered at this, but angered at everything that’s happened between you two. It isn’t fair, the way you walked in the castle, immediately face to face with the most horrible version of himself. If only you knew how he would go to “check up on your kingdom to make sure everything is in check”, but in reality, he just likes the way you look when you work. Face full of passion and strength. Or the way you gifted the little girls and boys of your village flowers, hugging them with all your might.

You and Sunoo went back to sit at your table, tired from all the dancing, to come back to cake placed prettily in front of each seat. You both sat back and ate. “Say aaaa~” Sunoo laughed at his own remark. “Aaaaa~” you laughed back, not expecting him to actually do it, but to your surprise, he actually did it. You laughed uncontrollably, just thinking about how everyone in the ballroom probably witnessed all this. All of this was put to a stop by Riki, making his way to your table, “Sunoo. We need to talk.” The way he was speaking, his facial expression. It was just like the first day you walked in. Sunoo got up, surprised.

And just like that they left the room. Leaving everyone to whisper. You sat there uncomfortably, being eaten alive by your own thoughts. “Is it about me? Did I do something wrong?” You thought. And then it hit you: you haven’t been spending time with Riki. He was the reason you were there. Could he be offended? Maybe he was jealous?.. You waited a couple seconds after they left so nothing looked odd to the guests. You bunched your dress in your fists and ran to the door. The live music getting quieter, and your breathing getting louder.

The doors shut. Riki and Sunoo, outside noses pink from the snow. “What’s going on-“ his question was answered by a punch. “How come you never let me have anything? How come you can just sit back and watch me finally have something good? You can’t watch your younger brother succeed, right? It hurts your pride too much.” Sunoo’s lip was bleeding, he was getting dizzy, the world wouldn’t wait for him. He finally got up and shot a punch at his brother. “What are you talking about?” Sunoo stated, his voice harsh. “Y/n.” Riki said, wiping the blood off of his cheek. He grabbed Sunoo by the collar, and pushed him against the walls of the castle. “You know I like her, why are you playing your cards?” He said sobbing. He dropped Sunoo, leaving him on the floor. He wiped his tears and gritted his teeth, “Dont come after me, I don’t even want to see you.” Riki passed right by you, slamming the door after him. You stood there frozen in the cold.

“Sunoo are you okay?-“ his head rising from his knees, his eyes drained from life. “I’m fine. There’s no need for you to worry about me. It’s better that you don’t anyways.” You wanted to reply, but all your words seemed to die at your tongue. He wiped his tears, dusted his pants and left. The moon was the only presence you felt at the moment. It felt reassuring to know that the moon wouldn’t leave you, always illuminating through the night. Your feelings finally catching up to you, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past week. A few tears falling from your face. They were warm, and stung against your cold face. You were called back in by the guards, wondering where you’ve gone. Everyone had left by now. You entered the quiet castle, ever so still and peaceful. You grabbed a candle to light the way to your room. Just on your way up, you heard something from one of the other bedrooms.

It was from Riki’s. Sniffles and quiet cries were heard. You felt your heart sting, he seems so misunderstood. You took a deep breath in and slipped in quietly. His back was facing you. He was sitting on the other side of the room. You swiftly walked up to him, placing your hand on his back, startling him. He quickly wiped his tears. “Stop that, all you’re doing is suppressing how you feel.” He turned to you, eyes beat red from all the crying. His glossy eyes glowed under the moonlight peeking through the windows. “I’m sorry I’m the way I am.” He said, arrow straight to the heart, picking at your soul. “It seems unfair for me to judge you based on the way you acted, you were angered. I’m sorry for that.” You said putting his hands in yours. He looked down at the sight, causing him to smile. A lightbulb went off in your head. “I have an idea.” The confused boy tilted his head at you. You pulled out a tie from his drawer and wrapped it around his eyes. “Should I trust you?” He sheepishly asked laughing. “I don’t know you ask me.”

