#Its so funny to me do you think link ever laid on his back staring at the sky going

[arosnowflake]

The sheer dissonance in tone between A Link to the Past and Link's Awakening is actually so funny to me. POV you just finished your world saving adventure where you fought an ancient evil, crossed dimensions, unearthed the relics of a long-dead civilization, and rewrote the world to raise the dead and create a happy ending, and now Lady MeowMeow is asking you to save her dog from dognappers. Y'know, her dog, the giant ball and chain with teeth. Its name is BowWow.

[myuiis]

because it's written down, you've memorized it

gungoo oneshot

1.7k words

angst because chapter 479 fundamentally changed me as a person

ao3 link if yall want:

"You’re going to die in your best friend’s arms. And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down, you’ve memorized it, it’s all you know."

So, this is the end, Park Jonggun thinks as he swirls his wine in his small glass, watching his breath turn to steam in front of his face. It’s not a bad one, by any means. The snow falling from the sky in ill-fated flurries that melt as soon as they touch his skin; the faint rumbling of Seoul in the background; Goo’s gentle breathing by his side. 

If anything, Gun thought this whole thing would’ve ended a lot differently. 

A knife fight, maybe, or some other sort of barely concealed violence– teeth gnashing, jaws snapping, claws scratching at each other’s throats. That’s how they met, after all. Standing alone in that junkyard, the sky pouring rain as if it was crying for them, blood dripping from their wounds, bones creaking from the effort of staying upright. 

But this isn’t much better, Gun thinks. It’s unfamiliar. Suffocating. 

It’s so antithetical, so fundamentally opposed to everything they are and were meant to be. Weapons are only supposed to draw blood, after all. Violence is all that they had ever known. 

So why is it that all he feels, watching his rival and partner and best friend of four years sitting on the ledge beside him, watching the clouds split into pieces and fall to the earth, all he feels is something stirring inside– a deep, dark, primordial fear? 

When will you leave? Will you really leave? Will I really have to kill you? Why did you do it, Goo Kim? 

Gun has always been a man familiar with fear. It comes with the territory when you kill for a living. But there’s something strange about this fear; it’s raw, a little bit ugly, a little bit too rough for even Gun to enjoy. 

But what’s worse is this: they accepted it so easily, as if it was carved on their bones, as if it was a script they’d both rehearsed; their end was an inside joke between friends– easy, familiar, funny. Even now, they both understand what kind of person the other is, what kind of choices the other would make. 

It’s like they both already knew this would happen, from the second they laid eyes on each other. They’re not the type of people for happy endings. 

Still, they stayed. 

Did Gun expect a different ending? Was he trying to achieve a different ending in the first place? Goo Kim, what did you do? What do I owe you? Is this really what you wanted after all? 

Is that why, when Goo asked him to drink, for the first and last time, he sounded so sad? 

But once again Goo doesn’t answer any of his questions; once again, Gun is secretly glad he doesn’t. 

They sit there under the roof of the old house, the snow still falling in clumps and flutters, its whiteness shining in the dim sunlight. 

“Hey.” 

The silence is broken when Goo finally speaks again. 

“I think I’ve gotta be on my way now.” 

Gun looks up from his hands, abruptly realizing how much time has passed when he sees the sun already setting. 

“Taejin might start getting worried that you killed me if I’m not back soon,” Goo continues. He cracks a soft smile at his own joke and stares at Gun, as if expecting him to reciprocate the smile. 

He does. 

“Why don’t we finish this bottle first?” he replies, picking the soju bottle up again to emphasize his point. 

“What, I thought you weren’t in the mood for drinking?” 

“Mm, changed my mind,” Gun replies, and that’s the end of it. 

They pour their drinks out and down it all in one shot again, like they did the last time. The alcohol burns pleasantly as it rolls down Gun’s throat, and he remembers why he likes it so much in the first place: it tastes like a fight.

 He thinks he’s drawn to Goo in the same way. 

They haven’t ever drank together, courtesy of Goo’s aversion to alcohol and all things that could be considered a “vice"; but as they sit there together, glasses clinking together, it feels as if they’ve done this a thousand times over. 

They pour out another shot and down it again. And then another. And then another. The entire time, they don’t speak a single word, barely even look at each other. Perhaps this was exactly the kind of ending that was fit for their relationship. 

The irony writes itself. 

A violent, glorious start, filled with snarky threats and bloodied fingers; a peaceful end. Like the slow fizzling out of stars that were never big enough to go supernova. Was that what Gun and Goo were to each other? 

Friends, colleagues, lovers that never were? 

Lovers, Gun thinks, whispers silently, rolling around the word on his tongue like he’s trying to weigh it, trying to scope out its smooth edges and sharp corners. It’s heavy. Unbearably so.  He doesn’t think it fits them, doesn’t think it ever will. 

Love is a tender, tender thing. Gun and Goo haven’t got a single bone in their body made for tenderness. All of their bones are for breaking. 

Gun looks over at Goo, only to find that Goo had already been staring at him for who knows how long. When Goo sees that he’s been caught, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he only grins. 

…Gun doesn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way the light bounced off the rim of Goo’s glasses and fluttered off his lashes like stars. Maybe it was the way Goo’s face looked especially pale amongst the snow, so pale that Gun thinks he’d fade away if he didn’t grab him. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the slight flush on Goo’s cheeks or the farewell that didn’t yet slip off his tongue or his annoying smile that Gun needed to wipe off his face. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all, but at that moment, it was so easy to just lean forward and take. 

So he does.

Gun leans in and kisses Goo. 

The moment is stretched thin to infinity, like time has just stopped. Goo makes a surprised, muffled sound and tenses, but the movement is brief. He eases into the kiss as well, as if he’s been waiting all his life for this, as if they’ve done this a million times.

The feeling of Goo’s perfectly maintained lips against Gun’s own chapped pair isn’t unfamiliar. Neither is the coolness of his glasses against Gun’s nose nor the way Goo shifts in his seat. 

After all, they had spent the greater part of the last three years together, and they had needed to explore some more… primal urges.

But what is unfamiliar is the tenderness. 

Gun and Goo’s kisses had always been tongues and teeth: a fight, a challenge, a dare. A battle for superiority, like everything else they’ve ever done. At the end of it, Goo always tasted like blood, whether it be his own or Gun’s.

The taste of Goo, unstained by blood or anger, is something softer, smoother, so much so that Gun hardly believes that it’s really the blonde that he’s kissing. Goo tastes like rain and home cooked food and dollar-store soju. 

Is this what a goodbye tastes like? 

If so, Gun thinks that he wants to say goodbye to Goo again and again and again. This is nice, he thinks. If the Earth stopped spinning right then and time stopped flowing, the fact that they’re there together in the first ever moment of gentleness they’ve ever shared would be enough.

Gun doesn’t remember who pulls away first. Maybe Goo did, judging by how he instantly moves to adjust his crooked glasses or rearrange his scarf; or maybe it was Gun himself, as he instantly moves to fix his hair. 

The moment ends, and they both pretend like nothing ever happened.

Goo is the first one to acknowledge it.

“You know, you’re actually pretty good at this stuff when you’re not trying to eat me alive,” he says, and it sounds noncommittal, like a joke. As if none of that just mattered. 

But the crack in his voice at the end gives him away. 

“But don’t think that it’s enough to get me to stay.”

Yeah. 

Gun knows. 

Goo is a breezy, capricious person. His moods come and go like the wind. But when he sets his sights on a path to walk, storms on his brows and a hurricane in his steps, there’s nothing in the world that can stop him. 

Gun isn’t any exception.

Still, it’s nice to know that he was at least a temptation. 

Goo dusts off his dustless coat and moves to stand up. There’s still a bottle of soju left in the bag he brought, and he points to it.

“Anyways, I’m actually leaving this time. That’s a gift for you. Have fun drinking alone, loser.” 

Gun snorts. 

“Yeah, thanks. Have fun drinking with your secret friends as well, idiot.” 

Goo smiles, but there’s no mirth behind it. There’s a swirl of other emotions there that Gun can’t quite put a finger on. Sorrow, melancholy, regret, but not wishfulness. They would’ve gotten to this point anyways, no matter what happened. 

“I will.” 

Goo turns to leave. Before he does, he gives a backwards glance at Gun, annoying smile still hanging off his face. 

“Hey,” he begins, and he sounds a little sad. Just a little. “It was nice while it lasted, Gun Park.” 

“Mhm.” 

And Goo walks off into the sunset.

Except–

Gun doesn’t know what came over him, perhaps it was the alcohol again, but whatever painful, ugly, tender thing drove him to kiss Goo the first time drives him to cup his hands around his mouth and shout:

“Kim Joongoo!” he cries after the figure in the distance. “Stay alive until the next time!” 

But Goo doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even acknowledge him. Gun can’t let it just end like this. No, he wants, he–

“Kim Joongoo!”

Did you hear me? 

Can you do that? 

Will we ever meet again? 

(Of course they will. They’re bound at the bones, joined by their flesh and their tendons and by something far greater that won’t ever, ever let them leave the other. Like two stars bound by each other’s gravity, they’ll never truly be able to leave. It’s hard to tell where Gun ends and Goo begins.) 

Goo turns around in the distance, and–maybe it’s a trick of the light– but he smiles back. It’s something small, reserved, and it’s entirely sincere and free of trickery. It’s something Gun thinks only he has ever seen. 

And Goo turns back around and walks off. Gun looks at his retreating form until he is consumed by the snow entirely. 

[script-nef]

An actual break | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.6k words; Beach date [4/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

You haven’t been to the beach in months. So a car trip for hours, where you can blank out and peer out of the window to enjoy the wonderful and ever-changing scenery is amazing. Dipping your feet in the water or eating from food vendors or enjoying the warm summer sun on your skin. Perhaps getting a tan if the weather is perfect. This would all be perfectly enjoyable and possible.

If it wasn’t for work.

“[Surname]-san, why are you coming with us? You said you can’t fight.” Itadori calls from the backseat, nestled not-so-comfortably between Fushiguro and Kugisaki. 

Wouldn’t it be better if Kugisaki is in the middle since she’s the smallest and the skinniest? The thought drifts into your head but you soon understand why. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s met with a firm and resounding slap on the arm. Itadori’s yelp of pain is silenced under her hiss of “God, you’re so tactless! Now move over, it’s getting cramped with all of the bags.” Ah, she didn’t want to sit in the middle. And what bags? I didn’t bring any.

They keep their banter up and a quick glance to both Gojou and Fushiguro indicates that they have no intention of stopping it. Gojou is actually humming through the bickering. Why do I have to be the adult? He’s like, 5 years older than me. That’s literally what he said as the reason to drive instead of you. 

“It’s fine, Kugisaki-san. I’m coming along because there’s been a lot of cursed spirit activity around here and I need to see if something abnormal is happening. I’m not going to get in the way of the fight so you don’t need to worry.” You send Itadori a smile through the back mirror which he responds with a quick nod, then a confused look.

“Isn’t that Gojou-sensei’s responsibilities?” The mentioned adult laughs and smoothly makes a right turn. You want to slap him.

“Normally, yes, but he insists on being insufferable.” You turn to face them, leaning onto the seat with a scowl. “The report he made was nearly illegible and last time something like this happened, and I had to sit down with him for 3 hours to complete it. Even then, he was going off topic half the time and trying to distract me. Itadori-kun, Kugisaki-san, listen to me. If he doesn’t do his work, you have to practically force him.”

“Doesn’t work.” Fushiguro comments while looking out the window. Gojou has the audacity to laugh again.

“We had a great time! You were laughing your head off by the time we were done.” A light tug on your shirt makes you sit back properly. The scowl stays in place.

“I missed dinner! And I missed the last episode of Haikyuu thanks to that!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take it up by buying you dinner, okay?” He must be kidding if that makes up for missing your favourite anime. Kuroo came and went thanks to him. The car comes to an abrupt stop just as you’re about to complain again. “We have arrived!”

Salt wafts in the air as the sea twinkles underneath the afternoon sun. It’s hot today, and humid enough to make your clothes stick to your skin, which is gross. Sunny and warm means a swim will be ideal, but you have to take care of the whole recurring curses thing first. Previous reports have said that they were all mid-level, so hopefully Gojou’s students won’t have that much of a problem taking care of them. That also means they, including you as well, might have the opportunity to relax for the rest of the day. 

The actual spot is somewhere in the nearby forest, filled thick with trees and so large that even if someone went missing it would take ages to search. An ideal hunting place since a lot of people visit there. Numbers dropped quite a bit after the fifth person “went missing”. 

The first task is to cover the place with a curtain. Since the place is so large and not encompassing the entire place was deemed too risky, large amounts of cursed energy is required. Hence Gojou’s efforts right now.

“[Name]-san.” Kugisaki calls you. “Are you coming in with us?” Her voice is tentative, like she doesn’t want to offend you. It’s kind of funny because she shows more respect for you than her actual teacher for some reason. Gojou complained about it before. She doesn’t know the extent, or more accurately the lack of, your powers and has a right to be worried. All she knows is that you can’t fight. 

“Ah, I am coming in, but I’ll stay far away from the fight. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And I’ll be right by her side!” Gojou snaps into thin air, linking his arm with yours.  “Your personal bodyguard! But I’m sure you guys can handle this one.” Still humming a tune, he sends them along their way with a reassuring smile. You smile at Kugisaki and wish her good luck. Shooting Gojou a suspicious glare, she runs ahead to the two boys and starts whispering. They look back at the two of you and get into what seems to be an argument. A bad thing to do right before a possibly life-threatening mission.

You watch the group disappear deeper into the woods, fear gripping at your heart. This is actually the first time in the field after years of being tucked away in an office. Ken-chan specifically requested it due to your unique cursed energy situation. Apparently that was the first time he asked for a favour to the principle and he never asked for anything again. They can handle themselves, you’re sure, but Itadori already had a close call.

“Worried?” Gojou, on the other hand, sounds like he has no concerns in the world. Maybe that’s a testament to how much he trusts his students. It doesn’t alleviate your agitation. “It’s fine, we can just take a break here and if trouble comes, they can take care of it themselves.” You stare at him incredulously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll step in if something goes wrong. You’re all in safe hands.”

There is no one better than him in terms of fighting with cursed energy. How on earth someone like this gets imbued with endless power, you’ll never know. Sighing, you take a seat on a fallen log. The moss on them tickles your fingers. It feels nice, something to distract you from your brain being its usual bastard and thinking the worst case scenario. Gojou plops himself down right next to you. 

“We can go see them if you’re that worried, mother hen.” Nudging his leg shuts him up. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out for their cursed energy. Eight signals flicker from where they went, three blazing stronger than the others. One of them is nearly blinding. Sukuna is on a completely different level. If there’s that much of a difference in energy, they’ll finish soon and come back to have fun for the rest of the day. God knows they need it.

Your eyes flit open and come face to face with Gojou’s blindfold. It causes you to fall backwards and you brace for impact with a little yelp. But Gojou’s arm surrounds your abdomen, lifting you into the air and onto your feet. Heartbeats thud in your ears thanks to the sudden adrenaline boost.

“Did I scare you?” His laugh is cheeky. “I’m bored… Wanna play 20 questions?” As usual, his train of thought is impossible to even attempt to follow. A window of hundreds of tabs wrestling to be the first all the time is probably what the inside of his mind looks like.

“Sure, why not.”

Fushiguro, Itadori and Kugisaki all perk up when they receive the news of a day off to enjoy the beach. Since it’s closed off to the civilians, it’ll be like a private party. Something to keep their mind off of another mission that’s bound to come soon.

While they run off to the beach, you go to talk to the park rangers for the paperwork. Gojou asks if you want company but someone needs to supervise the children. The process takes barely 10 minutes anyway.

When you come back to the beach, the trio is screaming in the sea while trying to fight each other. Even Fushiguro is laughing. Childlike innocence is beautiful and long overdue. Two huge parasols and towels are laid out nearby where they’re playing. Gojou is out of his usual attire and in a swimming trunk. His blindfold is still on. Is this what was in the bags?

Now that you look more closely at the students, they’re all in swimwear as well. Looks like you’re the only one that didn’t get a memo. 

“Heya! Done?”  

“No thanks to you, Mr The-Whole-Reason-I’m-Here-In-The-First-Place.” He laughs at the nickname. 

“You should change.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Nobody told me and I was just thinking of dipping my feet.”

“Nobara brought you one. It’s in the bag labelled ‘If you look inside I’m going to kill you.’” Laughter comes out at the absurdity.

“Why did Kugisaki—”

“Because she wants you to relax. Now come on! Let’s have fun!” he pushes you excitedly towards the car. It’s really weird how someone your senior has more energy than you and his three students combined. Sighing, you trek back and find the bag. It really is labelled that, in caps. Kugisaki is a good kid. 

There’s a bathroom nearby for you to change in. The wind is still pretty strong when you walk out but you’re saved thanks to the school jacket. There’s also a pair of flip-flops. Ken-chan must have helped since they all fit perfectly. 

Itadori is being half-drowned when you come back. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are merciless when it comes to fighting. Gojou smiles as you walk into his line of sight. Scooting over to let you into the shade, he lies back onto the towel and stretches his legs out into the sun with a slight groan. You stay sitting up, watching the three children absentmindedly. 

Sunlight tickles your feet. The sea breeze stops it from being too hot but it’s slowly getting stuffier under the jacket. Quickly discarding it, Gojou catches your eyes while you fold it up.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s awake or sleeping thanks to his signature blindfold, but this is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in years; hands folded behind his head and muscles completely loose. Small scars dot his body, probably gained from fights which he deemed insignificant enough to bother Shouko with or heal himself. In a way, it’s a reminder for all the battles he’s survived. Pretty easily too, you’re guessing. There’s a deep one on his stomach and your hand moves towards it for some reason.

Long fingers intercept your hand just before it touches the scratched skin, entwining themselves to you. One end of Gojou’s lips quirks up. 

“I’m going to be embarrassed if you keep looking at my body, you know.” You immediately attempt to rip your hand back but he’s got you locked tight. He’s not even using Infinity. Heat threatens to explode your face because he’s been awake all this time and you’re going to die from shame. “If you wanted to touch me then you could have just asked.” Your fingers graze against the skin on his stomach for a split second but he loosens his grip and you will be damned if you don’t take that chance. 

Gojou cackles, enjoying your flustered state, and he’s halfway to suffocation because he’s laughing too much. His instincts still allow him to move out of the way for your punch. Doesn’t stop him from laughing though. Even his students, who were screaming and playing like they didn’t have a care in the world, are looking at the two of you. God, where’s a hole for me to die in right now?

Eventually, his laughter dies off. He’s still chuckling though. His teeth glint in the light as he gives you a wide smile. A sense of foreboding washes over you. 

“Up we go!”

“What?” Two arms hook under your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Your body bounces in his arms every time he takes a step closer to the sea.

“Wait Gojou, wait wait wait wait!” 

“Gojou-sensei wai—” 

The water is freezing. 

“Gojou Satoru, I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s admirable! I’m sure you can do it!” Fushiguro snickers as you swipe an arm at Gojou, who moves away effortlessly again. Hair is plastered to your face and this rage is not going to subside unless you rip the blindfold off his smirking face and dunk his head into the water. But he keeps dodging you, just barely, as if to taunt you further.

Exhaustion sets in quickly since moving around in water is a lot harder and anger eats away at your stamina. Just as you’re about to give up, Gojou’s face is slapped with a wave of water. Everyone looks to Kugisaki. She has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Pfft.” Fushiguro’s laughter breaks the silence. Itadori snickers at Gojou’s drooping hair. Soon everyone’s laughing. Then Gojou whips water that hits all three of them straight in the chest with a resounding smack. They immediately retaliate with a wave that you get caught up in. 

It somehow turns into a students vs adults fight. Delighted laughter echoes in the air as everyone yells and shrieks when assaulted with icy water. There’s an unspoken rule to not use cursed energy, which is why your side is being pushed back. There’s no beating three excited kids when they’re on a holiday high. 

Backtracking a bit to get away from the constant surges of water, you don’t realise you’re going deeper and deeper into the sea. A rock shifts underneath your feet and you’re plunged into the cold grips of the sea, not even given enough time to call for help. Panic overtakes your senses as you squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. 

“[Name]!” Warmth engulfs you as Gojou lifts you out of the murky depth, worry and dread weaved into his voice. You blink rapidly as he gently brushes the hair off your face, and you see his eyes without the blindfolds for the first time. “Look at me, are you alright?”

They’re… indescribably beautiful. It’s the purest and translucent blue you’ve seen in your life, able to beat the colour of the ocean or the sky on its clearest days. It could compete with even the most exquisite sapphire locked up in a vault underground. And they’re clouded with concern and fear because of you.

“[Surname]-san!” Bringing yourself up by hugging Gojou’s neck, you see the trio wading through the water to you, dread clear on their faces. Itadori reaches you and rapidly asks if you’re fine and that he can’t possibly describe how sorry he is. It looks like he’ll dig his head into the ocean floor if you ask him to do it. Like he’s waiting for you to reprimand him.

But all that comes out is laughter, bright and childlike. They all look at you like you’re crazy. You have no idea why you’re laughing either. Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.

But being in Gojou’s arms, seeing his and Itadori’s face relax, brings you so much happiness. Tightening your arms around Gojou’s neck, you rest your head on top of his as he calms them down. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from nearly drowning, maybe it’s something else, but your heart thumps rapidly into your ribcage, probably loud enough for him to feel.

Next chapter →

[btsslowburnfic]

-The Arrangement- Chapter 1

Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable add. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter summary: Let’s meet our lovely [Y/N]. Every good story starts somewhere. Buckle up for the next few months babes <3 

Chapter 1

“Nope, sorry, I have to get to my other job.” You politely declined getting after-work drinks with your colleagues like usual. It was nice of them to still invite you even though you never said yes. 

You excused yourself to the company restroom. Out with the office worker, in with the bartender. You switched shirts, put your hair up in a ponytail, and applied heavier make-up. You'd switch out your skirt when you got to the club. As dumb and gross as it was, you always made more money when you wore your questionably short shorts. Oh well, money is money. 

You sent a quick text to your brother to make sure he and your sister got to your aunt's apartment and then headed for the station. Ok. How much money do I need to make tonight? You asked yourself as you opened the banking app. You mentally calculate the amount needed to feed your siblings, pay for the bus, and utilities. Ugh Maybe Park Minho will let me stay for him tonight. He usually wanted to get out of work early to go hang out with his friends. You would be ok this week if you stopped taking the bus and ate more ramen and less real food. You sighed. You were so tired.

You walked through the black glass doors of Club Tokki. There were only a few customers right now and you immediately went to see if anyone had made coffee. Work coffee=free coffee. Luckily for you, Lisa, the woman who worked the day shift almost always needed an extra dose of afternoon caffeine and there was still enough for a cup.

“Hey doll!” Lisa greeted you. “Here, I brought some milk in as well,” she said as she poured the coffee for you.

“You are a lifesaver. Thank you so much.” You gratefully took the mug, warming your hands. 

“No problem, do you need me to do anything before I leave? I’m going to close out with those two groups first.” She asked as she rinsed off some pint glasses.

You assessed the bar looking to see what you might need over the next few hours. “Yeah, ask the bar-back to get two more bottles of Goose and a bottle of Crown. We usually go through those on Wednesdays. And maybe cut a few limes and lemons. Thanks.” You took the coffee with you to the small office and finished changing clothes. Lisa was a student so she shared your need for thrifty living, coffee, and work. You didn’t have many friends, but you knew you could count on Lisa for caffeine and getting the bar prepped. 

You walked back out to the bar, mentally preparing yourself for the night ahead. In a few minutes people like your office coworkers would stream in, treating each other to after work drinks, socializing, and networking. You used to wonder if your circumstances were different if you would be the type of person who went out after work and socialized with their colleagues. You had come to the realization that “no” you wouldn’t. You would probably go home and sleep. Maybe read. You sighed and shimmied behind the bar as Lisa started to count down the drawer. "Alright, I asked the barback for the alcohol and there's 2 cups of lines and lemons." 

"Thanks a lot babe. See you tomorrow." you waved at her and started to move stuff around to where you liked it. 

"Happy money making." she smiled and headed out. 

As predicted about half an hour later, office workers start to show up and the bar is slowly starting to fill up. Club Tokki is known for its laid back vibe so it's mostly beers and "and" drinks. Whisky and coke. Vodka and soda. Occasionally there were some younger girls here that ordered the more complicated drinks. But you got those out as well; this wasn't the first bar you'd ever worked at, just the latest incarnation. And just like that, the night starts to speed up. Minho arrives two hours into your shift for the after-dinner rush.

“Just in time dude,” you greeted him as he walked behind the bar.

“What do you need?” He asked as he clocks in for the night. 

“The bar is caught up if you want to go check section one. Shinhye has the rest of the floor.” You instructed him and used this opportunity to catch up on cleaning dishes. You caught one of the guys at the end of the bar staring at you. He was definitely good looking, and stood out with his expensive suit, silver hair, and strong facial features. Whatever. As long as he tips. You were not looking for a boyfriend. Or a hookup. You cringed at the thought of even trying to navigate dating between your work schedule and also living with your Aunt as a grown ass woman. You shook your head like it would get rid of the thought. Satisfied with the current state of the bar you took a minute to drink some water and scan the club. There were worse places you could work for sure. 

Minho came back to the bar and asked you to make some shots while he grabs some beers. Grape bombs? Is this 2012? You resisted the urge to gag, having gotten sick on them when you were younger. You placed the drinks on his tray and checked the bartop once again.

Mr. Expensive Suit dimple-face was nursing a Goose and soda. “You doing ok?” you asked him as you made your way down the bar. 

“I’m great. Thanks. What’s your name?”

“[Y/N]” you responded and started to move on to your next guest. 

“This is the part where you ask my name.” he said arrogantly. Suddenly you did not care for him as much.

“Is it? I’ve never talked to someone in a bar before. I didn't realize there was a script.” you responded sarcastically. You hated it when guys thought they could manipulate you. 

“Wow. Ok. Ok. Hard to get. I respect that. I’m Kim Namjoon.” 

“Ok Mr. Kim, is there anything else I can get for you right now?” you asked, oh so sweetly.

“No. I’m good for now.” he said, laughing to himself. He shook his head incredulously and sipped his drink.

Well maybe you weren’t going to get tipped after all. Oh well. 

The rest of the night was mostly a blur. The vodka special brought in quite a few people and you ended up going through four bottles of Goose. Mr. Kim Dimples remained, nursing only his second drink now and still staring at you even though he was trying hard to not look like he was staring. It was awkward. He was hot but sooo not your type. Which you thought you had made clear.

“Mr. Kim, are you sure you even like Goose and soda?” you teased him as you made another round checking on people. 

“You know, I am more of a beer drinker myself, but I can’t pass up a good vodka special.” he leaned to the side, getting out his wallet, and pulled out a business card.

“[Y/N], I’d like for you to take this.” he stuck it between his index and middle finger, holding it out for you to take.

“I am flattered, Mr. Kim, but I’m not interested in anything like that.” you smiled politely. 

He rolled his eyes at you.  “Believe me, I’m not asking you on a date. You are so not my type,” he said with an air of disgust. As though he was repulsed that you would have even thought he would consider asking you out. “This is a job opportunity. I work for a talent agency of sorts.”

Wow. What a dick. “Oh yeah? What talent do you see?” you gesture to yourself. “I do pour some stiff drinks and can usually tell rude guys to fuck off with a smile on my face.”

To your surprise he just laughed. “You are very funny. And I suppose some people would find you attractive. Just take the card. I think you’re the best candidate I’ve found yet.” he stood up and put on his suit jacket, sitting the business card down on the bartop.

“Rude.” you casually said, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it makes no difference to me if you accept or not. Regardless, there it is." He gestured to the card, and sat down way too much money on top of it. "Keep the change." He turned and left.  

You didn’t end up closing for Minho; the two of you both stayed since it remained steady through closing time. You were weirded out by the conversation with Mr. Kim, but having worked in a bar for the past 7 years, it wasn't the weirdest thing that had ever happened to you. You threw  the business card into your purse and forgot about it for the rest of your shift.

The remainder of the night passed without incident. As much as you disliked it, that weirdo's money helped make sure you could take the bus again the next few days. You stuffed your tips into your purse and walked home. Well. To your aunt's house. It didn't really feel like home. Just a temporary landing spot until you and your siblings could get your own place again. 

