#adding the ones i hadn't seen of yours to my to watch list

[rimzaaa]

Black Stone, White Lies

Oneshot!

Pairing: Cho Hun-hyun x female reader.

Fandom: The Match (승부)

Summary: She was just a teenager when he called her incapable. Five years later, she returns as his opponent, ready to take back everything — including the pride he once shattered. But behind their Go board rivalry lies years of unspoken tension, buried emotions, and a fire neither of them were prepared to reignite.

Warning: Age gap (23x40 cause I love this trope), heavy angst, obsession, emotionally intense scenes, unresolved feelings, explicit content (18+), teacher-student dynamic (past), rough intimacy, jealousy, guilt, power imbalance, smoking & alcohol mentions.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know The Match is based on a real-life figure and is all about the game of Go. Also I hadn't seen any fic on Lee Byunghun's this character so I thought to write one with my own twists and ideas. I hope y'all will enjoy and love it. Your reblogs and comments mean a lot! ����🏻

Words Count: 8K

Tag list: @salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1

The afternoon sun streamed softly through the windows, casting golden light across the quiet living room. The only sound that echoed was the clicking of Go stones being placed on the wooden board.

Y/N sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, eyes fixed on the game as her father (Yun-sik) and his friend (Cheon Seung-pil) played in focused silence, seated cross-legged on the rug below.

Her father sat frozen, squinting at the board as he struggled to make his next move. The room was quiet, thick with concentration. Then, without a word, Y/N leaned forward from the couch, picked up a white stone, and placed it gently on the board. Two of the black stones were instantly cornered—out of the game.

Yun-sik and Seung-pil’s heads snapped toward the eighteen years old girl, eyes wide in disbelief.

“How did you do that, kiddo?” her father asked, his voice laced with both surprise and curiosity.

Y/N shrugged casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It was right there.”

Seung-pil let out a soft whistle, clearly impressed. “Woah. This girl is a genius, Yun-sik.”

Yun-sik nodded, a proud smile tugging at his lips as he watched his daughter act all nonchalant.

Seung-pil broke the silence with a laugh, clearly impressed. “How about we send her into this field, huh? I bet she’d master the rules of Go in just a few days. She’s already better than most beginners.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, completely unimpressed by the suggestion. She shook her head firmly.

“What? No way. I’m not interested at all.”

“I think he might be right,” her father added, trying to sound casual. “Maybe we should think about it, Y/N.”

But she was already on her feet, marching toward the stairs.

“NEVER!” she snapped stubbornly before storming off and slamming her bedroom door behind her.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

Y/n woke up late next morning — it was the weekend, after all. After a quick change into jeans and an oversized sweater, she tied her hair into a high ponytail and made her way downstairs, expecting to find the table filled with the usual weekend spread of delicious breakfast.

But her steps halted at the bottom stair.

There, seated on the couch with her father and Seung-pil, was none other than Cho Hun-hyun — the legendary Go player of South Korea, the man who had recently taken home the international championship.

Her brows furrowed. What is he doing here?

Before she could say anything, her father looked over his shoulder and beamed.

“Oh, here she is. Come on in, Y/n.”

She stood frozen for a moment, completely thrown off, before slowly stepping toward them — still unsure of what exactly she was walking into.

“Y/n, this is Mr. Cho Hun-hyun. I’m sure you know who he is already, don’t you?” Seung-pil said as she took a seat beside her father.

“Of course I know Mr. Cho,” she replied casually, her eyes flickering toward the man across from her.

She caught his gaze — just for a second — before quickly looking away. Not because she was trying to eye him or anything… she just didn’t want him thinking she was.

Cho gave her a brief nod as her father introduced them. He was confident—cold even—with no trace of hesitation or discomfort. He sat like he owned the place, posture straight, expression unreadable.

Y/n, on the other hand, sat quietly with her hands clasped neatly in her lap, gaze lowered. Still, her curiosity—or maybe something bolder—betrayed her, stealing glances at Cho every now and then.

Cho politely excused both himself and Y/n from Yun-sik and Seung-pil, expressing that he wanted a private word—and a quick game—to assess whether the girl he was about to train truly had potential.

Y/n clearly didn’t want any part of it. But with her father playing host and Cho being an honored guest, she had no choice but to nod and follow. On the surface, she played the role of the obedient daughter, but just beneath it simmered her quiet stubbornness, clashing with every step she took behind the man who was about to test her.

They sat across from each other on the leather couch in the quiet study, the Go board resting neatly on the table between them. The silence was thick—almost tense—as Y/n finally allowed herself to really look at the man in front of her.

He sat there with one leg propped up casually on the couch, hunched slightly over the Go board like it was an extension of his soul. His suit—steel gray and a little loose on the shoulders—looked dated but dignified, like he didn’t care to keep up with the times because he was the standard. Beneath it, he wore a simple dark shirt, the kind that clung slightly to his frame when he moved, just enough to hint at strength beneath the quiet.

His face was unreadable, sharp and lean—cheekbones carved clean, lips pressed in a line that neither smiled nor frowned. His hair was thick and dark, parted to the side, brushing his forehead with boyish stubbornness, a strange contrast to the cold stillness of his demeanor.

A gold watch peeked out from his cuff, every time he moved his hand. His presence filled the room. Calm, silent, and unshakably confident—he looked like someone who didn’t just play Go.

He was Go.

Y/n swallowed hard. She didn’t know why, but something about him unnerved her. Maybe it was the way he sat like nothing around him mattered—or maybe it was how, even without looking at her, he made her feel seen. He was probably in his mid-thirties and she wondered how such a handsome man like him is still single.

“So,” he began, his voice calm and direct, “why do you want to learn Go?”

Y/n hesitated for a second before replying honestly, “Actually… I didn’t. My father thinks I have potential. He says I can do magic in the world of Go, just like you.”

Cho let out a faint smirk at that — brief, unreadable. He nodded slowly, then leaned forward and unfolded the board between them with practiced ease. The soft click of the stones echoed in the quiet room as he handed her the black set.

“Let’s see what you’re capable of, then.”

The game began — quiet clicks of the stones, deep concentration, and a thick layer of unspoken tension between them. Y/n sat across from him, stealing quick glances every now and then. Cho’s gaze, though calm, was sharp. His lips curled into a faint smirk each time she hesitated over a move, as if he already knew the outcome.

The match was nearing its end. Y/n was just one step away from winning — but her mind was foggy. She wasn’t sure if it was the game or the man sitting across from her that was truly distracting her.

Finally, she made her move — and it was the wrong one.

Cho let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. It wasn’t mocking, but rather something else. Amusement. Maybe even pride. “You lost, little girl.”

She met his gaze, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and from something else when he called her by that nickname. Whether it was from the pressure or the way he looked at her, she didn’t know.

“I’m not a kid,” she mumbled under her breath.

“No?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “How old are you, then?”

“Eighteen,” she replied softly, voice nearly caught in her throat.

That made Cho pause. A flicker of something crossed his face — surprise, amusement — and then he chuckled again, leaning back against the couch as he gave her a proper look. Big, curious eyes. Silky dark hair pulled into a ponytail. An oversized sweater draped over her small frame. And then his eyes paused — just briefly — at the curve of her neck.

Something stirred inside him.

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

Just then, Yun-sik and Seung-pil stepped into the room, cutting through the lingering tension.

“So,” Seung-pil asked with curiosity, “what do you think of her game?”

Cho glanced at Y/n before replying, his tone composed but honest. “I’m impressed. I didn’t expect her to be this good already. She has sharp instincts — just needs some refining. With proper training, she could be exceptional.”

“Really?” Yun-sik beamed, eyes wide with pride. “That would be an absolute honor, Mr. Cho. My daughter’s lucky to have a mentor like you.”

Y/n stood quietly beside them, offering a small, polite bow. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Cho returned the gesture with a nod and a faint smile.

But in that short moment — as their eyes met — something shifted. A mutual awareness. A flicker of something deeper than the game. Neither of them said it aloud, but both knew: This wouldn’t just be about Go.

There was something else unfolding — something neither of them was ready to name.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

Days passed, and so did her training. A month had gone by now. Y/n was improving steadily — learning new strategies, mastering the rules, becoming sharper with every move on the board.

But it wasn’t just about Go anymore.

There were stolen glances across the table. Accidental brushes of their hands. Teasing jokes that lingered longer than they should’ve. Their bond had shifted — no longer just teacher and student, but something softer, something warmer. Friends, perhaps. With an age gap, yes — but neither of them seemed to care.

Y/n felt herself being drawn to him in ways she didn’t know how to explain. Her eyes lingered on him longer than they should. Her cheeks warmed every time he praised her gameplay. And every accidental touch — every flicker of contact — made her heart skip a beat.

Cho wasn’t much different.

He found himself noticing her too often. The curve of her smile. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused. Her quiet intelligence, her laughter — everything about her stirred something in him he hadn’t felt before.

He told himself it was just an innocent attraction. A phase. A passing feeling.

But he knew that wasn’t the truth.

He was starting to see her in a way he shouldn’t — not as a student, not as a kid, not as someone temporary. And that terrified him more than anything.

Because she was young. Too young.

And he wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It’s late afternoon. Rain is tapping softly against the windows, and the sky is gray. They’re in the study, Go board between them — but the game is forgotten now. Y/n had just made a brilliant move, one that even caught Cho off guard. He’s quiet, eyes on the board. She looks up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Instead, he leans back slowly, studying her in silence.

“You’re not a student anymore,” he says, voice low, almost unreadable.

Y/n blinks. “What?”

Cho’s eyes meet hers — sharp but unreadable. “You’re starting to play like an opponent, not someone I’m teaching.”

Y/n leans forward, tilting her head slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he replies. “Just… dangerous.”

The word hangs in the air, heavier than it should.

Silence settles between them, thick with unsaid things. Then, Y/n reaches for a black stone — her fingers brushing his hand by mistake.

Neither of them moves away

His eyes drop to her fingers. So close. Too close.

Y/n’s breath catches in her throat. “You said I’m dangerous,” she whispers, “but I think you’re the one who’s losing focus, Mr. Cho.”

A faint smirk flickers at the corner of his lips — then vanishes just as quickly. He leans in a fraction, enough for her to feel the tension in the air thicken.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs.

“And you’re the one who lit it,” she fires back — soft, bold, breathless.

They both freeze.

Then suddenly, Cho stands up — stepping back, putting distance between them.

“Training’s over for today,” he says, voice flat now, masking the storm behind his eyes. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

He leaves the room before she can say anything. But even as the door shuts behind him, Y/n knows something irreversible has shifted between them.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It had been a week since that moment — since the air between them had changed, thickened with something unspeakable. And since then,

Cho had made one thing clear: Distance.

There were no more lingering glances. No more teasing remarks. No more subtle shifts in his tone that only she could catch.

He kept his voice even now, his posture strict, and his gaze fixed solely on the board during training. Y/n noticed it immediately — the sudden wall he’d built between them — but she didn’t question it. Maybe he wanted her to focus, she told herself. Maybe he realized the distraction they had both become.

But it wasn’t just focus.

Cho felt himself unraveling.

He was Cho Hun-hyun — the undefeated, the master, the national treasure of Go. His name meant strategy. Precision. Control.

And yet, lately, all he could think about was her.

The girl who wasn’t a girl anymore.

Her voice — that soft, defiant tone — haunted him: “I think you’re the one losing focus, Mr. Cho.”

She had said it to tease him, maybe to provoke a reaction. But she had no idea how right she was. He was losing focus — not just during games, but everywhere. He would sit before the board and all he could see was her face across from him. Her fingers brushing the stones. Her eyes studying him, not the game.

It was infuriating.

He clenched his jaw every time he thought about it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to guide her, train her, sharpen her into a player that could rival anyone.

Not feel anything.

And certainly not this — not the burn in his chest when she smiled. Not the ache in his gut when she laughed at something her father said. Not the guilt that clawed at him when his eyes lingered too long on the delicate line of her neck, the way her t-shirt slipped just slightly off one shoulder.

He needed to stop it.

He had to stop it.

Because if he didn’t — he knew he’d lose far more than just his title.

He’d lose himself.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It was a quiet evening. Both of them sat cross-legged on the rug, the Go board between them, eyes fixed on the game — or at least, that’s what they told themselves.

Cho had been keeping his distance, maintaining a cold professionalism that felt more like punishment than discipline. It was hard for him — harder than he admitted — but he told himself it was necessary. For her sake. For his.

But Y/n had had enough.

She’d spent weeks confused by his sudden shift. The warmth between them had disappeared, replaced with cool silences and curt instructions. And tonight, she had made up her mind. After this game, she would confront him. Ask if she had done something wrong. Ask why he’d changed.