You took him in one hand and in the other the candle, the warm light reflecting on the walls. You walked him down to the ballroom. You quickly played music and ran back to him. You ripped off the tie, and placed your hand out. “May I have this dance?” He cringed at your statement, “I thought you’d never ask.” He said bringing the same energy to the table. You two danced all night until your feet were aching. Both of you fell to the floor, laying on your backs. “Thank you..thank you for hearing me out, you know? I feel like I’m just perceived as this evil monster, when no one even takes into account of what I go through.” He said chuckling, even though you know he was hurting. You sat up, looking down at him. You brushed his hair out of his face with your fingers. He held your wrist, softly pulling himself up and pulling you closer. “Everyone deserves a second chance.” You whispered. And with that, your lips met. Both of you cautious at first, slowly testing the waters. A warm kiss that sealed the envelope of the birth to a new young love.

[five month times skip]

There both of you were, looking down at the kingdom that now the both of you share. You laid your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his roaring heart. All it took was to unravel his secrets piece by piece to bring his soft soul to the surface.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

-

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street. 

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had. 

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys. 

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked. 

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books. 

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”  

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg. 

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met. 

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters. 

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again. 

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn. 

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice. 

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot. 

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice. 

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.” 

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?” 

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went. 

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away. 

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground. 

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little. 

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger. 

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet. 

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you. 

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming. 

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair. 

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him. 

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.” 

-

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there. 

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel. 

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous. 

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice. 

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious. 

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed. 

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second. 

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.” 

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly. 

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered. 

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question. 

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches. 

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich. 

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table. 

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout. 

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin. 

“Is it any good?” Soda asked. 

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home. 

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other. 

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner. 

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over. 

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly. 

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up. 

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air. 

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.” 

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped. 

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention. 

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book. 

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended. 

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars. 

-

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest. 

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute. 

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement. 

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him. 

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red. 

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed. 

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered. 

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you. 

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces. 

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked. 

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step. 

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with. 

“Daddy?”

-

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere. 

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass. 

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you. 

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. 

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.” 

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf. 

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door. 

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door. 

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas. 

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.  

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you. 

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly. 

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with. 

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated. 

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again. 

“I have to, Sodapop.” 

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade. 

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you. 

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled. 

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged. 

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys. 

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes. 

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl. 

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette. 

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile. 

“You’re one of us now.” 

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right. 

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside. 

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen. 

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[mediocre-writerr]

cardigan [quinn fabray]

Quinn Fabray x fem reader

Requested: Hello! I love your imagines! This is a bit of an odd request, but I was wondering if I can have Quinn Fabray imagines based on the love triangle in Taylor Swift’s Folklore album. The r is betty and you can just go from there! Thank you!

A/N: hey everyone i’m back! finals went well and i’m back, you don’t know how much i wanted to not study just so i can write this one. i was thinking about making this a 3 parter, one for each song? i think by the way this ends we may need it, lmk what you all think!

You place your head in between your legs as you sit in your room in agony. It’s been a couple months yet it still hurt. 

Everything was still fresh. 

Finding everything out from Rachel. Confronting her. All of it. It kept replaying in my mind like a nightmare that just won’t go away. 

“Honey,” your mom knocked on your door and opened it softly.

 She found you in the same spot that you have been in the past two months. The only time you were in a different spot was when you were at dinner or at school. 

“Sam’s here.” she whispers.

Sam comes into the room smiling at you sadly. He takes a spot next to me on the floor of my bedroom. I lied there clutching my cardigan that had too many memories attached to it. 

Wordlessly, you sidled up next to him and placed your head on his shoulder. He places his own head on top of yours as you just laid together. 

It became a routine: Sam or Finn would come by and just sit there with you to make sure you were okay. Sometimes neither of you would say anything and other times they did their best to try and cheer you up. 

“Quinn Fabray, you are drunk right now.” you giggled as the two of you decided to walk home back to your house after the party at Rachel’s. 