You entered quietly and washed your hands. You dutifully went through your siblings school bags, making sure their supplies and homework were where they should be. You packaged their lunches as much as you could and started a fresh batch of rice for tomorrow. All mostly in the dark so you didn't wake anyone up. Your brother was sleeping on the couch, which you hated, but he insisted on it. You were sharing the guest bedroom with your sister and your niece.

You grabbed your laptop and curled up in the corner of the kitchen to not bother anybody. I’m a 27 year old loser hiding on the floor of my Aunt’s apartment in the middle of the night. I have to wake up in 5 hours for my other job and instead I’m going to look up a website that some weird ass rude hot guy at a bar gave me. Why is this my life? You thought, and yet you pulled out the business card and entered the link. It took you to a black website with a white box asking for a code. You flipped the card over, and there it was, handwritten. You type it in and wait for the website to load, convinced it’s going to be some weird porn site with fisting or crush videos. You almost cover your eyes but to your pleasant surprise it’s a normal website. 

Seeking: a suitable adult woman for long-term companionship. Will be well compensated. Serious inquiries only. 

The text continued: If you are on this website, congratulations. You have already presented the basic level qualifications for this position. 

Ok. So maybe this was an escort service. Which I mean...if it paid better than both of your jobs and you didn’t have to have sex with people maybe you could. No. No. You talked yourself out of it and scrolled down to read more of the description,

Requirements:

Female between the ages of 20 and 40.

Flexibility in schedule

Desire to travel and attend events

Strong personality and interpersonal skills

Proficiency with Microsoft Excel and Word 

Punctuality, attention to detail, and strong organizational skills

Desired but not necessary

Non-smoker/drinks alcohol socially

Like animals 

Enjoy listening to music 

Compensation:

Position requires relocation to on-site premises and therefore covers room and board. 

Monthly stipend (click here for more information pertaining to taxes)

3 meals a day, beverages, and snacks included

Most escort services didn’t require proficiency in Microsoft Word or Excel...you were guessing. Maybe it was a legit job. Like an on-site event planner? You clicked the link contained in compensation and HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A LOT OF MONEY. 

You bit your lip and pulled up your resume. It couldn’t hurt to submit it, right? You didn’t have much to update since you had just started your office job 3 months ago. You updated the resume to include that job and listed your address as Club Tokki’s in case this was actually a sex trafficking set up. You thought about it for a another minute and then uploaded the document, took a deep breath, and hit “send.” NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: @lidda​

[p---ink]

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. 

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival. 

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face. 

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised. 

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process.  When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return. 

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job? 

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love. 

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him. 

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil. 

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one. 

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids. 

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you. 

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest.  You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message. 

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day. 

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you. 

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!” 

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin. 

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet. 

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though. 

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him. 

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself. 

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent  ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes. 

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew. 

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it. 

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex. 

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?” 

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last. 

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say  “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub. 

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face. 

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy. 

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch. 

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips. 

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers. 

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch. 

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You  felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were. 

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up. 

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.” 

[oigimi]

. on my own .

. arthur x mc . 1.4k words . first person, angst .

. this is definitely a sadder piece i’ve written but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i might make a part 2 to this depending on how my feelings about it grow so please tell me if i should make one! .

After Arthur and I had a silent walk home one evening, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but experience some thoughts and emotions that I’d never thought I would experience before. Something was starting to form within me, born of the sweet smiles he gave me and the security he provided when he held my hand. A part of me wished that he didn’t wear those leather gloves so that I could have felt his warmth in its entirety when we walked home, and that was never a wish I would ever think I’d make. I said goodbye to Arthur and went back up into my room to change, and found myself completely hollow in the chest when I realized he wasn’t there next to me.

How badly can a human want to be with another? Aren’t there limits to the emotions we can feel? Surely if someone felt too much love or sorrow they’d burst on the spot. There’s a reason we’re so good at controlling ourselves most of the time, but tonight was just different. I wanted to stare out the windowsill. I wanted to bawl without reason. I wanted to fall asleep and wake up again in a world where no one belonged in Arthur’s arms but me.

But in my mind… that was the world I was in. It was true. No one should be in his arms but me. I knew he was going back to the pub the next night, and I probably wouldn’t see him until the following morning, and it just made my body lose its self-control when I thought of Arthur with other women in his arms. It was miserable, and made me want to run to wherever he was and demand that I be a permanent part of life, if only he’d let me. Such thoughts were foreign to me, until that evening we’d come home from our walk.

I looked down at the music box he’d so kindly gifted to me. It played a beautiful melody to accompany its careful craftsmanship, and turning it on was like activating a machine that made all of my woes vanish. Oh, how I wanted to give him something that made his heart spin the way his gift had made mine. But truthfully, I didn’t even know if his heart was capable of spinning. Someone as wonderful and charming as Arthur had to have met someone that could make him dizzy with wonder by now. And if he hadn’t, was there really any hope? And did I even deserve to have fantasies like these?

I had to step out. I had to get some fresh air else the scent of the candle in my room would put me to sleep. It was almost midnight, so I suppose I really should have been sleeping. But I just couldn’t bring myself to. I had to do some thinking before I closed the book. I changed back into my standard clothes and tried to make a run for the outside. It wasn’t too cold out and the moonlight was rather clear, perfect conditions for a nice long session of thought.

To my surprise, the gate opened without issue. I snuck out, only alerting Sebastian’s little lamb, Lotte, in her pen. She gave a weak bleat or two, as if warning me not to go, but I shook my head and kept going. What do lambs know about love? And what did Lotte know about pain? Next to nothing, I presumed, so I banished all thoughts of the lamb as I made my way down the streets. As I got further from the mansion, I felt myself almost becoming disconnected from the rest of the world. Arthur was getting further and further behind me, and my sense of being seemed to be going with him.

How fun it is to be on your own and play in the sandbox that is reality. Like an astronaut disconnected from his ship, you’re completely above the world laid out for you. The world is as magical and fantastical as you make it. And boy, was I an expert at making believe.

As I marched forward, I felt a hand in my own. A warm, ungloved hand that ignited the flame in my heart that didn’t need any fuel. Not even looking up, I broke out into a smile. “Arthur… You came along with me.”

“Of course I did.” He raised my hand to his lips and planted a sweet, gentle kiss that shook my core. Oh, the way his beautiful eyes sparkled until the full silver moon. He lowered my hand, keeping them linked to each other, and led me forward. Walking with Arthur was not like any other experience you could ever have. He lifted me up and took me for a twirl or two without even touching me. He made me laugh, he made me cry. He took away my sins and replaced them with joy. And the best part, was that he was just like me. I would never be good enough for him, but the remnants of humanity in his soul reminded me that he was not without flaws. I don’t think I could ever love a man without flaws, and I could really never love a man who knew it. Arthur was frivolous and flirty and never seemed to be on anyone’s radar, but he knew he was flawed. What broke me was the fact that I knew he thought his flaws made him unlovable. It’s so funny how he’s so sharp, so brilliant, but doesn’t know how I really feel about him. I knew he was the most lovable man in history, but he didn’t. Heh. I guess there’s one thing I have over him.

As we walked, I contemplated if I should tell him. I squeezed his hand tighter, trying to rejuvenate the warmth that he gave on an increasingly colder night. What would Arthur say? The streets would have been completely empty and cold had it not been for the two of us, and the love that radiated from our hearts. Would my confession brighten the light or dim it? Or even worse… dim it completely? Why had Arthur been so silent the whole walk? God, so many questions plagued my mind, but everything came to a halt when we approached the beautiful, flowing River Seine.

I peered into the water, and before I knew it, I was adding a single droplet to her flowing waters. There was one person in the reflection, and one reflection only. The lights went out. The warmth completely vanished. And before I knew it, I was sitting on the riverbank, my face buried into my hands.

Oh, that’s the tradeoff to make believe. You live in your own magical little world where anything is yours, but like the astronaut detached from his ship, you find yourself hopeless and lost when all is done. How we all desire to live in the worlds we create for ourselves, and float in space forever. But that just can’t happen. I should’ve listened to Lotte. I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have let my imagination wander, because I just found myself more lost than before. I let my feet soak in the river, thinking about the coin I’d tossed in with Arthur a few weeks ago. The coin I’d thrown in with the wish to leave with a smile on my face. I couldn’t bring myself to leave now, nor could I bring myself to smile.

Goddamn wishful thinking, and the pain it causes. I loved Arthur so much that I was answering my own question. I was about to burst. I was about to feel my heart jump right out of my chest and let me down yet again. It was time to resign for the night, I’d decided, so I stood up and looked next to me where I’d imagined Arthur to be on the walk there. “I love you,” I whispered. The tears kept flowing and my heart kept breaking. Despite all of this, I turned around and made my return trip home. But this time, only on my own.

[kmikaelsonimagines]

Seven: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: Hi, could I request Seven for the Folklore thing (if you’re still taking requests)

Yay, I found a gif I haven’t used yet! Thank you Google Images (see Illicit Affairs for my gif troubles)! Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Seven

Please picture me in the trees I hit my peak at seven Feet in the swing over the creek I was too scared to jump in

Breaking up with Kol Mikaelson was perhaps the best thing you had ever done. He was a selfish, idiotic, psychotic maniac who had no understanding of personal space, let alone how to treat you properly.

If this was the type of man who was attracted to you, you would rather remain single for the rest of your life.

You envied Hope. The seven-year-old didn’t have to worry about such things, nor did she have to deal with such morons. Of course, that would change when she got older and she learned just how protective her father was. You chuckled at the thought. The child didn’t have a care in the world as she ran along the river’s edge. She wasn’t scared of anything.

Not like you.

You had thought Kol was really going to be the one, before you had learnt what he was really like. Now, secretly, you were scared to jump back into the dating scene, afraid of finding another man like him.

Of falling in love with another man like him.

Or maybe you were just scared of losing him, of knowing that there would never be that possibility of you two getting back together.

One look at his stupid face, the anger rising within you, and you knew that certainly wasn’t the case.

But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

You hated him.

He had taken your heart in his hands, let it breathe in cool air, let it feel like it was flying, stuck on a high that it was never coming down from. And then, then he had crushed it, suffocated it, made you realise that beautiful things were always deadly.

You hated Kol Mikaelson for destroying everything wonderful about your world, for promising that he would change to fit into it when really he just made room for himself.

He had not only killed your dream, but he had ended the lives of so many people. That had never really bothered you before, but then you had nearly been the one to die when he lost control, when he didn’t listen to you when you said no.

And now he was onto that other girl, that Davina Claire, and you hated her just as much as you did him. You were waiting for the moment when she would die, those teeth sinking into her neck and spilling her blood as they had almost spilled yours.

But it never seemed to happen, and you resented that fact.

You made your opinions clear, never one to shy away from a fight, and you knew that Kol hated you too.

It only hurt a little bit.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other

You watched Kol and Davina from across the street. You had dropped Hope off back home, the girl still enjoying your company even if you were no longer part of the family.

There they were, enjoying tea, smiles on their faces. You gritted your teeth, hating the sight of them so happy. So much had been destroyed for them to get there happiness, including your own.

You told yourself it was for the best, that Kol clearly wasn’t worth it, he had almost killed you for God’s sake, but the longer you looked at him, the less anger there was with more sadness taking its place.

You would never tell anyone, but you were sure that part of you would always hold a candle for Kol Mikaelson, that part of you would always love him. It would be a secret you would take to the grave, a cross on your heart marking just where he had wounded you.

You hated him so much, you told yourself. You needed to go home, you told yourself.

But your feet weren’t working, and it wasn’t long before Kol caught you looking.

It wasn’t long before he was marching across the street, fire in his eyes.

It wasn’t long before fear set in, and you welcomed it like an old friend.

And though I can’t recall your face I still got love for you

“What the bloody hell do you want?” Kol snarled, and you tried to brush it off. You couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at you without hatred in his eyes, your own loving gaze for him reserved for when you were alone, staring at the ceiling as you laid in bed, an empty spot next to you.

“Just came to see if Davina’s still alive. I see you haven’t killed her yet. How unfortunate.” You turned, making to walk away when Kol grabbed your arm. “Let go.”

“Why should I? We need to get past this, Y/N. You need to learn to leave me alone.”

This was it. This was why breaking up with him had been a good idea. His damn possessiveness, his stubbornness.

“I said let go, Kol. Or I’ll tell your girlfriend that you just tried to kiss me.”

It was a lie. A blatant lie, but it did the job. Kol let go of your arm. “How many more times do I have to apologise before you stop being such a bitch?”

“I’ll let you know.”

And with that, you stalked off, leaving Kol grinding his teeth as his gaze followed you home. You held in the tears until you shut yourself in your room.

Your braids like a pattern Love you to the Moon and to Saturn

You hated him. You hated him. You hated him.

It was what you kept telling yourself, repeating it over and over in a pattern to try and make it true. But it was getting harder and harder to believe it, not when you pictured him and Davina together, not when a lump started to form in your throat.

You hated him. You hated him. You hated him.

But you still loved him too.

He had made a mistake, one that he had apologised for a million times over. Maybe it was time to forgive him, tell him that you wanted to get back together. So you called him, and were surprised when he agreed to come over.

To talk.

When Kol arrived, he looked at you with what appeared to be sympathy. It was a start, so different from the hatred that often bloomed in his eyes. He smiled a small, sad smile at you, apologising for his behaviour the day before.

That was when you knew that doing this was the right thing, that in a few moments, Kol Mikaelson would be yours again. You could work through any issues when you loved him like you did.

“I still love you.”

“Oh.”

Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

“Oh.”

It was funny how a word could be so damning. You knew in that moment that you were wrong, that Kol didn’t want to get back together, that he didn’t love you anymore. No, he pitied you, falling over his words as he tried to explain.

“Don’t. Just don’t, Kol. I think you’ve hurt me enough.” And then there was that spite, that anger that passed through you like it had so often. Anger and hatred that was passed down from generation to generation, from instance to instance, every single time you saw him. It smothered your love for him, if only for a moment, as you realised that you wanted him to hurt.

So you grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled his lips to yours, hungry for him to feel the pain that he had caused you. You hated him, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

A small cry caused you to break apart, and you looked at Kol, smug, as his eyes fell on Davina Claire. You had heard the witch outside, knew she would be thinking that things were taking too long, knew that she would come in and see her boyfriend kissing you.

She stormed off, close to tears and before he ran after her, he looked at you with so much hatred, your heart burned.

No, breaking up with Kol Mikaelson was the best thing you had ever done.

It was what you kept telling yourself as you felt your heart break again and again and again.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

[anarcoqueer1994]

So I wrote this and I'm pretty proud it. Some pre-serum 1930s Stucky, period accurate homophobia. If you like it I linked my ao3 for the other two chapters. Am I cringy? Probs but whateves

It is probably one of the coldest winters Bucky could remember. He was thankful that the end of the day was finally here. The biting temperatures were amplified by the air off of the cold water. More importantly though, going home meant he could go check on Steve, his tenement mate, and long-time best friend. Steve have come down with a bout of pneumonia a couple weeks back. He is still fighting to get his strength back, still breaking out in coughing fits and struggling to get around. His weak immune system made sure that it was not going to be easy to get over this. Honestly, Bucky hated that he had to leave him alone all day to work, but they needed the money to afford the rent, even if their tenement was too small and the heat wasn’t the best. So Bucky just spent the day going through the worse possible scenarios in his head. What if Steve got worse while he was away? What if Steve fell somewhere in the apartment because he is too stubborn to stay in bed, and now couldn’t get up? Was he laying their freezing not able to get back to his bed? What if he…dies because I am not there to help him? But now he could get home and check on Steve.

“James!’ Bucky turned around to hear Bill calling after, as he walking away for the day. Bill was another one of the grunt workers at dock. Nice enough guy, kind of rough. Probably his closest “work friend.” Bucky waits for him to catch up.

“Yea?” he says casually, trying not to show the impatience in his voice for the man that is unknowingly delaying him from getting to Steve.

“Want to go get a drink with some of the guys? Maybe we’ll run into some dames desperate enough for a good time to give your ugly mug a chance?” He wiggles his eye brows jokingly.

“No thanks, I’m good, actually.” Bucky replies, turning to leave.

“Oh come on, you never come out. Let loose a little, pal.” Bill pushes.

“I just need to get home…” Bucky responds, a little annoyed at this point because of the hold up.

“What’s the rush?”

“It’s just Steve is at home and he’s expecting me.” Bucky lies. Steve wouldn’t care if he went out. He would tell Bucky he deserves it. In actuality, he was too worried to go out and have fun, not when Steve was at home, miserable.

“Come on then, invite him out too. You guys can meet us at the bar.” Bill offers.

“Maybe another night, Steve is pretty sick. Getting over pneumonia.” Bucky goes to turn away again.

“Then why are you in a rush?” He laughs. “If he’s sick, he’s probably just laying down in bed. No need to babysit.”

Bucky ignores he question and just repeats, “Like I said, maybe another night.”

Bill lets out a little amused huff. “Interesting.”

His tone of voice gets the better of Bucky. “Interesting? What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky interrogates.

“Nothing, man. Forget about it.” Bill half-heartedly replies.

Bucky of course will not forget about it. “No, what did you mean?” His voice a little more irritated sounding then he intended.

Bill shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “It’s just some of the guys…”

“Some of the guys, what?” Bucky urges.

“Some of the guys say you’re a little funny, you know.” Many of the guys on the crew have grown up in the same neighborhood as Steve and Bucky and as such have known them, or at least seen them for a long time.

Bucky feels a sudden weight on his chest but does not let it show. “Funny how, Bill?” though he is terrified that he know what he means.

“You know, you and that roommate are pretty close and have been for a long time. Sometimes it just appears…” he hesitates, thinking about how to say it. “It appears like you treat him how you would treat a dame you were into. It just seems a little queer.” From behind Bill, he could see some of the guys eavesdropping. Some are smirking, and a few other are snickering. Some even are shooting disgusted looks at Bucky.

Bucky stops his face from faltering from the apathetic look he has put on. He replies loud enough for those assholes who are listening in to hear. “Well, I can assure you Bill, that Steve is my best friend, and that’s all, okay?” In reality, his heart is beating through his chest. Had it been that obvious that he liked Steve? How long have they been passing stories about this.

Bill cracks a smile and slaps Bucky on the shoulder. “Yeah, okay. I knew those guys had to wrong about you. Come out and join us later if you change your mind.” Bill gives Bucky the name of the bar they’ll be at, as he politely listens, not intending on changing his mind. As he leaves, he can tell a lot of the guys do not seem to believe him.

Walking home, Bucky was stuck in his head. He didn’t think people could tell how he felt about Steve. Did he act more like Steve’s fella than his friend? How could they tell? To be fair, he hadn’t been lying about Steve just being his friend. Just because Bucky was a little “light in the loafers”, did not mean that he feelings for Steve were requited. Steve was such a good guy and a model Catholic. No way was Steve into him the same way.

Probably for the best since guys liking other guys that way wasn’t looked on very favorably. The anti-sodomy laws made that clear. Plus, he didn’t particularly like the idea of having to get into fist fight with guys who may make a remark at him…or god forbid Steve.

He shakes his, getting himself out of his own thoughts. He didn’t want to think about these what ifs anymore. Maybe he would try harder to act less like a boyfriend to Steve and more like his super manly, non-homosexual, best friend. Its’s not like he didn’t like women, he just preferred Steve more. But he could be less doting. He didn’t need to babysit his best friend. Bill was right, Steve was probably just sleeping and didn’t need him. Maybe he would just stop at home, check in momentarily, and then take them up on his offer to drink with the guys. He hypes himself up in his head as he reaches the steps leading up to his door. These thoughts left his head as soon as he opened the door.

He could hear a pretty bad coughing fit from the bedroom. The place was freezing. The shitty radiator must be on the fritz. It was warmer than outside but not by much. It couldn’t be more than 40 degrees in that house, the paper-thin walls doing little to keep the heat in. Bucky makes his way to the little gas stove. The tenement was only 3 rooms, the front room that consisted of a little seating area and a modest kitchen (if you van call it that. It was a little sink and gas stove, with one cupboard), the bathroom (the only room with a door), and their share bedroom. He turns on the oven, and leaves it open so the heat could radiate through out the place. He discards his shoes and jacket in the front room. Then he quietly makes his way to the back bedroom, not knowing if the previous coughing fit indicated if he was a wake or not. If Steve was asleep, he didn’t want to wake him.

When he walks through the doorway to bedroom, his friend is huddled under some the blankets. He notices that Steve is still covered in his own blanket, as well Bucky’s blanket that he had laid on top of him this morning when he left for work. Steve’s face sticks out slightly even though he pulled the blanket over his head. He is definitely not feeling great. He is awake but kind of staring off in the distance. His usual pale features somehow look paler when punctuated with the dark circles under his eyes. Of course, he hasn’t slept well in a while, constantly being woken up in fits of coughing and wheezing. He hasn’t noticed that Bucky has walked in. There is no way Bucky can leave and go to the bar though after seeing this.

“Hey Stevie.” Bucky puts on a smile, knowing that Steve hates when Bucky stares at him like some pathetic sick thing. Steve looks up and for a moment it looks like a light entered his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. Bucky likes to think he did not imagine it and Steve genuinely lights up because of him. Probably wishful thinking but it’s a nice though.

“Hey Buck!” He tries to sound stronger than he felt. He hated making Bucky worry but he knew his friend, He inevitably is. He pushes himself up lamely to rest his back against the wall behind his mattress. He is still wrapped up in the blankets, still shivering faintly. “So how was work?” Steve asks, just kind of wanting to talk to Bucky. He would never admit it to Bucky, but he hated feeling alone all day while the other man was at work.

Bucky makes his way across the room, sitting on the little wooden stool by Steve’s bed so he could face his friend. His smile had disappeared momentarily when Bucky thought back to conversation he had right before leaving. But he recovers quicky to reply. “Nothing special. Cold as hell though. And this damn apartment is freezing, not making it any better.”

“Yea, I think the radiator is busted. Tried to tell the sup, but I couldn’t get out of bed. I’m sorry Buck.” He gives a sad smile. Times like this made Steve feel so useless, couldn’t even make sure the heat was working so Bucky was cold after working outside all day.

“No problem, pal. Tomorrow’s my day off. I’ll handle it.” Bucky smiles before realizing how sad Steve still looks. He leans over and puts his hand on Steve’s blanket covered shoulder. “Buddy, I promise it is not a big deal, you cannot help that you are sick.”

Steve sighs miserably. “Doesn’t mean, it doesn’t make me feel pretty worthless. For god sakes, look how pathetic I am. I have both blankets and am still shivering like some babe.” He averts his eyes to his lap, avoiding Bucky’s gaze.

This breaks Bucky’s heart, to hear how little Steve thinks about himself. Steve Rogers had the biggest heart out of everyone he knows. He has gotten into so many fights (that he could not win) just because he saw some in justice. Steve was the best person he has ever met so hearing this from him is difficult. “Stevie…” the familiar nickname instinctively causes Steve to look back at Bucky. “I hate to tell you this, bud, but you are wrong. You are pretty great and all this stuff about being worthless or pathetic, is bullshit.”

Steve lets out a nervous huff before quietly whispering “Thanks, Buck…”

“Anytime.” Bucky smiles back at him.

“But, umm hey Bucky…”

“Yeah?”

“Here...” Steve starts to shimmy out the outer blanket belonging to the slightly older man.

“Hey no…” Bucky puts up his hands to signal to stop. “You need that, it is freezing in here and you are sick.”

“Yea but we can’t have you getting sick, either Buck. You may not have my immune system but you can get still get sick.

“Steve.” Bucky says firmly. “I will not take that blanket from you.”

Steve sighs, sometimes Bucky can be as stubborn as he is. “Fine but I can’t have you freezing to death. Come up here. We can share the blanket,” Steve says it so matter-of-factly, like nothing he said was weird. And I guess it wasn’t it is not like they haven’t shared a bed before. Except, in light the conversation at work Bucky can’t help but to start to over think it. Luckily for him, Steve clears his throat to get Bucky’s attention when he notices him staring off. “Hey Buck…did you hear me? Come on, get up here.”

Bucky wants to get up there, god knows he does. To Steve it seemed to be a very practical thing, cold apartment, limited blankets, two bodies make more heat than one, etc. But to Bucky, it felt like so much more. He loved being that close to Steve. And that was his problem. Thinking fast he says “I should start supper. I’m going to heat up the stew for us that Mrs. Andrews dropped off yesterday.” Mrs. Andrews being the nice widow from upstairs.

“Oh…” Steve says before letting a smile come back to his face. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would say Steve almost sounded disappointed. He did not allow himself to dwell on it too long. Instead, he quickly stands up and makes his way to the kitchen. He throws the small pot of stew on the stoves so he can warm it up.

After a few minutes, he hears Steve shuffle into the room. It really was much warmer in that since the oven, and now the stove, have been on. Steve takes a quiet seat at their modest table.

“You didn’t have to come out. I would have brought you dinner, Stevie.” Bucky says, eyes on the pot in front of him.

“S’okay, I needed to stretch my legs…” No sooner did he say that, did another coughing fit came on. It sounded almost painful, and Bucky could only imagine how raw Steve’s throat must feel. He made his was to his friend, carrying a handkerchief to help with the mess of snot and flem coming from the other man. He stops in front of his friend, crouching down to be on his level. Bucky patiently waits for it to pass before handing his friend the little piece of cloth.

“Thanks Buck…” Steve said almost like he was embarrassed. Bucky instinctively squeezes Steve’s knee reassuringly, before smiling softly and getting back up. He walks back to the pot on the stove. Okay, he thinks to himself. I may be a little too doting. What Bucky did not see when he turned around was Steve smiling at him.

The rest of dinner is uneventful, give or take a few coughs and shivers. When they finished eating, Bucky has to turn off the oven He doesn’t want to leave it on all night, doesn’t want to risk a fire. It is still pretty early in the evening, only about 7:30 but he can see Steve is exhausted.

Steve stands up, but momentarily loses his balance. Bucky, overreacting, stands up and catches Steve before the smaller man can even try to catch himself. They find themselves in a precarious situation. Steve is leaning is weight against Bucky’s chest, as Bucky’s arm is wrapped around the skinnier man’s waist. Bucky’s cheeks turn red as Steve stares curiously at him.

After what felt like years of silence, Bucky lets go of Steve, realizing his friend must be confused. “Uh sorry, thought you were going to fall.” Bucky nervously rubs the back of his neck.

Steve yawns and says “Thanks, I almost did.” He actually flashes bucky a warm smile that honest to god gave the brunette butterflies. Get it together, Barnes. He thinks to hisself, as he watches Steve walk away to their room. He follows noting the apartment temperature going down again.

When Bucky gets to the room, he finds that Steve has set his blanket on his bed. “I told you Stevie, you need this more than me.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Steve says between shivers under his own blanket. “Can’t have you getting sick too. And you are being weird.”

“What do you mean by weird?” Bucky cocks his head to the side.

“Well, it would make more sense to share a bed, two blankets and two bodies would be warmer, and we have done it a thousand times. But ever since you got home from work, you seem off. So take your blanket, punk.” Steve stares at his bewildered friend.

Bucky hates that Steve is so observant. He hadn’t meant to be weird. But now his stubborn friend was going to freeze tonight because he refused to not let Bucky have a blanket. He lets out an exasperated sigh, plays up the drama of course. “Fine. You win. Sharing a bed it is.”

Steve beams at him. Bucky should of know Steve would win this out. With Bucky, Steve could have anything he wanted. He had to face it, he was wrapped around the younger man’s finger.

Bucky makes his way to a pile of books on the ground, grabbing his copy of The Hobbit, before stepping out of his pants, leaving him in a shirt and briefs. He takes the book and his blanket over to Steve’s bed. He scoots into bed with Steve, both men adjusting so that the blankets now cover of them, their bodies inevitably touching on the small, twin size bed. Bucky sets his book on the nightstand, knowing Steve will fall asleep first and he’ll probably do some reading.

Bucky suddenly freezes when he feels Steve lie his head on Bucky’s chest, his arm thrown over the other man’s abdomen. Bucky’s arms are currently under his own head. This is new. Usually, they only got in this position through accidental readjusting while they are sleeping. Stuff that Bucky could just brush off. But now an awake Steve Roger’s is cuddling with an awake Bucky Barnes. He hopes that Steve cannot feel his heart racing in his chest. He continues to look up at the ceiling, hoping to nullify the blush creeping up his face.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice the other man’s reaction, or if he does, he hides it well. He whispers “Is this okay? I’m really cold and I guess I am trying to steal your body heat.” Steve’s voice sounds shy, almost embarrassed.