The end of the game neared. Cho was stuck, frustration simmering just beneath his sharp features. He ran a hand through his hair, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before exhaling slowly. He couldn’t believe it — he had no way out.

Across from him, Y/n sat calm and composed, just like he used to be. Confident. Steady. Her eyes gleamed with silent determination.

It stung.

Eventually, Cho placed his stone on the board, and a small, amused chuckle escaped Y/n’s lips — barely more than a breath, but enough.

“You lost, Mr. Cho,” she said softly, a proud smile touching her lips. It was the first time she had ever beaten him, and after months of brutal training, it felt like a victory she had earned.

But instead of pride, his eyes darkened.

“You think winning once makes you a champion?” he snapped, his tone sharp and clipped. “Don’t forget the days you cried over every mistake. And this—” he gestured to the board, his voice rising slightly, “—you misplayed here. I let it slide. So stop acting like a child over one small win. Grow up.”

He didn’t wait for her reaction. Didn’t look back. He stood and walked out of the house without another word.

Y/n sat frozen, the sting of his words hitting harder than any loss she’d ever endured. She had expected praise. Maybe even a smile. Instead, she was left with the echo of his anger. Her hands trembled as she lowered her head, and silent tears slipped down her cheeks, falling into her lap.

Meanwhile, Cho walked briskly through the cool evening air, the cigarette burning down between his fingers. Guilt twisted in his chest. He knew he had crossed a line. He knew she didn’t deserve that. But he couldn’t ignore the truth he refused to say out loud.

She was rising. Fast. And it terrified him.

Not just because she might take his place someday — but because the thought of losing her in any way was something he wasn’t ready to face.

He shook his head and told himself it was fine. She’d recover. She always did.

Didn’t she?

Y/n had had enough.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she stormed out of the house, heart pounding in her chest. She spotted Cho walking just a block away, his back to her, hands buried in his pockets.

“Mr. Cho!” she called out, voice sharp and broken at the same time.

He halted. The sound of her voice froze him in place. Slowly, he turned around — and the sight of her hit him like a punch to the chest. Her eyes were puffy, red-rimmed from crying, but it wasn’t just sadness he saw.

It was rage.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded as she marched up to him. “What did I do wrong? I won! Isn’t that what all this training was for? Then why did you scold me like that?”

She stood in front of him, stubborn, proud — but her voice trembled with the effort of holding herself together.

Cho didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched her face, the guilt clawing at his insides. She had no idea how close she was to the truth. How much she had stirred things in him he couldn’t control.

Finally, he exhaled and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n. Go home.”

He turned to leave, but her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Her grip was tight, almost desperate — as if she needed to anchor herself to something solid, even if it was him.

“You owe me an explanation,” she said fiercely. “You don’t get to just walk away after that. You don’t get to humiliate me and pretend nothing happened.”

Cho looked down at her hand on his arm, then slowly pulled himself free. His expression shifted back to that cold, unreadable calm he wore so well — the one that drove her crazy.

“I told you already,” he said, voice clipped. “You won — but with a flaw. You misplayed, and I let it slide. Come talk to me when you win without any mistakes.”

Her lips parted, trembling now. The burn behind her eyes came back with full force, but she blinked it away. She didn’t want to cry again. Not in front of him.

But a few tears escaped anyway.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered. “There’s something else. I can feel it.”

Cho’s jaw clenched. His fists stayed at his sides, but every part of him screamed to pull her close, to tell her the truth — that she was brilliant, that she was rising fast, and that he was scared.

But pride was a bitter thing.

And fear, even worse.

So instead, he stood silent as the wind moved between them, carrying her pain and his regret with it.

Y/n took a shaky breath and stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. “If I’ve done something wrong… just tell me. But don’t keep pushing me away like this.”

He didn’t move back. He didn’t stop her either.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy but steady. “I didn’t just want to make you proud. I wanted to matter to you.”

That hit him hard.

His gaze dropped to her lips for a split second — too fast, but not unnoticed. Y/n’s breath caught, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Cho’s hand lifted on instinct, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His touch lingered — longer than it should have. His warm breath fanning her face.

Their faces were just inches apart now.

She didn’t step back.

And he didn’t either.

Everything was still — the world had faded, and it was just them. Just one moment away from falling into something they couldn’t undo.

But then Cho blinked — like something snapped inside him — and he took a step back, his hand dropping to his side.

“No,” he said hoarsely, almost to himself. “This… can’t happen.”

Y/n stared at him, her breath still caught in her chest, the sting of rejection settling in like a chill.

He didn’t look at her again. Just turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone under the quiet evening sky — her heart aching not from the loss, but from what almost was.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

Three days.

That’s how long it had been since he walked away. Since she stood there—heart wide open—only to be left behind in silence.

Cho hadn’t shown up at her house for their usual training. And when her father called to ask why, he gave a simple answer: He had a match out of town.

A half-truth. Part lie, part escape.

They were both suffering, trapped in the same storm—only from different sides. And neither knew what to call it.

Y/n was lost in confusion and hurt, her focus shattered. Even during her solo training, her hands would hover mid-air, mind blank. She needed answers. But he wasn’t showing up. He was pushing her away.

Cho, on the other hand, was tangled in guilt and fear. He knew exactly where things were heading—but he also knew the weight of the consequences.

His career. His name. His future.

And hers? She had her whole life ahead of her. She needed clarity, not chaos. A future built on discipline and dreams—not feelings they couldn’t afford to name.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It was a rainy afternoon. Y/n sat in the living room with her father, chatting about casual things—her training, studies, and whatever else filled the quiet spaces between them—when the doorbell rang.

Y/n rose from the couch and walked toward the door.

And froze.

Cho Hun-hyun stood there. Calm as ever, posture straight, expression unreadable—as if the last few days hadn’t happened at all.

Wordlessly, she stepped aside to let him in. He greeted her father with a polite nod, informing him that he was back and ready to resume her training. Her father smiled, relieved.

He had no idea what had passed in those days of silence, but Cho did. He knew hiding wasn’t a solution. It never was. So he’d made his decision: return, but strictly as her mentor. The man who had crossed a line would now pretend there had never been one.

Y/n led him to the study and excused herself for a moment.

While she was gone, Cho’s gaze drifted across the room and landed on a cluttered table. Sheets of paper were scattered—handwritten notes, strategy maps, rule breakdowns. He picked one up, brows drawing together. These were advanced strategies. Ones he hadn’t taught her yet.

She had been training on her own.

The realization made his chest tighten. She was already advancing quickly. Winning matches. Gaining recognition. The fear he had buried resurfaced: She’s going to surpass me.

He hastily placed the papers back as Y/n returned.

They sat down across from each other on the rug, the Go board between them, silence stretching like a chasm. Without a word—or a glance in her direction—Cho began the game.

Y/n clenched her jaw, holding back everything inside her. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to ask him what the hell happened between them—but she didn’t.

Not yet.

The game progressed. Smooth at first—until she froze. Her eyes scanned the board, fingers twitching, unsure of the next move. She bit her lip and looked up at him, hoping for a hint like he used to give.

But all she received was a cold, unreadable glare.

“I… I’m stuck,” she finally admitted. “I don’t know what move to make.”

Silence.

“At least help me out,” she added, a little softer this time.

Cho leaned in slowly, eyes locked on hers.

“Help?” he scoffed, then gave a humorless chuckle. “Why don’t you use your brain like you used your mouth that day? Fast.”

The words hit her like a slap.

She blinked at him, stunned. Was he really throwing that night in her face like this?

“You know what, Y/n?” he continued, voice sharp. “Maybe you should stop playing Go and try gonggi. Might suit your level better.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she held them in. “I was just—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he cut her off, standing abruptly. “You can’t focus because you’re distracted. You thought I was softening, laughing with you, letting you win—and that night?”

He shook his head. “That was a mistake. Don’t get delusional.”

Her breath caught.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to train you,” he said coldly. “You’re not ready. Not for this game. Not for what it takes. You’ll never make it just by memorizing rules. Forget Go. I’ll speak to your father.”

And just like that—without a glance back, without letting her speak—he walked out.

Leaving her alone.

With her tears.

With her shame.

With hands that trembled, and a heart that was breaking for reasons she still didn’t fully understand.

━━ ❍ 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 ❍ ━━

Y/n stood outside the door of the room where the final round of the National Go Championship was about to begin.

She was no longer the teenage girl who once clung to hesitant moves and stolen glances.

Now, she was a woman—poised, grown, and breathtaking in a way that turned heads the second she walked into a room. Confidence radiated off her like a second skin. Fierce. Focused. Still just as stubborn.

Her name echoed through the speakers, announced as one of the finalists. She took a slow breath and stepped inside.

Eyes turned toward her as soon as she entered, but her gaze scanned the room for only one person—and found him instantly.

Cho Hun-hyun.

There he was. Still composed, still cold, still every bit the legend. He sat on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, cigarette balanced between his fingers, that same calm arrogance etched across his face.

But the moment she entered, something shifted.

Cho’s head lifted. His eyes landed on her—and they didn’t move. For the first time in five years, he faltered. The cigarette trembled slightly before he crushed it into the ashtray, almost on instinct. He sat up straighter, as if trying to confirm what his eyes were seeing.

She was real.

Not a ghost.

Not a memory.

Real.

And she wasn’t the girl he left behind.

She was a storm.

Y/n walked toward the table slowly, every step intentional. Her eyes never left his. There was no softness, no hesitation. Only satisfaction at the look on his face—the disbelief, the flicker of guilt, the crack in his composed mask.

She took her seat across from him, calm and unreadable.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t smile.

She had no interest in breaking down in front of him ever again.

If anything, she was here to make him fall apart.

The game began with the sharp click of the timer, and both players made their opening moves.

Y/n didn’t spare him a single glance. Her eyes were locked on the board, her focus unshakable. She hadn’t trained for five years just to fall apart now. She told herself she was different—colder, stronger, untouchable. Maybe that was true. Or maybe she was just better at pretending.

Cho, on the other hand, kept stealing glances at her. He didn’t need to focus much—he was already a legend. Calmly lighting a cigarette, he leaned back slightly and let the smoke curl into the air above them. But his eyes never truly left her. She had changed, yes—grown into a striking, confident woman—but some things hadn’t changed at all. The way she bit her lower lip before placing a stone. The way she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear when she was thinking. The fire in her eyes that always spoke of quiet rebellion.

And then there was her neck—that same damn delicate curve that had caught his attention the first day he saw her.

The urge to touch her, to taste her skin, to know what it felt like to have her lips against his—it hadn’t faded. If anything, the years had only sharpened it.

But he also remembered exactly how he’d shattered her five years ago. And now…he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to look at her that way anymore.

The game was nearing its end, and Cho found himself in a tight corner. No matter how many possibilities ran through his mind, every path led to loss. For the first time in years, he felt helpless at a Go board.

His eyes lifted toward her, almost instinctively—as if silently begging for help.

And in that moment, a memory struck him like a punch to the gut.

Five years ago.

She had looked up at him just like this—lost, searching for a hint.

But all he gave her was bitterness.

Cruel words.

A closed door.

Now, Y/n didn’t even flinch under his gaze. Her eyes stayed fixed on the board, her next move already forming in her head. She was calm. Collected. Unreachable.

Reluctantly, Cho moved a stone.

And with a faint, satisfied smirk, Y/n placed hers—decisive, brilliant.

Gasps rippled through the room.

The timer stopped.

The judges spoke.

“The winner and new National Go Champion: Y/n.”

That’s when she lifted her eyes—and met his.

Cho sat frozen, stunned by the outcome. That move… that damn move—where had she learned it? She was just a newbie once, a kid with too much confidence. Right?

He watched her rise from her seat as cameras flashed and reporters swarmed. She held the trophy in her hands, expression calm, poised, untouchable.

And no one—no one—looked at him.

No camera turned. No voice called his name.

The very thing he had feared most… was happening right before his eyes.

She had taken everything—his spotlight, his legacy, his place.

His jaw clenched.

Y/n made her way toward the exit when one reporter finally turned to her.

“Is it true that Cho Hun-hyun once trained you?”

The question cut through the noise.

Y/n’s steps faltered—just for a second—as a flicker of the past danced through her eyes.

But she said nothing.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t turn around.

She stepped outside, got into the car, and drove away—leaving him behind this time.

The sky outside was dark, swollen with storm clouds. Rain lashed against the windows in steady sheets, the sound like static filling the silence of the room.