“And you are absolutely gorgeous.” she says whispering. 

Her arm was wrapped around your waist as the two of you were walking home. She liked to have a hold on you in anyway that she can. 

Around other people she didn’t like to show off too much, but alone she had a hand on you all the time. It seemed like she couldn't get enough. 

“Dance with me Y/N.” she whispers. 

The two of you were stopped under a streetlight. The streetlight shining onto the two of you. The Lima Ohio air was cool in the month of February. But as she wrapped the both of her arms around you, all you could feel was warmth. 

Your foreheads rested on top of one another’s, lips were mere inches apart. The two of you just swayed to the sound of crickets in the neighbor’s grass. The smell of alcohol filled your nostrils, but you didn’t mind. 

You just enjoyed her presence. How close she was. How warm and safe she made you feel. All of it. 

Quinn’s hand drifted from around your waist to under your sweatshirt. Her cold hands sending chills throughout your body. 

“Love, your hands are cold.” you whispered into her neck softly. 

“I’m sorry.” she whispered back, but she didn’t move them. 

As time went on her hands weren’t icy, but rather warm. And in that moment there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“How are you doing?” Sam asks, “You looked pretty out of it during glee club today.” 

“Not the best.” you whisper back. 

Your short answers are something that the rest of your friends have had to get used to. You were always the bubbly talkative one, no one found you annoying, but rather adorable at your childish antics. 

But when reality struck. They lost that. It was like your innocence was gone and every bad thing flooded your thoughts. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks, trying to get you to do anything that’s not lying in a puddle of sorrows. 

“Sure.” you shrug. 

He gets up from the spot on the floor and flips through a bunch of movies that you had lying in a cabinet under your TV. You didn’t bother looking up from whatever he was picking. You just continued to lay there staring at the piece of clothing in front of you.

“My mom used to put this movie on for me every time I was sad or sick. It became one of my comfort movies. Even to this day.” he says as the movie commercials start to play on the TV.

The Peter Pan title screen brightened the room. It caused a blue hue to fill the white walls. Your heart dropped at the sight of it. 

“You know I feel bad for Peter.” she whispered softly. 

Her bare body was on top of you. Your legs were tangled under the sheets of her room. The bright TV screen causing the whole room to light up. 

“Why?” you whisper back as you rub your hands up and down her body. 

From her shoulders, to her back, to her ass, to her thighs, and up again.

“He could have changed the story. He didn’t have to lose Wendy. If he just stayed, they could’ve grown up and had an actual family.” she says.

You hum in response, too captivated by the girl in your arms. You kiss her forehead softly and she sighs in contempt, nuzzling in closer to you. Quinn places a soft kiss to your throat. 

You deepen your head into her hair, taking in her sweet scent. Before you place a kiss to the top of her head. 

You know Sam was just trying to help. He didn’t know that Peter Pan was your go-to movie with her. Whenever one of had a bad day you would just play Peter Pan and hold each other tight. Hoping to drift off into your own Neverland. 

“What are you going to do for your birthday?” Sam asks as Peter and Wendy fly off to Neverland. 

“Nothing. I’m not into the party scene right now.” you shrug, not bothering to look at him.

“Come on Y/N! It’s your 18th birthday! You’re officially becoming an adult. You can’t just not have a party.” he exclaims, “Let me and Finn throw you one. Nothing too big, just the kids in glee.” he suggests.

You finally turn to look at him for the first time since he’s got here. He was staring at you as his trouty mouth was in a huge smile. For the first time in forever you finally cracked on of your own smiles. Everyone’s just been trying to help and this is least you can do to show them you’re grateful. 

“Okay.” I nod.

“Okay?” he asks stunned by your answer. 

“Okay.” I say smiling slightly.

“Yes!” he yells, immediately taking you into a hug. 

The next day during glee club you took your usual seat next to Sam. As Mr. Shue waited for everyone to come in and for the bell to ring. 