Of course, when Steve puts it like that, how can Bucky say no? He internally scolds himself for reading more into it. He tries to let out a casual laugh, though it sounded way more choked then intended. He lamely jokes. “That’s why you were trying to get me into bed. To use me?” He finally looks down at his chest, trying to see if his friend laughs. Instead, he is met with questioning blue eyes, genuinely concerned if this was alright. Even with only the dim light of a small bedside lamp, he can’t help but notice how those eyes sparkle. Bucky lets out a small, controlled, sigh and quietly whispers, “Steal away, buddy.”

“Buck?” Steve’s voice sounding even smaller this time. Bucky can’t remember Steve sounding so nervous about anything. He begins to panic internally even as he tries to stay cool externally.

“Yea Stevie?”

“You can say no, okay?” Steve whispers nervously.

“Steve what is it?” His voice more audibly concerned this time.

“Will put your arms around me? I feel like I just can’t get warm.” The way Steve asks is heartbreaking to Bucky, like he was worried Bucky would be upset.

For the first time, Bucky notices that Steve is still shivering. He had been so wrapped up by the way he felt having the smaller man so physically intimate with him, that he didn’t realize that the cold really was getting to Steve. He can tell by the way Steve was acting, he was embarrassed to make these requests. He knows Steve could be a proud man and to be in the position where he had to be so vulnerable was probably hard for him. So Bucky didn’t want to make it a thing, where Steve would feel obligated to have to say more. This was obviously tough enough. So without a word, he wrapped one arm around Steve, as the other fell over his own chest so that he cook connected his hands, locking Steve in, and trying to pull him as close as possible, trying his hardest to warm his sick friend.