Cho sat in a leather armchair, a glass of whiskey resting in one hand, a cigarette slowly burning between the fingers of the other. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

He couldn’t stop replaying the events of earlier. The loss. The silence.

But failure wasn’t the only thing haunting him tonight.

She was.

Where had Y/n been all these years? She hadn’t made a name for herself in any of Seoul’s Go academies. No whispers. No mentions. Nothing.

And then, like a ghost, she appeared—silent, sharp, deadly—only to vanish again without a single word. No glance. No goodbye. Just the sound of the closing door behind her.

He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes closing as the burn slid down his throat. But it did nothing to quiet the storm inside.

Her face still lingered behind his eyelids—five years ago. The night he walked out. Her trembling hands. The tears she tried to hide. The way she stood in front of him, demanding answers.

Back then, he thought pushing her away would protect them both.

Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Y/n stepped into her house to the warm embrace of her father. His arms wrapped around her tightly, pride shining in his eyes.

“You made me proud,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry… for everything I did five years ago.”

She gave him a small, reassuring smile — the kind that said she had long since stopped needing an apology — and then quietly made her way upstairs to her room.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

She stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her tired body. But her muscles didn’t just ache from the match — they ached with a memory she had tried so hard to bury.

For the past five years, this had been her quiet ritual. Whenever the world grew too loud, whenever the weight of it all became too much — she’d retreat to the silence of the shower, sink down onto the cold tile floor, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around herself like a shield.

And she would cry

Tonight was no exception.

She had won.

She had proved herself to the man who once told her to play gonggi instead of Go. She had taken the trophy — and with it, her revenge.

She should have felt proud. Relieved. Triumphant

But success wasn’t the only thing she carried home tonight.

Somewhere beneath the layers of victory and silence, the ache still lingered — the same old love she had once buried so deep, hoping it would die there.

But it hadn’t.

It had grown quiet, yes. But never gone.

And when she saw him earlier across the Go board — the same sharp eyes, the same careless cigarette between his fingers, the same silence she once found comfort in — she had wanted to break.

To scream. To fall into his arms and demand answers. To ask why he left her that night, why he chose ego over her.

But instead, she stayed still. Just like she had trained herself to.

Silent.

Unshaken.

Unseen.

✦ 𝐅 𝐋 𝐀 𝐒 𝐇 𝐁 𝐀 𝐂 𝐊 ✦

The moment he walked out of the study room, his words lingered in the silence like a curse.

“Forget about Go. I’ll talk to your father.”

He left her sitting there—alone, humiliated, hands trembling and tears falling quietly down her cheeks.

Outside the study room, she heard his voice. Low, cold, distant.

“Mr. Yun-sik, I’m sorry. I can’t continue with Y/n’s training anymore. I don’t think she’s capable of playing at this level. It would be better if you let her focus on her studies.”

A lie.

He said it and left — not just the house, but her world. Carrying a heart full of guilt, regret, and something unspoken: I’m afraid your daughter will surpass me someday.

Moments later, the study room door flew open. Her father stormed in, eyes burning with disappointment. He took one look at her—sitting on the rug, silently crying—and his expression twisted into rage.

“You disgraced me! I thought you had talent. You used to help me with my games—solve moves I couldn’t. I believed in you. I asked the country’s greatest champion to train you, and this is how you repay me? With failure? With shame?”

Each word felt like a slap across her face.

She didn’t speak—just cried harder, silently, lips trembling with words that wouldn’t come out.

“Enough! I’m sending you to Busan. You’ll stay with your aunt. Don’t come back until you’ve finished your studies.”

Her eyes widened. Disbelief washed over her. She scrambled to her feet and reached for him, voice cracking.

“Appa… Appa, please—don’t. I don’t want to go. Please…”

But her father didn’t even look at her. He pulled his hand away from hers and walked out, leaving her in the same silence Cho had.

The next morning, Y/n was sent to Busan.

All night, she’d tried to convince herself it was for the best. That maybe, just maybe, distance would heal her. That she’d forget him.

But deep down, she knew she wouldn’t.

And as she stepped out of the house that day — a suitcase in hand, heart in pieces — she vowed: One day, I’ll come back stronger. And I’ll make them regret ever giving up on me.

✦ 𝐏 𝐑 𝐄 𝐒 𝐄 𝐍 𝐓 ✦

Cho had woken early the next morning, though sleep had barely touched him last night. Over and over, he told himself he wasn’t at fault—that what he did five years ago had been for the best. But deep down, the truth gnawed at him. He had lied to her. Not because she wasn’t capable… but because he was afraid. Afraid she’d surpass him. And last night, that fear became reality.

She had beaten him.

He made his way to a small coffee shop, one tucked away in a quieter part of the city, where Seung-pil was already waiting. A longtime friend of both his and Yun-sik’s, Seung-pil greeted him with a simple nod. They sat for a moment in silence, the weight of unspoken things settling between them like thick fog.

Then Cho cleared his throat.

“I need to know something,” he said, voice low.

Seung-pil glanced at him, a brow raised. “About?”

“Where has Y/n been all these years?” Cho asked.

That made Seung-pil pause. His tone was colder now. “Why? Why do you care about that girl now?”

“Just tell me,” Cho pressed, something in his voice caught between pleading and command.

Seung-pil looked away, exhaled through his nose. “Busan.”

“Busan?” Cho repeated, quietly.

“Yun-sik told me what happened that night,” Seung-pil went on. “Said you refused to train her any further. Said she couldn’t keep up now that the difficulty was rising. He believed you. Got disappointed. Sent her away to live with her aunt in Busan. She was devastated, Cho. But she built herself back up. Brick by brick. Last night when she walked through that door with the trophy in her hand… I saw something in Yun-sik’s eyes I hadn’t seen in years.”

Cho absorbed every word like a blow to the chest.

Now he knew why her name never came up in any Seoul Go academies.

Seung-pil looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you asking now? What—did she bruise your ego, Cho?”

Cho didn’t respond. He simply stood from the table, nodded faintly, and walked out of the café.

The city streets felt heavier under his steps. He wandered without direction, each thought dragging him deeper into regret. She had every reason to hate him. Everything she endured—every tear, every wound—was because of his fear.

And now, he knew what he had to do.

He had to face her.

The sky had turned a deep grey, clouds gathering above the city like a warning. It was past afternoon, and the air was heavy—restless.

Y/n was alone at home. Her father had left town earlier that morning for a business trip. The silence inside the house matched the silence in her heart, until the doorbell rang.

She descended the stairs casually, assuming it was a parcel or a neighbor. But the moment she opened the door, her body froze.

Cho Hun-hyun.

He wasn’t standing tall like before. His shoulders were slightly slouched, his eyes unreadable but hollow. The same man who once walked like he owned the world now looked like a ghost of his former self—uninvited, unannounced, and clearly ashamed.

Y/n’s jaw clenched as her heart pounded with rage. Without hesitation, she began to shut the door.

“Y/n—wait, listen to me—” he stepped forward and stopped the door with his hand.

The sound of her name from his mouth after five long years sent a jolt through her chest. But she shoved that feeling deep down where it couldn’t betray her.

“I don’t want to listen to anything,” she snapped, voice sharp.

But Cho stood firm in the doorway. “Just a minute. Please… let’s talk.”

Y/n let out a bitter scoff. “Talk? About what? There’s nothing left to say. You’re just another name to defeat on my list now. That’s all you are.”

She went to close the door again, but then—

“I lied.”

She froze, her hand still on the doorknob. Her brows furrowed in disbelief.

“I lied that day,” he said, stepping inside before she could stop him. He shut the door behind him slowly, as if trying not to shatter the air between them.

“I told your father you weren’t capable. That you didn’t have what it takes to play Go. But the truth is… I knew you were brilliant. I saw your talent. I saw it growing every day. And it terrified me. I was afraid you’d surpass me. That I’d be forgotten.”

He lifted his gaze, his voice almost a whisper. “And last night, you did. You proved it. There’s no point in hiding anymore.”

Y/n’s vision blurred with hot tears, her chest heaving. She stepped forward and grabbed his collar tightly, eyes blazing.

“You what?” her voice trembled with rage. “You lied because you were afraid?”

Her hands tightened around his shirt as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. “You destroyed five years of my life! I was sent away from everything I knew—because of you!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, brokenly. “I just—”

“Shut up!” she snapped. “You’re a liar! I hate you!”

Her words were sharp, but her voice cracked under the weight of heartbreak. Her hands trembled where they still held onto him, unable to let go.

And that was when he moved.

Without warning, Cho leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss—deep, fierce, unapologetic. A thousand unspoken words poured through it. Regret. Longing. Pain. Apologies.

Y/n’s mind screamed to push him away.

But her body—

Her body betrayed her.

She kissed him back—desperately. Angrily. Furiously. Her rage tangled with his guilt as their lips clashed like the last pieces in a storm.

It wasn’t love.

It was war.

And then—like a snap—reality returned. She shoved him back, eyes wide.

“How dare you—�� she gasped, chest rising and falling. “How dare you kiss me?!”

Without another word, she stormed to the door, threw it open, and pushed him out.

“Get lost! I hate you!” she screamed, slamming the door shut behind him.

And then… silence.

Y/n leaned back against the door, her body trembling. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together as more tears escaped. She hadn’t meant a single word.

She wanted to hear him out. To yell at him. To let him explain. To scream and cry in his arms. But if she did—she knew she’d forgive him.

And she wasn’t ready to do that yet.

Outside, Cho stood motionless. The door closed behind him like a final note. He exhaled sharply, feeling the tightness in his chest. He opened the top buttons of his shirt, as if to breathe better.

But the air still felt suffocating.

And so, without a word, he turned… and walked away.

Cho stumbled into a dimly lit bar and drank until he lost count. Whiskey, soju—whatever burned the fastest. He thought drowning in alcohol might ease the fire clawing at his chest, but it only ignited it further.

Hours passed.

Rain began to fall outside—heavy, relentless. Cho staggered out of the bar, soaked instantly, his feet dragging beneath him. His breath reeked of alcohol, his eyes glassy. He walked a few steps before pausing near a trash bin, doubling over as nausea overtook him. He threw up, body trembling from the cold and everything he’d kept buried for years.

But none of it made it better.

Y/n’s face haunted him—those eyes full of betrayal and hurt. The tremble in her voice. Her tears.

He had seen that look once before, five years ago. And now, once again, it was because of him.

He wiped his mouth, rain mixing with the sweat on his forehead. He wanted to go back. To knock on her door again and say what he should’ve said years ago. But he knew she needed space.

And this time, he wouldn’t take that from her.

Across town, the silence inside Y/n’s house was broken only by the sound of her soft, broken sobs.

She was curled up in bed, a blanket wrapped around her like armor. But nothing could keep the ache out. Her pillow was damp, not just from tears, but from every word she wished she’d said to him.

How could he lie like that? How could he throw her away—discard her dreams—just to protect his own reputation?

Her father may have sent her to Busan, but Cho was the one who gave him the excuse.

And yet—

Her fingers touched her lips unconsciously.

The kiss.

Why had she kissed him back?

She should’ve pushed him away. Slapped him. Screamed at him. But she didn’t.

And what haunted her more than his lies… was that single moment. That kiss. That desperate, aching kiss that felt like he’d been waiting five years to give.

Like she was the only thing he ever wanted.

Her tears started again, silent and endless.

And as the storm outside raged on, so did the one inside her heart.

━━ ❍ One Week Later ❍ ━━

The crowd whispered as the rematch was announced — a special exhibition match between the reigning champion and the legend she once trained under.

Everyone showed up not just to watch Go, but to witness tension… history… and maybe a storm.

The room was smaller than the national stage, but packed to the edges. Cameramen. Reporters. Go enthusiasts. Friends. Even her father was there, sitting quietly.

And then — she walked in.

Y/n.

Clad in black — sleeveless blouse tucked into tailored slacks, hair tied up tight, lips pressed into a line of calm fury.

She didn’t scan the crowd.

Her eyes went straight to him.

Cho Hun-hyun was already seated. One leg crossed over the other, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. He was dressed in his signature grey coat, collar popped, jaw tight.

He looked older — five years of regret could do that. But still too beautiful. Still too dangerous.

The moment their eyes met, the air turned heavier.

Without a word, y/n stepped across the room, sat down across him, and placed her hand on the board.

The timer clicked.

The match began.

Cho was composed… outwardly. But his thoughts were fractured. The last time they met, she didn’t speak to him. Not one word. Not after that kiss. Not after she slammed the door in his face.

Now here she was again — not crying, not weak. But cold. Brilliant. Unreachable.

Her moves were ruthless.