You always saw when she walked in, but for some reason your gaze seemed to linger. Her eyes had bags underneath him and her usually tamed blonde hair was disheveled. 

You’ve heard rumors that she wasn’t doing the best either. That she hasn’t been doing well in school or sleeping much. But you didn’t know what to believe. 

Her green eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat. It’s crazy that she still has that hold on you. That even by a simple look she still manages to make your heart go boom!

“Hey everyone!” Sam announces breaking you away from her gaze. 

He goes to stand up in front of everyone, “Since Y/N’s birthday is coming up. Me and Finn here have decided to throw a party for her! Only us glee kids, at her house, on Friday. Be there!” 

The two of you were slow dancing as Rachel was singing Jar of Hearts. Her arms wrapped around your waist tightly as yours was wrapped around her neck. 

There was a millimeter of space between the two of you. You couldn’t express how much this girl had a hold of you. How much you were falling in love with her. 

“What are you thinking about?” she whispers as she notices your loving gaze on her face.

“All my life I’ve felt like I was just there. Existing for no reason. Yeah, I had friends, but I always felt like the oddball. I was just there.” her gaze softened as you continued, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I always felt like an old cardigan you got when you were younger that you never wore. But you always kept because you felt bad if you got rid of it. So you just stored it under your bed, so it just collected dust.” 

“Y/N-” she begins to say, but you cut her off. 

You shake you head smiling, “But you, Lucy Quinn Fabray, you engulfed me in love and care. You took me out from under the bed and put me on and said that I was your favorite. You chose me despite me being not special. So thank you.” 

“You’re selling yourself short love. You’re so special and if people don’t see that then that’s okay. Because you are special to me and my heart. I love you Y/N Y/L/N.” she says softly. 

You closed that millimeter of space and kissed her softly. Your lips touching igniting fireworks. Every single time. 

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks snapping you away from your false fantasy. 

You shook your head, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” 

Everything about your relationship haunts you. Even the good. 

Because what if everything was different? 

What if you weren’t just an old cardigan? What if you were actually something special? What if you were enough for Quinn Fabray?

[mymegumi]

canis lupus familiaris

pairing: bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 3.0k

warnings: meet-cute, dog walker!bokuto, maybe ooc!bokuto + swearing/maybe

note: if this piece seems familiar, it’s because it was the last thing i posted on my old account (@/zumisace) before i deactivated it! i loved it and really wanted it out there hehe. i’m gonna be posting some old works that i really enjoyed mwah. help reading this again the dialogue is so blegh

Labrador Retriever

The first day you notice him, he’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts, black leggings extending past his knee to the middle of his shin as he stretches. There’s a bright orange leash that’s looped around his hand as he crosses an arm over his broad chest, a happily panting yellow labrador on the other end.

He is single handedly the most beautiful man you think you’ve ever seen, and you have to be careful you’re not drooling when you steal glances at him.

You’re lucky you even saw him, because you never go through the park near Main Street. It’s too crowded, and there are too many men that try and assert their dominance over you—overall you avoid walking this direction towards your favorite bookstore every weekend.

You’d only done it this weekend because there was some sort of construction going on West Street, but you have to sit down at a park bench momentarily just to gape at the handsome man jogging around the park with a dog at his side.

His hair spikes up in discolored disarray, but what might seem messy and uncoordinated on a lesser man, seems attractive on this one. He’s got a wide chest, shoulders broad that fills out his dry-fit shirt as he does some more stretching, and watching him while he does so makes you feel almost like a pervert, really.

You’d taken a quick detour in the park just to sit and watch him, book in hands forgotten as he crouched down, hands rubbing underneath the dog’s jaw with a loving touch. The smile on the man’s lips are wide, and you’re almost positive you’ve seen the smile before but you’re not really sure where.

When he looks up, your eyes catch with his and the smile he sends your way is blinding. You have to hold the book in front of your face just to hide the embarrassment clearly written across your face, but when you peek out a moment later, he seems none the wiser to your blunder.