Steve didn’t say a word, just flashed a tiny appreciative smile. They laid there in silence for a while before he finally heard Steve’s breath steady in a way that indicated that sleep finally overtook him. Bucky frowned because even in his sleep, the other man’s breaths seemed labored and congested. He hated that this was Steve’s life, that he couldn’t fix this for him. But at least he could help him for tonight. Bucky would be content spending the rest of his life as Steve’s best friend, even if it broke his heart know he could never be with Steve the way he wanted to be. This could be enough.

~~~~

A few hours pass by. Bucky had fallen asleep a little bit ago, still with his arms wrapped around the blonde. It is around 1 am when Bucky is disturbed from his sleep. He had become alarmed when he realized that Steve was no longer beside him. He sits up and desperately looks around the dark room, unsuccessfully scanning for his friend. That’s when he spots the soft glow of candlelight through the doorway coming from the front room. He notices both blankets are still in bed with him, so he worries about the offending temperature in the other room where Steve must be.

He makes his way out of bed, wrapping one of the blankets over his shoulders, and walks to the front room. Luckily, he found when he got in there, that Steve had turned one the oven filling the tiny front room with warmth. He spotted Steve sitting on their tiny old couch, kind of staring off. Bucky clears his throat, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice, still lost in his thoughts.

So, Bucky steps a little closer, stopping when he is a few feet away from his friend. A candle sits on the little crate they use as side table, the dim light barely illuminating his friend’s face. “Hey, bud. Couldn’t sleep?” Bucky says softly.

Steve doesn’t bother looking up, just keeps staring a head. He mumbles. “Was woken…up by something. You can go back to bed.” Steve looks visibly shaken and Bucky was absolutely not going to be able to just go back to bed.

Bucky instead takes a seat next to his rigid friend. Something was definitely not right. The way that Steve was sitting so stiffly, his face was distorted into a broken frown. At this level, Bucky can also tell his friend had been crying, blood shot eyes lit a glow from the candle. “Steve…buddy what’s wrong?” Bucky instinctively goes to rest his hand on the other man’s boney knees. To his surprise, Steve pulls his knee away, repulsed, still not looking at him.

Fear flashed through Bucky’s head. Had he done something? Had something happened while they were sleeping. Had Steve realized the way Bucky looked at him was wrong. He was trying to panic but that seemed fruitless. “Stevie…did I do something wrong?” Bucky didn’t recognize the voice that came out of his mouth. It seemed so broken and pathetic.

Steve let out a pained sigh, before momentarily pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes, like he was forcing back tears. Finally, he turned and looked at Bucky. He sounded frail; his voice laced with sadness. “No Buck…never. You could never do anything wrong. Its me…I am the something wrong here.”

Bucky immediately got defensive, worry coating his words. “What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong? Please tell me why you would say something like that?” He may have been a little louder than he intended, as he felt terrible as he watched Steve recoil at his tone. He lowers his voice before softly placing his hand back on Steve’s knee, this time the younger man letting it rest there. “I’m…I’m sorry for yelling, Stevie. Can you please just tell me what happened. I am sure you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He watches as a tear starts to well up in Steve’s eye again, as he obviously tries to will it to stop before it falls defiantly down his cheek. The dam is broken and Bucky watches helplessly as his best friend falls apart in front of him. Without thinking, he throws his arms around Steve pulls him into a hug. Steve buries his head in Bucky’s shoulder, repeatedly whispering “I’m sorry.” Bucky quietly shushes him, while running his hand over the back of Steve’s neck, trying to sooth his friend.

After what seemed like an eternity, Steve pulls away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Bucky’s eyes are still riddled with worry, his eyebrows scrunched together trying to figure out what could be wrong. Steve whispers “I might as well show you; you will see eventually anyways.”

Bucky feels his chest tighten. What could be so bad that Steve would be this freaked out. He tentatively nods his head, preparing for whatever it could be.

“Buck?” Steve questions.

“Yea, buddy?” He replies automatically.

“Thank you for being my friend and …” There was a sad hesitation in his voice before he continues. “And I get it if you don’t want to be my friend anymore after tonight.”

That thought breaks Bucky’s heart in two. A choked breath escapes him. “Trust me…that’s not going to happen. “

Steve can only give a disbelieving, sad smile in reply. Bucky is now terrified at what could have caused this all.

Without saying a word, Steve picks up the candle and walks to the door that leads outside of their tenement. Bucky gets the idea that he should be following him. When Bucky catches up with him, he notices Steve’s hand shaking as he reaches for the doorknob. Bucky does not rush him, knowing that whatever this was, it was hard. Before long though, Steve opens the door and steps outside. Bucky follows close behind. For as cold as it was inside, the outside was colder. Steve didn’t even seem bothered though, too consumed with grief about something to care.

Steve stopped a few feet away from their door and turned back around to face it. For a moment, he thought he was turned around to face Bucky. Bucky starts “Why…why are we out here, Stevie? It is freezing.” Bucky still only in a shirt, underwear and a blanket. Steve had been a little better dress but not sufficiently enough. The only thing that left Steve’s mouth was. , “Look.” As he pointed behind Bucky at their door.

Bucky turned around and he felt like he got punched in the stomach. On the ground around him were a few broken glass bottles, but that wasn’t the issue. The pale light from the candle illuminated 7 angry red letters, painted sloppily in red on their door. Bucky reads the word out loud, simultaneously deflating with each syllable. “FAGGOTS.” He feels like his world is spinning. Did someone know…about him? Was this the guys at his job? Had to be, after the way they looked at him earlier, knowing he was lying. Worse yet, they are throwing Steve into this. Steve didn’t deserve to be taken down with him.

He was broken out of his thought by the weak voice coming from the man slightly behind him. “I…I was woken up by the sound of these guys laughing outside. They sounded drunk…and you know how much of a light sleeper I am. I thought they were going away but then it sounded like they were at the front door. They were still laughing and I heard glass breaking. You were out.” Bucky silently curses that he was such a heavy sleeper as he continues listening, eyes still fixed on the door. “So, I got out of bed to see what was going on. By the time I get to the door, they are running off, and one called me…this before disappearing down the steps. I tried to go after them.”

“Of course, you did…” Bucky replies, not processing it all.

“Yea, well it was too icy and I am too sick, so I couldn’t catch up to them. When I turned to go back inside, I seen this. And…and I am so sorry Buck.” Steve’s voice crumbles, sounding pathetic and sad, and full of hurt.

That’s when Bucky finally turns to face Steve. “Sorry? Sorry for what? None of this is your fault.” His voice is soft, only focusing on his hurting friend, ignoring his own hurt and panic.

Steve lets out a sniffle, Bucky unsure if from the cold or from fresh tears. “That’s where you are wrong. They did this because of me…”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky stares in confusion.

“These guys…they must have found out…found out that I …I am one.” Steve looks to the ground, terrified of Bucky’s reaction. Tears falling to the frozen ground, his skinny body shaking.

Bucky is overwhelmed with emotions. The most prominent of these emotions though was sadness for his hurting friend. Understanding the irony, he was still heartbroken that Steve thought he had to keep this his dirty little secret. This is why Steve thought they wouldn’t be friend anymore. He was lost for words but needed Steve to know that He was there for the long haul and this wasn’t going to change anything. For the second time this evening, he found himself pulling the younger man into a hug, the candle dropping, putting itself out. “s’okay Stevie…it’s okay. I promise…” He keeps repeating as his arms threaten to never let go of Steve again.

After a few moments though, he noticed the blonde shivering. It was still the middle of winter after all. Without saying another word, Bucky pulled away from the hug(reluctantly) before grabbing his hand and dragging him inside. He drags him to the bedroom where the warm bed wait, Steve not putting up much of a fight. When they get to the room though, Steve pulls his hand away and quickly makes his way to his bed. When Bucky makes his way to Steve’s bed, Steve puts up his hands to make the other man stop in his tracks.

“Buck, thank you for not kicking my ass.” Bucky puts on a hurt look, not believing that Steve actually thought he would. Steve explains himself. “Most guys would have knocked someone out if they found out their best friend was a fairy. So, um, thank you for not doing that.” Steve nervously puts his hand on the back of his neck before continuing. “But you don’t have to lay with me anymore. I get that can be weird now knowing…” Steve still refuses to meet his eyes.

Bucky lets out a huff. He can’t let Steve sit here and feel like he is alone. After what Steve confessed, he thought it was only fair. Ignoring, Steve’s protests, Bucky walks to the bed and sits on the edge, facing Steve. The streetlight out the window dully lighting their faces. He rests his hands on his own thighs, suddenly clammy despite the freezing temperatures. He says “I know…” He stutters “I know… who did this.”

“Who?” Steve sounds surprised despite himself.

“Some guys from the job.” Bucky says sadly.

“Why would they do that?” The smaller man responded, confused.

“Today…they asked me if I was that way you know? They thought that I treated you differently then how a guy should treat his friend.”

“Oh…” is all that escapes Steve’s mouth, Bucky watching an “O” form on the other’s lips.

“I…um of course…told them they were wrong but I guess they didn’t believe me. I’m sorry Steve. I guess…um…” Bucky stops, unsure if he wanted to finish.

“You guess what?” Steve asks, curiosity getting the best of him as he finally locks eyes with Bucky.

“I guess I was too obvious, Stevie. Look, I…I don’t know if I am that way. All I know is that I only got eyes for one person and that person is a fella.” Bucky’s face turning pink with the admission.

Steve stares, visibly confused, unsure exactly what Bucky is getting at. He dumbly asks “Who?”

Bucky gives an uncomfortable laugh, obviously apprehensive. “Are you that oblivious, pal? You…Stevie.” As the other man’s name slips from his mouth, he finds himself trying to look anywhere to avoid the gaze of the blue eyes staring into him.

All Steve manages to choke out is “Really?” His voice sound apprehensive and shy But to Bucky’s surprise, it also sounded hopeful. Yea, he already knew Steve was queer but that did not mean that he automatically like Bucky back. But maybe…he did?

It was this hopefulness that gave Bucky the courage to look back at Steve, his own light eyes staring into Steve’s. He can tell his friend was blushing hard, It was adorable, and pretty impressive for someone who was so pale moments ago. Without thinking about it, Bucky reaches his hand across the bed, and rests it on Steve’s shoulder, still safe in the platonic zone if they wanted to turn back. He whispers almost too quietly for Steve to hear. “Yea…really. You know how much I love you, Stevie, Always have. And for a long time, I thought that love was just because you were my best friend, you know? But overtime, I came to accept that the love I felt for you went way beyond that of a friend, even a close friend.” He looks down before looking back up, sporting a small mischievous grin. “Plus, I think you are really fucking hot.”

Steve somehow manages to blush eve harder, Though he was blushing, Steve was never one to back down from something he wanted. With the knowledge that his best friend was just as into him as he is to him, He scoops forward down the bed, so he very close to Bucky. Bucky’s hand had made its way off Steve’s shoulder, to now gently rest on his hip. He moves his head close to Bucky’s. The older man could feel Steve’s breathe on his face as he replies with a nervous smile “Good, because I’ve had eyes for you since were teenagers. I always got jealous when I seen you with a random skirt instead of me.”

Now Bucky was turning as pink as Steve, red hues covering his face and ears. He made Steve jealous?! He couldn’t believe it. Steve really wanted him. He takes his free hand and moves it to the back of Steve’s neck, wanting so bad to kiss him. He whispers “Can I kiss you?” It sounds so silly coming out of his mouth but he doesn’t want to push Steve.

Unfortunately, to his dismay, Steve says “No, Buck…”

Bucky looks down, suddenly feeling defeated. Had he read the signs wrong. Was Steve admitting he loved him too but did not want to pursue such a risky relationship. His head began to spin as he pulled away. “Oh, I/m sorry.”

Steve lets out a little laugh, grabbing his hand as he went to pull away. “I said no because I am still sick, jerk. Trust me I want to kiss you.” Bucky can’t help but laugh at himself too. Steve continues, “But I would like you to stay in bed with me tonight, if that is still okay."

“Of course, it is...anything for you.” He beams.

A few minutes later, they were laying down, Steve’s head on Bucky’s chest like earlier. Except it wasn’t just like earlier. The action was the same but the feelings were different. Earlier, there was tense atmosphere of secrets they were both hiding. But now it felt like it should have always been like this. Like they were complete more complete. Something that had always been there could thrive. Bucky lazily runs his fingers through Steve’s hair as they begin to drift back to sleep. “Buck?” Steve sleepily asks.

“Yea?”

“So you are my best fella now, right?”

Bucky chuckles to himself that Steve would even worry enough to ask. “Right, Stevie.” only getting a soft okay in response. Bucky lays there, waiting for Steve to fall asleep first. Thoughts run through his head, uncertainties about what to do tomorrow about those asshole, and how this is all going to work. But the one thing he doesn’t worry about is the fact that Steve is his and he is Steve’s

Other two chapters, poorly written smut in the second half of chapter 3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30749381/chapters/75892694#workskin

[ushidoux]

A Life Well Lived - Bokuto x Reader (Pt. 1)

Summary: An immortal meets a human she’s meant to care for temporarily. ‘Care for’ and ‘temporarily’ are not well defined. (1.7k words)

Warnings: these will change by chapter, but for this one, I guess alcohol

A/N: Hey yall, it’s your girl starting yet another mini-chapter fic, please bear with me. This popped into my head and I got excited, let me know what you think or if I should continue.

When you gaze upon your human the first time, you’re genuinely surprised. 

He is terribly young, to the point that it shocks you, although you’re not sure you’ve ever really experienced ‘shock.’

You cannot estimate exactly how old he is (from your studies, humans age extremely variably) but from the looks of it, he’s somewhere in his early to mid 20s. He looks healthy and happy too, you note, as you sit perched on a large tree, enhanced vision allowing you to pierce through the very ceiling of the large restaurant in which he’s seated and laughing boisterously while he enjoys a dinner with friends that seem to love him dearly.

You scratch your head before turning to your hovering aide called a Companion, a bouncing bright light not unlike any of the stars that hang above in the night sky. Your Companion is a semi-sentient link to the celestial realm from which you were born and is similar to what humans would call pets, albeit more intelligent and able to quickly provide you information; yours, however, tends to be on the quiet side unless you ask it questions. 

Your first question is to confirm that you are indeed looking at the right human. It would be embarrassing if your instructor found out you had been tagging along behind the wrong subject the entire time, leaving your true human defenseless, but you couldn’t say it was the first time it had happened in the history of GA training. Guardian Angel trainees weren’t always selected for promotion strictly based off of their attentiveness, even if it was a crucial requirement for the job. 

<< Companion, am I surveilling the right human? >> You ask, tentatively. Your lips don’t form words, but rather think thoughts that the Companion understands. The light seems to glow a brighter gold then retreats to its normal luminance before replying to your question.

<< Bokuto Koutaro is the one you have been bonded to. Your eyes rest on the correct subject. >>

You frown. It’s not a good thing to have a young subject as a trainee. Trainees work on stints of two to three years maximum, which means that this young man, so full of life and cheer, will not be long for this world if you truly are meant to be his keeper. The fact is a bit upsetting, but you remember that this is the nature of the role you were created to fill. Two years, ten years, twenty years of life was not very much time in the grand scheme of things, anyway. Mortals live relatively short lives regardless.

The moon above you is full, and you continue to watch him carefully in the light, still settled weightlessly on the same tree branch and humming quietly to yourself as the night progresses. He’s drunk, you realize once he finally leaves the building, and a young man whose name he mumbles intermittently - Akaashi, is it? - is all but carrying him into a cab and leading him home. You giggle as Koutaro burps loudly into Akaashi’s face while he attempts to push him into the vehicle. 

Humans are so funny.

When the car starts to leave, you stretch out your wings and glide through the dim sky, your Companion besides you, to follow your human to his home. 

It turns out to be a short trip towards a modestly sized apartment building, and Koutaro stumbles out and makes his way safely to the elevator and all the way up until his front door. He struggles to find his key card in his wallet, which he drops more than once, but eventually he makes his way in. You notice a couple of loose bills he drops on the ground and decide to pick them up for him and drop them on his kitchen counter. 

Koutaro does not take off his shoes at the door, but he kicks them off right before he collapses onto his couch instead of his bed, and they go flying in your direction, you phasing in and out of your physical form just in time so that they don’t hit you square in the chest. You think that you probably shouldn’t stay in this form, but you’re bored of floating and sit instead on his kitchen counter.

He falls asleep almost instantly, laid on his belly and snoring loudly, one arm dangling off of the couch.

You’re surprised he can slip out of consciousness that quickly, but he really is quite inebriated. Usually at this time, you can give yourself a little break and allow your Companion to monitor for any sudden changes while you find something else to do to pass the time other than stare at him, but instead you watch him sleep a little longer.

The young man is fascinating. Granted, you haven’t had experience with tons of humans before this, but he’s notable. First of all, he’s larger in frame than the average human, and his hair is an unusual color and shape. His eyes, when open, are gold like your Companion, and his smile is warm. 

His snore is really quite loud though, but suddenly it stops and for a moment you are nervous he’s stopped breathing. You go over to check and roll him onto his back, not bothering to shroud yourself in invisibility immediately thereafter because there’s absolutely no way he’ll wake up with how soundly he’s asleep.

Until he does.

Bokuto’s golden eyes shoot open in the dark, and suddenly he’s staring right at you, and those same eyes become wide like saucers.

He gasps and you gasp, and immediately out of panic, you disappear.

You jump up in the air, letting your wings flap once to create distance between you, even though his frantically searching eyes can no longer see you now that you’ve shrouded yourself from view, and you watch him sober up immediately as he tries to come to terms with what he just saw.

He flips on all the lights, looking frantically for the spirit appearing like a young woman who just hovered mere inches from his face, and his heart is pounding - you can hear it from here - while you continue to float, unsure if you should leave him alone for now and escape back to your realm.

You’ve royally fucked up. Maybe he’ll forget because he’s drunk, you hope, biting your lip.

Instead, he calls a friend.

“There’s a ghost in my room!” He yells. Your ears are tuned to the other end of the phone where you can hear a groggy, exasperated voice remind him that it’s 3am and hang up the phone promptly. It’s the same friend from earlier; it seems like his fright today is not out of the realm of his usual antics.

Bokuto looks absolutely panicked now and sits back on the couch, legs pulled into his chest. You wonder if he’ll actually die from fright, so pale he now seems as he looks around, unable to sleep.

Maybe you take a little bit of pity on him, because you turn off your Companion who helps you but also monitors your every move, and decide disaffectedly to break the rules again. It’s only meant to be for a moment, just to assuage his fears, and you drop yourself back to the ground and reveal yourself.

“Don’t be afraid,” you say in a small, gentle voice, as you stand before him. “... I’m not a ghost.”

You’re not exactly sure what more to say after that. The young man’s eyes are wide, incredibly wide again, and his mouth takes the form of an O as he takes you in.

Your wings are not very large but they’re not small either and they’re untucked, and you realize he’s staring at those rather than your face.

“... Angel?!” He exclaims.

You nod, perhaps too solemnly, and he looks like he’s about to faint.

“I’m dying, aren’t I? I’m fucking dying! I drank too much and I’m fucking dead! I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead!” He is now wailing, no longer looking at you, but burying his face in the couch cushions dramatically. 

You approach slowly, not sure what to do with a crying human, and he gets up suddenly and looks at you pitifully.

“Heaven or hell?”

“What?” You repeat, and he doesn’t seem phased by the fact that you, a stranger with wings and a halo are speaking to him, but rather that his life is coming to an end.

“Am I going to hell? I think I shoplifted once when I was a kid… Some grapes! I stole some grapes and I’m going to hell for that, aren’t I?!”

His lower lip is quivering and he’s waiting for an answer, but before you can speak, he is wailing again.

“Give me another chance!!! I didn’t know better and I was hungry!”

You’re stunned, and then a little flustered. For goodness’ sake...

“Y-you’re not dying!” You finally exclaim.

He’s back in sorts for just a moment, and blinks, looking at you with surprise.

“I’m not?”

Not yet, anyway, you think. You clear your throat.

“I-I’m your guardian angel.”

As soon as that comes out of your mouth, you wince, because you already know that you’re breaking too many rules at once, even if your Companion is turned off and can’t report you. You’re not exactly sure why you’re telling him the truth like this in the first place, but the sight of the crying human gets to you, especially since you feel bad for what is yet to come for him.

Before you know it, he’s reached out for you surprisingly fast, and to your shock, he now holds your face in his hands. His hands are large, gentle and warmer than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. You can hear his heartbeat through his palms. It pounds.

You don’t have a heart, but if you did, you think it would have stopped. There’s a split second of wonder that you detect from his golden eyes as he drinks your face in, confirming that you are indeed real and he is not dreaming. Even in the dark, you can see redness form on his cheeks anew, still from the alcohol that he consumed too freely hours earlier. Probably.

It occurs to you that something again is very wrong, this feeling of doom that seems to arise from inside you, even though you are immortal and this is a human destined to die.

He’s too bold. There’s too much intensity in his eyes.

You fade into nothingness and disappear for the night.

[aurathian]

My Hero

For @zelinkweek2021 day 3 Flight: Free Falling

Read it here on AO3!

“Hey! Get back here!”

Zelda sprinted after Link, bearing a toothy grin (well, as toothy as it could get, considering she was missing a few teeth) and waving a stick in the air. He was far quicker and much more nimble than her, leaping down nearly the entire flight of stairs leading from the Knight Academy to the Bazaar. She scurried down them, careful not to trip over her own feet and then the precarious folds in the rugs on the ground. Link’s foot caught on one of said folds and he stumbled just enough for her to reach out and almost graze his shoulder.

He lurched forward and rolled on the ground, dodging her fingers by an inch, before continuing to sprint. She groaned, fighting to not shout one of the bad words her father taught her to never say (even though she would watch his ink spill over his paper, and he would say one himself), and went as fast as her little, stubby legs could take her.

She was envious of the fact that he was faster than her, considering he was shorter by a few inches and younger by a few months. Teasing him about his height was one of her favorite pastimes, but she was the only one who could do it, given her protectiveness over her best friend Link. They’d been friends since they were fresh out of the womb, or so she’d been told by her father, and their bond was unbreakable. Whatever that meant.

Now that they were enrolled in the Knight Academy, they’d soon have less time to play, so they were together as much as they could possibly be, scrounging up their last moments of free time. That also brought some unwanted attention, namely that of Groose.

Groose was a pompous, snotty, drooling kid of about their same age, with a ridiculous hairdo he refused to change and a crush on Zelda herself. The boy never stopped picking on Link, which is where she developed her protective nature, but he also never stopped flirting with her. She was thankful she could hold her own ground, unlike her best friend, who happened to be a bit of a crybaby at times.

Link leaped down another flight of stairs and this time Zelda followed suit, landing square on her feet before taking after him again. She cornered him against the wall of the lighthouse on the side of the plaza, gasping for air and laughing.

Thrusting her stick forward and tapping him in the chest, she beamed triumphantly.

“You’re it!”

She took off toward the wooden deck at the edge of the plaza, the sound of his footsteps and laughter getting closer behind her.

“You’ll never catch me!” she taunted before diving off the deck. Her hope was that Link would dive after her and they’d call their Loftwings and chase each other in the sky, but then she had an idea. She’d prank him, make him worry for her, and not call her Loftwing. It would give him a real scare, she thought. So, she let herself fall, let the wind whip through her hair as she spread her arms and embraced the clouds.

What was taking him so long? There was no reason for him to not dive right after her. But then, finally, she heard his shrill whistle and prepared to sound off her own. She raised her fingers to her lips and—

A flash of crimson red swept her up into its feathers and scrawny arms tightened around her form, and she screwed her eyes shut as the wind battered against her face. Then, she was descending, slowly, softly, carefully, before finally being lifted off whatever had carried her.

She opened her eyes as she giggled, glancing up at the face of Link, who was red and sobbing and teary-eyed.

“Um, are you okay?” she asked as he set her down and cried a little more. Her giggles persisted until she realized he was seriously upset. Why didn’t he find it funny?

He opened his mouth to say something in that quiet, meek voice of his, but he was interrupted.

“I saw that!” someone yelled, followed by rushed footsteps. Groose stepped onto the scene, tall and intimidating, arms crossed and glare aimed at Link. “You were just gonna let her fall off the edge? You didn’t even try to go after her!”

“Groose, stop—”

“But Zelda, he let you fall!”

Link’s puppy-dog eyes zipped back and forth between the two of them, lips pursed and quivering. Then, another voice came.

“Just what is going on here?”

Zelda’s gaze rose upward slowly, climbing the large frame of the man in front of her now, eyes widening in horror.

Her father, headmaster of the Academy.

“Hello, father,” she mumbled.

“Zelda, care to expl—”

“Link let Zelda fall off the edge and waited forever to go save her!” Groose blurted, face almost as red as his hair.

Headmaster Gaepora sent Groose a sharp glare before calmly turning back to his daughter. “Zelda, care to explain what’s going on here?”

“Um… I…” She fiddled with her thumbs, eyes darting everywhere but her father, and burst into tears. “I’m sorry! It was a prank!” She buried her head in her hands as her father’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “I thought it would be funny if I spooked Link and didn’t call for my bird. I thought he would just chase me, I didn’t know he would…” Glancing back at him, he was still a shaking, sobbing mess, but the redness in his face was gone. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t ever joke about falling off the edge again, Zelda,” her father scolded in a scary, stern tone. “Do you know what happens when you fall beneath the clouds?” She shook her head. “Exactly. And we don’t want to find out.”

“I’m sorry, father.”

“You should apologize to him, not me.” He nudged her to turn and face Link. “And after that, you’re going to your room for the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry, Link,” she murmured. “Can you forgive me?”

He didn’t respond, only staring wordlessly as he wiped at the last of his tears and offered a weak smile.

“Come on now,” the headmaster coaxed. “Let’s go.”

And he led her away.

—

Zelda laid on her bed in her room at the Knight Academy, clutching a wood carving to her chest and staring at her ceiling as she listened to the quiet hums of Karane, her neighbor.

She held the carving up. Link had made it for her, and it was a vibrant blue, modeled after her Loftwing with edges he made sure were curved so she wouldn’t cut herself or get splinters. Normally it found its home atop her desk, but that night it rested over her heart as she thought of him and how horrible she felt for her prank.

A knock came at the door and she yelled for them to come in. It creaked open, and inside stepped Link. His cheeks were still puffy and his eyes were still red, but he was smiling nonetheless.

“Oh, hi, Link,” she greeted, putting the carving down on the blankets. “What are you doing here?”

He sat on the edge of her bed as she grabbed a pillow and crawled next to him.

“Look, I really am sorry. I didn’t know it would make you that upset.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. His voice was raspy and quiet, one you had to strain to hear. Hearing him talk was rare, and Zelda revelled in every moment he did.

“Why were you crying so hard?”

He plopped down against the blankets on her bed. “I thought your bird wasn’t coming and you were gonna fall below the clouds and die.”

“I was just joking,” she reassured him.

“I know, but I didn’t think so. So I went after you. I was so scared.”

“Oh.”

Link scratched the back of his neck. “Groose really let me have it after you and your dad left,” he said. “Chased me around and everything. But I got away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Silence hung in the air between them, stifling and suffocating, until Zelda finally spoke up.

“Thank you for saving me,” she mumbled, a blush hinting at her cheeks. “You’re my hero.”

And she didn’t see it because she was too busy hiding her face in her pillow, but he blushed too.

[retrievablememories]

a day with you | taeyong (m)

title: a day with you pairing: taeyong x reader genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers summary: you spend your birthday with one of your closest friends—lee taeyong. word count: 4.7k warnings: fingering, oral sex (female receiving), PIV sex, a lil dirty talk a/n: i know he can’t drive(?) but let’s pretend lol. some parts of this fic are little vague and you’ll see what i mean but that’s so you can imagine your own preferences

Taeyong wakes up first thing in the morning with you already on his mind. 

He can’t help but smile to himself as he thinks about spending time with you on a day as special as this—your birthday. He doesn’t always get to spend as much time with you as he’d like because of his neverendingly busy schedule, but this is one day he wouldn’t miss.

Wiping his blurry eyes, he reaches for his phone and opens the text message box with your name on it.

To: Y/N Hi sleepyhead~ are you awake yet? Probably not. But i’m coming to get you soon ^^

Taeyong takes a shower and dresses himself, all while still thinking of you. Once he’s ready to his liking, he leaves the dorm to drive to your favorite breakfast place nearby. The sun is just making its appearance over the horizon, warming the land and making everything seem brand new again.

When Taeyong arrives at your place with food in hand, it’s still fairly early in the morning. As he predicted, you aren’t awake yet—at least not fully. It takes you a minute to answer the door, and only after he knocks incessantly. When you do, you’re still in your pajamas from last night.

“I’m guessing you didn’t see my message?” He laughs and pats your head.

“Honestly, I was knocked out…sorry, Yongie,” you say, stifling a yawn. You move aside so he can come in and close the door after him. Suddenly awakened by the smell of food wafting past your nose, you follow Taeyong into the kitchen. “But I see you have food...what’d you bring me?”

“Only your favorite, of course. What else would I get the birthday girl on her special day?”

“You know me so well,” you say, giving Taeyong a side hug before diving into the bag to get your meal. You and Taeyong eat together at the table, enjoying each other’s company. You’re still a bit sleepy so you don’t say much, but Taeyong doesn’t mind. He likes seeing you enjoying your food, and it makes him happy to treat you to gestures like this.

Once you finish eating, you slide out of your seat and stretch. “Wow, that was great. Thank you Yongie,” you giggle, pinching his cheek. He blushes at your attention and shrugs bashfully.

“I’m gonna go take a shower and get dressed now. Can you tell me where we’re going so I know how to dress at least? A hint? Pleaseee?”

“Not yet! You’ll see when we get there,” Taeyong says smugly, putting his arms behind his head. “It’s not just one place anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what you wear.”

“Oh, fine. You won’t be too bored without me, right?” you ask, turning to look at him from the bedroom doorway. 

“I’m fine Y/N, I can handle myself for an hour while you get ready.” He chuckles.

“If you insist!”

Once you’re ready, you and Taeyong go out to his car and take off to wherever the first destination is, which you’re excited to find out. You watch the scenery go by as you travel there.

“I hope work’s been treating you well,” you say, turning back to look at Taeyong.

“You don’t have to worry about me today,” he insists.

“I’m always gonna worry about you!” You put your hand on his leg, and his eyes widen a tad at that. “I know it’s hard sometimes. You said you wanted to make me happy—knowing you’re doing okay is what makes me happy.”

A grin spreads across his face. Taeyong glances at you and places his hand on yours. “I’m doing fine. Promise.” He nudges his pinky finger under yours, linking them together. “I wouldn’t lie to you!”

You squeeze his pinky finger back. “I’m trusting you. If I hear you’re overworking yourself again, I’m gonna force you to take a vacation. Just watch!”

You start to realize where you’re headed pretty soon when the city’s scenery gives way to more greenery. This lake, and the park it’s located in, is one of your favorite places to hang out with Taeyong, although you haven’t been there lately because he’s been so busy with work.

“Remember the first time we came here?” you ask, gazing at the lake’s surface glittering from between the trees.

“That was such a fun day. I didn’t even know this place existed back then...it feels like a hundred years ago now, though.”

Once the car is in the parking lot, you two head to the boardwalk. A good portion of it extends out into the lake itself before meeting the shore again and trailing off onto a nature trail among the trees. You walk along the portion that sits over the lake, stopping every so often to watch the water lap at the wooden posts. There are only a few other people out here besides you two; it’s still too early for the afternoon crowds.

Taeyong stands beside you as you peer into the waters, his hair blowing across his face from the cool breeze.

“You should drop in a coin. Make a wish or something.”

“I thought that was only for fountains?”

“Maybe it’ll work here, too.” He leans forward to see both of your reflections staring back at him.

You giggle. “The fish will get mad at me. I think I’ll pass on that one. We should go see the trail though, there’s a flower bush there...I know you remember it.”

“The one that has those flowers with the funny-looking petals?”

“Yes! I wanna take a picture of it,” you say, already feet ahead of Taeyong. “Come on, or you’re getting left behind!”

You and Taeyong end up walking through the park for a couple of hours; it offers enough land to trek through for days and still be able to find something new every hour. With the sun rising higher in the sky, the temperature quickly starts shooting up. You wipe the sweat away from your forehead, stopping underneath a tree near the side of the park that faces the main road.

You’ve stayed in the park long enough for other people and food trucks to start appearing, and there’s already a line of different vendors camping along the sidewalk.

“I’m hot. We need some ice cream,” you sigh dramatically, leaning against the tree for strength.

“Come on, there’s an ice cream truck down the road.”

Taeyong pays for both your ice creams and you walk along the edge of the park after getting them, eating happily and pointing out birds and flowers to each other every few minutes.

The heat does a number on your ice cream, making it melt onto your hand before you’re even halfway through with the cone. “Damn.” You look at the sticky mess covering your hand. “I should’ve gotten a napkin! Hold on, I’ll just go—”

“Wait.” Taeyong grabs your arm. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he bends his head to lick the ice cream dripping across your fingers. Your eyes grow big, and you stutter trying to think of how to respond, but you end up merely watching him.

He soon pulls back after he finishes his job on your hand. “See? All gone now,” he grins, but his smile comes out more nervous than he intended. The atmosphere isn’t awkward, per se, but it’s definitely more tense than it was a few minutes ago.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say weakly, trying to ignore the heat flooding through your body at his actions. “Don’t get us kicked out of here for public indecency!”

After you finish your ice cream, you and Taeyong decide to leave the park before you melt into the pavement. You stretch your hands in front of the air vents when you get back into his car, letting the pleasant chill run up your arms as he pulls out of the parking lot.

��Where are we going now?” you ask, pressing your hand to the window. The park’s green scenery grows sparse and gives way to roads and familiar hardscapes, which means you’re probably heading to the busiest part of the city.

“Will you ever let me give you a surprise?” Taeyong whines, laughing. “I’ll give you one hint: you’ll need my credit card for it.”

“You mean mine?”

“No way, mine. You can buy whatever you want today, all on me. I already know what you’re thinking, but seriously, it’s fine; charge however much you want.”

“You’re too good to me, seriously. How did I find someone like you?”

“Luck, maybe.”