His fingers hovered over the bowl of stones, indecisive — something the old Cho would’ve mocked in another player.

She didn’t even glance up at him. She just played.

Until—click.

The final move.

Cho’s eyes darted across the board, disbelief sinking in. He couldn’t see a path forward. Again.

And then—

“Match over,” the judge announced. “Winner: Y/n.”

The room exploded.

Cameras flashed. Applause erupted. Y/n rose gracefully from her seat. No smile. No bow. Just the same icy expression.

She turned and walked out of the room.

Cho stood quickly and walked behind her tok and called out— “Y/n.”

She didn’t stop.

He took two long strides and caught her by the wrist.

“Come with me.”

He dragged her into a quiet hallway just outside the main room. His grip was firm but not hurting.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“No,” he said flatly, and pressed her gently against the wall. His hands caged her in on either side. His voice dropped. “I can’t lose you again. Not out of ego. Not because I was too proud to say I was wrong.”

Y/n stared at him, jaw clenched, breathing uneven. “You think a little regret will fix what you did?”

“I don’t care if it fixes it,” he whispered, eyes locking onto hers. “I just need you to hear me out. Please.”

A long silence passed between them.

“Fine,” she said at last. “Talk. But not here.”

The city passed by in a blur as the car drove them through the drizzle. Neither of them spoke. The silence was loud — full of every argument they didn’t have, every moment they missed.

Cho’s house was the same — minimalist, dimly lit, cold with steel and dark wood. But the tension between them made it feel fever-hot the moment the door closed.

Y/n stepped inside first, arms crossed, eyes scanning. He followed, slowly peeling off his coat and tossing it on the armchair.

She turned to him.

“Start talking.”

He faced her, hands in his pockets. “You were right that night… about everything. I pushed you away because I saw your potential. It terrified me.”

He paused, stepping closer.

“I told myself it was for your own good. That I was protecting you from distractions. But the truth is, I couldn’t handle the idea of you surpassing me. I didn’t want to admit that you already had.”

Y/n scoffed. “And the kiss? Was that ego too?”

Cho’s jaw clenched. “No. That was the only honest thing I’ve ever done with you.”

A beat passed. Heavy. Raw.

“I loved you,” he added, voice rough. “Maybe I still do.”

That was the crack in the dam.

Y/n surged forward, fists slamming into his chest. “You don’t get to say that! Not after what you did to me.”

He caught her wrists. “Then stop me. Say you hate me, and I’ll walk out. But if you don’t—”

She didn’t let him finish.

She kissed him.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was everything they buried for five years — rage, pain, guilt, obsession.

He slammed her against the wall as her hands tangled in his shirt, yanking the buttons loose. His lips found her neck, the one part of her he had always wanted to taste, and she gasped.

“Still arrogant,” she muttered.

“Still stubborn,” he growled back, lifting her by the thighs, walking blindly toward the bedroom.

They fell into the sheets like enemies on the battlefield. Clothes flew. Fingernails scratched. Teeth grazed.

He pinned her down, forehead against hers, breathing like a man starved.

“I should hate you,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“Then hate me,” he whispered back. “But don’t leave me.”

He didn’t make love to her.

He fought her.

And she fought back — every kiss a slap, every moan a challenge.

Until the war quieted… and they were still. Tangled together, breathless, flushed, skin against skin in the darkness.

The room was quiet now, lit only by the city lights outside the window. Cho’s hand lazily traced circles on her bare back as she lay against his chest, hair a mess, both still recovering from the storm they just survived.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, again. “For every second I made you feel less than what you are.”

Y/n didn’t say anything at first. Just rested there, listening to the beat of his heart.

Then—

“I forgive you,” she said. “But only because I destroyed you twice on that board.”

Cho smirked, eyes closed. “I don’t want trophies anymore.”

She looked up.

“As long as I have you for the rest of my life” he finished, opening his eyes, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Still dramatic.”

He kissed her again, slower this time.

Like surrender.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look in her eyes and whispered

"I love you"

"I love you too"

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[emeraldserenade]

I was thinking of an idea for a story. Joaquin and his girlfriend visit his abuela in Miami and it’s his girlfriend’s first time meeting his abuela. His abuela shares stories about her late husband and their love. Joaquin is wanting to propose and thinks it might be time ❤️

Proposals ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín proposes without thinking

tw: fem!reader, slightly insecure Joaquín, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi, Sid!! Joaquín would totally just propose because his mouth moved faster than his brain!! I might add this to another story I plan to write eventually!!

➽──────────────❥

You and Joaquín had been together for almost three years, you were perfectly ok with the fact that Joaquín hadn't proposed yet. Your friends always told you that it was a red flag that he hadn't proposed, but you just stared at them. "I think you're too used to people being together for less than a year before marriage. Some people genuinely love each other enough that marriage isn't needed to prove it," you would tell them. Sure, you wanted to wear a ring picked out by Joaquín and have his last name, but you also knew that there was a lot in his life, including Falcon.

You now where on the way to see his abuela, you had yet to meet her in person. You've briefly seen her in some Facetimes but there was no real meeting. You were nervous but according to Joaquín's mom, she was super excited to see you. "She'll love you, angel," Joaquín told you, knowing you were in your head.

"You keep saying that, but what if she doesn't?" You voiced your fears but Joaquín grabbed your thigh with his right hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"My mamá doesn't lie and she said abuela was super excited to see you," Joaquín said with a soft voice and you relaxed.

"Ok, I can do this," you said to yourself and Joaquín nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were sitting on the couch with Joaquín's abuela as she showed you older photos of her and her late husband while telling you stories. "This one was taken after our first date, Felix always said he knew he was going to marry me after that date," she told you and you smiled at her, your eyes focused on the picture. Joaquín was sitting on a chair across the room, his eyes trained on you. The way your eyes would light up with every story and how his abuela seemed to take an instant liking to you. Joaquín had thought about marrying you since meeting you, but he also knew that being Falcon made it harder for you. He was just constantly waiting for you to break things off with him, but watching you with his abuela, seeing how you loved his family like your own, squashed all fears.

"Marry me!" Joaquín blurted out and you whipped your head up at him. His mom entered from the laundry room and his abuela was staring him down, the three scariest women he knew were all staring at him. "Wait!" Joaquín rushed to his bag and pulled out a ring box, falling to one knee in front of the couch in front of you. "I have a ring, I've had it for a while but I was worried that you wouldn't say yes. I was worried that you were going leave me because of my job, but you've proven time and time again that you aren't. Watching you with my family, how you love them like your own, really solidified it for me. So will you marry me? Please?"

"I," you pushed the ring away and threw yourself into Joaquín's arms. "Yes!" You laughed and both his mom and abuela smiled at the exchange in front of them. A kiss was shared between you two before Joaquín slipped the ring on your finger before you celebrated with Joaquín's family.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[readerstories]

what about nr 3 on the list with deadpool & wolverine? with who is up to u

Okay so this got away from me a bit lol, but anywho, here's some Poolverine x gn! reader :D Drabble requests with the latest reblogged prompt list open until the end of the weekend!

Prompt: 3) “How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?”

Warnings/tags: established relationship, pre-relationship, polyamory

Wordount: 815

Logan is still not quite used to being around a lot of people without it being a bad thing, but Wade's friends (and by now, his) filling the apartment are kinda nice. He most likely will get overstimulated at some point, but for now he's relaxing on the couch, beer in one hand, the other arm thrown over the back.

“How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?” Is the first thing Wade asks when he flings himself down onto the couch next to Logan, and bullies his way into his side. Logan grunts, arm moving from the back of the couch to curl over Wade's shoulders.

"Not that I don't think you are enough, but I think it would be really hot to have some more filling in this sandwich! Or for me to be the filling between two hot bods! Or you between one hot bod and one half-rotten bod." Logan growls at the insult Wade hurls at himself, but that's something to take up and argue about later, not right in the middle of all their friends. Which by the way, Logan is happy none of them have enhanced hearing (that he knows of), because of course Wade had chosen a chaotic moment to bring this new topic up.

"Who?" He's not unfamiliar with polygamy at all, it can be a lot of fun, but he's picky (he can allow himself to be that now, in this universe).

"I'm not going to point, so look over towards the snack table, but try to be subtle even if that isn't your strong suit, my little brute." Logan looks around the room, pretending he's just letting his eyes wander, before they settle at the two people standing and chatting over there.

"Dopinder?" Wade groans, hitting his head against Logan's shoulder.

"Yes, Dopinder, straight as an arrow Dopinder, who is disgustingly in love with a woman. No! The actual cutie chatting to him, you fool!" He figured Wade meant you, but fucking with Wade is fun, even in small ways. He lets his eyes wander all over you. You are indeed cute, but also hot. The clothes you are wearing look comfy, but also good, like you put effort in even if you were only seeing friends that no doubt have seen you in worse.

You catch him staring, his gaze almost like a physical weight. You give him a little smile and wave before turning back to Dopinder. You shake your head with a smile at something he says, Logan wonders what about.

"I can hear your gears turning in that not so little head of yours." Logan turns to Wade, who's watching him with big and eager eyes. It would be a lie to say he hadn't looked before. He had looked since he first saw you at the first party Wade did after Logan moved in.

Well, it wasn't the first time he had seen you, but he was a little preoccupied to notice how good you looked when you were crammed into the polaroid that Wade had waved like a shield in the Honda.

He had never planned at doing more than looking, happy with having just Wade, but since the man is offering…..

"Yeah." Wade grins at him, leaning forward to plant a wet, but quick kiss on his mouth.

"Fucking knew it. Their charm is irresistible." Wade glances over to you, clearly checking you out while Logan checks him out, squeezing his shoulders.

"How are we doing this?" Logan asks, drawing Wade’s attention back to him.

"Well, I think you should get up and get over there, work your irresistible charm. Conveniently, you need a new drink." Logan looks at his still half full beer, but before he can say anything, Wade snatches his drink and downs it in one go. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and it's through sheer will that Logan's thoughts and blood doesn't go straight south.

"Now up and at 'em' tough stuff." Wade pats his cheek, Logan snaps after his fingers, but gets up. "And be a dear and grab me some snacks. Some actual ones, not just the one we are trying to get into the pants off.” Logan rolls his eyes, starting to walk over to the snack table where Dopinder is showing you something on his phone now. Your mouth is full of food, so you cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes connecting with Logan's over the edge of your hand.

Logan hopes this goes well, he's rusty flirting with anyone else but Wade (he doesn't think the threat of stabbing you would go over well). But he doesn't worry too much as you keep looking at him as he approaches, and then draw him into the conversation as he nears.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Hiiii i have a request from your list if you take any at the moment.

10.. "You bought me flowers?"

Maybe Quinn x reader and he brings her glowers just because and shes overwhelmed because she never really had anyone doing that for her (besides her parents on birthdays or something) but never romantically!!

Sorry this took so long! I had two requests come in the same day I combined both prompts. 🩷

You had laid down on your sofa about two hours ago. It had been a kind of throw-away day with Quinn traveling back to Vancouver after finishing a long road series. They had encountered some bad weather and their flight had been delayed, so you had decided to catch up on some sleep while you waited for him to get back to the city since it seemed like it was going to be a late night. However, you had left your phone on the kitchen counter with the volume off, having gone to the movies the night before, so you hadn't heard any of his text notifications.

My Huggy Bear: They're finally letting us take off. I'll message you when we touch down. I love you. (2:32am)

My Huggy Bear: Have I mentioned enough that I've missed you? (2:17am)

My Huggy Bear: Oh, I said I'd message you when we got back, didn't I? 😅 (2:17am)

My Huggy Bear: I do, though, I miss you a lot. I'll be home soon. (2:25am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm guessing you fell asleep. I'm jealous. Turbulence is too bad for me to get to sleep. (2:37am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm going to leave you alone so these messages don't wake you. I love you. (2:41am)

My Huggy Bear: Finally back in BC, babe. (8:12am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm going to come by in a bit if you don't care. (8:55am)

Apparently, your body thought when you laid down that it wasn't just for a simple nap. It would be morning before you finally woke up, and that was because of the sound of your doorbell going off. Slowly, you put your feet down on the ground and shuffled to the door. Having not seen any of Quinn's messages, or even what time it was, everything was such a blur. Through the peep-hole, you'd make out Quinn's figure standing on your porch.

"Oh, hi baby," you yawned after opening the door and struggling to function after waking so abruptly.

He just looked at you and smiled, though he himself, was just as groggy as you were. "Good morning, babe."

You opened your arms for a hug and you both nearly stumbled through the door, "I'm so glad you're home!"

"So am I," he chuckled, holding on to you with his one free arm. "Did I wake you up?"