You’re not usually one to base your attraction to other people solely on looks alone, but there’s something about this guy that tugs at your heartstrings. He’s good with dogs, too, and men that are good with animals are always a plus because they’re good judges of character.

“Hey, how are you?”

You look up to see the dog walker smiling brightly at you, a yellow labrador sitting at his side with a smile that almost matches his. Setting the book aside, you match his greeting. “Hi, I’m doing good, how are you?”

“Ah, I’m okay.” His hand rests on the dog’s head, who whines when he removes it to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Bokuto, I just saw you looking at Rusty here and thought maybe you were too shy to say something.”

Well, at least your cover wasn’t blown just yet. You introduce yourself quickly while you reach a hand out to run along Rusty’s jaw, heart swelling when the dog seems to lean into your touch. “You caught me. I love dogs, is he yours?”

“Naw,” Bokuto crouches down now, just below your eye level as he rubs Rusty’s chest with a heavy hand, “I walk dogs when I’m not busy with practice, because it’s good exercise and I can get some pet time in without having to make the commitment of a dog, yet.”

“Yet? Do you plan on getting one at all?” Looking up at him, you tilt your head to the side as he shrugs.

“I’m not really sure yet.” Bokuto looks off into the distance as Rusty gets closer to you, nudging your legs apart with a wet nose to rest his head on your lap. “I travel a lot for work, so I’m not sure getting a dog would be smart.”

You hum thoughtfully. Bokuto seemed like a different type of person, from farther away. You hate to make assumptions about people without really getting to know them first, but he really seems like he dives into things head first without thinking things through. It’s nice to know that he cares for the potential dog he might get in the future enough, though.

“I’d get a pet, but I’m not really sure what I would want,” you start as you look back up at him, “I’m not even sure I’m a pet person, to be honest.”

“Everyone’s a pet person as long as you love them enough,” Bokuto encourages you with his hands outstretching, orange leash dangling from his hand making Rusty pick up his head briefly, “I hate to cut this short, cause it was really nice meeting you, but Rusty’s owner here is gonna pick him up in a little bit, and I gotta run him back to his house.”

“Oh, totally fine, I’d hate to keep you here.” You wave as he begins to jog off, taking a semi-willing Rusty with him. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! I’m here every week walking dogs, so maybe I’ll see ya?”

As his figure retreats into the distance, you can practically feel your heartbeat in your chest. Pressing a hand to your chest, you think it might calm the racing beat as you bite your lip, smile shy as you think about the exchange you’d just had.

Bokuto was a weird guy, is the first thing you think of. Normally, people don’t come up to others in a park just because he’d managed to catch you staring. If he caught you staring at him, you appreciate the fact that he saved you the embarrassment and gave you the dog as an excuse. He seems nice enough, and you’re sure that in another world, maybe you’d regret letting the conversation flow as well as it had, but in this one, you liked talking to him like that.

Maybe you would be back next week, construction on West Street be damned.

French Bulldog

You were absolutely pathetic.

Never in your some odd years of living did you ever think that you’d be the type of person to exercise just because you wanted to see a guy again.

A very tall, adorable, muscular guy that handled dogs well and came up to you with a smile brighter than the sun, but a guy, nonetheless.

Dressed in a set of workout clothes that had practically been collecting dust in your drawers, you were stretching very awkwardly at the park, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. You weren’t someone that worked out often, and you prayed to whatever upper being was out there that no one looked at you weird.

You’d been pacing around the front of your apartment for a good twenty minutes before you decided to jog to the park, trying to keep a slower pace than normal because you didn’t want to be huffing and wheezing when you got to the park.

When you got there, you spotted Bokuto almost immediately. He was surrounded by a small crowd of people, looking embarrassed as they seemed to be asking for his autograph. A thinner, royal blue leash was wrapped around his hand as he waved and posed with some people for pictures.