As you suspected, Taeyong takes you to the busier—and also more expensive—part of the city, packed with shops and boutiques on every corner and filled with people walking to and fro.

When you get out, you and Taeyong stand on the sidewalk gazing at the different stores. “I don’t know where to start,” you admit, gazing at the numerous options laid out in front of you. “You’re all into this luxury stuff, give me a recommendation for something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please?”

“Okay, here.” Taeyong pulls you to the first clothing store he sees, which happens to be Chanel. You haven’t been in here before, so you’re a bit taken aback at how spacious it is...and how just many clothes there are.

“Wow. I could probably shop forever and still not buy everything,” you say jokingly, drifting away from Taeyong to go over to a jacket that catches your eye.

You spend a lot of time going through the store—and the ones after that—trying to decide what you like. Taeyong buys you a few things from each one. He gives you suggestions at every place you stop in, but at the last store, he becomes drawn to a particular dress hanging on the rack. It’s black with big daisy patterns all over it, and the skirt is made of a flowing, silky material.

“Do you see something you like?” You peek over his shoulder at the dress.

“Yes, for you.” He takes it off the rack and holds it up to your body. “I think it’d look cute on you. Will you try it on?”

You give him a look before taking the dress from his hand. “Okay, let’s see how it looks.” You take it to the dressing room and undress so you can pull it on. The daisy patterns seemed a little overdone at first, but it looks better than you expected. After examining yourself in the mirror, you step outside the dressing room so Taeyong can see it.

“Well, what do you think of it?” you ask, spinning around so Taeyong can see it full-view. He taps his finger against his chin and nods, his eyes lingering on your form. 

“You should wear it. Like, for the rest of the day.”

You turn to a nearby mirror and examine the dress again. “Hmm, you really think so?”

“It’s your birthday. You deserve to look good, don’t you?”

“Geez, are you saying my previous outfit was bad?” You snort, throwing Taeyong a skeptical look over your shoulder.

“No, I’m saying...this one is even better.” He’s practically eating you up with his eyes now, and there’s no room for doubt that he means what he says. You’re a bit flustered by the way he’s looking at you, so you turn back the mirror, staring at your reflection.

“Okay, I trust your taste,” you say, willing your heart rate to calm down a little. Taeyong smirks at you in the mirror’s reflection.

You try on a couple more things before leaving the last store—or more like, Taeyong convinces you that every item would look good on you and you decide to get it because you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes.

You drop your shopping bags off at your place before heading back out again. The next stop: the movie theater. Taeyong tells you to pick a movie and promises to stay awake through the whole thing even if he dislikes it, which you roll your eyes at.

“When have you ever known me to pick a bad movie?”

“Well…”

“On second thought, don’t answer that question.”

“Are you hungry?” Taeyong asks a couple hours after you leave the theater. It’s early evening now, but there’s still daylight from the long hours of summer. You had some popcorn in the theater, but you’re ready for the main course now.

“Yes, do you have something special planned for that too?” you ask, poking him in the side. 

“Sure, but let’s go back to your place first, I think I left something there,” Taeyong says casually. You don’t suspect anything, so you happily agree, wondering where he’s gonna take you for dinner.

You get back to the building not too long after and head up the stairs to your floor with Taeyong trailing behind you. “This isn’t an excuse to look up my dress, is it?” you say jokingly, glancing back at him. Taeyong blushes at that and laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s not like that!”

You think Taeyong’s going to stop at your apartment once you get to it, but he keeps walking past it and towards the set of stairs that lead to the apartment’s rooftop.

“I’m hungry, Taeyong, why are we going to the roof? There isn’t any food up there,” you laugh, though you follow him as he tugs on your hand and guides you up the steps.

“You’ll see!”

When you get to the top of the stairs, Taeyong swings open the door. On the other side is your apartment’s rooftop, but it looks much different from the last time you saw it. On normal days, there’s a little hangout spot up there with tables and chairs, a fire pit, and an array of potted plants dotting each of the rooftop’s corners.

Now, there are little glowing fairy lights strung up everywhere, decorating the assortment of potted plants native to the rooftop’s decor. The chairs have been pushed to the sides of the roof to make room for a huge blanket in the middle, a quaint little picnic basket on top of it.

“Whoa,” you say, your eyes widening at the setup. “I’ve actually only been up here a few times...I guess I’ve been so busy I haven’t had proper time to appreciate it. It looks really different now...” You gaze at the city’s skyline in awe. The sun is still shining brightly, though darker oranges are already bleeding into the sky’s lighter hue in preparation for sunset. It won’t be long before the city is draped in darkness.

“Well, now you get to enjoy it with me!” Taeyong pulls you over to the blanket. The fire pit isn’t lit yet, but maybe you can do that later tonight.

“When did you even have time to set all this up, anyway? Seriously!” you ask as you and Taeyong sit down.

“I know people,” is his only explanation. “And it’s easy to pull strings when you’re cute.” He does an aegyo move and you shove him, laughing.

You and Taeyong dig into the picnic basket. “I made it myself too, ‘cause I know how much you like whatever you make.” He says this with a gentle smile.

“Ever the humble chef,” you laugh, taking the rest of the food out. There’s an array of fruits and other snacks in addition to the main meal. “Your cooking is always so good. How do you do it?” Taeyong shrugs.

“Sheer talent. Or magic. You should let me teach you one day,” Taeyong says with his mouth full.

“I should,” you say absentmindedly, looking across the skyline as you eat. “We should come up here more, too.”

After you finish the main meal, you and Taeyong feed each other pieces of fruit as he lies his head in your lap, his soft hair fanning across your bare legs. His eyes are soft as he looks up at you, and it makes your mind go warm and fuzzy with all the things you want to say to him.

Eventually, you lie back too, reclining on the soft blanket and gazing at the endless sheet of stars above you, glittering from light years away. Taeyong pulls away from you momentarily to light the fire pit, and the flames lick at the edges of your vision as you watch the starry sky.

“Do you ever think about how some of the stars have already long burned out? And their light is only just now reaching us?”

Taeyong makes a face as he settles beside you. “That’s a bit scary.”

“What if they were all gone? And there were actually no more stars left in our galaxy?” You turn your head to look at Taeyong. “What we would look at at night, then?”

Taeyong pauses for a moment before choosing his answer. “There would still be stars to look at. Like the ones here on Earth.” You smile at that.

The night gets darker as time wears on, and the temperature outside drops. Despite the warmth of the fire pit, Taeyong notices you shiver at the sudden breeze and pulls you closer to him, rubbing his hands on your arms. “Maybe we should go inside?”

“Sounds good to me, I’m starting to get a little sleepy anyway…we’ve been out all day,” you say, stretching your arms and legs. Taeyong cleans up all the food and empty containers spread around, refusing to let you lift a finger to help. Once the picnic basket is packed, you both roll off the blanket so he can fold it up and sling it over his arm. He puts the fire out and gets ready to leave with you, taking your hand. 

“What about the lights and stuff?” you ask, glancing back at the fairy lighting still dangling off the potted plants.

“Later,” Taeyong says, waving it away. “Somebody will get to enjoy it tomorrow, maybe.”

You both head back down the stairs and to your apartment. Taeyong sets the stuff down and pulls you into a hug once you both enter your place.

“Today was so fun,” you say, hugging Taeyong back and relishing the feel of his arms around you. “It was the best birthday ever. You’re the best friend anyone could have, you know?”

“I could say the same.” Taeyong murmurs. You pull away from each other, but Taeyong’s fingertips linger at the hemline of your dress; he rubs the fabric between his fingers, a thoughtful look on his face. “You look so cute in this dress...really pretty.” His hand drifts higher and his fingers skirt across your waistline, to your arm, and up your shoulder until he’s hovering at your face.

Taeyong touches the side of your face, a gentle smile on his lips. Your eyes linger on each other’s for a tense moment, and then, Taeyong steps closer and closes the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. Maybe you should be surprised, but you’re not. Taeyong pulls your body closer, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck and into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

His lips are soft and his tongue is warm against yours. His other hand finds its way back to your skirt and drifts higher, higher, and higher underneath, dangerously close to the hemline of your underwear. He pulls away, panting against your lips, and you chase him for more. He acquiesces and gives you another hot kiss, but then breaks it to speak against your lips,

“I’ve been wanting to slip underneath this dress all day.” His fingers come around to your front, pressing into your sex. “Why do you think I picked it? In the shop...wouldn’t it have been nice if we fucked there?”

You moan at that as Taeyong’s lips drift to your jaw, then the side of your neck. You grip Taeyong’s wrist, bringing his hand closer, pressing his knuckles to your clit. You shudder, and Taeyong responds by dragging his fingers over that spot more firmly, feeling you grow wetter and warmer against him.

“Sit on the couch for me, baby.” Taeyong guides you backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. Your dress spreads out around you as you sit, and Taeyong kneels in front of you, dragging the fabric higher to rest above your thighs. He leans closer to lay soft kisses over your inner thighs, his fingers pressing into the skin as he pulls your body closer to his mouth. You tremble and press your back against the couch when he mouths at your clit through your underwear.

“Taeyong…” He licks you slowly through your underwear and you have to resist the urge to close your legs around his head as his tongue dances over your clit. He pulls back, looking up at you deviously, only to hook his fingers into your underwear and pull them down. You lift your hips to help him, and he holds you firmly in his grip, bringing your pussy closer to meet his warm and wanting mouth. You gasp at the feeling of his lips on your bare skin, pushing your hand through his hair, wanting him to bury himself inside you.

He slips a finger into you as he licks you and makes you pliable, and then he adds another as he presses them upwards to find the spot that will have you shaking for him. Taeyong finds it soon after and keeps thrusting into it as he lets his tongue trace circles over and over your clit, drawing out more moans and whines from you.

You’re wet and sticky with pleasure at this point, moving your hips along with Taeyong’s movements to draw out as much ecstasy as you can. You feel the orgasm building in your lower body as you grind yourself onto Taeyong’s fingers, and he brings you nearer to it until you’re teetering on the edge.

You tip over the precipice when Taeyong moans into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted and wiggles his fingers against your spot a little harder. You come hard on his fingers and face, and all you can do is grab onto his free hand for support as your legs shake and your stomach tenses from the waves of bliss flowing through you. When Taeyong thinks you’ve had enough, he pulls away from you with his face glistening. He licks his lips clean and lets go of your thighs, letting your relaxed form rest against the couch.

“Let’s go to your room,” he says, and gathers you up in his arms, taking you down the hall to where your bedroom is. He lays you gently on the bed and you watch with anticipation thrumming through your body as he sheds his clothing in front of you until he’s down to his underwear. Though you’ve just come, you’re already leaking and ready for him to pleasure you again.

His hands come up to your body to peel away your dress, and he guides you to lie back on the middle of the bed as his lips cover each new section of exposed skin. He kneads your breasts once they’re revealed to him, pinching your nipples and sucking them between his soft lips, teasing them into hard peaks. His mouth is indescribably warm and wet against your body, his hands equally as soft and gentle as they roam over your waist, down to your hips and legs and back again.

You take Taeyong’s chin between your fingers and bring his face back up to yours so you can kiss his lips and whisper in his ear, “Taeyong, please. I want you.”

Taeyong parts from you for a moment to grab a condom from his jeans, and once he rolls it on he settles between your legs with his cock nudging against your lower lips. He thrusts his hips against you, his tip catching on your entrance, and he keeps rocking himself until he’s fully seated inside of you, both of you moaning from the sensation of filling and being filled.

“You feel so good,” Taeyong murmurs into the side of your neck. He pushes into you slowly, wanting to feel every inch of you around him. With so many sensations flowing through you at once, you’re unsure where to put your hands, and they drift across Taeyong’s back aimlessly. The muscles there clench under your palms as he thrusts into you.

He is tender as he holds you close, kissing you wherever he can and moaning softly in your ear. This is not how you thought your night would end, but you have no complaints as Taeyong fills you over and over again, his hand sliding down your body to rub against your clit. You squeeze his shoulders, your nails pricking his skin slightly as the pleasure doubles inside you.

Droplets of sweat gather at his hairline and at the sides of his face, making the strands stick to his skin. You wipe these away as he looks into your eyes and strokes into you, his hips moving with more vigor as he gets more intense and feels the beginnings of his orgasm creeping up on him.

“I’m close,” Taeyong groans.

“Taeyong…” you sigh and arch against him as your climax overtakes you first, flooding through your body like liquid gold and making you tense and shiver around him.

Taeyong shudders against you when he comes, pulling your body closer to his and lowering his head onto your shoulder as he rides out the throes of pleasure. You both hold onto each other as if you’ll drift away otherwise, your arms tight around him as you listen to his heavy breaths.

He eventually rolls away from you to dispose of the condom. When he comes back, he pulls the bed covers back and draws you into his arms. You cuddle close together, and you can hear his heartbeat steadily next to your ear.

“You know I love you, right?” Taeyong asks quietly, drawing his index finger along your side. It tickles, but you don’t mind much as long as he’s touching you.

“Do you know I love you?” you say back, your lips moving against his collarbone as you speak. He brings his hand up to your hair, breathing in your scent.

“Mmm...maybe.” His body shakes with laughter. “I think maybe I knew it all along.”

“Me too,” you say, closing your eyes. Tiredness sweeps over you, and you know you’ll have to talk more in the morning, but right now you are more than content to leave things as they are. “Maybe we were made for each other.”

[wonderrdies]

if love be rough with you - pt.1 (pypfc)

In which you and Harry are professors at a prestigious Art and Language university but can’t stand each other. Well, you can’t stand him. 

disclaimer: I fucked up and won’t finish the thing in time for the pick your poison fic challenge (thank you and I’m sorry to @for-fucks-sake-h​ @oh-honey-styles​ @andwhenshesays​) so I’ll split it into two parts. Once I post the second one, I’ll link it down here. 

warnings: so far, so good. there’s gonna be fucking in the next one, though. 

word-count: about 4,000 words

If love be rough with you, be rough with love.

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

(Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare)

Your copy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet fell to the wooden floor of classroom 103 with a dull thud. It was not your favorite play by any means, but teachers didn’t get much of a choice when it came to the syllabus at Markham. Art and Language students there had been learning the same things for generations, walking through ancient hallways with the pretentiousness of people who know they’re special because of more than just daddy’s money. 

Daddy’s money was still a big part of it, though. The fact you didn’t have it made it very obvious that, despite your mid-20s looking face, you were staff and not a student. Which, you said to yourself back when you started teaching at Markham, was fine. You made a mantra out of it in the beginning: It’s fine. I’m fine. When older professors and students didn’t take you seriously, when you were lonely, when the stone walls made you feel claustrophobia instead of wonder, when you had to begin working with Drama students instead of sticking to your comfort-zone in the Literature department. It’s fine. I’m fine. Three years later, it was true; you fit right in. You had learned to focus solely on the bright side of the school and the role you had to play, dressing and speaking and teaching like the classy and stone-faced intellectual you always wanted to be. With all your weaknesses safely tucked away, you felt like you probably were a better actress than most of your students. 

Considering you were 20 minutes ahead of schedule and no one was ever this early for class, bending over in your pencil skirt to pick Romeo and Juliet up didn’t seem like  a big deal. Until you heard the whistling. 

“All this for me?”

You took your time standing up, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be gross,” you laid the book back on your desk, crossing your arms as you stared at the man by the door. “Professor Styles.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he flashed you a dry smile, but his green eyes showed amusement. “Darling.”

The eye-roll couldn’t be held back any longer. “Piss off.”

No need to say you weren’t a classy and stone-faced intellectual when it came to Harry Styles. 

“Can’t piss off from my own classroom, can I?”

Seemingly not minding your frown, he walked into the room holding a worn leather case for what you could guess was an acoustic guitar. If he weren’t dressed in his usual expensive and obnoxious clothes, you’d be able to mistake him for a very handsome hobo. 

“No, but you can piss off from mine,” you pointed to the metal numbers on the door. “We’re in 103, Styles. I have it for the next three hours.”

“Funny,” he said before laying his guitar on the desk. It pushed your book away until you had to grab it so it wouldn’t, once again, fall to the ground. “Because my schedule says that I have it for the next three hours.”

“Indeed,” Romeo and Juliet falls on leather harshly, the sound pretty similar to the one it made while hitting the floor. “Hilarious.”

The rumbling of what could only be a herd of students began before Harry could come up with any clever remarks, making his head turn to the door expectantly. His pearl necklace accompanied his movement, and you tried not to stare too hard at the expanse of his neck or imagine what it would look like with a couple of bruises under those pearls. 

You snapped out of whatever that thought was before there was any need to overthink it. Over your colleague’s shoulder, you could see students, not all of them yours, entering the room. If it wasn’t clear before that there had been a mistake, it was now; Drama and Music students looked at each other suspiciously, whispering to their classmates like they were in primary school instead of university.

“Professor?” someone called. Both you and Harry turned to the desks arranged in a circle, all of them occupied. One of his students, standing on the corner, moved uncomfortably under your glare before speaking again: “Where should we seat? Is this a joint lesson or something?”

A joint lesson? You cringed at the idea. “No,” you said harshly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his voice breezy when compared to yours. “We’ll sort it out, guys. Give us a few minutes.”

He made the two of you sound like a team, which was outrageous. The collar of your sleeveless turtleneck was, all of a sudden, way too tight. 

“You look constipated,” he muttered under his breath so only you could hear him. “Let’s go outside.”

“What for?” But you were already following him to the hallway. “Look, just get another classroom.”

“Why don’t you, if it’s that simple?” Harry asked while you closed the door behind you. 

“Because it’s a good classroom, the best in the building!”

“Is this how you plan on making me give it up?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning on the stone wall like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t. 

“Harry,” you sighed. Your hand went to the tiny gold cross in your neck, nervously messing with it. You knew you were about to start pacing like a madwoman. “You could play that guitar anywhere on campus. Just let me have the damn room, alright?” 

“Do you think that’s all my lessons are?” He sounded upset.

A brief moment of guilt didn’t stop you from snapping at him. “Do you think I care?”

“No, I don’t,” Even though his voice remained calm, Harry straightened up. “I would never have such high expectations for you, darling.” 

You looked at him with a blank stare. Those green eyes without a hint of malice, the soft brown curls of his hair, the delicate pearls over a pastel blue sweater that had a fucking baby chick on it; seeing him, it was hard to believe he could be mean enough to hurt you. But he had, so you went with the most mature and eloquent answer you could muster: “Whatever,” mumbled under your breath.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go to the administration and get this shit over with.”

His tone, finally bordering on annoyed, gave you some satisfaction. Maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

— 

Things between you and Harry hadn’t always been this hard. Back in university, among mutual friends and copious amounts of alcohol, he had been nicer. So had you. But Markham made the differences that seemed meaningless at 19 years old feel like deal breakers for any sort of healthy work relationship; his laid backness, so charming all those years ago, drove you insane now. He was a brilliant musician, of course, but was that really all it took? While you searched for the perfect balance between serious faculty member, approachable but slightly intimidating mentor, cultured academic, reliable friend and well-rounded human being, Harry simply seemed to always be a little late for everything that didn’t involve robbing you of your preferred classroom. Also, he flirted way too much, dressed like a sexy grandmother and never submitted grades when he was supposed to. 

“Hey,” he said, then called your name softly. “I think that’s enough.”

For a second, you thought he meant enough reasons to dislike him. Then you looked down at your overflowing cup of water and the puddle forming on the teacher’s lounge counter.

“Fuck,” you hissed, putting the glass jar back in its place.

“That sounds familiar,” Harry sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just said that in a room filled with ancient Markham professors.

You were torn between giving him a death glare or ignoring him altogether, so you just settled for a death glare directed at no one in particular while you wiped your wet hand on the side of your black skirt. 

“Professors,” greeted one of the Plastic Arts teachers, a sweet-looking old lady. She walked up to the counter so she could pour her coffee, standing between you and Harry in the process. “I take it the 103 debacle hasn’t gone smoothly.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Thomas,” Harry said, a playful smile suddenly on his lips. “Someone here doesn’t know when to give up.”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person, Professor Styles. It’s not cute.”

Mrs. Thomas laughed like the two of you were performing a stand-up comedy show. “God, you two are adorable.”

You frowned while she walked away, and even though Harry’s smile stayed plastered on his face, you could see the furrow between his brows. “Adorable?” he asked, voice low. “You?”

“Piss off,” you said for the second time that day.

The 103 debacle, as your elder colleague so eloquently put, hadn’t gone smoothly. At all. Administration admitted to making a mistake and offered, oh so kindly, to relocate one of you to an empty classroom upstairs. Both Harry and you just stood there, looking at each other as if saying “Well, there you go” and waiting for the other to eagerly take room 214. Dark, humid, cold and small 214. After a couple of minutes of painfully awkward silence, the secretary responsible for room assignment suggested a sort of alternation: since the conflicting lessons were taught twice a week, Harry could get 103 on Mondays and you could have it on Thursdays. Neither of you liked the idea, but no amount of “But Sophie…” would change her mind once she came up with a supposedly perfect solution. 

“She’s only saying that because she hasn’t seen your eye twitching while you try to refrain from having a mental breakdown over a classroom,” he said, ignoring the fact you had just told him off. Harry leaned in, annoying smirk on his lips, so only you would hear him when he said: “You can be adorable when you’re whining for more, though.”

He was too close, and you could smell the cologne on the collar of the shirt he wore under his sweater. It was vanilla, sweet and strong like he had been before he turned out to be the kind of guy who insulted you and bragged about having fucked you, all in the same breath. 

“Classy, Styles,” you drank the rest of your water in one gulp so you could get rid of the cup and put some distance between the two of you. He just smelled too good. “You shouldn’t be so quick to make fun of my eye twitch, though. I wasn’t the one using “the humidity in 214 is bad for my hair” as an argument.” 

“I hate that room,” Harry muttered as you walked away. 

Well, that made two of you. 

—

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” you announced to your students. Sunshine flooded the room, casting light on their focused expressions. “You’re going to go through act one again and select a snippet of text so that we can discuss it, and you have to make it so your point —” A determined knock on the door interrupted you. Before you could say anything at all, about a dozen people entered room 103 as if it were expected from them to do so. Strangely, it took you a second too long to realize where you knew most of those faces from: three days ago, they were among your own students as they waited for their professor. One by one, they sat in rows on the floor just like they would in actual desks. None of them made a sound. “Make it so your point about the chosen quote is character-driven,” you continued, choosing to simply not acknowledge any disturbance for a moment. 

Still, there were twelve too many sets of eyes looking up at you. It was unsettling. For the next few minutes, there was a silent agreement between you and the Drama students; the lesson proceeded as they exchanged puzzled looks while pretending to skim the first act of Romeo and Juliet and you anxiously played with your cross necklace. What kind of sick mind game was Harry trying to play here? You wish you knew what reaction he was expecting, only so you could deliver the exact opposite of it. 

“You have ten more minutes,” you said, reminding your students. A few of them nodded as they took notes, but the people sitting on the floor remained quiet and still, eyes on you. “What do you want?” you blurted out. 

“What do you mean?” a girl asked, and you could tell they were expecting you to continue pretending they weren’t there until the lesson was over. Bingo. 

“I mean, what is your goal? Did your professor send you here just to spite me? Is he wasting your time as well as mine? Or are you supposed to learn something by attending my class without my previous consent?”

By then, your own students had dropped their books and were waiting for one of the Music kids to speak up. 

“Today’s lesson is about civil disobedience and other forms of rebellion and how they relate to the cultural and/or artistic aspects of music,” the same girl said. You couldn’t help but admire the way she took the lead, just as you couldn’t help but question Harry’s methodology. 

“What’s your name?”

“Kate.”

“Kate, don’t you think this exercise fails to convey the gravity of civil disobedience? The environment seems a little low-stakes, to be honest.”

“Having low stakes is what makes it an experiment, though,” someone else muttered from behind Kate. 

“You can speak up”, you said. “And yes, it’s an experiment, but it still feels too far-fetched, not even close to a parallel. Once you’re done with the lesson, you should let me know how Professor Styles managed to turn this into a Thoreau analogy. Maybe he should have just taught you how to play Another Brick In The Wall and called it a day.” 

Some of the Drama students snickered from their desks, but Harry’s class didn’t seem to find you amusing at all. Oh, well. You couldn’t please everyone. 

“Since you’re already here, you’re going to learn something. It’s unrelated to civil disobedience but that’s not really my fault, is it? Find a partner that’s actually enrolled in the class about narrative elements in Drama; work on the passage together, from a character-focused perspective, and see if you can relate any of it to your knowledge about art and culture in general. I’m certain someone has taught you about that, even if Professor Styles couldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, all twenty-four of them staring at you hesitantly. 

“Well? Get to work.”

And so they did. 

—

You zipped up your bag, mind already drifting to the bottle of wine and comfortable blankets waiting for you back home, when someone’s knuckles tapped the door to the classroom. It was neither 103, with its smooth stone walls onto which you could project any material necessary with perfect lighting, or 214, with its moldy smell, but a perfectly decent middle-ground. You had just taught your last lesson of the first week of the semester to a group of eager Literature first-years and even though you were much better at it now than when you first began, it wasn’t an easy job by any means. Shoulders aching with tension, you turned to the door. 

“No,” you said before Madeline could utter a single word. She was your sweetest colleague, and also technically your boss. Madeline was the head of the Literature department and the person who recommended you to the head of Drama when they needed someone to teach a couple of classes on the narrative aspects of plays the students would later perform. Even when you hesitated to take the job and said you weren’t experienced enough to do it, she wouldn’t take no for an answer; Madeline was the closest thing you had to a mother in Markham, always toeing the line between authority and encouragement. 

But she would have to take no for an answer now, because you knew that face. And contrary to her motherly status, she wanted you to go out for happy hour. “Just one drink,” she didn’t even bother denying it. “Everyone’s coming.”

“Everyone who?”

“Everyone!”

Everyone almost certainly didn’t involve faculty over 65, so that left you with less than ten people total. You decided not to bring it up since Madeline could get sensitive about age talk. She was 58 and absolutely outraged by people over 60 that started “acting like they had already dropped dead”. Her words. 

“Professor Styles will be there,” and then she wiggled her eyebrows. Oh my God.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said, offended, grabbing your purse. You turned off the lights and closed the door, all while she played dumb.

“Nothing, really,” Madeline said with a shrug. “Thought it might be nice to hang out with a fellow young intellectual, ‘s all.”

“Oh, spare me.” 

“You could also figure your shit out before HR needs to get involved,” she paused to see your reaction. There was none. “Just a thought.”

“HR? Are you for real?”

“No,” she said, honestly. “But the two of you can’t keep this up forever, honey. It’s entertaining to watch, but it looks exhausting. You should put an end to whatever this is, if only so you can have a little more peace of mind. You’re both smart people trying to get their job done, that’s all.”

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t want to fight Madeline on this. Harry was… complicated. You hadn’t seen him at all since yesterday’s class and even though you were proud of how you handled the situation at first, you couldn’t help but second guess every move you made while his students were in your classroom. Maybe you should have just made them leave. Maybe you shouldn’t have questioned Harry’s authority so explicitly by saying it was a bad exercise.Maybe you should have just pretended they weren’t there at all. Maybe you should have walked up to Harry himself and thrown a fit because he disturbed your lesson. 

But there was no use dwelling on what should have been. In the end, the lesson was actually productive. Fun, if you might say so yourself. His students proved themselves to be very reasonable people, and the contrast between their perspectives as musicians and those of your students, as actors or future playwrights, contributed to multiple interesting discussions.

“Just one drink,” you found yourself saying to Madeline, not that it mattered. You were already walking together towards the parking lot, where her car was, instead of your usual route. 

“That’s my girl.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked by her side, your black heels making it hard for you to walk on the gravel of the parking lot. The uncomfortable shoes, unfortunately, played a big part in your whole “fake it ‘till you make it” brand of confidence. 

—

The whole table shifted as you and Madeline walked into the pub. You could see Harry from the corner of your eye, fuzzy cream sweater and lilac pants, the shadow of laughter still on his lips from whatever joke was being told before you walked in. 

Two more chairs were placed at random spots, and before you could say anything you were squeezed in between Harry and another professor from the Music department, with Madeline four seats away. This had been a terrible idea. Your thighs were pressed together, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against your skin; there was no move you could make without somehow touching him. 

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, turning to you. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek. “Did you have a nice class yesterday?”

Despite all the imaginary fights you had with him on the last 30 hours, you smiled. Harry Styles had some nerve. “Which one? I teach a few classes everyday, Professor.”

He laughed under his breath even though you both knew you weren’t a particularly funny person. “You know what? You are adorable.”

You could feel your cheeks flaming instantly. He rendered you speechless for a couple seconds, each one making his smirk grow. You licked your lips and then, with less confidence than you’d like, you said: “I know. Still not as adorable as your little backfiring prank, though.”

“First of all,” he started, still with that damn smirk. “It wasn’t a prank, it was an exercise.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“It was! And it absolutely did not backfire. Shouldn’t you know what backfiring means? Aren’t you a book expert or whatever?” 

“Very cute, Styles.”

He murmured a ‘thank you’, choosing to ignore your dripping sarcasm. It drove you crazy. 

Someone cleared their throat, and you realized as soon as you looked up that the whole table was waiting for your order and most definitely paying attention to yours and Harry’s conversation. Your face burned even hotter while you stuttered out the name of your cocktail. 

Your first cocktail, that is. As a storm started outside, one drink turned into two, then three. 

“I should get going,” Madeline said at some point, half the table already gone. Even with all the extra space, you and Harry had shown no intention of moving. “Do you need a ride, honey?”

You thought of your empty kitchenette, a few miles south of Markham, and all the time it would take her to drive you home and back to her house, and her family, under such a downpour. A quick “No, thank you” and she was gone. You turned to the nearest window, your arm brushing Harry’s in the process, to watch the storm outside and figure out if the weather would make it impossible for you to leave, which meant you had made a terrible decision by declining the ride. Sure enough, it was pitch black and the rain was as violent as ever. Oh, well. 

“You have goosebumps.”

“Huh?”

“You have goosebumps,” Harry repeated himself, laughing a little. As opposed to you, he hadn’t had a single drink to slow his thinking. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” but you weren’t. Through your protests, he took the beige coat hanging on his chair and draped it across your shoulders. Once you shivered at the touch of his fingertips, there was no lying anymore.

 Harry raised an eyebrow, and you didn’t know what was more infuriating: his smirk, the amazing smell on his absurdly fashionable coat or your uncalled-for horniness, so you decided to ignore all of them. “There’s really no need, Styles,” you said quietly, already reaching to give him back his coat. “I need to get home.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not driving.”

“Well,” he scoffed. “Obviously.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly very glad you couldn’t see the drunk pout that had just formed in your lips. “Bye, then.”

He grabbed your hand before you could take off his jacket. “No. Let me take you.”

“No fucking way,” you protested. Realizing the three or four remaining coworkers at the table were paying attention to your conversation, you continued much more calmly: “Thank you, though.”

“Come on, Professor,” he teased. “I owe you this one, I guess.”

The gin made him sound so reasonable. He did owe you one, for being such a jerk at all times through the don’t-give-a-shit attitude and how he often brought up that stupid fucking night. Not to mention the 103 debacle and the disruptive prank. He owed you many, actually. 

“I guess?” It sounded more aggressive in your head, but that would do.

So you both said your goodbyes and left, his expensive coat hanging off your back while you walked to his expensive car, as if whatever was his were meant to be shared with you simply because you looked good in it. 

part 2 !

[mimssides]

Never Met You

Chapter 7: Peace

To fight for peace they need to lay down their weapons. To know peace, they need to recognize their enemies’ humanity. 

The throne room was deadly quiet. No one spoke, some almost didn’t dare to breath, as Logan Rayne and George Seymore stared at each other. The arrival of the king had been deadly quiet, the words exchanged cuttingly polite and superficial. Rarely Logan’s lips were pressed together so tensely in a smile. Rarely people could see King George force a grin for such a long time.

The formalities had taken up a good forty minutes at this point and Logan was glad that they had finally had moved on into the conference hall, where they would discuss the possible truce offerings. Janus was setting up the presentation of the current events at the shared boarder together with Jean Seymore, the older brother of the king who was acting as his right hand since he refused the throne years ago. The man was slick, sleazy and ruthless and Janus had expressed his dislike for him at least fifteen times a day since he had started working everything out with him.

Janus begins the presentation by giving a detailed account of the last few attacks and breaches that had happened at the north-eastern boarders in the last weeks and recounted all the reports of stolen and destroyed goods, the injured soldiers and the few hurt commoners who had been attacked by the forces.