"It's okay, I didn't aim to fall asleep on the sofa, but I guess I did anyways."

"Ah, so I'm guessing you didn't see my messages."

When the two of you parted ways, you'd close the door and turn back towards him. "I never heard my-- I must have left it somewhere! I'm sorry baby!"

Again, he smiled as he watched you move about and wake up in stages. He knew you'd never ignore him on purpose (as least he hoped not) but he appreciated that you acknowledged when you had missed them. "I didn't expect you to stay awake until we landed. It's okay." Quinn stepped forward and gave you a kiss. That was when the scent of floral hit you.

"Oh, I got you something this morning," he added, bringing the bouquet up from his side. You somehow hadn't noticed, likely because of your sleepy state.

"You bought me flowers?" You asked, shocked by the gesture. "Quinny, they're beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like them," he confessed, watching as you brought them to your nose. "I just wanted to get you something, as an apology for not getting home when I wanted to."

Following a deep inhale of the fresh flowers, you'd look at Quinn concerned, "You didn't owe me an apology, baby! You can't help the weather! I'm just glad you're safe! That's all that matters to me."

"Still, I should get them for you more often. I know how much you like them."

You'd smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so sweet, but you don't have to!"

"I'll see what I can do," he winked, his forehead against yours. "I love you."

His confession took your breath away with how he had said it. His voice was low; that sleepy tone that always drove you wild. "I love you, too, Quinn. So much!"

You both would share a series of kisses --slow and passionate-- that expressed just how much you both had missed the other.

"Do you mind if I stay here with you today?" He mumbled, his lips still close to yours.

\"Of course not!"

"I don't want to drive home."

You pouted, "I don't want you to leave." In reality, you never wanted him to leave when you were together, but it was nice when he asked you if he could stay.

"Come lay down with me?"

"I'll meet you in there. I need to get these into water first." You'd give him the softest kiss to his pouty lips before he would let you walk away from him. Quinn wouldn't wander into the bedroom like you thought. Instead, he'd follow you into the kitchen and hover just over your shoulder while you worked. His arms wrapped around your waist, his lips painting kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He wasn't trying to distract you, and in truth, it would take you a lot longer to transfer the bouquet to a vase than it should have, but Quinn was always a welcomed hindrance.

"I just missed you," he whispered. "I hate being gone for so long now. It didn't affect me until I met you."

Your hands found his at your stomach, as you laid your head back on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't be. I just love you. Makes coming back to you so much nicer," he smiled as he spoke, placing one last kiss to your temple before letting you go. "That's enough sad confessions for one morning, yeah?"

You nodded, "Mhm, let's go lay down. I'll make a late lunch after."

"I'd like that, baby. Thank you."

- - -

The weeks following Quinn returning from the 6-game stretch had brought with them numerous surprises. He spent more time at your house than his apartment, more of this things dotted your place than ever had before, and most unexpected of them all were the weekly flower arrangements that showed up "just because", as he put it. He had told you that he would try to get them for you more often, and you should have known better that he wasn't talking to just hear his own voice. Sure enough, at some point through the week, on the road or in Vancouver, Quinn had flowers delivered to you with cute little love notes attached.

Your house smelled like a flower shop and was beginning to look like one as well. Each room had a vase and every time you saw one of them, butterflies tickled your heart and stomach. You hoped that Quinn knew how much each and every one of them meant to you and the meaning they held. He seemed to like them as well, always making small compliments on how nice a certain flower smelled or liking where you had placed one within the house.

He was becoming your Disney prince right before your eyes.

[giddyfatherchris]

A movie i've seen before III

pairing. bang chan x f!reader

type. not requested, a little fluff and a whole lot of angst

warnings. f!reader, crying, relationships issues, trust issues, angst angst ANGST

wc. 4k

a/n. here we go part 3!! this one will be rough LMAO it took me so long to write it and it made me so angsty when i did buuuuuut i kinda love it and ive been having a whole lot of fun writing sm angst even though im so nervous to post this since its not in my "usual" style… anyway i hope you’ll enjoy mwah xx oh and! i love to listen to music when im writing and reading so here’s a few song i had on repeat while writing this: guilty as sin - taylor swift, ceilings - lizzy mcalpine, i wish i hated you - ariana grande (in this order specifically!)

dont forget to tell me if you want to be added to the tag list for the next part x

part I part II

(pics are not mine! credit to the owners!)

The streets were softly illuminated. Restaurants and little bars were stuffed with people laughing and enjoying the gorgeous night. You looked around and felt a wave of glee wash over you. You loved people-watching, the freedom of the soft wind dancing through your hair, and most of all, you loved being here with him.

Rehearsals had been a flying success. The boys had been so excited to see some of their friends and the day flew by in a second. When you returned to the hotel, you should have been exhausted from such an intense and packed day. Still, all you felt was excitement and energy course through your blood at the prospect of the coming evening. Once you made sure the other boys were settled, they all encouraged you to go out, have some fun, and take advantage of being in the famous French city. Even Felix gave you an encouraging smile as you headed out, Chan by your side.

At first, he had been reluctant about your night out with his leader. He was scared for your heart. At the same time, he knew how hard you always worked and as he helped you decide on an outfit, he realized it had been a long time since he saw you this excited. So despite his reserves, he helped you figure out a cute outfit with a genuine smile. You deserved to enjoy the city and have fun after all your hard work. No matter what would come out of this night, he would be there for you and that's what mattered the most.

Even though you had spent the last few weeks making sure you kept a certain distance between you and the man at your side, you decided not to care about it tonight. You were tired, extenuated from trying to guard your heart. Chan's attitude in the past few weeks seemed different. Maybe Felix was wrong, perhaps he was ready for something more. So tonight you would be yourself, and enjoy whatever happened. You decided you deserved it. So you didn't refrain from doing anything you might have done before or wanted to do now. You let Chan hold your hand as you walked through the city. You let him hand-feed you a bite of his plate as you chatted in the restaurant. You let him take pictures of you as you walked near the Seine, an honest smile on your lips. You didn't hold back from replacing his curls once the wind had disheveled them. You didn't hold back from laying your head on his shoulder as you looked at the magical view.

You hadn't noticed, but every little touch or attention planted seeds of hope in your heart.

As for him, Chan seemed to beam at the returned normalcy of your relationship. He was more touchy than ever, a sparkle illuminating his eyes as he made jokes with the sole purpose of gorging himself on the sight of the adorable crinkles around your eyes. He shivered at the feather-light touch of your fingers on him when you made sure he looked perfect for some pictures he intended to post on Instagram for his dear STAYs. You gave a toothy grin as you pinched his cheeks before stepping away for more pictures. He didn't hesitate before asking a stranger with a broken French if they could snap one of you two. An amused light danced in your eyes, and you took a sharp breath when you felt his hand slide on your hips, bringing you closer to him for the picture. You lifted your eyes for a millisecond, a foreign but gentle expression on your face. He looked at you with the softest, most tender smile, before you gave him one in return, and rested your head and hand on his chest. You could swear you felt the thundering beat of his heart beneath his shirt. Or maybe you were mistaking it for your own, reverberating in your whole body.

"Vous êtes très mignons," complimented the stranger with a kind smile and a subtle wink.

You thanked him with rosy cheeks, not daring to comment. Chan came up behind you, asking what the stranger had said exactly, but you barely registered the words as you looked at the pictures on your phone. They were stunning. The lights, the view, but most strikingly, the way you looked together. Your heart skipped a beat as you swiped to see the picture the man had taken when you weren't posed yet. When you were still looking at Chan with that surprised and delighted expression and he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. He saw the picture and put his hand on your shoulders.

"They're beautiful," he said in a hushed voice as if the emotion currently gripping you had its claws dug deep in him too.

You looked back at him with a smile, trying to slow the fast pace of your beating heart. Ancient fears tried grabbing at your heart, but you pushed them away, holding on to your promise. He nodded towards the street, encouraging you to keep walking. His hand grabbed yours effortlessly and squeezed once before he started to walk. Soon, the Eiffel Tower appeared, and you couldn't hold a gasp from escaping your lips.

It was beautiful, stark on the starry night sky, illuminated like a beacon in the dark. Chan chuckled at your marvel and looked fondly at you as you ushered him to walk faster.

You settled on a park bench, his arm going around your shoulders as you cuddled into his side.

"This is perfect," you whispered after a moment of silent contemplation.

"It is," he answered, his lips so close that if he moved a little they would connect with your forehead.

"I'm really happy to be here with you. Thank you for everything."

The man's heart tightened at your words. "No, thank you," his words felt choked and you backed away enough to face him. "You are so amazing. You're the best at handling us and you’re you're so organized. I don't know how we would deal without you and I don't mean just at work. You're truly such a special person to us... to me." Stars danced in your eyes as you looked at him, so open, so inviting. "Thank you for being in my life. I don't know what I would do without you." Softly his lips touched your forehead in a tender kiss. You closed your eyes relishing in the warmth they spread on your skin. Never before had he been so honest about his feelings in your regard. The little declaration made your heart beat even faster. Seeds of hope were slowly blossoming into small, delicate flowers. Maybe, just maybe your proximity tonight meant more for him than you imagined.

Your eyes stayed closed even as he pulled away, even as he softly stroked the side of your face with his thumb. You were so scared to open them, terrified to know what would happen, what you would read on his angelic face. He brought you closer, so close you could feel his breath mingling with yours. You waited, incapable of opening your eyes.

"Y/n," he uttered softly. "Please, look at me."

You obeyed, softly batting your eyelashes, and felt electrified as the intensity contained in his eyes struck you. His gaze slowly tumbled to your soft lips, slightly opened, puffing each breath. His eyes came back up a second with a silent question. You knew he would not do anything before you said yes and it made your heart bloom as you nodded imperceptibly. And just like that, he linked his plush lips with yours. It was earth-shattering in a soft and shaking to the core way.

You backed away for a second to catch your breath and this time was the one to lift your hand, softly pulling at his shirt as you kissed him once more. This second kiss was still soft, but so deep, so full of emotions. It made your hands tremble. You moved in tandem, both the only people in the world who knew the rhythm of this foreign dance. The kiss made you feel tingly like nothing else maintained you to the earth except for his hands on your cheek and his lips on yours. It grew, both of you wanting, needing more. Your hands went up to his jaw, softly caressing the soft skin there, the skin you had wished to touch so many times. A low grumble echoed in his chest, the vibration almost making you purr back. You separated softly, slowly, stealing little kisses before resting your foreheads together, catching your breaths. His thumb fell on your bottom lip, softly plucking it apart from the top one. He was enthralled by the shallow breath you exhaled. Slowly, but surely you remembered where you were. You remembered you were sitting on a bench in France, and you realized you had just kissed. Panic slowly spread through your gaze, threatening to overpower the feeling of daze you had been previously bathed in. He noticed and a shadow seemed to pass in his eyes but before you could analyze it or say something he kissed your lips again. You had no idea what that little peck meant, and he didn't seem to know either but still, he smiled.

"You want to go back?" he whispered, his head still pressed to yours. You nodded quickly and took his hand as you walked back, your mind racing even as it clawed to stay in the daze it had been in for the whole night.

He held your hand on the way back until you felt its warmth leave yours to replace a few errant strands of his hair and didn't find it again. You tried not overthinking. He was allowed not to touch you at all times even after you had shared a kiss. And the fact that he had been all over you all night and suddenly wouldn't hold your hand didn't mean anything, right? You tried reasoning with yourself but couldn't deny that the sudden loss of his touch made an insidious cold creep into your bones.

As you approached the hotel and entered the lobby, Chan was so very polite and cordial. He kept his gaze straight forward and gave a polite smile to the few staff you encountered but didn't say a word to you. Long gone was the laid-back and giggly man you had spent the evening with. The ride in the elevator was silent, and not the kind of comfortable one you had experienced so many times. This one was heavy, full of meaning. You could feel regret emanating from his every gesture. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but you held on, not wanting him to know how much this affected you.

Felix had warned you that Chan did not have the space in his life for a partner. You knew it, but still, you allowed yourself to let down your guard, and enjoy your time with him. What happened tonight could never happen again. The way this sole kiss had made you feel was to be used as a warning. If one night with him, carefree, had made you feel such a way... you had to keep your distance and be careful. If you let this go on, it would destroy you. You knew it now. Doing this tonight was a mistake because you didn't just like him. You were incontestably in love with Christopher Chan Bahng. And he wasn't and couldn't be because of everything he was.

He walked you to your room and stopped in front of the door. With your hand on the handle, you looked back at him, trying and failing to hide the pain in your eyes.