Was he famous or something? You weren’t exactly sure, but he did have a familiar sort of face. You’d thought you’d seen him before the first day you had seen him, so maybe you’d seen him on your explore feed on Instagram or something.

You weren’t going to intrude on the festivities, content to just continue stretching and maybe actually exercise, but when Bokuto caught your eye, he waved at you with a hand over his head, movements large and noticeable.

“Sorry, I have to go, but thanks for supporting me!” was the part of the conversation that you had caught as you watched him jog towards you, a small white and brown French Bulldog happily trailing after him.

“Hey,” you’re tying your shoe now, crouched on the ground and you hold out a hand for the small dog to smell, “Funny running into you again, stranger.”

“Nice to see you again, you really saved me.” There’s relief in his voice as he holds his hands on his hips, chest heaving gently as he smiles at you. “Y’know, I love my fans, and they’re usually really respectful, but I guess someone caught wind that I started walking dogs and a whole crew of people were here when I got here with Porco today.”

You really hope Porco is the name of the dog.

“Your fans?” You straighten yourself off of the ground and give him a raised eyebrow. “Are you a model or something? I wouldn’t be surprised, you have the looks for one.”

The words leave your mouth before you can really think, and maybe it’s worth not having a filter for that brief moment to see the rosy red blush spread across the bridge of his nose and across the planes of his cheeks. If you look close, you’re pretty sure you can see it start to creep up his neck and on the tips of his ears.

“I’m not–! I’m not a model.” His words are quick as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m a volleyball player, I play for the MSBY Black Jackals!”

“Oh, I’m not really into sports all that much.” You shrug lightly as you feel a weight on your foot, looking down to see Porco resting his butt on your sneaker. “I’m surprised I’m just now finding out you’re, like, famous, though.”

“I thought you knew I was a volleyball player, honestly.” Bokuto looks a little sheepish as he says it. “Usually, people recognize me right away so I just talked about it like you knew.”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry too much, I didn’t even notice.”

Porco makes a strange noise, something between breathing in too hard and sneezing, and it honestly stops your heart for a good minute. Looking at Bokuto, you’re concerned but it soothes off of you when he leans down and just pats the dog’s back lightly. “Sorry, French Bulldogs actually have really bad nasal issues, so Porco tends to do this when his nose gets too dry.”

“Y’know, you sure know a lot about different types of dogs for a guy that doesn’t want one,” you remark as you crouch down with Bokuto to scratch under Porco’s chin lightly.

Bokuto’s laugh is something akin to an angel’s and you want to make him laugh for the rest of his life. “I really wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my mom thought I was too irresponsible, so I did a month long project where I just researched about different dogs.”

“Guess it stuck with you, huh?” He nods, and you’re not sure if he does it on purpose but his shoulder bumps yours gently. “Did your mom end up getting you a dog?”

“No! My sister got a hamster and my mom was worried a big dog, like I wanted, would terrorize it.” his tone isn’t accusatory or spiteful, just reminiscing on the past as he continues to stare at the small dog before him. “It was probably for the better, cause I think I would’ve been heartbroken if the dog died before I was able to make it to the professional leagues.”

Talking to Bokuto is one of the easiest things you think you’ve ever done.

The two of you end up walking around the park when Porco calms down after a while, and the conversation flows as smooth as a river. Whenever there might be a moment of awkward silence, he manages to fill it effortlessly by mentioning something, or even just talking about his experiences as a volleyball player.

Honestly, even the moments of silence aren’t even all that awkward. There’s something soothing about the sounds of both of your feet hitting the pavement and the birds chirping that makes the entire experience one of the better ones you’ve had.

So, when he asks for your number, you give it to him without a second thought.

German Shepherd

Bokuto really likes texting people at odd hours of the day, you’ve learned.

Sometimes you’ll wake up to a text on your phone from the man that he sent at about one in the morning, often asking you something that he had just thought of and can’t bother anyone else with. When you wake up, you typically try and answer his question to the best of your ability, and if you can’t figure it out, the two of you brainstorm the next weekend at the park to see what the answer could possibly be.