Jean thanked him when he finished and began to add reports and sightings from the Raganian side of the conflict. Immediately he began to defend their people by putting the blame on the Theanan soldiers, who supposedly had irritated and mocked their soldiers until they simply had to react. It cost Janus all the nerves he had to not scratch his own eyes out because of the vibrant and ostentatious colours Jean’s lies produced.

“And thus, I thank the Theanan court for their attention and conclude my reports of the current events. I shall give the word back to His Majesty, the King of Theana,��� Jean said with a slimy bow and stood down.

Logan had listened to all of it with a neutral smile. He had expected the outcome and had prepared for the situation. And now the time had come for him to answer and bowed his head as Jean retreated and directed his attention towards George who was sitting on the other side of the table.

He looked stiff, wearing a deep violet coat with furred rims. His coal dark eyes were pulsating with power and anger which was barely veiled behind his expression. Logan needed to be careful with what he was going to say and especially how he was going to say it.

Calm but not without vigour in his voice Logan began to speak: “Thank you so much for your intel, Advisor Seymore. I apologize for the inappropriate behaviour my soldiers displayed and will them have investigated and put into place as we see fit. I hope that could be an acceptable first step to overcome our differences.”

George raised an eyebrow. Logan kept his expression straight and continued.

“As for the claim of Vallée du Tournesol; as far as the reports go the people there do not wish to be part of Ragan, but I will of course allow you to question them yourself to make sure that my claims are right.”

“And if these claims are right, you will keep the valley?” George countered coldly. “There is no economic use of the lands for you. It's on the other side of the Blue Mountain range, hard to access and cultivate. What I am offering you is a relief of those barren lands. And we both know that the people of Vallée du Tournesol are culturally closer to my kingdom than yours. They have always been. It will be easier for me to deal with them than it has ever been for you.”

“I don’t disagree with those claims, Your Majesty. Yet I will listen to what my people wish for. Even if their wish to stay with Theana were a burden for the kingdom, we can and will carry it, as long that is so desired.”

King Georges jaw was tense. Logan kept on smiling calmly.

“But I have an offer to make to you,” Logan said and waved one his advisors from the side who came with a scroll and displayed it in front of the gathered court. “Since you are right with your claim that the Vallée du Tournesol is very closely linked to the Raganian culture, I have drafted a new arrangement on the duty system on the boarders, which shall allow both neighbouring regions to cross the boarders without fees and waiting lists. Like that your concerns would be addressed and it also would allow our kingdoms to have a more prolific exchange between our cultures.”

Logan paused and folded his hands on top of the table. He had thought a long time about this next offer and hoped that it would be worth the risk he was taking right now.

“Also, I wish to enter an alliance with Ragan. It would entail the help in food, water as well as epidemic crisis and the support of our army in times of war. This arrangement can be exclusive if you wish so and we would be willing to stop our talks with Sictes and Kainen immediately if you are considering this offer.”

There was mumbling among King George’s council. Logan didn’t watch them. Jean broke off the rest of the council and walked up to George. He whispered something in his ear. Logan did not watch him.

Logan only watched his fellow king’s reaction. His chest ached when he saw the cold expression turning to ice.

“Where is His Royal Highness?”

Logan sighed and looked to the side where Green stood. He was still under the command to look after Roman but had been allowed to attend to this meeting. At Logan’s look he bowed his head and stepped forward.  Keeping his head low but turning slightly towards the foreign king the Raganian council laid eyes on him.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Roman,” Green stated evenly, “was excused from this meeting by the Court Physician as was stated in the greeting formalities. He is not in the state to attend.”

This was a lie. Janus had fabricated this excuse for Roman to stay out of this because Logan, Roman and he knew that it wouldn’t take much for Roman to become angry and unreasonable in King George’s presence. And yet he wished in this moment that Roman would have been here, as George clicked his tongue dismissively and waved Green to stand down.

“There is no talking sense with a guileless commoner playing king like you, Rayne. This talk is over,” King George announced and stood up.

The urge to scream and shout rippled through Logan’s body. Instead, he just stood. Smiled. Thanked the king for his visit and let them be accompanied outside of the castle.

***

 Old men were talking over each other and fighting about what would be best for Theana. Why had █████ ever thought that would be any different after he would be officially been crowned ████?

 With a subtle sigh he blended their shouting out and looked around the room. This was his first meeting with the military leaders and advisors since the coronation and the first meeting without Royal Advisor Jove. █████ had let him retire as he became ████ so Janus was now taking over almost all of the tasks Jove had still been doing for him. The military meetings were the only exceptions, which Janus would not attend and █████ felt a bit forlorn in all of this without his Royal Advisor by his side. At least like that he would have someone to joke with or make funny faces at when no one was looking.

 Now he had to settle with staring at Logan Rayne. The young advisor was sitting close to General La Cour, who was being rather quiet as usual. By now █████ knew that Logan had gone to the Mercier Acadamy and was a commoner who had with the help of scholarships and a brilliant mind worked his way up to the position he was now upholding. He had faced many obstacles and █████ was admittedly even more impressed by him after each new fact he learnt.

 The meeting was reaching its end and █████ was listening to several of the military men fighting about how the boundaries towards Ragan had to be secured more fiercely, as he noticed Logan lightly clenching his jaw and fists. A spark of curiosity got enlightened in █████’s eyes and with a simple motion of his hand he stopped the discussion. Immediately all men looked at him but he did not pay them any attention. He was completely focused on Logan.

 “Advisor Rayne,” █████ said and motioned towards him, “you seem to have something to say. Please correct me if I assumed wrong but otherwise, I would like to hear what you think about the proposition to raise the security measures by our boundaries towards Ragan.”

 All eyes were on Logan now who for once did not look as neutral and well put together as he usually did. █████ talking directly to him in favour of listening to all the others who had been talking was not the diplomatic thing to do and Logan felt a few unflattering stares thrown into his direction.

 “Advisor Rayne? Would you enlighten me?”

 Logan snapped out of it and bowed his head towards █████ before he explained: “I do not think that upping the security at the north-eastern boundaries will be useful.”

 Commander Tama was about to interrupt Logan right there but stopped as █████ held up his hand again and said: “I want you to let him speak. He at least knows how to be straight forward with his opinions.”

 And that was all the push Logan needed.

 Confidently, he continued: “After the coronation we have had a calmer and more idle relationship with Ragan than we had in many years. To return to the tense atmosphere from before would be inefficient as we can trade many goods with them and profit from the cultural exchange. This is our chance to strengthen our relationships with them and offer them to lessen the duty fees as a first step. I also could see an exchange program between our academies and universities, since their education and research systems are developed quite well and we could learn a lot from each other.”

 █████’s ears rang. This man-

 “This has nothing to do with military strategy,” Commander Zhao said.

 █████ wanted to speak up but Logan came before him and retorted coldly: “The military strategies you are thinking of belong to war times. I do not wish to think of or reach war times under any circumstances. My concern is to the people of this country and not to its army or the warfare industries. The ████ has made a point to focus on the education system, infrastructure and health services, which serve the people of Theana as well. Why not use these new resources instead of outdated and inefficient strategies that will lead to unnecessary conflicts and the potential losses of lives? We have good people who can and want to protect our country. They should be put to use helping within our boarders instead of protecting us from a non-existent threat from the outside. What you are talking about will not help our people nor do I think is it what our ████ wants for his country. Or am I mistaken, ████ ███████?”

 With his legs crossed and his hand resting thoughtfully on his chin █████ watched Logan intently. Then he pulled his hand away and revealed a wide smirk to the surprise and horror of the council. Except for Logan, who had not yet seen what this smirk could mean and was utterly clueless to what was to happen next.

 “You are not mistaken, Advisor Rayne. Your proposals and ideas are more than welcome and I will have them discussed at the next meeting. You may present all those points to me and the rest of the council. Of course, you may gather whoever you need for a committee and tell me which people you need to realize your projects. Is this acceptable to you, Advisor Rayne?”

 Logan’s heart was almost standing still. Or maybe it was beating too fast for him to feel it beat anymore. He couldn’t be sure as he simply agreed with █████’s conditions and stood up as the ████ announced that the meeting was to end now. But Logan did not go outside. He stood still as the others left besides █████ who was looking at him with a coy smile. As finally all had left █████ walked towards him and Logan’s brain decided to function again.

 “I am honoured that you gave me this opportunity, ████ ███████,” Logan said quickly and lowered his gaze.

 █████ wanted to tease him that he had been able to look at him before but let it be as a moment went by and instead decided give him a little space by looking towards the door of the conference hall.

 “I am sure you will do a wonderful job,” █████ said gently and saw how Logan raised his eyes a little from the corner of his eyes.

 There was a bit more movement and Janus was looking inside the hall, as he had waited for █████ to come out, when Logan began to speak: “I do not want to be ungrateful for what you give me but why did you want me to speak? I had not said a single thing before.”

 █████ turned his head back to Logan. Their eyes met and something intense was laying in the air.

 With a smile everything shifted.

 “Who do you serve?”

 Logan blinked.

 “Theana’s people and you, ████ ███████.”

 █████ snickered and squeezed Logan’s upper arm who looked at him with big eyes. Playfully, █████ tilted his head and pulled him to his side. He began walking towards Janus, who had a hard time to not start groaning at his ████’s behaviour.

 “You put the people before me, Rayne,” █████ said as Logan’s mind was still short-circuiting, “which makes you a truly great advisor. One I would love to work with you a bit closer, if you were open to that?”

 At that Logan halted in his step and sputtered in a high-pitched voice: “Pardon me?”

 █████ threw him a confused look until he noticed the deep flush over his nose and began to right out laugh to Janus’s dismay and amusement.

 “Oh, not like that!” █████ cackled with a suggestive eye wiggle and let go of Logan’s arm. “I meant that I wanted to give you a position as my personal military advisor, since Royal Advisor J- Celer doesn’t fill that role. If you would be interested in that, of course.”

 Logan looked up, still with a brightly flushed face but a little less tension in his shoulders and replied: “Oh, I will consider it, as it is quite a big responsibility I were to carry if I agree to this offer. Nevertheless, I am very honoured by your trust. I promise I will do anything in my power to not disappoint your trust in me, ████ ███████.”

 As Logan bowed █████ looked over his shoulder to Janus, who simply shook his head. Why did █████ always have to choose the hard and unconventional path in life, Janus thought as he watched █████ look fondly back to Logan and let himself smile a little.

 At least his job would never get boring.

***

Logan was pulled into a follow up meeting. They were talking about the entry of the soldiers, the first locations which would be put under attack and if they were to wait for the Raganian court to officially declare a first date for an upcoming battle at the frontier or if they should do so themselves.

To Logan most of it was a blur. His head was spinning and his mind fighting with the realization that had failed to keep the conflict form escalating. Theana’s people would suffer because he had not been able to mediate successfully and so many innocent people might die because of it. So much would be lost.

After two hours of sitting with his council, Logan excused himself. Green was again stationed with Roman and Janus was overseeing the current military meeting, which left Logan unsupervised for the first time in weeks. Quickly, he walked through the halls, avoiding all the well populated areas and eventually ended up in a storage room in the proximity of the kitchen. He slammed the door behind him and paced around flour sacks and dried meats while panting and pulling at his hair.

Once more Logan began to feel faint and he hoisted himself on a chest. He didn’t understand and he felt the nausea come up again. Since weeks this had messed with his head and health and he did no longer know what to do. He had managed to keep Janus’s question away but he didn’t dare to go to the Court Physician now. Not when the conflict with Ragan was escalating. They couldn’t have a weak king. They couldn’t have a king who was about to cry in a storage room, because his head was dizzy, his heart ached and his lungs burned.

Yet before a tear could fall from his eyes, the noise from something falling off the shelf yanked Logan back into reality and he stood up immediately. He ignored the dizzy feeling and cleared his throat.

“Who is here?” Logan boomed through the small room.

The sound of a tiny whimper dissolved any spark of anger Logan had felt in the moment. Quickly he stepped around the shelves, looking for the source of the little cries. And soon he found what he was looking for. Behind a shelf full of jars of jams, between two potato sacks he found a little boy who he had seen once before.

Through curly brown locks little Patton glimpsed up to him, several food items pressed fearfully against his chest. Had it been anyone else who had hidden in this storage room with Logan, he had asked them how they got here, what they intended to do and then called for the guards. But it was Patton who was sitting there on the floor and Logan would not ask him those things or send him away. Instead, he slowly crouched down a little ways away from the boy. He made sure there was enough space for Patton to get past him if he wished to do so.

“That was a little loud, wasn’t it?” Logan said gently and watched Patton immediately relax. “I meant to ask who is here but it seems like I have found my answer between the potatoes.”

Patton giggled a little and carefully came out of hiding between the potato sacks. He wiped his nose with his arm and walked towards Logan. A bit clumsily, Logan sat down and Pat knelt down in front of him. Silently Logan watched as Patton put down five apples in a neat line. Next, he put a tissue on the floor and looked up to Logan with big eyes.

“I know I should not take things from the castle. It is forbidden and bad. But I was going to share with some other kids in the orphanage and these looked really, really, really good,” Patten explained bashfully and put two muffins and a cupcake on the tissue.

Logan was about to reassure Patton that he was not in trouble for taking two muffins and a cupcake from the kitchen when a growl cut him off. With a flushed face Logan pressed his hands over his stomach which growled again with hunger.

“You should not skip lunch, Sir Will Suffice!” Patton said decidedly and shot Logan an impressively scolding look for a five-year-old.

Taken aback and still embarrassed Logan replied sheepishly: “I didn’t skip lunch. I don’t know why I am hungry again.”

But maybe that explained why he was feeling a little dizzy and nauseous. His blood sugar might be too low.

“Maybe you’re growing!” Patton pulled him out of his thoughts. “That’s what Ms Anouilh always says when I am super hungry! It’s because my body needs food to grow and make me taller and stronger. Did you know that, Sir Will Suffice?”

Logan could not help himself and smile.

“I actually did know that. Yet I don’t believe that would be the case for me, as I have stopped growing a few years ago. But did you know that the body does not only need food to grow but also to have energy and function adequately?”

“So, you mean that you might be hungry because you already used all your energy? For the big meeting with King George?” Patton said with a concentrated frown.

Logan blinked. The public did know of the meeting but it was a little odd that a five-year-old would know of it. He was about to ask when Patton stood up and stretched his hand out for him. With big eyes he pointed to the side where Logan had come from and said: “If you are tired you should probably sit more comfortably! Come let’s go to your box! Mr Green would want that for you!”

Logan let out a brief laugh and got up with a grunt. He kept holding Patton’s hand and let the boy lead him around the shelves back to the chest he had been sitting on. As Patton wished, he sat back down and watched as Patton went forth and back between the shelves to gather his food and bring it over to Logan. Lastly, he brought the muffins and the cupcake and looked at them intensely for a moment before he eventually held one muffin out to Logan.

“I can share with you. We have enough food in the orphanage and I am sure I can come on another day to get some treats,” Patton explained and put the muffin in Logan’s hand as he didn’t reach for it.

Perplexed Logan looked down at the muffin and then back up to Patton. The boy smiled and took the other one in his hand and climbed next to him. Happily, he let his legs dangle down and held his muffin up as if he was toasting Logan.

“Bon appétit!” Patton said and Logan finally toasted back with his muffin and took a bite.

Before Logan knew it the muffin was gone and he realized that he had really been hungry and still could eat some more. As if Patton had read his mind, he looked at the cupcake and simply handed I over to him. There was more hesitance in the gesture than before and Logan took out the knife he usually hid in his boot. With a handkerchief he wiped over the blade and then cut the cupcake in half. With a grin he pushed one half towards Patton and took the other one for himself.

It didn’t take the two of them a minute to eat their halfs and Patton soon asked Logan to cut the apples into slices. Logan obliged and Patton watched fascinatedly how he was handling the blade. Logan took the opportunity to ask what had been on his mind.

“Did Mr Green tell you of the meeting of today, or was there another reason for you to be aware of it?”

“Mr Green told me!” Patton answered and took an apple slice. “I was with him last night and he explained to me that today was a very important talk between you and King George. It decides over the fate of this kingdom he said and that is pretty scary. I don’t know if I would want to have talks that decide over the fate of a kingdom. That’s really scary.”

Logan hummed and dried his blade from the apple remains. Quietly, he put the knife back in his boot and took a slice for himself.

“It is quite scary indeed. But it is my duty as king to face it nevertheless.”

Patton nodded and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

“Is there going to be a war?”

Logan gulped. He glimpsed over to Patton. He looked at him with big watery eyes and concern that should never be visible in a child’s face. Logan had failed. Failed protecting his kingdom and this child.

“I am afraid so, yes.”

Patton did not start crying. Instead, he dug his fingers into the fabric of his pants and balled his fists forcefully. Logan slid closer to him and put his hand on his back. Slowly, Patton leaned against his side and Logan just drew circles on his back. It was all he could do right now.

“Will Green have to fight in it?”

Tears began to drop from Patton’s cheeks and Logan gently lifted his face and wiped them away. His guard had gotten close to Patton over the past month. Green had mentioned Patton ever so often, always joy and fondness in his words when he spoke. Janus and Virgil, both had told him that the kid frequently visited him and how they played together close to the stables.

“I understand that Green is very important to you?” Logan asked softly and Patton nodded. “I do not plan on sending him to the front. He will stay with me but that will be dangerous as well, I’m afraid. But I will frequently remind him that he needs to be careful so that he can come back to you. Do you think that would help?”

Instead of an answer Patton shot forward and hugged Logan ferociously as a wave of whimpers and tears shook through him. Logan held him close. He could barely imagine the pain Patton was going through. Finally, this orphan had found the first real parental figure in his life only for him to lose him right away in a senseless war. How was this fair? How was this real? Logan didn’t know and pulled Patton on his lap to hug him properly. Patton didn’t resist and let his king hold and cradle him fiercely as he slowly calmed down.

Eventually, Patton was quiet but for a few sniffles. His head was laying against Logan’s chest and he listened to his heartbeat and a few grumbly noises Logan’s stomach made. Patton blinked and wiped his eyes dry. No more crying he decided and opened the little satchel he had been carrying with him. Inside he had Green’s surprise from yesterday evening. He checked if it was still there and then cautiously put the satchel down next to him and slipped from Logan’s lap.

There had been jam on the shelves and the whole kingdom knew that their king really liked jam. Quickly, he walked around and found the shelf with the jam in question and carefully took one jar out of it. He looked on the label but couldn’t quite make out if it was a picture of a strawberry or a raspberry. Both were good enough he decided and walked back to the chest and his king.

“Could you take out the spoon I have in my satchel Mr Will Suffice?” Patton asked and Logan opened it with a frown.

He seemed surprised when he actually found a wooden spoon amongst the clutter in the little bag as well as something wrapped in several napkins. Yet before Logan could ask Patton took the satchel back. He gave Logan the jar and then fished the thing in the napkin out of his bag. Very carefully he began to unwrap it and finally Logan could see what was hidden under it.

“Sugar cookies?” Logan asked incredulously.

Patton grinned and nodded. Quickly he motioned for Logan to open the jar and explained in the meantime: “Green made them for me yesterday! He said it was a gift because I have been so nice to him but I know that he just likes giving me things. He knows I don’t have a lot of stuff and I am very excited about anything that he can give me. So that is pretty cool. And because your tummy is still making noises, I thought we could share some! Did I bring raspberry or strawberry jam? I can’t see it on the label.”

Logan needed a moment to catch himself. He didn’t know why but his head somehow got stuck on the first sentence.

“Green bakes?” Logan asked with a flushed face and opened the jar with a pop.

Patton shot him a strange look and then took the jam out of Logan’s hand and began to scoop some of it on the cookies.

“Mhm, but he just started! He says he isn’t that good yet but I like it a lot! I know he tries very hard.  He has also told me to share things if I can. He says that it’s annoying but it’s more fun to share,” Patton explained and handed Logan a cookie with jam on it.

A bit of the jam got stuck on Logan fingers but he could not bring himself to mind. Instead, his mind clung on the picture of Green sitting in front of the stove, waiting for his cookies to bake and tapping his fingers on his knee as his patience ran out. But eventually, Logan managed to focus again and looked at the cookie in his hands. Just smelling the jam made his mouth water a little and he knew he could not resist the temptation much longer.

“You can eat it! I still don’t know if it’s strawberry or raspberry though,” Patton said and Logan glimpsed down to the jar between the two.

A fairly big picture of a raspberry was on the label and he told Patton as much. The boy took the jar and held it closely in front of his face. Logan did not comment on it but knew that he would have his optician visit the orphanage and pay for the glasses these children most likely needed.

When Patton had put the jar back down and took his own cookie, Logan toasted to him gently: “Thank you for sharing with me. I am sure it will be berry good.”

The joyous giggling from the little boy almost made him stop cringing at his own bad pun. When Patton had quieted down again, they began to eat their dangerously sweet sugar cookies and Logan felt himself being thrown into heaven. He definitely needed Green to hand the recipe to his cook so he could have more of those. He really wanted more of those.

As Logan took his third one, making sure to not take more than Patton, Patton said: “I think Green will be very happy that you like his baking. He talks about you a lot.”

Logan almost choked but managed to keep himself from doing so and asked: “Is that so?”

“Mhm. He says you are a very good king. Very kind and forgiving. I think he really believes in you. I think he missed you a little when he had to guard Prince Roman. He talked more about you then.”

Logan listened closely and stopped chewing when Patton gave him a very firm look.

“I think he likes likes you.”

Logan almost spit out his food, which Patton ignored and mercilessly continued: “And I think you should like like him back. He is very good at hugging and he knows the best way of how to clean pans now. I showed him!”

“Really?” Logan coughed with a squeaky voice. “That’s great, Patton.”

“Yah! And also, also you like to have him around too, right? That’s why you want him to stay with you for the big fighting! Because you don’t want anything to happen to him!”

A few moments with some more coughing from Logan passed. Then there was quiet. Logan sighed and slid from the chest down on the floor. He knelt down to look Patton directly in the eyes and cupped his cheek with one hand.

“Such things require time and devotion, Patton. Love of any kind needs to be cultivated and cherished. And to do that all parties involved need to devote time and effort for the others. And as king, especially in this situation, I have to be fully devoted to my kingdom. I have to be devoted to you. I have to be devoted to him to and make sure I will do my very best to lead us all through this crisis. I cannot simply choose to give all my time to him, Patton. I cannot be selfish in this position. Not when so many lives are at stake.”

The look in Patton’s face was heart-breaking. But Logan usually went with the truth and he would not make an exception here. Especially not with Patton who seemed to be far smarter and wiser than many kids his age. Or maybe Logan simply didn’t know that many kids his age.

“It is very admirable of you to wish him and me a happy ending, Patton,” Logan tried to soften his approach. “I am thankful that you care for us, but that is not your job. You are still a kid and should have nothing to worry about but your friends and what you want to play next, okay?”

Patton nodded. He didn’t seem convinced but apparently had accepted his explanation. Logan let his hand sink from Patton’s cheek and rested both of his hands on his shoulders. Patton’s eyes seemed so heavy and Logan felt himself almost cooing at the sleepy expression.

“Can you hold me? Your hugs are pretty nice too,” Patton said and stretched his arms out for Logan.

With a little chuckle Logan scooped Patton up and got on his feet. Like a koala Patton clung to Logan and began to drift off the second Logan began to walk around. Softly, Logan kept swaying Patton in his arms and felt him growing heavier and heavier in his arms. He walked back to the chest and sat down with is kid in his arms. Gently he adjusted his weight and Patton nuzzled against his chest.

“When the war ’s over, can you ask him?” Patton mumbled.

“Ask who what?”

“If Green wants cuddling, you silly!” Patton sleepily giggled and closed his eyes. “I think Green would love being held like this.”

Logan didn't think it was fair for Patton to be able to fall asleep after saying that and leaving him a blushing mess with a little kid in his arms. The image of Green in his arms, head on his chest and his hands tangled in his long hair felt almost like a memory instead of a vivid daydream and Logan had a hard time to ban the picture out of his mind again.

It helped that Patton snored tiny whistle snores and took Logan’s mind of thoughts and feelings for Green which he would not name at this point in time. He just kept focusing on the Patton in his arms and felt himself slowly feel heavier too.

Today had been a terrible day. He had a war at his hands, his people, his friend and family would be forced to fight for no reason but the stubbornness of a man who did not wish to listen to reason. So many children like Patton must be worried for their parents and trusted guardians who were going to fight for their kingdom. He had never wished for this to happen.

Enveloped in his thoughts Logan had lost track of time. He didn’t think of the fact that there was a meeting which he had walked out of, that there was Janus who worried about him constantly these days. He didn’t think of the fact that Janus could have started looking for him already and had told Green and Virgil to do the same as he had no idea where the king could be.

Logan didn’t hear the door opening as he watched Patton’s sleeping face. He almost didn’t hear the steps that were approaching. But suddenly he registered them and looked up. He had not expected Green to be standing there with his mouth wide agape and staring at Patton on his lap.

“Is he asleep?” Green whispered.

Logan found himself simply nodding and stood up. He noticed how Green looked him over and realized that he might look a little messy from his own agitated hair pulling and the snacking with Patton. He opened his mouth to excuse himself but the words died on his tongue when he saw the smile bloom on Green’s face as he looked closer at Patton.

So, Logan walked up to him and gently gave him the boy, quickly fixed his own hair and made sure that nothing was sticking to his face anymore. Green was preoccupied swaying Patton and waited until his king stood by his side before he took Patton’s little satchel and left the room with Logan by his side.

“How long have I been away? I had no indication of time in the storage room,” Logan said keeping his voice low.

“Close to an hour by now. The Royal Advisor got antsy,” Green explained and shot a look to Logan. “I don’t mean to intrude, so ignore that I even asked if I am out of line, but is there a reason why you were eating jam with Pat in there?”

For a moment Logan said nothing and Green expected that his question had been too intrusive.

“My blood sugar seemed to have dropped a bit during today’s events. Patton advised that I ate something.”

Laugher. Bright and loud laugher echoed from the wall and Logan stood still as he watched Green’s face light up. Something clenched in his chest but it didn’t hurt. It felt familiar and he wanted it to stay.

“He can get quite bossy, this little one! I hope he didn’t pressure you too much, Your Majesty.”

Logan shook his head and smiled at Green. He didn’t get to say more as Janus and Virgil appeared around the corner and asked what had happened. Logan didn’t go into detail and only vaguely hinted at Patton. He asked Green to bring him back to the orphanage and question him later on how he got into the castle undetected. Green agreed and Logan went back with Janus for his meeting.

The day kept on going with preparations and scheduling the next few days. Logan didn’t find time to do much but agree and listen to his advisors until it was already late and he headed back to his chamber. But there was still one thing left to do and he turned away around and got to Janus’s quarters.

He walked by his room, voices quietly talking from the inside and he rolled his eyes and headed to his office. As expected the light was on and with one knock Logan entered.

“Virgil I’m com-” Janus stopped as he turned around in his seat to see Logan stand there.

Before Janus could say anything else, Logan stepped inside and closed the door. He smiled at him and raised his eyebrows.

“I won’t keep you long. They must be awaiting you in your room,” Logan said and walked closer to his desk.

Janus shifted a bit in his seat but kept his face blank. It didn’t do anything to hide his embarrassment, not from Logan at least, but Logan was not going to point it out. Not when he had a favour to ask.

Janus crossed his legs as he waited and realized after a few moments that no request would come. Curiously he watched his king. His friend. Right now, Logan seemed not to wear the burden of the crown but the burden of a man and Janus wanted to know what that was.

“What can I do for you, Logan?”

Logan leaned against the desk and intertwined his hand in front of him. He almost looked sheepish.

“Do you think Roman still needs Green as a guard? Or could I have him back with me?”

Logan met Janus’s eyes as he asked but lowered his gaze when Janus didn’t say anything. He sighed and walked away from the desk. Maybe he was being foolish. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

“Why are you asking for my opinion? You are the king, Logan. You can have whoever you want as your guard,” Janus said.

He headed towards the door and looked over his shoulder to Janus. Why did he ask for Janus’s opinion? For his permission?

“Of course,” Logan said and opened the door to leave, “don’t stay up too long. They’ll be worried.”

Somehow that phrase didn’t sound like it had been meant for Janus.

___

Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream, V

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count:7, 733

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way; He doesn’t fumble the chance to touch her, and so he presses a hand to the small of her back and follows her as she sways, humming the song that’s playing, is it the way you love me, baby? is it the way you love me, baby?, ignoring the obvious implication as they move. She puts her face in to the crook of his neck, inhales the clean scent of him. His sweater is soft and he’s hard against her, humming along too. They shouldn’t be like this, here, but Iris is starting to get caught up in it, their story. (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

The Way

Woke up this morning

With a smile on my face

Barry: I had to look for crime clues at the bottom of a snake pit today. Hope your day was better than mine.

Iris: Well, I had to go off on a freshman student for coming at me about her shitty article, so not likely.

Barry: Yeah? Did it get physical?

Iris: Don’t be a cliche.

Barry: :)

Barry: Watched an episode of this Bridgerton show you like. I don’t get the hype.

Iris: Two words: Simon Bassett

Barry: Hmm.

Barry: I’m certain I look better.

Iris: Don’t lie to yourself like that.

Barry: Damn. Burn.

Iris: How will you ever recover?

Barry: I’m sure if I get you spread out over my face, I could.

Barry: And get you to forget about Simon Bassett too.

Iris:

Barry: Iris?

Iris: Sorry; I spilled my coffee.

Iris: I’ve thought of my next question.

Barry: Yeah?

Iris: What would be an ideal date for you?

Barry: Any one that you’re on with me.

Iris: That’s a cop out answer, Bear.

Barry: Bear?

Iris: I’m trying it out.

Barry: I can get behind that. Bears are polite dicks, right?

Iris: I hate you.

Barry: I’ve got a couple of scratches on my neck that prove you don’t.

Iris:

Barry: Baby?

Iris: Be serious. Ideal date.

Barry: I am.

Barry: You make me smile, Iris. You’re pretty and kind, even if you get a little grumpy sometimes. I’ve had a great time with you, when we’re walking around or having dinner or eating sandwiches by the lake. When we’re getting high or having sex.

Barry: And I want to keep getting to know you. So I am being serious. My ideal date is any one that you’re on with me.

Iris: How am I supposed to even respond to that.

Iris: Be ready on Tuesday at 6. Can you swing it?

Barry: I can.

Iris: Dress a little dressier than casual.

Barry: Did you get them?

Iris: Yes, Barry, they’re beautiful. What are they?

Barry: They’re called camellias.

Iris: I was very surprised to see them on my porch when I got home. And I love the vase too.

Iris: Really. Thank you. I don’t think anyone has ever gotten me flowers before.

Barry: Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you. I can’t wait to see you on Tuesday, baby.

Iris: Me either, Bear.

Iris: I think I still smell you on my couch, and I cleaned it. That’s ridiculous, right?

Barry: Only if me being able to still smell you on my fingers is.

Iris: What are you doing to me, Barry?

Barry: Nothing you aren’t already doing to me.

Barry: I was grinning down at my phone earlier and Chester and Cisco started giving me shit about you.

Barry: They told me I’m whipped.

Iris: Better than your boss announcing in her office that she’s glad you’re apparently getting good sex.

Barry: You are.

Iris: 🙄

Iris: Not lately.

Barry: Soon, baby.

Barry: And Iris?

Iris: Yeah?

Barry: I am.

Barry: Whipped.

“Who’s on the phone?”

It’s another Sunday night, a week after she’s last seen Barry. Mid-term prep and a triple homicide case have kept them both busy. They’ve exchanged a few text messages throughout the week and have tried to meet up for coffee once, though their schedules didn’t align.

She’s done her usual Sunday cleaning routine since she didn’t get a chance the week before and she’s even taken the time to condition and twist out her hair instead of flat ironing it as she normally would. Now, she sits back in one corner of her sofa, Law & Order: SVU playing in the background on the television and Linda and Wally sitting on the other side of the couch and in the armchair, respectively. Her laptop is in her lap and she’s cleaning up her “Loving” post before she officially posts it. Linda is writing, likely working on her new manuscript, and Wally is doing homework, books laid out on the arm of the chair and on the floor too.

She doesn’t answer right away because she’s unsure if she’s ready to tell yet. They’ve been texting all week and Iris feels even more like a teenager with a crush. She’s been going to bed with images of him in her head, of his kiss and his touch and the fact that he really did make her come all over his face on a blanket outside by the lake. And she can’t ignore the fact that she likes him. He’s funny and the likable kind of asshole and he says these sweet things that catch her off guard every. single. time. The flowers he’d dropped off when she was still at work on Friday are sitting on the counter, a mix of red and white flowers with open petals, short stems, and big green leaves.

“Iris?”

“Hmm?” She looks up from the last messages, I am. Whipped., and it’s to stare at her brother and best friend, who are watching her back. “What?”

“Who’re you texting?”

“I’m not texting anyone.”

“For a storyteller,” Linda says, “you are a horrible liar.”

“Take the phone, Linda,” Wally says, and Iris looks over at him, appalled. Wally is a handsome kid, 20 going on 37, with skin the same dusky shade as Iris’s and dark brown eyes, his hair tapered on the sides and higher, curlier on the top.

“What do you mean take my phone?”

Linda carefully sets her laptop to the side, and before Iris can ask another question, Linda jumps over to the side of the couch, reaching for Iris’s phone.

“Get away from me, you idiot,” Iris screams, and with Wally’s encouragement, Linda climbs onto Iris’s lap and snatches the phone from her hand. Wally hops up from his own seat to hold Iris down so that Iris can’t get up. She tries to struggle against him, but it’s no use. For a limber thing, Wally is strong.

“Who is it?”

As Iris makes note of the fact that she should definitely change her phone passcode, she settles under her brother’s hold as Linda looks through her phone.