"Y/n, about tonight I-..." he started.

"Don't," you breathed out. "I know Chan. It won't happen again. I know it didn't mean anything." He shuffled in place, not even denying your claim. Your heart crumpled in pieces, nausea seizing you. "Don't worry about it," you finally whispered as you closed the door on him, on the possibility of him and everything he meant to you.

The little light of hope you felt earlier had been brutally put out. Delicate flowers ripped from their soil with an all-encompassing pain.

You got up the next day feeling like you had been ran over by a truck. Usually, you were a fast and heavy sleeper, but insomnia had seized you until the late hours of the night. But concert day would show you no pity. You had a job to do, and so you plastered a smile on your face and focused on the tasks at hand. You concentrated on compartmentalizing and acting like nothing happened, telling the boys about your amazing night, while omitting the kiss. The show went splendidly well, the boys gained many new supporters with this performance it was nothing short of a flying success. You struggled to feel anything as they smiled at you and spoke excitedly on the drive back to the airport. Once on the plane, you watched Chan sit down with a sour feeling in your chest. In the next row, Felix signaled for you to sit next to him but you couldn't. You hadn't told him the truth about your night, you weren't ready to face the possible 'I told you so' or worse, his tender compassion. Spotting an empty seat beside Minho, you stopped in front of him. "Can I sit here?" At his questioning look you allowed him to see an ounce of the sadness you carried. "Please, I just... don't want to be disturbed," you shared in a small voice.

Immediately his eyes took on a protective expression, he nodded and patted the window seat next to him. Relieved to know no one would get past your protector, you allowed sleep to swallow you and your pain, only waking up once you landed in Korea.

Cars sporadically zoomed by, their lights blinding you and making your eyes squeeze in pain, which actually wasn't that bad a thing considering how tired you were. The zaps of light were at least keeping you awake. The intense few days had taken a great toll on everyone, and the 12-hour flight on top did not help. Still, being the best one in shape you volunteered to drive. Chan in the passenger seat silently stared out the window while the boys were piled up in the back, sleeping peacefully.

You rubbed your eyes for the tenth time, hoping to finally get rid of the fatigue weighing on your bones that made your eyelids feel so damn heavy.

"If you're tired, I can drive."

You turned your head to find Chan staring at you. "I'm fine."

"I don't think you are. You have been rubbing your eyes and puffing for 20 minutes now. I got plenty of rest, I can drive the rest of the way."

You tightened your grip on the wheel, "I told you I didn't need you to."

"It's dangerous to drive when you're tired."

"Are you done?!" you lashed out. Turning your head to look at him you swerved on the road. Luckily there hadn't been any other cars, but your heart was beating out of your chest and you suddenly felt wide awake.

Chan stared at you with wide eyes for a second. "Okay, that's it. Pull over."

"No-"

"Y/n. Right now you're putting yourself and my members in danger. I can't allow that."

The sternness of his tone and a look in the mirror at the boys made you pull begrudgingly. You slammed the door and avoided his eyes while you switched sides. He tried to get ahold of you to apologize, but you pulled back as if the contact of his hands on your skin burned you.

"Y/n what's going on?"

"What's going on is that I'm tired. I'm exhausted," you sarcastically chuckled.

He wiped his eyes and sighed. "Listen, I get that but we all are."

You tried to bite your tongue to stop the words from coming out of your mouth but in the end, you couldn't. Maybe it was the extreme fatigue or emotional turmoil you had been going through for the past few weeks but you simply couldn't. You heard yourself speak words you never thought you would. "No. I mean that being in love with you is exhausting."

His arms slackened at his sides as his eyes grew big as saucers.

"You heard me right. I am in love with you. I should have known before, but our night in Paris confirmed that."

"Y/n... I can't give you or anyone anything more, specifically because of that. Being with me is exhausting. I already know that."

Irritation lit a fire in your blood. You were so done with this stupid man and his stupid beliefs that made him act like some fucking martyr, like the center of his soul was the problem while it had never been.

"Can you please stop? I'm tired of hearing you whine about how exhausting you are. No. It's not the actual loving you that's exhausting. You are lovable Chris as much as anyone else and to me even more than others. What's been exhausting is those past few weeks, this night we spent together. It's officially knowing you will never be able to return my feelings but knowing you still acted like you could. Holding my hand, looking at me with that smile. Telling me those nice things. Kissing me like I'm the best thing in your life. It's you playing with me that's killing me."

Tears of rage started rolling down your cheeks and for once you didn't want to keep them in. You wanted him to see how much pain he caused you.

"I never played with you I promise. I really do like you and enjoy being with you. That was never fake."

You let out an icy, short laugh. "And you think that makes it better? That is the definition of playing with someone Chan. A minute ago you told me you couldn't give me anything more. Now you're saying you meant everything. You're admitting to doing all those things even though you knew you never wanted more. And don't try to lie and tell me you were doing this for me or to try and see if you could actually be with me. You only did it for yourself, with your interests in mind. You wanted what I can give you without actually committing."

He dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with you. He seemed defeated and his silence was nothing short of a confirmation of everything you accused him of. For the first time a word you would have never used in a thousand years to describe him came to mind. You took a step closer, forcing him to look into your eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you enjoy being with me. Everyone wants to be loved, and feel they matter but you act like you don't because you're afraid of what it entails. You're a coward," you seethed. "You build this wall around you, pretending you don't want anyone to love you the way you love them because you want to protect them, because you are just so noble and kind." You paused and scoffed, allowing time for your words to sink in. "But the truth is you're just scared. You're scared shitless Christopher. Scared not to be enough. Scared to be rejected. Scared to experience pain and loss. Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE is scared of those things. The difference is we still try."

You took another step, your hands floating up to his face. "I know it means more to love you than it would mean to experience pain and fear." His face contorted as he tried to keep in tears. Your rage softened for a second and you rested your hand on his broad chest. Immediately his hand covered up yours. He took a breath, on the edge of saying something but you wouldn't allow it.

"At least that's what I used to believe." You slipped your hands from his and backed away. "I don't think I can anymore. Not when I have been shown so clearly that my feelings are not respected and understood for what they truly are. I love you, Chris. All I want to do is support and be there for you. I thought you just needed me to prove the depth of my love and I did so for the past year. I thought it would reassure you and kill that fear in your heart. I always thought you were such a kind and loving soul, that you just needed to see I really did love you for all you are. Now I'm starting to think maybe you are as emotionless as you try to make it seem to everyone." His brows furrowed at the accusation. "And you know what? I could even forgive that. I could forgive you if this was how you felt and you were honest with me about it. But no. You keep acting like you can one day return my feelings. You keep stringing me along." Your voice broke on the last words. It was hard to admit the truth. He had broken you in ways you could never explain. You were vulnerable, pathetically screaming at him from the side of the road. But you wouldn't stop. Now that you allowed yourself to be honest, words kept tumbling out of your mouth uncontrollably. You felt a rush to your head, you felt dizzy, feverish. "And you know what's the worst about it? I know about all of this and still, I can't even get rid of those stupid feelings. I wish I could trust myself not to fall further in love with you but I can't. Every time I see you it all comes back. I can't forget your stupid smile and your stupid dimples and your stupid hugs and that stupid kiss we shared."

A deep breath escaped your tired body. "I wish I hated you."

Those tiny, hushed-out words felt like a direct punch to the gut. Physically incapable of speaking, your words echoed in his head eclipsing any other thoughts.

You drew a painful breath. It was over. You said what needed to be said. And even if it did feel good in the moment, you were left an empty shell. Silently, you both got back in the car. Chan took your place in the driver seat while you sat with your hood pulled up facing the window. In the back, seven boys acted as if they were still asleep even when they had heard everything.

🏷️ list: @httpdwaekki @omgsecretsecret @lovesunshinefelix @luvstaymin @jupire @nebugalaxy @drewsandsebastianswife @whyyougottadothatbro @parisanmorovati @greyyeti @chanssmiles @wildtokay @my-neurodivergent-world @xotinytinaxo @ramadiiiisme @potentialgay

[oneofstarkskids]

i told her

part 2 of 'i chose you'

part 1

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

genre: fluffyyy

summary: now that bucky knows about the baby, it's time to tell the people closest to you.

warning: ⚠️ pregnancy ⚠️

finding out you were having a mini barnes was both the most exciting and terrifying moment of your life.

you shouldn't have expected it to be any easier when it came to telling your friends.

the first person you told was natasha, of course. it had been a week since you found out and despite the doubts you'd been searching for in your husband's mind, bucky seemed genuinely happy.

it probably should've been something you discussed together, but he was out with sam and you were at the apartment alone watching movies.

your phone rang and you saw natasha's name pop up on the screen for what seemed like the fiftieth time this week.

you chewed your lip nervously as you contemplated picking it up.

"nat?" you finally answered. "what's with you lately? i've been trying to get a hold of you for days," she said skeptically.

"oh. i've just been um... busy," you lied. she was unconvinced. "honey, you're an ex shield agent that got married to a hundred year old man. taking naps in the middle of the day is not busy."

you sighed. there was no use trying to lie to a trained assassin.

"fine. i'm..." your nerves stopped you for just a moment.

"i'm pregnant," you said out loud for only the second time.

it was completely silent for a moment too long and you began to worry.

"i'm coming over," natasha said ominously.

you tried to argue with her, but it was no use, "nat, no-"

"yes! i just found out i'm going to have a little niece or nephew. i'm coming over," she repeated.

your eyes teared up and your heart warmed at nat's implication. you always had seen her as a sister. since your very first heart to heart.

you knew that you'd always be there for her. what you hadn't expected, was that she would be just as supportive of you. other than bucky, nobody ever was.

but natasha...you could always count on her to make you smile.

and less than an hour later, there she was.

sipping a hot cup of tea on the couch with you as she asked you if you were afraid or excited.

"both," you replied with an anxious smile.

she nodded, "that makes sense. just know, that you don't have to go through any of it alone."

moments later bucky walks through the door, sam trailing closely behind.

"hey, doll. i'm home," he says before noticing natasha. immediately, he knows something is up. bucky can tell by the way the energy in the room feels a bit heavier.

"what's wrong?" he asks, brows furrowed.

you purse your lips, "i told her."

you give him an apologetic expression. the two of you had agreed to tell your friends together, but nat had been so persistent. bucky understood completely.

he gave you the sweetest smile and walked over to place a kiss on your forehead.

sam waved his hands around, "i feel like i'm missing something."

bucky looked to you for the 'go ahead'.

of course, you nodded with excitement.

"we're having a kid," he said with a glimmer in his eyes.

sam's eyebrows raised in surprise and you could tell he wasn't expecting that.

"you know, sam is a pretty gender neutral name," he eventually offered oh-so casually.

bucky rolled his eyes and you just giggled.

"how are we going to explain this one to cap?" sam asked.

you frowned, not understanding the question.

"like are we going with the stork metaphor or...?" he continued. nat put her hand up to her mouth as she suppressed her laughter.

bucky waved him away lovingly, "get out of my house."

sam shrugged, "i'm just saying. we can't have him knowing that you two...fondue."

tag list: @moviegurl2002 @hisredheadedgoddess28

lmk if you want to be added! <3

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Six}

{<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request {Anon}: for kinktober, can i have Eli with 6, 19, & 28??? inexperince with wax play

2.2k words - Kinks: added some drunk Elijah because I think he would be a horny disaster, praise kink, inexperience, wax play...

It took a lot for a vampire to get drunk, and with Elijah, it usually took an entire keg of something very strong. He wasn't the type to lose control, always keeping a clear head. But tonight, you noticed he seemed more loose, a bit tipsy, and definitely flirty.

Klaus was hosting the event, inviting all the most prominent vampires from surrounding areas. The goal was to establish some form of a treaty, but by the time midnight rolled around, the plan had been abandoned. It was mostly just a party.

You assumed Elijah was off somewhere conducting important business, since you hadn't seen him in awhile. You were sitting down on one of the couches in the large ballroom, watching Klaus dance with Cami. You were sipping from a glass of champagne, enjoying the way the bubbles fizzed on your tongue.

Elijah strolled over, and sat next to you. He was a little red in the face, his cheeks flushed, with a wide smile on his face. "Hello, my love," he said, his words a little slurred. He put his arm around you, his hand sliding down your back, until he was grabbing your ass.

You gasped, your eyes widening. "Elijah," you said, looking around. No one was paying any attention to the two of you, but it was so out of character for him to touch you like that in public.

"You look lovely tonight," he said, turning his body towards yours. His hand was still on your ass, and he gently squeezed you again.

"Thank you," you chuckled, smiling at him. "I thought you had to talk to people?"