The pair of you have slipped into such a routine that seems so domestic it makes your heart clench whenever you have to remind yourself you’re just friends.

Today, at the park, Bokuto has a dog that you’ve seen before. A friendly German Shepherd named Ace that loved to slobber on your hands if you scratched underneath his chin for long enough.

A bright green leash is looped around his hand as he does his triangle stretches, Ace sitting between his feet acting well mannered. Bokuto waves at you as you walk over, tucking your phone away as you greet them both.

“Any clue where in the park we want to go today?”

“You think you’d get bored of the park after a while,” you say off handedly, watching as Ace’s ears perk up at the sight of two squirrels chasing after each other.

When Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two, you turn to look at him. “Well, honestly? I was gonna stop coming to this park a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” This is the first you’ve heard of it, and you’re sure your surprise is drawn on your face if the way Bokuto reacts is any indication. “Why’d you end up staying?”

He coughs into his hand, and you’re sure he’s tugging his jacket’s collar up to hide the red dancing across his cheeks right now. “...You.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. You stop walking for a minute, coming to a full stop in the middle of the walking path as you process what he says to you. “You were gonna stop coming to this park… until you met me?”

His hair shakes a little bit when he nods, and he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. I had that Labrador for some guy, and I was gonna go to a different park cause he seemed like, bummed at this one, but I saw you sitting at one of the benches.”

“I started talking to you, and then I just had to see you again, so I came back the next week, too.” He looks up at you with a sense of alarm in his eyes. “That’s not weird, is it?”

“It’s not weird, Bokuto,” you reassure, stepping closer to him and hitting your shoulder against his easily, “I might have done the same thing. I usually go near the park on West Street.”

His smile is radiant, and you think that you’d love to see that smile every day of your life if he’d let you. There’s something about it that makes a small part of your heart swell, the feeling that you’re the one making him smile like that rears its head over the part of you that knows you aren’t with him.

That could always change, though, you think as Bokuto tugs on your arm as Ace rushes ahead of the two of you, eyes set on a squirrel running up a tree somewhere. His laughter is contagious as you’re pulled along by the dog, and you know that Bokuto could stop him from running, but maybe he enjoys the way the wind runs over him like you are.

Bokuto insists that you wait for him to drop off Ace at his owner’s house, telling you that you have to come with him or wait for him at your apartment. You love Ace, but you’re not too keen on meeting his owner at the moment, so you’re sitting on the steps of your apartment, changed out of your athletic wear in something more fitting for your day to day.

He comes back to you, jogging lightly as he waves at you from down the street. His outfit is the same as earlier, just a pair of black shorts with a navy blue hoodie, and yet you’re sure he’s even handsomer than you’d just seen him before.

“Ready?”

You make a noise of agreement as the two of you set off, yet you’re still not sure where you’re going, instead just following after him without questioning anything. If you were more paranoid, you’d think this would be the perfect time for him to just kill you.

“So, no questions on where we’re going?” God, he always knows when to get you out of your thoughts.

“I just thought you were taking me to a dark alleyway to kill me,” you give him a smile as he makes an incredulous face, surely offended that you even thought that of him.

“No, I was just, uh,” he coughs into his hand, and you’re sure his cheeks are red again without even having to look, “hoping to take you on our first date.”

Smiling at the floor with a grin that doesn’t seem to fade, you clear your throat, “Walking the dogs doesn’t count as a date?”

“Ah, you’re right,” he concedes, dipping his head in a fleet apology, “our first date without any dogs.”

“Unfortunately,” you start, hand outstretching and seeking his, “I was only talking to you for the dogs.”

He laughs, hand intertwining with yours and tugging you closer. “Of course, the dogs were the only selling point I had, right?”

“Absolutely,” you nod in agreement, “I definitely didn’t want to go out with you, just wanted to see the dogs.”

The two of you are laughing and joking like you always do when you go into the small little diner, where you end up having your first date, without any dogs.