“We’re gonna have to talk about privacy,” she grumbles.

Luckily, the text messages don’t go back as far as she’s known Barry, but unfortunately, there’s no hiding their budding relationship.

“Who is Barry?” Linda says, eyebrows raised high as she slides through. “And where can I get one?”

“You already have one,” Iris replies dryly.

“I guess,” Linda says, “But Dan’s not telling me he wants me to spread out on his face in a text message.”

“Iris!” Wally shouts.

“Wally is too young to hear all of this,” Iris tries.

“Oh please,” Linda says. “Let’s not forget that I caught him and that Johnathan guy hooking up in a closet at your dad’s house. Your little brother was on his knees.” That she adds with a saucy little grin.

“Can we actually not talk about me or the apparent fact that my sister’s getting tongued down by someone named Barry?”

“I’m okay with that.”

Linda bounces back to her side of the sofa, still holding on to Iris’s phone. “Well, I’m not. I mean, Wally I am 100% fine with never seeing you deepthroat a dick again. But I do want to know why my best friend is apparently out here pussy whipping white men named Barry and I don’t know about it.”

“How do you know he’s white?”

She gets the eye from both Linda and Wally.

“Okay, fine. He’s white. But he’s really nice.”

“Alright.” Linda catches her gaze and holds it, her brown eyes curious and, if Iris isn’t mistaken, a little sad. She glances over at the still beautiful bouquet of camellia flowers. “So he’s white and nice and he’s apparently buying you flowers too. Tell me more.”

Maybe this is what she needs, some girl-talk. There’s no real reason that she hasn’t told Linda about Barry, other than they haven’t really had real time to talk since their brunch a couple of weeks back. Well, and maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s the reality that she doesn’t know what’s happening with her and Barry, not really, and (in her head) there’s a sort of taboo about speaking on it, about making it real when it isn’t.

“He’s…” she starts, and then she pauses. “I need wine for this.”

“Me too!” Wally says as she disappears into the kitchen. She hears Linda tell Wally that he’s still not 21, even though his birthday is only a couple of weeks away, and so he can’t drink, but Iris pours up three glasses of the red wine on her counter anyway. There’s no telling what the conversation will bring.

She carefully takes the glasses back to the living room. The other two have fully abandoned their work and are sitting on the sofa waiting for her. They both make grabby hands for the wine and she passes the glasses over before plopping down in the middle of them.

“Okay, first things first,” Wally starts. “How’d you meet him?”

“I went out dancing,” she answers. “I guess a few weeks ago at this point. And…”

“A few weeks?” Linda interrupts.

Iris sips from her glass to avoid making eye contact after the bit of ire in Linda’s tone.

“Yeah,” she continues after a pause. “I went out and we came back here. He was gone the next morning and I thought that was it. But then he showed up a week later and we hung out again. I saw him at the Fall Fest after our brunch, Linda, and we had dinner. Last Sunday, he took me on a picnic.”

“Okay,” Linda says, “but tell me about him.”

“I don’t know; he’s…” she searches for what to say, to put words to the ways she’s been seeing him in her head, to the way she’s been feeling him in her heart. “Maybe nice is too easy a word because he’s not really nice. He’s polite; like he pays for meals and he walks me to my car and he says please. But he’s also got a little oomph to him, ya know. Like he doesn’t look like it, but he’s a little bit, a little commanding, and…”

“Wait, what do you mean commanding? Like is he trying to tell you what to do? Because…”

“No, Wally. I mean like...”

“In the bedroom?” Linda guesses and Iris nods. “Nice.”

“Good for you,” Wally says.

She waits until they’re done laughing at her irritated expression.

“Sorry,” Linda says. “He’s a freak. What else?”

“I don’t know. He’s kinda funny. Like, he doesn’t tell jokes but he’ll say something to try to push my buttons and it makes me laugh. Or he’ll laugh at himself and that makes me laugh too. And even though you can tell he’s pretty confident in himself, there are still these instances where he’s a little awkward and he blushes and it’s...sweet.” And he makes me feel a little less lonely, she doesn’t add, and like he could be someone that I could come to count on.

Her brother and best friend are both quiet after this and when Iris looks from one to the other, she frowns.

“What?”

“Iris, you like him.” This from Linda.

“It’s only been a couple of dates,” she deflects.

“Yeah,” Wally agrees, “and he’s already calling you baby.”

Linda hums. “That might have a little to do with the pussy whipping.”

“Yes, that makes sense.”

“In any case,” Linda says, before Iris can respond. “If he’s all of this, why are you keeping it a secret?”

“Because I don’t know what we’re doing. I thought it was just sex. I mean he came back over after the first time for sex. But now, it’s, it’s…”

“More?” Linda tries.

“Right.”

“And you’re afraid that it’s gonna end before it even starts.”

Iris doesn’t know how Linda does it. She’s always been able to see right through Iris, in a way that would be scary if she didn’t appreciate it so much. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? Iris is scared because it’s only been weeks and she likes this guy so much already. Even after their first night, when Iris was sure she’d never see him again, she’d felt a stirring of something in her gut, something strong and big and, and important. And it doesn’t make any sense, because all they’ve really done is have sex, albeit phenomenal sex, and talk about their hobbies a little. But she’s feeling feelings she’s never felt before and it’s all a bit...much. Feelings like this don’t last. They falter or they change, turning into things undefinable, charged, angry.

“It’s too soon, though, right?” She tries. “Like, we still don’t even really know each other and…”

“Don’t do that, Iris,” Wally interrupts, his voice a warning.

“Do what?”

“Think about ending it,” Linda says. “Ride it out. I know you have this need to try to figure out how things will end. And I can understand that. But, Iris, this man likes you. He’s telling you his feelings. And you obviously like him. So let that be okay for now. Trust that.”

Iris is not expecting the cute one-story modern farmhouse she pulls up to. It’s made of gray brick and white shiplap and there’s a flower garden on either side of the walkway that leads to the porch. A swinging chair hangs on one side of the porch and a couple of rocking chairs sit on the other and if Barry wasn’t already walking out of the house when she stopped her car in front, she might think she was at the wrong place.

The weather has gotten cooler in the evenings and so he’s dressed in a pair of dark plaid slacks that fit to the long length of him and a sift black sweater. She stifles a hysterical giggle at how it matches her own white cashmere sweater tucked into a black pleated skirt that hems just under her knees. She watches him stroll to her car and climb in.

“I was gonna come to the door and get you,” Iris says. “Like on a proper date.”

He shoots her a grin, cheeks pink. “I, uh, I was excited to see you.”

She hears Linda in her head saying, ‘you obviously like him; let that be okay for now,’ and so she smiles at Barry.

“You’re so sweet, it’s irritating.”

He gives her a wider dorky grin and she can’t help but smile back, wider than before.

“And this house is really nice.”

His smile turns softer, sadder. “Yeah. It was my parents’. Just want to keep it nice for them.”

“Well I don’t know if you’ve turned the inside into a dungeon, but you’re certainly keeping it nice outside.”

“Thanks, Iris. I’ve learned that I’ve got quite the green thumb trying to keep it up.” He wiggles his hands at her as she’s putting the car into drive and pulling off.

“Wait, so you tend to garden yourself?”

He nods. “Yeah. Both of my parents were into gardening. Well, my mom really liked flowers but she couldn’t really make anything grow. So she got my dad into it and he could, which annoyed her to no end.”

Iris shoots him a soft grin. “Is that what the tattoo is about? I’ve been wondering.”

“Yeah. I get two new flowers every year, one on my mom’s birthday and the other on the anniversary of her death.”

“That’s really sweet, Barry.”

She turns her attention back to the road. A man who, in addition to what she’s seen so far, is committed to keeping his mother’s memory alive? Yeah, she’s fucked.

Greenwood Art Gallery has only been open for a few months. A nod to the name of the neighborhood down in Tulsa that was once the home of a Black cultural and economic mecca, the art gallery features art by Black artists across the diaspora. Tonight is the opening night of a new artist showing, a young woman named Lauryn Morgan who’s a Central City native. Iris and Wally had gone together to their first showing, a curated collection of art focusing on Black American culture through the centuries. The showing tonight is called “The Way,” and is a series of art, canvas paintings and mixed-media prints, that focus on love in all of their forms.

The gallery is in a beautiful space in a reconstructed warehouse. There are a few exposed brick walls, but the place is largely filled with white walls and great lighting, art taking up every corner of the room. There is a large crowd there, when Iris walks through the front door with Barry at her side. Her black pumps have a silver ankle chain and a tall stiletto heel that puts her to his shoulder, and would make it easier to reach out and grab his hand. She doesn’t. Not yet, at least.

They stop first by a bar set up in one corner of the room. It’s a pretty wooden structure manned by two women in black dresses, both of their hair in locs and falling down their backs. The song for which the artist’s collection is named is playing from a speaker, Jill Scott’s sultry, smiling voice making the words jumped out of bed, took a shower, dressed; cleaned up my place; made me some breakfast, toast; two scrambled eggs, grits; grabbed my keys, grabbed my purse; grabbed my jacket, off to work; beaming all the way down third sound like some sort of ode to life and love. Iris insists on paying for their first glass of wine since it is her date, and they bicker good-naturedly about it as they wait for one of the bartenders to pour over full glasses of the chilled white wine.

“I’m paying for the next one,” Barry tells her, and she just shakes her head, mumbling “we’ll see” as she takes the glass from the brown-skinned woman with a smile.

“I’ve been wanting to come here,” Barry says as he presses a hand to her lower back as they move further into the room. It’s packed; the crowd seems like the normal art crowd around Central City, twenty- and thirty-somethings dressed in everything from tulle skirts to ripped jeans and boots to full on suits. The sea of faces run the line in skin color, from darker than chocolate and paler than vanilla and then all of the flavors in between. It’s one of the things she finds fascinating about Central City, an idea that is pushed every time she writes a new story about the power of people coming together, pushing stereotypes, making targeted efforts to understand.

“My brother and I came when it first opened,” she answers. “But I’ve been reading up on this artist and I’m really excited to see her work.”

Barry nods. “Thanks for wanting to share it with me.”

“Art is just another way that people tell stories,” she gives a little shrug. “And Black stories are extremely important to me.”

He gives her that look that he does, that wondering, curious sort of look, as if he’s always trying to understand what lies beyond the surface to what she isn’t actually saying. Maybe that is what he’s doing. Because then he nods again and smiles before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I hear you,” he says seriously. “And I want to learn about that, to celebrate that.”

And well, okay then.

“What’s the story behind this one, do you think?”

It’s the first time Barry has really engaged with her. He’s been content to follow her from painting to painting, making small comments about how he likes this one or that one, but otherwise just following, watching. They started at one end of the exhibit, where it had been a little crowded and they moved along the lines of the walls, stopping at the ones placed haphazardly in the middle of the room too.

The art has been phenomenal, some platonic or familial, others romantic or erotic. She’s seen some featuring groups of Black women of various shades at a wine night or reading in a library; Black men playing pickup basketball or talking smack at the barbershop. She’s smiled at the ones that remind her of when she and Wally would sit on the couch watching movies or when her dad would try to comb her hair before he decided to just shell out money to get her hair professionally done.

The romantic canvas paintings have been her favorite: the one of a man and a woman dancing, their faces out of the frame, their bodies aligned and in shadows, the viewer understanding that this is not only a dance; another of two women lying in bed, one woman’s dark breasts bared, the other with a sheet covering the curve of her hip, the love evident in their pleased expressions; yet another of two men, standing in an embrace in the light of a window, towels tucked into their waists, the one with waist-length locs tucked into the neck of one with a high fade. It goes like this, with the mixed media prints of individuals celebrating their femininity, their masculinity, their androgyny.

The one Barry asks about is tucked away in the farther end of the exhibit. They’re alone back here for the most part, with people still largely at the front of the gallery, the occasional guest walking through to take a quick look before leaving. The painting is beautiful, another man and woman, in 20s era clothing, a sultry blue dress pushed up high on her thigh and a pair of suspenders falling off of his shoulders. He’s holding a saxophone and a microphone cord is wrapped around her bangled wrist, but there’s no mistaking that they aren’t playing for a crowd at the moment.

“It looks like the 20s era which, outside of the rampant racism, seems like a time I would have actually like to visit as a Black person. The art, the music, the literature. Everything was so, I don’t know, intimate, I think. People weren’t afraid to lay it all out in their art.” She turns to find him watching her, his expression thoughtful and a touch sensuous, like he’s think of laying it out, laying her out right now. She licks her lips, slowly, and continues, “They’re taking a break from making music; or rather, they’re making another kind. It’s why I love music, especially blues and R & B. Music is a story too, heightened senses and heated bodies and it’s feeling.”

On an impulse, she takes his hand and pulls him close, her other hand resting on his shoulders. They’d finished their wine and placed the glasses in one of the discreet bins placed around the gallery a couple of prints ago and they’re empty-handed. He doesn’t fumble the chance to touch her, and so he presses a hand to the small of her back and follows her as she sways, humming the song that’s playing, is it the way you love me, baby? is it the way you love me, baby?, ignoring the obvious implication as they move. She puts her face in to the crook of his neck, inhales the clean scent of him. His sweater is soft and he’s hard against her, humming along too. They shouldn’t be like this, here, but Iris is starting to get caught up in it, their story. It’s hard to hold on to fear, when he’s like this with her. They’re doing nothing but dancing in a crowded art gallery; they’ve done nothing but stare and laugh and fuck. But it’s been more, hasn’t it? A story she’s been writing since the moment he asked her to dance.

“You can feel it, right?” she asks, a little quietly. The sounds around them are stark, the low murmurs of the other guests, the laughs they emit. She can feel his heavy breathing and hers is no lesser, mixing with the tap of her heels on the wood floors, the thick tapping of her heart she wouldn’t be surprised he could actually hear. But they still seem to be in some sort of bubble, one where she can only focus on his humming, a baritone that hints at a nice singing voice, and the feel of him holding her.

“Yes,” he responds, just as quietly, and Iris doesn’t know the question she’s really asking the answer to. Or, maybe she does. Maybe it was written before she understood that it had been for her, and all she’s done ‘til now, and all she’s been ‘til now, has led her here. Maybe all of the stories she has written have prepared her to live in her own, to cling to this feeling, even if society would have her think it’s too soon or too much or far too scary. But she won’t voice it, not for real, not until those vestiges of fear are all gone.

They move, only for moments more, wrapped up in one another, his hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder, until they hear the sound of shoes on the floor and the muffled sound of laughter, pulling them away from each other.

They leave the gallery soon after that, and Iris is starving. She, likely against her better judgment, makes the decision to take Barry to Golden’s. She knows that Linda is tending bar tonight and the food is amazing, and she thinks that maybe it’ll go a little way in mending the bend between her and her friend. She can understand her sentiment; rarely do Iris and Linda keep secrets from each other. Iris knows that it’s been her own shit that’s kept her quiet, the feeling like she’s floating out on a piece of string and it would take only a snap for her to break away. Maybe keeping Barry quiet had been her way of holding on to him for as long as she could before he floated away too.

She parallel parks in an empty spot about a block away from the restaurant. She gives in to the urge to take his hand and they walk up the street. Central City is bustling for a Thursday night, the start of a weekend for many. She hears the music from a band playing from somewhere down the street and sees other couples walking hand in hand, smiling off to their destinations. Golden’s is just as packed when she walks in, but the host notices her immediately.

“Hey Iris,” Kamilla grins, the short perky woman waving as they walk up to the booth. She’s got skin a touch darker than tan and big brown eyes that always seem to be smiling as much as she does.

“Hey Kamilla,” Iris greets. Y’all are packed tonight.”

The other woman nods, her dark hair waving against her shoulders as she looks at the group of people waiting for tables along the side of the wall. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s up but we’ve been slammed since we opened for the dinner hour.”

“How long’s the wait?”

“Well, for you, not long. There are a couple of seats open at the bar or you two can go in the alcove. Xuan and Theo had some friends sitting back there, but they should be finishing up soon. I can put you at the bar until the table’s ready.”

Iris smiles widely. “You’re a saint. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, you know that.”

Kamilla leads them through the throng of people to the bar. Iris’s hand is still clasped in Barry’s and he squeezes once to indicate that he’s following. There are only two seats at the bar available, at the far end, away from where Linda is currently pouring drinks. It’s a long U-shaped bar, about ten seats along the longer side, two of either side of the U. The other bartender is down on their end, a slim woman named Allegra with light-honey colored skin and long dark brown hair. She sees Iris and waves, and then raises an eyebrow at Barry sitting beside her.

“Who’s this?” she asks when she walks over, noticing the way Barry is sitting sideways with his legs open, splayed out so that Iris is surrounded by him.

She and Allegra are not so much friends as they are acquaintances, stopping and chatting whenever Iris comes to hang out.

“This is Barry. Barry, this is Allegra.”

“Oh, so this is Barry.”

The sound of her best friend’s voice in sing-song comes from behind Allegra, thick hair swinging against her neck. She’s got a cryptic expression on her face, as she looks from Barry to Iris back to Barry again, also taking in his posture, their body language explaining what they haven’t said yet.

“He’s cute,” Linda says, winking at Barry, who blushes a little.

“Yes. Barry, this is my best friend Linda; Linda this is Barry.”

Barry gives up an easy smile and puts a hand out for Linda to shake. “It’s good to meet you. Iris has told me a lot.”

“Hmm, I hope more than I’ve heard about you.”

Snickering at her tone, Allegra leaves them to go handle another order.

“Don’t be rude because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Linda grumbles. She turns back to Barry. “But she’s right. I’m sorry for being rude. I really am glad to meet you.”

“This is your parents’ place, right?” he asks, looking around, obviously impressed. “Iris told me about it. I’m excited that she brought me here.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. You came on a good night. We just started our new menu.” She pulls a plastic-covered menu from below the bar for him to look at. “Kamilla told me she’ll get the table in the alcove ready for you. I’ll whip y’all up something to drink while you wait.”

Linda gives her a pointed look and then she’s gone, cute navy blouse billowing behind her. Iris faces Barry, who’s watching her, one hand on the back of her chair, the other sitting on the sliver of skin from where her skirt has ridden up her thigh.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That seemed like a lot.” He gestures towards Linda.

Iris sighs heavily. “Yeah. I’m sort of in my head about some stuff and Linda is taking it a little personally that I haven’t told her about it.”

“You mean me?”

“Partly,” she answers truthfully. “I, I didn’t always know how to talk about you. But it’s not just that; I’ve been dealing with some feelings of…listlessness. And I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Iris, I…” He licks his lips, slowly, and leans in, close enough that she can smell the mint and wine on his breath. “If I’m moving too fast, I get that and I can pull back if you want. But I’m in this, to see where we can go.” His stare is insistent. “And you can tell me, if you want, about whatever else is bothering you. I’m always willing to listen.”

Before she can respond, Linda walks back over with two long-stemmed martini glasses, pale orange liquor filled to the brim.

“Ginger martinis,” Linda announces. “Something I just put on the menu.”

“In addition to being a badass writer, Linda’s a bomb bartender too.”

“Oh, you’re a writer too?” Barry wonders.

Linda smiles at Barry. “Yeah. Mostly fiction, though I dabble in personal essays. Nothing like our girl over here who can take someone else’s thoughts and make them come to life.”

“She is good, isn’t she?” Barry punctuates the question with a hand rub up her thigh. That makes Iris look up, startled, because they’ve never talked about her work before.

“You’ve read my work?”

“Of course,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “I’m working my way through your blog. I have been since you told me about it at the Fall Fest.”

Iris exchanges glances with a satisfied Linda.

“You hear that, Iris? Barry has been reading your blog since you mentioned it weeks ago. It’s almost as if…”

“Alright!” Iris interrupts. “Thanks, Linda. Goodbye.”

Linda laughs, throwing another wink at Barry before she blows a kiss at Iris. “I love you and have fun. Call me later.”

She’s done eating when he throws his napkin on top and slides over to her side of the booth. She blinks at him in confusion, but he just shrugs and says, “I wanted to be next to you.”

She scoots over to let him in, though it’s a tight fit, as she takes a sip from her water glass. They’re waiting on dessert, a decadent ginger créeme brûlée that Xuan created. It’s her favorite thing on the menu.

Iris thinks back on the course of their dinner. It’d been about as perfect as their picnic date, how conversation just seemed to flow. He tells her a bit about working as a forensic scientist and how he likes to use his love of science and problem-solving to help catch the bad guys. That leads into a conversation about her dad, a police captain for CCPD, and Barry is delighted to find out that he actually knows her father, a man he says he can tell wants nothing more than to do the right thing.

Iris talks a little about What a Life You’ve Lived , still a bit surprised that he’s reading through it. He asks deeper questions about a couple of the stories that really caught his attention. He likes that they read like short stories instead of interviews because they make the stories more fascinating. He wants to know how she chooses stories, what’s her writing process, if she does interviews or if they just send in and she cleans it up.

“A little of both,” she answers. “They send the story and then we set up an interview and we go from there. Sometimes they’re in person or on a video call. Some people prefer just emailed conversations because it keeps some of their anonymity.”

They laugh while they eat as they talk more about some of his more interesting cases, her funnier stories. Iris never really orders any food; Linda or her parents usually just tell the chef she’s there and the cooks do their thing, bringing out courses as they see fit. So they up her portions and Barry and Iris eat from the same plates, fighting over some of the items, like the garlic bok choy Iris always falls all over herself for and the shrimp and pork shumai that Barry attempts to eat more of.

Linda brings them another martini and on top of the glass of wine, she’s in a hazy sort of place. She isn’t drunk, but she does feel a little lighter, enchanted by the food and the drink and the company. Golden’s becomes a little more seductive at night, with lowered lighting and soft music, and the smiling, muted conversations that come with a date night. And so even though they eat and they laugh and they play, they do more. They make eyes at each other over the time of their glasses, watch a little too long as the other runs the teeth of a fork across the tongue. They caress one another’s hand when one goes for a bite of food. They tangle their legs, the feel of Barry’s hard, fabric-covered calves on her softer, bare legs far too arousing for how innocuous the movement. It’s teasing and it’s provoking and Iris feels it all down to the core of her.

So when he slides into the seat beside her, she brazenly throws her legs over his thighs under the guise of giving him more room. She’s thankful it’s darker where they are, that’s it’s more hidden where they are. Barry doesn’t miss a beat, placing a hand on her thighs and rubbing lightly. Their dessert arrives shortly thereafter and the waiter takes note of their changed positions with a smirk.

“You’ve got to try this,” Iris says, picking up one of the small spoons to scoop up a bit. “It’ll literally be the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“I don’t know,” Barry hums, sliding his hand higher up her thigh under her skirt. His palm is warm and a bit soft, an interesting contrast to the slightly calloused tips of his fingers. “I’ve had you in my mouth.”

He takes a bite like he hadn’t just said that, tongue licking around the spoon. “But it’s a nice second.”

“You’ve gotta stop,” Iris says, staring down at the spoon, momentarily wishing it was her. “You really just gotta stop.”

His answering grin is lopsided. “I don’t really think you want me to. Why else would you put your legs up on me like this?”

She gasps in mock shock. “What are you trying to say, Bear?”

His grin turns dirty. “I want you to say that name a little differently in a minute.”

He moves his hand up, taking the fabric of her skirt with him, tapping at her thighs to part them. She does it easily, dropping one of her feet back to the floor so that she’s spread for him. The skirt is pliant enough that she can spread as wide as she wants and it still covers her.

“Eat the brûlée,” he suggests. “Give your mouth something to do.”

He tips those long fingers up the middle of her thighs, up one side and down the other, up one side and down the other. It’s slow, like he always is, and for someone who’s claimed to enjoy running, he’s always taking his time.

And every time he goes up one side and down the other, he makes his way higher and higher, higher and higher, until his fingers are skimming her panties, lightly tracing the edges of the silk material. She jumps, a little gasp escaping her parted lips.

“Eat,” he orders. It’s crazy, how turned on how she gets because of him. Every time he murmurs some increasingly dirty thing, every time he uses those far too skillful fingers to touch her, she feels herself soaking her panties with no shame. She’s been just on the verge of wet since she picked him up and saw him standing there in all that all black that had made his pale skin and pretty eyes stand out in stark contrast. Now, though, she knows that were she to look, she’d see a darker green right in the middle of the crotch of her panties. It shouldn’t be so easy, not the way they are together, not the way they’ve always been together. It should sometimes be awkward and fumbling and…and...

“Fuck,” the curse startles her out of her own musings when slides his finger under the fabric of her panties.

“I told you to eat, Iris,” Barry reminds her, and she picks up the spoon with no further delay, scooping up a portion of the dessert and putting it in her mouth. At the same time, he slides a gentle finger along her slit. She’s imbued with, with awareness: the sweet taste of sugar on her tongue, the sweet feel of his digit sliding into her; the shock of the lemon-ginger filling her mouth, the shock of him pushing another finger in and to the knuckle. She lets out a silent moan against the spoon, taking his advice and eating so that she doesn’t fall back on the chair with her mouth wide open in ecstasy.

It’s a lesson in restraint, the next several minutes. He massages her as she eats, his fingers sliding in and out of her, in and out her, scissoring, and sliding, and rubbing, and then repeating the process. Her hips start to rock against his hand, undulating as she tries to get closer, as she takes his fingers and clenches around them. Her hand tightens on the spoon she’s using, and it’s a struggle to keep her eyes facing forward and not rolled in the back of her head. Because still with the two fingers fucking into her, he thumbs at her clit, rubbing in slow circles. She wishes that she could look down at them, to see what those long, pale fingers look like disappearing inside of her wet, pink flesh; but she can’t and even still, she can recall the look of it from their time on the couch. It feels like that did, when he was playing in her, but different and maybe better.

Because now he knows a little bit about what gets her off quicker, about the fact that although it’s torture when he’s fucking her at a snail’s pace, she likes the be fingered like that. She likes when he crooks his fingers, just a little, and when it feels like a gentle stroking instead of an all-out assault. She likes when he waits ‘til her clit is hard and peeking from its hood before he touches it, and then keeps at it, rubbing in small, slow circles. And “god, Bear,” does the creme brulee make this something else, make it more rousing, make it sexier, make it sound like go 'head, really get your groove on; cause tonight my man's coming through...i got another, nasty, freaky, just right way in mind; tonight, I'm gonna beat the high score. He slides in and out, he rubs slow circles, she rocks her hips like she would if she could be impaled on him right now.

And he leans closer to her, watching her face as he fingers her, mumbling as he does, “yes, baby, ride my hand, soak my hand, baby,” his voice barely above a whisper. It makes Iris jerk hard against the table. Barry attempts to slow down, but Iris all but gives up the idea of eating and grabs at his wrist. “No, don’t stop, Bear.”

He lets out an easy chuckle, twisting his wrist so that he can push deeper, his palm now rubbing against her clit, his fingers curved in her pussy.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he whispers into her ear, and Iris whimpers at the dark timbre of his voice washing over her. “Hmm, you seem like you’d like that. Huh, Iris? Does the thought of all these people seeing you bite those sexy lips as you try not to scream get you off? Do you want them to hear how you sound right now? How you’re so wet I can almost hear you over them talking right now?”

“Bear,” she moans and it’s louder than she intends and Barry reaches out to tuck her into his neck. And she can’t answer, doesn’t know if she is getting off on them like this, but she feels her orgasm coming, hard and fast but smooth, gliding through her like it’s the easiest thing her body has ever done.

When she comes around his hand, clamping her thighs around his wrist, she stays tucked in Barry’s neck and bites down, because the creme brulee is all gone, and fuck if this doesn’t feel good. She makes a strangled sound in her throat and hopes that she bites down hard enough to muffle it, even if it marks him. She hears his own low groan, rumbling near silently in his chest, and Iris thinks that makes her come even harder, eyes shut tight as she savors it. She rides it out, clenching and unclenching like a vise over his fingers, and tasting the sweetness of his skin, feeling his hardness under her thigh.

“They’re never gonna let me back in here, Barry,” Iris whispers in a labored breath, after.

“It’s fine,” he says as he pulls his hand out of her. He looks at it for a moment, at her slick glistening on his skin, and then he puts the two middle fingers in his mouth, groaning at the taste of her. Iris thinks she almost comes again.

“They don’t even know what’s going on,” he continues, oblivious to Iris who’s watching him with blown eyes. At least she thinks he’s oblivious until he wipes the rest of her off on a cloth napkin and then shoots her a salacious wink.

She shakes her head, partly in amusement, and she smoothes her hands down her thighs above her skirt. Her one leg is still thrown across him. “How do you even get me to do shit like this? I’m so embarrassed. I was such a good girl before I met you.”

His chuckle is a rumble against her. “You are good, baby. So fucking good.”

She lifts her head, because something about that last part seems like more than just teasing. He curls a hand around the back of her neck, making her hold his gaze.

“You smell good,” he says. “You taste good. But more than that,” he pauses as places a hand on her chest, just above her heart. “You are good.”

“You don’t even…”

“Don’t,” he stops her. “Don’t say I don’t know you. I mean sure, I still haven’t figured out all the things that anger you or what you’re like when you’re stressed. But I’ve watched you talk about your family and I’ve seen the compassion you have for the people you write about and… and when I tell you you’re good, I mean that.”

She tucks herself back into his neck after that, wrapping her arms around him to acknowledge his comment, to try to tell him what she doesn’t know how to say yet. It would make sense that she move away from him, that she set herself back to rights. It would make sense that she step back, to clear the haze he’s got her in, to make sure she’s reading this story correctly. But something else tells her that she might be, that she might even be reading it a tad too slowly, so she stays right where she is, his hand rubbing up and down her back. And she closes her eyes, hoping that the story doesn’t end too soon.

Is it the way you love me, baby?

Is it the way you love me, baby?

Is it the way you love me, baby?

Is it the way you love me, baby?

[tingleparker]

Lover is a day

Tom Holland x Reader

Requested?: nope just wanted to make an edit and you thought why not write for once :))

•Warnings: language ;)) a n g s t. Rusty writing right here ;-; this imagine consists of a lot of flashbacks

•Summary: Being friends with Tom Holland you were bound to catch feelings; maybe not at the young age of 13 but now? You were definitely feeling them, and you just hoped he is too.

•Word count: 1.3k [its short sorry :((]

A/n: the title doesn’t really have a connotation to the fic, it's the song from the edit and I decided it looked nice. Anyways I know its been m o n t h s but I hope yall are still here and reading, love you guys <3

Watch the edit that goes with this imagine here <3 [links in the story aswell ;)]

It was bound to happen eventually, your feelings grew from ‘just friends’ to holy shit I like my best friend. With over a decade of friendship, you had not realised it until it hit you smack in the face. You had met the infamous Tom Holland at the young age of seven, at a park one summer evening.

You kick your legs back and forth trying your absolute hardest to get momentum and swing higher but huffing when you barely move up at all. You love feeling the breeze through your hair and passing your face, how it makes you feel free. You look over at your parents sitting down on the park bench not too far away but in a conversation with strangers, you’ve never seen before.

“Do you need some help?” A small voice came from beside you, as you switched your attention to a little boy about your age with brown curls as well as eyes that swirled with caramel in the sunlight.

“I- if it’s not a problem for you?” You softly ask, not sure about strangers but he seemed to have this exuberant energy radiating from him. 

“I’m a big brother, I do this all the time!” The boy exclaims before standing behind you and starting to lightly push you; your legs finally swinging higher than the past five minutes. 

“I’m Tom!” The youth yelled out as you squealed, the wind blew your hair messily as you got higher and higher.

“I’m Y/n!” Holding on the chains firmly before looking back towards the curly-haired boy with a joyful smile on your face. 

Just like that a friendship blossomed and continued for the next eleven years. You should've known it was never going to be an easy friendship with the brunette boy, but you just wished it was. For the past couple of years, you were more attentive to Tom, whether it was him in close proximity to the two of you casually hanging out and over-analyzing everything. 

“So.. what are you lovebirds doing?” Harrison asks cheekily before plopping himself down on the armchair facing the duo. 

“Ha ha very funny Haz” You respond rolling your eyes before leaning back into Toms arm which was situated behind you along the couch; eyes averting back to the television playing some action film. Though it was instinctively, it came to attention how easy it was to simply lean into Tom; how your body yearned to be cozy and snug with him. How your heartbeat a couple of seconds faster because of this knowledge, and the sudden clamminess of your palms. The soft-touch of Tom’s fingertips came into contact of your shoulder without any warning, almost jumping at the touch before taking a deep breath to steady yourself. As the man beside you drew smooth shapes and nonsense onto the skin of your shoulder, an immense amount of emotions raked through you. Of course, you had to fall for your best friend; who is most definitely miles out of your league. But you couldn’t help but let your mind drift off to this emotion you felt right now. How effortless it was to just cuddle up and be yourselves. Maybe there was a sliver of hope that Tom felt the same, falling deeper into a daydream trying to rummage through all the little moments together. 

“Y/n, love.” You hear from closely beside you, the voice that had been floating around your mind for the past few minutes. 

“Wow Y/n, thinking hard over there?” Harrison teasingly questioned, cockily smirking.

“I’m probably thinking harder than you can ever in your whole life” You shot back tauntingly, as you hear a light laugh from Tom; making your smile even smugger. 

As Harrison sat there feigning hurt, your thoughts wandered back to the boy you were cuddled up to. Perhaps this wasn’t you falling for Tom, possibly it could only be you observing more vigilantly and you have confused yourself of what emotions you were feeling. 

Maybe just maybe, you would find this crush to only last a day, just for today right? Well, it definitely did not last only a day. 

You haven’t really heard from Tom in a couple of weeks, which was unusual for the two of you. Though he always has a busy schedule, the two of you regularly make time for each other even if it was a small text or facetime. You laid in bed, missing Tom more than ever; you didn’t know if it was because of the limited communication or in general. Clicking into your photos, you scroll through the gallery which predominately filled with the boy in mind. 

[video edit that goes with this imagine :))]

So you’ve decided, you needed this weight to be lifted off of your shoulders. Your heart beating rapidly, either from nervousness for this confession or the thought of Tom giving flutters. You click off of the photo gallery and onto your messages, Tom being near the top anyways even if it's been a while since the two of you have talked. 