"We did more drinking than talking," he said, and took a swig of the drink in his hand.

You couldn't help but laugh. "I see that,"

He smiled and leaned in, pressing his lips against your neck, his hand moving to your waist and pulling you closer. You could feel his fangs against your skin, and then his tongue, his free hand trailing up under your dress.

"Elijah, stop," you giggled, trying to pull his hand away. "Not here."

"You look absolutely delicious," he whispered in your ear.

You were surprised at how much he was touching you. This side of him was only reserved for when the two of you were alone. He was normally the perfect gentleman, never letting his urges overpower him.

"Do you know how badly I want you right now?" He whispered in your ear, it was a loud whisper and it made you laugh.

"Shh," you said, putting a finger over his lips. "You're drunk."

"No, I'm just in love," he said, and you couldn't help but giggle again.

You could see Kol in the corner of the room, with his arm wrapped around Davina. He was talking animatedly, but his eyes flicked towards you and his brother, and you knew he had overheard what Elijah was saying.

"We are in a house full of vampires, darling. Keep your voice down," you said, patting his shoulder.

"I don't care," he said, leaning in to kiss you. His lips were wet and his mouth tasted like alcohol and you quickly turned your face away.

"Elijah," you hissed, and you heard Kol laugh, the sound making you flush red.

"I have this idea..." Elijah whispered.

"Oh really?" you said, chuckling at his behavior. 

"A candle lit room... you're lying naked on the bed... I drip hot wax on your skin..." he was practically purring, his lips pressed against your ear.

You let out a gasp, your hand tightening around his forearm as he nibbled on your earlobe. You were suddenly turned on, his words making a heat pool between your legs. You hadn't thought about wax before, but the image made you tremble.

"Come upstairs with me," he said, kissing your neck again, his hand sliding up your thigh, and this time you didn't push it away.

"But what about the party?" You asked, knowing that leaving would be rude, but wanting him so badly, that you were willing to forget the party.

"Fuck the party, I just want to be with my wife," he said, louder than he should have. You flushed, looking around, and everyone was staring at the two of you.

He could see how embarrassed you were, and he kissed you on the cheek. "I'm sorry, love," he whispered.

You giggled again, his cheeks were becoming redder, and he was smiling like an idiot. "Don't be," you said, taking his hand. "Let's go,"

He looked thrilled, his smile widened, and his eyes lit up. He jumped to his feet, and then reached for you, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

You let out a gasp. "Elijah!" You shouted, as the room erupted into laughter and whistles.

Kol and Klaus were snickering near the staircase, clearly you weren't the only one who found drunk Elijah amusing. You gave them a glare, but they just smiled at you, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Elijah marched up the stairs, his hand on your ass, squeezing it as he went, humming an old tune that sounded like an Icelandic folk song. He carried you up to the bedroom, and dropped you down onto the bed.

"You are wasted, Eli," you giggled, looking up at him, as he stumbled over his own feet.

"No, no," he said, his hand waving through the air. "Not that much."

"Yeah, okay," you said, shaking your head. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

He started to unbutton his shirt, and he was having trouble, his fingers were fumbling. He cursed, and then you got up, moving over to him, and helping him.

"You have to take your tie off first, darling," you said, reaching for his tie, pulling it away.

He was watching you, his dark eyes focused on your face. He was smirking, his lips parted, his hair a mess. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, you helped him take it off, tossing it to the side. You unbuckled his belt, and slid his pants down, so he was just in his underwear.

"I can't believe I have such a beautiful wife," he said, and his words were less slurred, and his tone was more sincere.

You flushed, and shook your head. "You're crazy."

"I'm crazy in love," he said, and pulled you against him. You couldn't help but laugh, the two of you were acting like lovesick teenagers.

He leaned down, and kissed you, and this time, you let him. His tongue was in your mouth, and you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his bare chest, his hard muscles, the warmth of his skin.

His hands were at the back of your dress, unzipping it. He tugged the sleeves off, and pulled it down, leaving you in your bra and underwear. He kissed your neck before picking you up and carrying you back to the bed.

"How do you feel about the wax idea?" He asked, his eyes were dark and mischievous.

You blushed, remembering his drunken words from before. "I'm not opposed to it," you said, biting your lip.

He clapped his hands together in excitement, then started to search through the drawers, pulling out a few candles. You watched him, giggling, as he placed the candles around the room.

He had a wide smile on his face, and his eyes kept flicking towards you. "I tried this once before in the 16th century," he said, lighting one of the candles.

"Is that so? With who?" You asked, raising your eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Oh, well, now I have to know," you said, sitting up.

"It was a long time ago, love," he said, chuckling. "Just a random woman."

"A random woman, hmm?" You asked, and felt a tinge of jealousy.

He brought a candle over, placing it on the nightstand, the flame flickering. Then he pushed you back down onto the bed, and climbed on top of you, kissing your lips, his body pressing against yours.

"Don't get all jealous," he murmured, his hands going to your bra, unhooking it.

"I'm not," you said, rolling your eyes, but you were, you hated the idea of him being with anyone else, and even though it was centuries ago, it still made your blood boil.

"I'll make it up to you," he said, sliding the bra away, exposing your breasts. His hands cupped them, his thumbs rolling over your nipples.

"You better," you said, and then gasped, when he lowered his mouth, wrapping his lips around your nipple.

His hand moved down, tugging at your panties, pulling them off, his lips still on your chest.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing kisses across your collarbone.

You couldn't help but smile, you had never seen him like this, all sloppy and drunk and happy. Normally he was very serious, but tonight, he seemed like a whole new person.

He leaned back and grabbed the candle, and your eyes widened, realizing what was about to happen.

"Don't catch the bed on fire," you giggled.

"I won't," he chuckled, his free hand going to your legs, pushing them open. "I promise."

You watched him, holding the candle above you, and you felt nervous all of a sudden. He could see your expression, and he leaned down, kissing you softly.

"It will hurt a little, but that's the point," he said, and the words made the heat between your legs increase.

"Okay," you nodded.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, and he waited until you nodded again, before lifting the candle, and tilting it, so the wax began to drip out, landing on your chest.

The feeling of the hot wax against your skin was a strange one, and it took a few seconds to register the pain. It wasn't a terrible pain, but it was there. You inhaled sharply, your hand tightening around the bed sheets.

"See? That's not so bad," he said, a smirk on his face. He leaned down and licked the wax, his tongue moving across your breasts.

You gasped, and felt him suck on your nipple, his tongue swirling around it. The heat from the wax had gone away, and the area was slightly numb. You had never experienced anything like this before, and you were shocked at how much it was turning you on.

He pulled away, and tipped the candle again, and the hot wax fell onto your stomach, and you moaned, squirming on the bed. He put his hand on your waist, and held you in place.

"You're being so good," he murmured, and his voice was low and soft, and it made you throb with need. "I knew you would enjoy this,"

He was still smiling, and his eyes were dark, and lustful. His hand went between your legs, his fingers running over your pussy, and then pressing inside, his thumb finding your clit.

You moaned loudly, the sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit, and the wax hitting your skin, was making you dizzy with pleasure.

"I wanted to show you this for so long," he said, his voice a murmur, his mouth pressed against your ear. "The exquisite mix of pleasure and pain,"

He poured the wax down your chest, and then moved his hand, tipping the candle over your nipple. You let out a cry, the pain was sharper than before, and the pleasure was so much stronger.

He grinned, and blew out the candle, dropping it on the nightstand. His fingers were moving faster, and you could feel yourself getting close, your breathing getting heavier.

"You're so pretty, even when you're in pain," he groaned, and then his mouth was on yours, his tongue slipping past your lips.

His fingers were working their magic, and soon you were crying out, a loud moan escaping from your mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, and you could feel yourself clenching around his fingers.

He pulled them away, replacing them with his cock, and thrust into you, and the feeling of him filling you up made your toes curl. His pace was slow and deep, his eyes on yours as he moved.

The wax on your skin had hardened, but the heat from his body melted it a little, causing it to stick to him. It was almost too much, the mix of sensations, and you closed your eyes, the pleasure washing over you.

He was moving faster, and you felt his fangs pierce your neck, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them open wider. His bite made everything sharper, and you whimpered, clawing at his back.

You could feel his cock throbbing, and his teeth were still buried in your neck, and soon, you were crying out, pleasure pulsing through you as you came.

He groaned, and his pace quickened, and then his hips were stuttering, and he was spilling into you, his cock twitching.

He rolled off of you, laying down beside you, and his hand moved to the wax, picking at it. You giggled, and then turned to face him.

"That was fun," you said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Mm," he said, nodding. "I had a good time,"

"I noticed," you chuckled. "I've never seen you this drunk."

"Klaus made me do shots, I never do shots," he said, his words were slurred, and his eyes were drooping.

"Go to sleep," you said, pushing him down onto the bed. "I'll clean up."

"No no nooo, that's my job," he said, pushing himself back up.

You tried to protest, but he was insistent, and soon, he carried you to the shower, the two of you laughing the whole way.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: you just keep adding lunatics to the list like they're pokemon and you lose patience

─Warnings: mahito (he's a warning himself yeh) blood, death, a little anxiety attack, toxic behaviors, obsession, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Three / Part Four

The blank pages: Part One / Par Two

I'm done downloading my inspiration on this for now, I feel like this is a little longer, sorryyy 😶

YOU WERE too quick to accept that these sorcerers would do whatever they wanted with you, but in a way, starting a verbal fight to refuse to do certain quests would cause you more problems than solutions, so you were just like a body empty of soul moving back and forth, simply waiting for the next order to complete it as quickly as possible.

The worst thing of all was that it wasn't annoying, at least, not the fact of taking orders, you liked it, you didn't have to think too much, just do this and that, you definitely started to think that all those tests of 'are you a leader or a follower' made sense all those times that your result was being a follower, you wanted an easy life and being a leader of anything is a complete stress that you were not going to go through.

So your simplistic and conformist personality only made it easier for all those sorcerers to mold you to their liking, this does not mean that whenever they asked to spend time with you or simply be attached to you you accepted, they would always have a negative response at first, however if they continued insisting, as may be the case with Itadori and Nobara, you would agree to do what they wanted, because accepting is easier than declining. Megumi and Gojo weren't as persistent in asking for small favors or bonding time, which you appreciated.

"I was looking for you, Maki and I are going to go downtown to look for some cursed weapons, do you want to come?"

Nobara, getting into the bad habit of not knocking on your door and entering without permission, throw herself at your bed grabbing your hand to beg you to go out with her and Maki, knowing that you would refuse she started whining about how you hadn't left your room lately and that she had been very busy with the missions. With no other option you accepted, hoping to be able to get back to what you were doing later in the night.

You thanked the heavens that Maki Zenin was skeptical about your stay at the Jujutsu school, since you did not show any interest in developing cursed techniques or improving physical abilities, she thought that you were not important enough, a shame that Nobara had to drag you with her long enough for Maki to end up getting attached to you, you barely talked to her but for some reason she ended up liking you.

"Come on, we don't have all afternoon."

Maki began to walk waiting for you both to follow her steps, a couple of minutes later the two of them began a light idle chat while you followed behind, only with one of your headphones on in case they spoke to you at some point.

"Be careful, you should stop looking at your phone and look at your surroundings, you are so careless."

The girl with glasses grabbed the back of the collar of your uniform to stop you just before you crossed a red zebra crossing for pedestrians, you watched for a moment as the cars sped by just a few centimeters from you with blank eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

You shrugged, putting away your phone like a scolded child, Nobara took the liberty of grabbing your hand to guide you the rest of the way, at least you could walk looking absent-mindedly at anything that caught your attention without worrying about tripping.

Disinterested and bored once they started negotiating about the cursed weapons, you decided that you could go out for a few minutes without anyone noticing to the bakery you had seen around the corner, you felt like something sweet, you were going to buy something sweet and no one will stop you. Unfortunately before you could get out of the alley, because of course, a shop like that wasn't going to be visible to everyone, once again a curse clung to you desperately to be forgiven.

"Not now please."

You took a couple of minutes to release the cursed energy of that curse, feeling your eyelids heavier and your body more relaxed, of course your ability had cons, after all what you were doing was consuming cursed energy, your way of releasing it were resting, which led you to sometimes fall asleep even standing up due to exhaustion.

Your slight drowsiness disappeared when you heard the sewer besides you sliding with a squeak, a strange mass began to come out until it formed a guy who looked like a sewn doll, his bicolor eyes looked into your soul.

"That was very interesting, where is that curse? Did you absorb it? Did you kill it?"