Y/n [22:43]: Heyyya, long time no talk eh?

Just wanted to tell you something...

You waited, typing and deleting constantly the emotions you couldn’t possibly convey over a single text. You didn’t know how to, pour out what you’ve been feeling for your best friend you just felt like you needed to; for your own sake and sanity. Then the three little dots came flashing up, sweaty palms gripping the phone as you waited for the reply.

Tommyyy [22:46]: Heyy, yes haven't gotten the time to chat yet but I as well have some information ;)

With that message, your brain was in muddles. There was an infinite amount of possibilities that Tom could say, you just hoped that it was on the same lines of what you wanted to tell him. And when the message finally came through, those possibilities dwindled down to something you weren’t expecting.

Tommyyy [22:48]: So.. I know we haven’t caught up recently but I have someone I want you to meet 

Reading the end of that text caused all emotions to come crashing down. Staring at the bright screen trying to comprehend everything. Maybe you had read all the signals wrong; completely and utterly wrong. Out of all times, the time you had gathered enough courage to say something about what you feel; had been the same time you figured out that it was just as unrequited as you had deluded yourself out of. Without knowing what to say at this point, you had taken a couple of minutes before replying simply. 

Y/n [22:55]: oh?

Tommyyy [22:59]: Yeah! I just know you’ll love her :) 

The stinging in your eyes welled up, your heart slowly feeling constant jabs of pain. But you couldn’t cry over this, something you already knew in the back of your head that would happen. He was your best friend, through thick and thin; you had to be happy for him even if it was slowly breaking you.

Tommyyy [23:03]: So, you had something to tell me?

What were you supposed to say? That you love him not in the friendly way he thinks, right after Tom saying he wanted to meet someone; probably a woman whom has been occupying his attention for the past weeks you haven’t talked to him at all. You internally panic, trying hard to quickly come up with an excuse.

Y/n [23:08]: Oh! It wasn't anything too important. I’m actually just heading off to sleep now. Night! 

You knew it wasn't the greatest escape plan but you hastily locked your phone without seeing any reply that could come from it. Throwing your phone off onto the bedside table, you roll yourself up into the blankets; staring into the now complete darkness. You wished there was a time machine to go back; to the time where maybe this was just a crush for a day.

[ererokii]

Butterfly

Tamaki Amajiki x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, suggestive themes, angst, violence and major character death

Word Count: 6939

Synopsis: The renowned shy but brave hero, Suneater passes and his life is celebrated by his family and close friends.

Italics mean flashback

Tag list; @kingtamakimurder, @tamasoft, @shoutosplaything

It was funny how the world worked. How time worked. How every little second could be a traumatic change or an insignificant change in someone’s life. Time was an endless loop of change, whether one was ready or not. 

The gust of cold wind descended upon you, regardless of wearing a jacket you could still feel it’s rough clutches against your skin, making your body scream at you for being there. 

Underneath your umbrella, you meekly looked up towards the grey sky, watching the rain hit against the sheer protection, each hit harder than the last. 

The rain seemed to distract you from everyone around you. By yourself, you stood by a big tree. No one seemed to approach you. Giving you the time you deserved by yourself. To let yourself fall in your hole of grievance. 

Heavy footsteps approached from behind as a big yet gentle hand was placed on your shoulder. “Y/N” the voice said. Mirio. 

You whipped your head around quickly to meet his glossy eyes that threatened to spill his tears. Beside him stood Neijre, who was gripping her umbrella with both hands, and in between those hands was one simple red rose. 

Tamaki loved red roses. 

A sad smile graced your features as you felt your tears spill. “I can’t thank you guys enough for coming..”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world Y/N-Chan,” Neijre said softly, walking up to you and wrapped an arm around you, careful not to squish the delicate flower in her hand. 

Mirio watched both of you with saddened eyes. He couldn’t believe what was going on. The tension in the air was too thick. It felt like it was suffocating him whole. 

“We should get going inside yeah?” Mirio asked, looking off somewhere, gripping the black fabric of his pants. 

“Yes..” you said shakily and took a deep breath. “We should get going..it should be starting soon”

The pair stood on either side of you, linking their arms with yours as you all made it inside for the celebration.

Celebration. Wasn’t that a funny word to celebrate the life of a loved one? Celebrate what they had to offer as a person to those around them. You loathed the word starting now. You didn’t want to celebrate. 

You just wanted Tamaki Amajiki back. 

As you made your way closer to the front, your feet felt heavy as if you felt like you were being dragged. Your eyes locked on the black casket that was surrounded by dozens of pretty flowers, each having their special meaning. A photo of the person was standing beside the casket.

The casket that held the body.

The casket that held the dead love of your life, Tamaki Amajiki. 

You started shaking your head as you dug your heel into the ground, refusing to move. “I can’t do it. I can’t face him. I can’t” you chanted ‘I can’t’ over and over like a mantra. 

Mirio’s grip on your arm tightens. “Yes, you can. You have too. This is your closure. For you. For all of us.”

“I can’t!” You cried and covered your mouth to muffle the sobs attempting to escape. Others who were invited glanced in your direction, pity evident in their eyes. Out of everyone you were hit hardest. 

“I can’t look at him again knowing he won’t come home! I can’t look at him again knowing he won’t be saying I love you! I can’t Mirio! I lost him!”

“No, we lost him!” He snapped and gripped both of your arms, making you face him. “It was my fault! It’s my fault he’s gone! How can I be named Lemillion if I can’t save one person?! I’m supposed to save millions of people! But I couldn’t even save Tamaki! My best friend! It should be me in that casket and not Tamaki!” He yelled through his tears, not caring if he looked like a mess. 

“Mirio.,” you whispered shakily and clasped your hands together tightly, holding them to your chest.

“I’m sorry!” He sobbed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. “I’m sorry Y/N! If only I was quick enough! Strong enough! If only I didn’t distract him! If I was those things Tamaki would still be here!” He cried in agony. 

“Mirio please stop! Don’t blame yourself! Tamaki wouldn’t think this is your fault. Please stop begging yourself” you begged him with desperation, reaching forward and engulfing his bigger hands into your smaller ones. “Please don't..” you whispered 

He looked up at you. His eyes were screaming pain and agony. He was digging his hole and he was falling deeper and deeper. 

“I’m sorry” was all he said and wiped his eyes, forcing a smile on his face. “I know it’s hard. Come on. He’s waiting for us” 

You stared at him unsure before nodding your head, gripping the black skirt you had on. 

A soft hand wrapped around your arm and began tugging you. “Come on Y/N. It’s going to begin soon.” Neijre spoke up softly.

A celebration. That’s all it was. A sad disturbing celebration. 

You ran your hand on the open casket. Your bottom lip trembled as you reached forward, grabbing onto Tamaki’s cold calloused hand into your warm one. 

“Hi Tama..it’s me..” you whispered. “You look so peaceful, honey… you’re safe now..”

“Y/N.” A voice said from behind as you looked over your shoulder. 

Taishiro and Eijirou stood there, a look of regret and sorrow displayed on their face. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak. You gave a curt nod and a sad smile. Your eyes spoke more than words. 

You couldn’t care less who arrived or who didn’t. It shows who cared most. Who cares about Tamaki the most. Everyone seemed to file in one by one, each wearing an emotional mask. You couldn’t tell if it was a lie or truth.

It was sad. 

It was terrible.

Yet why did you feel like no one here cared besides a few?

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about those horrible thoughts. 

“Today we celebrate the life of Suneater or to his friends and family, Tamaki Amajiki..”

You blanked out. You couldn’t listen. You refused to let go of his cold hand. You were afraid when you let go he would disappear from you forever. You didn’t want to celebrate his years of life.

You just wanted him back in your arms. Alive. Warm. 

Not dead. Cold. 

Numerous speakers went up. Taishiro, Mirio, Neijre, and Tamaki’s parents. 

“Can we please have our last speaker, Y/LN Y/N come up and speak on behalf of Tamaki Amajiki?”

Your head perked up at the sound of your name as you took a deep breath, leaning over and kissed the knuckles of Tamaki’s hand, lingering your lips on it. “I’ll be back my love…” you whispered against the skin.

Neijre reached over and grabbed your spare hand, Mirio placing his over hers as they both gave you a comforting nod. 

You nodded in return and stood up tall, moving past everyone as you made your way up to the podium surrounded by the beautiful arrangement of flowers. Under different circumstances, you would have enjoyed the variety. 

You walked up the steps, hands running over the smooth wood of the podium. Millions of eyes kept their gaze fixated on your trembling form as you reached in your pocket, pulling the folded paper out. 

You couldn’t remember how you found yourself here. It was all a blur. “I uh..thank you for everyone that came. It means a lot to me and I know that.. it means a lot to Tamaki as well” you started and unfolded the paper, staring at the black ink of your writing. 

You took a deep breath and flattened the paper down. You opened your eyes and glanced at the resting body. Finally at peace. 

Your mouth opened to speak but no words came out, only incoherent noises. Your group of friends consisting of, Neijre, Mirio, Eijirou, and Taishiro all stared at you with worry. From the looks of it, it looked like Neijre was about to get up and stand up there with you but Mirio held her down. 

A simple movement of your hand pushing a lock of hair behind your ear to calm your nerves. It might not have helped but it was something. 

You spoke up, “Tamaki Amajiki wasn’t the most confident man out there. Like every other human he had his doubts, but he was far by worse. His anxiety always got the best of him. However, he was like no other. He was sweet. He was kind, compassionate, and selfless. He always made sure others' needs were in front of his. He was careful. He was passionate. A perfectionist one would say. In the eyes of another, Tamaki was far from perfect. In my eyes.. he was an angel. His perfect imperfections. His flaws. How could I not love him?”

A sad smile made its way to your face as you clasped your hands together tightly. “His favorite thing in the world was Butterflies. It was a delicate love for them. Every time he would see one he would go on and on about their species. It warmed my heart to see it firsthand. I remember our first date consisted of butterfly watching. I will admit I wasn’t the biggest fan of it, but seeing his smile was the best win for me.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Tamaki was a passionate lover no doubt. He had his ups and downs with himself but that didn’t stop him from trying to be the best boyfriend.

The birds outside chirped softly. The sunlight peeking out from behind your curtains into your shared room, draping across your bed where the two of you laid.

A calloused but gentle hand traced lazy circles onto your arm. His soft eyes watched as your body rose and fell slowly with each breath you took. His gaze fell to your neck, face getting hot when he saw the marks he had given you the night prior. 

An angel is what he would say. The way your hair sprawled underneath you, your angelic form as you slept, the soft snores you let out. The soft light of the sun outlining your perfect imperfections. He adored you. Every single part of you. 

He leaned up on his elbow and traced the outline of your lips with the pad of his finger ever so softly, with a feathery like touch. 

A small smile graced his lips when he noticed you stirring in your sleep before opening your eyes slowly, adjusting from your slumber. 

This was the best part of your morning. Receiving the best present you could ever ask for. Tamaki by your side. You drank in his appearance. His messy indigo locks that somehow looked perfect. His tired yet bright eyes boring into your own. 

Your gaze fell to his marked-up collarbones and chest, memories of your intimate moment with him flooding your mind immediately. 

The feeling of him on top of you, holding you close and driving you closer to the edge as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. Words of love exchanged between the two of you as you became one. 

“Morning Tama..” you whispered tiredly and reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand. A gentle stroke to his cheek with your thumb had him close his eyes in satisfaction. 

“M-morning bunny” was his reply as he opened his eyes again, fully getting on top of you, one of his hands resting beside your head.

“Mmm, you want more Tama?” You teased and lazily wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with his locks in the back. “But it’s so early”

“Yeah and? That hasn’t stopped us in the past has it?” He questioned and lowered his head to your chest, nipping the soft skin above your breast as you let out a shaky breath. 

“N-no I suppose it hasn’t” you whispered and ran your hand through his messy locks, enjoying the way he shuddered when your hand grazed against the tip of his ear. 

He let out a purr like noise as he laid his head on your chest, wrapping an arm around your torso to keep you close to him. 

These were the moments you cherished. Him and you basking in each other’s warmth, each other’s company, and the silence. The way your legs would entangle, feeling his soft skin on yours. 

His soft breathing started to even out slowly, hit your bare chest. “Falling asleep on me already huh?”

He weakly shook his head and tighten his grip on you. “Course not… j-just enjoying you bunny.” He said in his soft voice, grabbing your left hand that rested on his head, bringing it to his lips as he kissed the circlet that delicately rested on your finger. “I still can’t believe you said yes..”

“Huh? Course I would say yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

He grew quiet as his pointed ears drooped a bit. “Because I’m not special at all. I always thought I was a bad lover. You’re so good and I’m nothing like you...I feel like you deserve better than me.”

Your heart ached at his confession. You always knew his self-esteem wasn’t the best. No matter how hard you tried reassuring him he couldn’t listen. As much as he wanted to listen it was too hard for him. 

“Tama..” you whispered and placed a finger underneath his chin, tilting his head up to meet your eyes. 

His eyes were glossy as a single tear went down his cheek. You leaned forward and kissed the tear away, ignoring the slight salty taste in your mouth. 

“You’re special to me and me only Tama..” you started. “You aren’t a bad boyfriend you’re the best I’ve had in my life. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me... and in fact, it was me who thought you deserved better. You showed me what love is. When you asked me to marry you I was so ecstatic. I still am. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you” you finished with a small smile, cradling his cheeks in your hands. 

“I-I’m sorry for doubting bunny...I wish I was stronger for you”

“But you’re already so strong, isn’t that right Suneater?” You teased lightly, using his hero name. The tips of his ear went red as he quickly buried his head in your breasts. That was his favorite hiding spot as he told you weeks ago. 

“Y-you can’t just say things like that bunny..” his words came out muffled. You began to stroke his hair again. “But I only do it because I like getting reactions out of you is all.”

You let out a small yelp when you felt him nip at your skin again, harder than the last. “K-keep talking like that and I’ll be getting reactions out of you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it Tama.”

He meekly looked up at you, a blush adorning his features as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. A hand of his gently pushed you down on the bed as he hovered over you, leaning down and capturing your lips with his. 

It was a sweet gentle kiss. But this felt needier. The way he pressed himself up against you, feeling your body as if you would disappear. The way his lips were desperately moving against yours. 

He pulled away suddenly and dipped his head down, placing desperate kisses along the crook of your neck. 

You let out a low mewl. “T-Tama what's gotten into you?” You whispered.

He lifted his head quickly. “I just love you bunny” he confessed, sounding somewhat confident. “And I just want to cherish you.”

If you didn’t grow soft you swore your heart did. You teared slightly up at his confession. “I love you too Tamaki.”

Before he could continue with his actions his phone went off. He let out a low groan and rolled over on the bed, reaching for his phone. Without even looking he answered. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear who it was so for the meantime while you waited, you played with the ring that sat on your hand beautifully. 

It was a delicate thing. A rose gold band with a simple diamond rose sitting at the top. Simple and beautiful. Just the way you imagined it. The perfect one. 

“Right now?” Tamaki’s voice startled you from your thoughts. “Yes, but I thought today wasn’t till later n-no..?” He let out a frustrated sigh. “O-okay I’m coming now then..” 

“Who was that love?”

“Fatgum. Says he needs me to start patrolling now even though I don’t start till later”

A pout formed on your lips. “Now? Let me talk to him and I’ll change his mind”

A small chuckle left his lips as he gave you another quick but yet gentle kiss to which you happily returned. “I appreciate it b-bunny but there’s no arguing with him.”

You watched as Tamaki grabbed a small blanket, wrapping it around his lower half as he got off the bed, the bed dipping for a slight second. 

Watching Tamaki get ready was amazing to you. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he would carefully put his folded clothes back in their respected drawer or the way he carefully put on his clothes. 

Or the fact that he was in the moment with you. 

“At least let me make you something to eat” 

A shake of his head as he started getting dressed. “I-it’s okay bunny. I can just b-buy something out on the street” 

A pout formed on your lips as you sat up, holding the sheet to your chest. “Are you sure? I don’t mind”

“I’m sure. You get rest since your patrol is later”

Yes, you were Pro-Hero (Y/HN). Your quirk was called Smoke Plume. You were able to convert the oxygen you inhaled into scorching gas that can either be exhaled through your mouth or pores. The more oxygen you inhale, the higher the temperature gets. Due to this, you were used to extreme heat. 

You let out a small sigh and watched him put on the gold plating on his arms and shoulders once he had put on the black suit.

You blindly reached over the bed in search of his shirt he had on last night. Once finding it you put it on yourself, enjoying the way it was loose around your smaller frame. The shirt reached down and covered the curve of your ass. 

Walking over to him, you laid your head on his back as you reached for his hands. “You’re amazing Tamaki..every single day you amaze me to no end. You’re so cool Tama.” 

A smile tugged at his lips as he brought your hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckle gently. “T-thank you bunny..you’re so amazing”

A giggle passed through your lips. “I know”

Once Tamaki finished getting dressed you followed him to the door, quickly grabbing his white cape. “W-Wait”

He turned around, a concerned look displayed on his face. “B-Bunny? What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip and clenched the cape tighter. “I just..I don’t know..it doesn’t feel good today..”

He tilted his head to the side faintly and placed his hands on your hips, bringing you closer. “What do you mean?” He whispered. 

“Just be safe out there okay?”

He nodded in agreement and kissed your forehead, keeping his lips there before pulling away. “I will”

“I love you, Tamaki. So much”

“And I… l-love you more bunny” a smile tugged at your lips. Still, after these years, Tamaki had trouble using his words. You stood up on your tiptoes and kissed him gently. 

He pulled away a couple of seconds later and cradled your cheek, kissing your forehead once more before detaching himself from you. “I’ll s-see you in a couple of hours, bunny.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Tamaki couldn’t help but cover his face more by pulling his hood lower. It wasn’t that he hated his fans, he was nervous whenever a small child would come up to him or a group of people from across the street waved at him. 

“Y/N always knows how to interact with them..” he mumbled to himself and felt the cold concrete against his bare feet as he patrolled the area. Fatgum said there was a bit more activity in the area lately and called him earlier than he needed too.

It’s been at least 5 hours into his patrol. He had his fair share of Takoyaki Balls, maybe a bit more than he normally does but he didn’t care. 

As he kept patrolling he kept a good leisure pace. Like usual, he was stuck in his thoughts. Wonder what Y/N is doing right now.. he thought and turned a corner. 

Maybe you were watching your favorite show on TV or possibly making something to eat before you patrolled. Maybe making dinner for both of you when you would return home together. 

A loud explosion from the other side of the area interrupted his thoughts. With a gasp and he looked up and quickly manifested his hand into a clamshell, protecting his body from the falling debris. 

A domino effect seemed to have happened. One building after the other. His eyes widened in horror as he saw a building come crashing down immediately. Screams of innocent civilians filled his ears. 

“It can’t be the league..” he whispered and uncovered himself, taking off in the direction of the chaos. 

He panted softly as he stopped in front of a burning building. 

“M-Mommy!” A little girl no older than 6 sobbed as she knelt in front of a rather large building piece that was smothering the body of the child’s mother. Her upper half was exposed to the outside as the lower and covered. 

“Y-you have to get up!” She sobbed and tugged on the bloody hand, not aware that something was about to collapse on top of her small body. 

Tamaki quickly manifested his fingers into tentacles and wrapped a tentacle around the young girl, yanking her to him. 

The young girl panted heavily and clenched her fingers around his cape. “Y-you have to help my mommy! She’s stuck! She needs you!”

It felt as if the words weren’t able to come out. His mouth suddenly felt dry as he stared down at the frail girl. “I…”

“Suneater!”

He looked up quickly and mentally sighed in relief at the person who was running towards him

“I’ll take care of her! We already have a station for civilians!” Mirio said in urgency, taking the girl from Tamaki’s arms and held her close to his chest. 

“This is big. We need backup now.”

Tamaki nodded in agreement and fully stood up. “Did he already?”

Mirio nodded his head. “Not even 5 minutes ago he called her. She’s on her way.”

Tamaki let out a shaky breath. “A-alright..stay safe.”

“You too” 

Tamaki didn’t waste time and ran off in the opposite direction. 

Mirio glanced over his shoulder, feeling a slight tug in his outfit. 

“E-excuse me mister..is everything going to be okay?” The girl whispered, shaking in his arms.

Mirio’s heart ached but still nodded regardless. “You bet! You saw that man right now? He’s amazing! He’ll put a stop to it no doubt!” He flashed one of his famous smiles and patted the top of her head.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

After you saw what happened on the news, not even 3 minutes later you got a call from Fatgum. 

Of course, you picked up and found out they needed your help. That’s how you found yourself here. Running through the streets as you inhaled as much oxygen as you possibly could for your quirk to work. 

Looking both ways you ran across the alleyway into a Main Street. All around you were burning buildings and the bodies of dead civilians. Hero’s lower in the ranking than you were helping those trapped under debris or on the verge of death, hoping there was still hope for them.

You caught a peak at Fatgum and let out a sigh of relief, running over to him. “Are you okay?! Is Tamaki okay?!”

Fatgum nodded tiredly in reply and tied up the villain, tightening the restraints on their wrists. “Yes, he’s fine. Just meet up with him. And be careful” he ordered and stood up. 

You nodded and fixed your black mask, running off again. 

From where you stood you saw a body flying in the air as it collided with the wall, falling with a grunt. “Who the fuck is that freak..” he weakly mumbled before standing up quickly, making eye contact with you. 

A wicked grin tugged on his lips as he suddenly ran at you at full speed. A gasp left your mouth as you dodged his hit, grabbing him by the of his arm and slammed him into the wall. 

“You may be smart (Y/HN) but you can’t outsmart me!” he yelled as one of his hands detached from his body, grabbing you by your hair and tugged you down, kicking your face once you were level. 

Blood spewed from your mouth as you landed on the ground with a hard thud, a groan emitting from your mouth. Your body came in contact with a sharp object. The object stabbed into your side but nothing vital. You laid there like a fish out of water, small puffs of gas emitting from your mouth but not enough to do any damage. “Poor poor girl.,” he said lowly and attached his hand back to his wrist. “You are strong. But not for me. Don’t worry. Someone will be joining you very very soon...Now die!” he yelled and grabbed a knife from his pocket, running at you. 

You inhaled as much oxygen as your weak body could as he got closer with each step. Have to time this right!

Once he was in the distance of you, you opened your mouth and let everything out. You could only hold it for so long before you got light-headed. The man coughed and waved the gas out of there before making choking noises as he inhaled. His eyes widened as his skin began to form boils, his hand dropping the knife as he clawed at his throat. 

“Move!”

Your eyes widened at the voice as you covered your body. 

A talon appeared through the orange gas as it held the body down, a tentacle wrapping around his legs. Tamaki panted softly as he stared at you. “Back up is coming (Y/HN),” he said before his eyes narrowed down on the red spot forming on your white bodysuit. His tentacle tightened around the passed out body. 

“W-what happened?! Y-you’re bleeding! You need to get help now!”

You weakly got up and leaned against the wall for support. “I’m okay Tama..” You said lowly and flashed him a weak smile. “I’ll be okay”

He still didn’t look convinced.  “But bunny..”

“Tamaki! One got away! We need you and (Y/N) to come with!” Mirio said from far away as he jogged to meet the both of you, weary of his surroundings. “The police are coming right now to take him. We don’t know what this guy’s quirk is so we have to be extra care- Woah! (Y/N) you’re bleeding!”

“Yeah I figured that out already..” you grunted once you felt Mirio at your side, immediately wrapping a bandage around your wound. Where did he get the bandage? You had no idea. 

The police arrived and immediately arrested the villain. After speaking with you, Tamaki pulled you aside and placed his hands on your shoulders, indigo eyes boring into your own. “Are you sure you're okay bunny…? We can go to the hospital right now”

“Tama..” you started with a sigh and placed a hand on top of his that was resting on your shoulder. “I’m okay. I’m okay. We still have one more villain to catch. You guys still need my help.”

“I know that but I don’t want you to hurt yourself more than you already did.”

“Do you not trust my abilities?”

“W-what?! I trust you so much bunny! I just can’t lose you..” the last came out in a whisper as he suddenly wrapped his arms around you but not tight to hurt you and brought you to his chest. “I love you too much..”

You inhaled his scent that was disappearing with the sweat and the smell of ash and debris from the explosion earlier. “I love you too Tama..but I’ll be okay. I promise you. After all, you’re stuck with me forever, remember?” you teased to lighten the mood, lifting your head so your chin rested on his chest as you stared up at him 

His cheeks darkened at the remembrance of his proposal. “Y-yeah of course I remember bunny” he stuttered and looked elsewhere but you. 

A chuckle escaped your lips as you made him look at you, leaning in and capturing his lips in your one. Your lips moved in harmony as you felt him lightly nip your lower lip. Your hands clenched at the straps of his outfit before pulling away, a light string of saliva which was a token of your kiss. 

“Aww, you guys are so cute together! Just wait till Neijre finds out about you guys kissing on the job!” A happy Mirio chirped from behind you two. Tamaki let out a squeak as he covered his face with his hood as you rubbed your arm in embarrassment. Mirio always knew who to interrupt you two. 

“Yeah, whatever! We still have to find someone!” You said flustered and tried ignoring the heat on the nape of your neck from embarrassment. “You said you don’t know his quirk, do you know what he looks like?”

Mirio shook his head in disappointment. “No, we don’t. Least not for long. Only a glimpse of him. One of them fessed up saying there was one more out there.”

You scratched your chin in thought. “Camouflage quirk? Invisibility? Maybe shapeshifter?”

“That could be it..” Tamaki mumbled under his breath. “We should get going though. We shouldn’t stay in the same spot. Mirio you go on ahead before us. I’ll stay with Y-“

“No, you won’t. You go on with Mirio. I’ll be fine. Both of you are at your strongest right now. It’ll make sense for both of you to go together.”

Tamaki stared at you for which you just nodded simply. “Go. We’re wasting time.”

“Go.”

“Tamaki come on” Mirio urged and grabbed Tamaki by his wrist. “Faster we move, the faster we can leave.”

Tamaki nodded slowly and followed him, shooting a glance over at you. “Stay safe.”

“You too Tama. And you as well Mirio.”

“Aw, she cares about me!” He laughed and walked down the street before turning the corner with Tamaki. 

There was an unsettling feeling in your gut that you couldn’t shake the feeling from. Something was going to happen. But you didn’t know what. 

“So Tamaki soon huh?” Mirio said, trying to break the silence as they looked for the last villain. 

“Soon what? What do you mean?”

“You’re getting married! Duh! Don’t tell me you forgot already!”

Tamaki gulped faintly and looked down at his bruised up bare feet. “Y-yeah it’s soon..”

“Are you excited?”

“What k-kind of question is that?”

“A valid one Tamaki!”

“Of course I’m excited to get married to her..just nervous as always. She’s been stressing about the small details. The wedding isn’t even for another 2 months.”

“Well, it’s Y/N. She wants to make sure every little thing is right. Maybe that’s why both of you are good for each other huh?” The blond teased his friend, nudging him with his shoulder.

A pleased smile made its way onto Tamaki’s face as he stared up at the night sky. “Yeah... I guess that’s why”

Mirio glanced over at his friend’s pleased state before looking back forward. 

“Have lots of kids”

Tamaki choked on his saliva and looked at him thinking he was crazy. “Why did you say that?! Don’t say it like that!”

“Oh come on Tamaki! I wanna be the cool uncle! Uncle Mirio! That’s me!” He said proudly and jabbed his thumb into his chest, a smug look on his face. 

“Y-Yeah but you shouldn't ta-“

His words got cut off as he choked on air, eyes widening. 

Mirio quickly turned to face him as his eyes widened in horror.

There Tamaki stood, a blade sticking out in the middle of his chest. He gasped for air as his back arched, falling on his knees as blood began to seep out from the wound. 

“Tamaki!!!” 

A scream of terror was heard across the street. Y/N, Mirio thought as he made himself permeable, going underneath and came from behind the villain, grabbing the sword that was formed from his palm. 

Footsteps from the other side emerged louder with each heavy step. 

It all happened slowly. Mirio was able to immobilize the villain. You quickly made your way to Tamaki, stumbling as you fell on your knees. 

Tamaki laid there, unable to move. Paralyzed. He gasped for air as he blindly searched for your hand to comfort him. “Y-Y/N..”

“Tama I’m right here! I’m right here Tamaki!” You sobbed and grabbed his hand, enclosing it in both of yours. “Tamaki it’ll be okay! Keep your eyes open! Focus on my voice!”

Tamaki looked up at you and squeezed your hand as much as he could. Your figure looked blurry to him. He blinked away the fresh tears and felt them go down his face. “Bunny..” 

“K-keep your eyes open! You’re so strong Tamaki! Please! The medics are almost here!”

He started coughing and coughed up blood. Some blood splattered onto your face. You cringed at the feeling of the warm substance on your face. 

Tamaki gagged on his blood and spit it out weakly on the side of him, feeling the red substance dribble out of his mouth.

“Butterfly please..it hurts..”

You cried out and held his hand to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

Over

And over

From behind you stood Mirio, his expression indescribable. Tamaki couldn’t be dying. He just couldn’t. He was strong. This wasn’t Tamaki Amajiki. It couldn’t.

“I k-know baby!” You said through your tears, your vision getting blurrier and blurrier by the second. “You’re so strong Tamaki! I want to be just as strong as you Suneater!”

A weak chuckle passed by his lips. “I told you not to say that bunny..you know what it does to me..”

You forced a smile as you leaned closer. “We’re getting married remember?! A-And we’re going to see the butterfly sanctuary that is opening soon! Remember Tama?! Fight for me, baby! Please!”

“Butterfly...I love you so much..”

You shook your head and kissed him quickly, ignoring the taste of metallic hitting your lips. Your tears fell onto his cheeks, mixing with his own. 

Your love is represented in the kiss. A feeling of desperation. A feeling of a small hope that he could make it. His kisses still left you breathless. Even like this, he still made you feel in cloud 9 with a kiss as simple as this. 

As a bystander, this was the most tragic thing to witness. The death of a hero. No one wanted to see that. Especially the death of a hero, dying in the arms of their lover. 

Many people crowded around on the other side of the street as the area was closed off by police cars. The faint noise of the sirens from afar. 

Tamaki weakly kissed back, his hand cradling your cheek as he brought you in deeper. 

You choked on a sob in the kiss. You quickly pulled away and noticed his breathing evening out. “No no, Tamaki! I can’t lose you! Not now! Not ever! I love you!!”

“Butterfly…” he got out and made eye contact with you. “Fly high for me butterfly..” he whispered as his chest stopped moving. His hand that was cradling your cheek, fell limp on the floor. However, his eyes were still open, barely. The life inside his beautiful eyes was now gone.

A scream resonated throughout the area. Your scream. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You stared down at the engagement ring that stayed sitting on your hand. You gulped and let the tears flow. You looked up at everyone and gripped the podium. 

“T-Tamaki wasn’t weak! Never at all! He was so strong! I wanted to be just like him! He was my inspiration for getting out there and saving people! I wanted to be just like him! I admired him!” You sobbed and covered your mouth with a hand as your shoulders shook, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Tamaki showed me what love truly was! He was my sun! He was..he was my Suneater. He was.. he is my world. I love that man so much..” you whispered the last part and bowed your head.

“I thanked Tamaki everyday… Tamaki. My love..thank you for being there for me..f-for always being on my side. For making my day shine with your presence..”

You looked up at your friends. Mirio has his head down in respect as Neijre had a tissue on her mouth, her figure trembling as she kept her sons in. Taishiro had his eyes closed, silent tears flowy as Eijirou was openly sobbing. 

“Mr and Mrs.Amajiki..” you spoke up and looked up, making eye contact with his parents.

“Thank you for bringing the most... beautiful person into this world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You repeated and bowed your head once again with respect for them. 

You finished it off and got off the podium, walking around to the open casket that held your beloved. 

“Tamaki..” you whispered and leaned down, kissing his hand, relishing the way his cold skin met your warm lips. “It’s time to get you home..”

You stayed in that position for a second more before leaning up and held your hand out for Mirio to take. He complied as Neijre grabbed his other hand. The 3 of you walked out, heads bowed. 

The burial went smoothly as possible, just like you hoped. You watched intently as they buried your beloved. You had your hands close to your chest, Mirio’s arm resting around your shoulders as Neijre had an arm wrapped around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. 

“He’s home..” you whispered to no one in particular. Neijre weakly nodded and grabbed your hand. “He’s home..and he’s safe Y/N-Chan” 

The 3 of you stayed behind in that position. Many people came over to say their condolences to you, which you said a sweet thank you to the person. 

“I hope you guys don’t mind but..can I have some alone time with him real quick..?”

“No, not at all. Take your time. Come on Neijre” Mirio spoke up for the both of them, turning on his heels as he walked off somewhere else, the periwinkle haired girl following him close behind. 

You let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through your hair. “Hey, my love..god it feels weird talking to you like this. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it but one day I’ll have to huh?” You chimed and sat on the bench that was next to his grave. 

“You looked so peaceful over there earlier… I wish I looked that peaceful when I fall asleep now..but I can’t. Because all I think about is you…that’s all I want. I want you back baby. I want you back in my arms again..but I know that can’t happen” you spoke and clasped your hands together, setting them in your lap. 

Something small caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You glanced over and saw a purple butterfly land on top of his gravestone. 

You let out a small gasp. “Purple Emperor..those are your favorite Tama.,” you whispered and shakily stuck a finger out. The purple emperor majestically flew over to you and landed on your finger. 

You stared down at it as tears welled up in your eyes. “Tamaki…” you whispered. At the sound of the name, the butterfly fluttered its wings as if it was responding to you. 

“Oh, Tama… you’re so beautiful… a purple emperor. My little emperor… who would have known that you loved butterflies so much you would become one… so beautiful..” you trailed off and admired the beautiful shade of purple with grey gradients and the dash of white markings.

You shook your head lightly and stood up, taking 2 steps until you were standing in front of his grave. 

“Keep going Tamaki..fly high for me butterfly” you recalled his words that he told you moments before he passed and gently let the butterfly go, watching it fly off to start its new adventure. 

“This isn’t goodbye my love..I’ll see you soon. Wait for me” you whispered and brought your fingers to your lips, kissing them softly and placed it on the cold head of the gravestone. 

You nodded internally and lifted your foot off the ground, taking a step towards your friends and continued onward. Their gentle smiles of encouragement kept you going. With your friends and family by your side, you could accomplish anything. 

Tamaki’s death not only broke a part of you, but it made you a stronger individual. Acceptance. You were finally ready to accept it. With or without Tamaki, you were finally ready to continue to the next chapter of your life.