Your parents had taught you that you shouldn't talk to strangers, especially if they seemed like lunatics who could deform and come out of random sewers, and like a good mom and dad's girl, you looked away, backing away to exit through the other side of the alley, but he managed to grab your wrist so you wouldn't run away.

"It's rude to ignore someone when they speak, you know?"

You frowned looking at his hand on you, remaining silent, you let out an inaudible sigh, you always had to end up in this type of situation, tangled with people ─in this case curses─ that trapped you without wanting to let go.

"I sent it to rot in hell, its soul will remain suffering until eternity, remembering and regretting all the evils it has caused, it will be subjected to the worst tortures imaginable."

He remained silent before bursting into laughter, you had said all that so seriously, with that grim face that he almost believed it, you hoped that trying to 'scare' him would work, but this curse had at least a couple more neurons than the ones you used to meet.

"Aren't you funny? It's a shame I have to kill you, I thought we could be friends but you're-"

The ground began to shake, almost losing your balance, you took advantage of the sudden distraction to free yourself from Mahito's grip, approaching the nearest wall so as not to fall due to the tremors, the sewer flew away and you could see how the curse paled, transforming again to escape.

"How many hours have I lost in this chase?"

A new voice came out of nowhere, turning around you saw a blonde man with glasses, he was wearing a uniform and had a blood stained weapon in one of his hands, you looked at each other in silence until he spoke again.

"A student… hey, have you seen that curse? Where did he flee?"

Figuring he was trustworthy enough since he seemed to recognize the Jujutsu high, you silently pointed in the direction Mahito left, earning a nod from him to leave you there alone again. As if that weren't enough, before you could leave the alley to get some sweet, you ran into another curse, this one looked like a volcano with only one eye, it was petting a stray cat while muttering things like 'you're a good boy' in a squeaky voice, you were going to turn around to make this less awkward but your bones had to make that weird sound sometimes when you walk.

His one eye widened at the sight of you, a small rash erupting from his head and he shot up at the speed of light.

"I'll pretend I haven't seen anything if you pretend you haven't seen me."

You decided to reach a mutual agreement because you heard Nobara shout your name, surely they had finished their purchase or had been alerted by the noise earlier, and if they found you now they would surely distract you enough that you wouldn't be able to buy your candy. You took enough time to complete your little mission, as just as you left the bakery you were approached by the red-haired girl who hugged you like a whimpering koala.

"You can't disappear like that out of nowhere! We heard a shaking and thought something bad had happened to you."

She rubbed her cheek against your shoulder, you murmured apologies while still savoring your sweet, Maki remained silent watching the interaction, carefully searching for any kind of scratch or wound on your body, she sighed in relief when she saw that you didn't seem to have anything.

"We have already spent a lot of time here, we should go back, Toge and Panda are waiting for us for our training."

The encounter with these two curses, Mahito and Jogo, was only a small trigger that led you to strangely meet them more times later, you were never close of course, but your eyes always seemed to meet the multicolored or the single eye of those guys in some bustling part of the city, you knew they had some plan with Itadori, but it's not like you could do anything, you just alerted Gojo and he thanked you with a few pats on the head for the information.

On the other hand, you became a recurring conversation on the side of the villains, for one reason or another, everyone got to know you, either because Mahito was talking about you or because you had an encounter with Geto or Choso, not knowing them, you felt strange when you exchanged glances with them because you felt the same as when you first met the trio of sorceres, they already knew you before you knew anything about them.

Their curiosity about you was only based on overprotectiveness and how obsessed the sorcerers were with you, you seemed to be an important person, was it because of your power? Was it because of your cursed technique? It was something they wanted to find out and anyway if it was nothing like that, they could always use you as a wild card to blackmail them.

You decided to ignore their presence while you worked on your assignments, assignments in which you got to know that blonde guy, Nanami, he was assigned with you for a couple of missions and at first he felt quite irritated by your carefree behavior and even annoyed by your lack of interest in the work, but he couldn't blame you, in his eyes, like Itadori, you were just a teenager who shouldn't be doing this kind of work. He proposed to himself that no student was going to die under his care, especially someone who was never in favor of being part of the cursed world.

You just kept adding people who were worried or interested in you to the list, and you thought that there was no one else who could feel that way, that you could finally breathe easy, that you could stop moving through that web that kept you captive, that you could snuggling in your sheets protecting yourself from the cold while you hugged a pillow and slept carefree.

And… out of nowhere you wake up with a wet cheek, an eternal sea of blood where you could float, in the distance a temple made up of different animal and human bones. Your eyes became slightly watery, your only moment of rest ruined by whatever was happening, you were upset, furious, maybe it was the first time since you left home you felt an emotion this strong and vivid.

"This has to be a fucking joke…"

You mumble walking towards the temple hoping to find some kind of answer to get out of there, you wanted your hours of sleep back, you wanted to disconnect your brain from reality and travel to your dreams seeking solace outside of this world, not to be trapped in this stupid place.

"This is unusual, how did you manage to get here, brat?"

You rubbed your face furiously, of course you had heard about Sukuna, how Itadori swallowed a fucking finger, but luckily you didn't have any encounter with the king of curses, until now. Again it seemed like he already knew you, but how could he not? You occupied more than half of Itadori's thoughts.

"That's what I would like to know, is this your domain? Get me out of here."

"I can't."

You couldn't contain the irritated grimace you made, this time your expressionlessness broke as well as your patience, a small twitch appeared in your eye and you began to breathe harder, you rubbed your head too hard, perhaps tearing out a few strands in the process, but you didn't care, you exploded after putting up with so much shit.

"Tell me it's a joke, you're the king of curses, not the king of comedians, get me out of here."

Your tone of voice stopped being monotonous, now radiating annoyance and demand that made Sukuna smile at your outburst, he had always heard Itadori complain about how unexpressive you were with them and now you are exploiting a lot of negative emotions.

"Well, I can do that, but for that I would have to kill you."

"Do it." you didn't take a second or hesitate to respond, almost surprising the man, who watched you in silence as you approached him, your frown more with every step you took "What the hell are you waiting for? Do it, kill me."

Sukuna had seen many people begging him, begging for lives, begging to end suffering, it wasn't even the first time they had begged him for a death, but this felt… strange, he had never seen someone so young desperate to die, he had never seen someone have the anxiety attack you were experiencing right now, and strangely he had never felt the kind of energy you gave off, it was somewhat reassuring. He began to understand all the macabre thoughts about you in Itadori's thoughts, all that overprotection and worry, or perhaps, he had gone crazy, becoming infected because of the human in which he was locked up.

"Mmmh, I can do it, but you will only wake up, if you have managed to get here without trying, you will surely come back when you try to sleep again, but it is only a theory, since you have never been here before."

"In that case I'll think of something, but let me wake up."

"Ok"

He shrugged with disinterest, you didn't even feel how his fist lodged in your abdomen, your body staggered towards his, while he held you with one of his arms, the other pulled out your heart that continued pumping blood, you looked in disgust as he seemed to enjoy watching the blood splash across his face.

"Son of a bitch with a fetish for dishearten people…"

It was the only thing you said before your body faded away, immediately waking up in your bed with labored breathing, you placed your hands on your heart, checking that it was still in place, beating rapidly from the agitation. That specific night you couldn't sleep, because by doing so you returned to Sukuna's domain, or to Itadori's mind, the problem was rooted in the fact that that specific day Itadori was much more worried about you than usual, generating a certain connection that interfered with his and your dreams, the middle ground being Sukuna's domain.

Now you couldn't even go to sleep thinking about having a good dream, because depending on the night you would end up stuck with the king of curses, another person added to the list, would this be some kind of divine punishment? You just want to run to your parents and hug them with all your might, for them to tell you that everything will be okay and that you are a good daughter, for the moment you will settle for hugging your cold pillow in search of comfort while three pairs of eyes watch as your emotions slowly deteriorates.

They would make sure to be the arms that keep you warm, to be the people you turn to in these types of situations, you shouldn't be sad, you are much better off here, more protected and safe.

"Good night darling, have sweet dreams."

Gojo, having shooed the other three students away from you, entered your room, gently wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks, he stroked your hair for a few seconds before brushing away a few strands and kissing your forehead. He hadn't had the chance to prove that he was capable of being a good father in Megumi's eyes, but he could be to you, it's a shame that you still cling to your parents as role models when he was there, he would be a better father figure, just wait.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part I

Well, it happened... After trying to evade the hype for so long they finally got me 😂😂 This story has had me in a chokehold (haha, get it?) since I started toying around with the idea of it. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future chapters and/or Sleep Token one shots!

WARNINGS: None

Part II

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Credit to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily bb 💗💗💗

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You sat with your feet propped up on the counter, one of the magazines you had yet to sell spread open on your lap. "Be fashion forward this fall." You read out loud to the empty store in a mocking tone as your eyes grazed over the pictures of chunky sweaters, jeans, and boring, brown leather boots. The bell over the door jingled as a customer entered the store, your eyes darted up, expecting one of your regulars. You were met with the sight of someone in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over their head. 'Great,' you thought to yourself, 'just when I thought I was going to have an easy evening.' You watched the man carefully, waiting to see what exactly he was going to stick in his pockets. Now, you normally turn a blind eye to shoplifters up to a certain extent, everyone deserves to have something to eat. But, being an independently owned store you could only take so much of a loss on your inventory. To your surprise, the man didn't pick up a single item. He took his time looking over the contents of each shelf, his hands never leaving his sweatshirt pocket. "Can I help you find anything, sir?" His head turned slightly in your direction, but not enough for you to see his face.

"What time do you close?" You were caught off guard by his British accent, it was an uncommon occurrence to get outsiders in your small backwoods town.

"Eight o'clock." He nods his thanks and hurriedly exits your store, almost bumping into one of your regulars on the way out.

"Everything alright?" He asks as the strange visitor leaves your store.

"Do you know him?" You ask quietly, as if he would somehow be able to overhear you despite having rounded the corner of the building already.

"Yeah, he's one of those… those cultists that set up shop in the woods." He explains. You were a bit shocked at the realization. You had been seeing headlines in the local newspaper for months as curiosity rose around the small group of men that had built a few Cabins on the very edge of town. Reporters didn't dare venture into their camp for an interview, but that didn't stop them from snapping a few pictures from the safety of the treeline. Four cabins sat at each corner of a small clearing, a large fire pit dominated the center. From what you could make out they seemed to have some sort of root cellar and a lackluster garden, which would explain why you hadn't seen any of them in person until this afternoon. "You be careful, (Y/N). Freaks like that might just try to sacrifice you to some goat demon they worship." He warns. You can't help but roll your eyes at the outlandish statement.

"Mark, those boys haven't done a single thing to bother anyone since they got here. They've been out there for months, if they were going to take someone they would've done it by now." You argue.

He chuckles, "Trust me darlin', I hope you're right. But until then me and a lot of other folks around here plan on keeping a close eye on them. You'd do best to stay away from them."

"You think I can't take care of myself?" You challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Now, Miss (Y/N), you and I both know you'd beat my ass to next Sunday if that's what I was implying." The two of you shared a laugh. "I just don't want something bad to happen, that's all. These strange men show up out of nowhere one day and no one knows where they came from, hell none of us have ever seen their faces. They all wear these black masks, least that's what the reports are saying. You can never be too cautious."

"I'll take my chances." You smile politely in an attempt to get him off his soap box. "Now, I take it you're here for your pack of Marlboros."

"Yes ma'am, and an extra one for Donnie if you don't mind." He responds with a nod as he fumbles for his wallet in his back pocket.

"You got it boss." The rest of your evening was spent rather uneventfully, save for the fact that you would practically jump out of your chair every time the door opened. You glanced up at the clock, there was about twenty minutes left until you closed. "Maybe he decided to not come back." You shrug. Moments later an old, beat up pick up truck rumbled into the parking lot. You watched as the driver got out, his head dipped low to hide his face in the hood of his black sweatshirt. He pushes through the door, the jingle of the bell the only sound to cut through the tense silence. "Welcome back." You tried to sound friendly despite your unease. He nods at you in response, not saying a single word as he makes his way quickly and directly to everything he needs. He approaches the counter, unloading his arm load of supplies before taking a step back. "You got a name to go with those big, broad shoulders of yours?" You ask in a bit of a teasing tone, trying to do what you could to lighten the mood. He remained silent, despite the fact you couldn't see his face you couldn't escape the feeling of his piercing gaze. You opened a bag, carefully organizing his contents inside. "$18.75, sir." He slaps a twenty dollar bill on the counter, not even waiting for his change as he grabs his bag and flits out the door. You watched as he drove off, not sure exactly what you were supposed to make of that interaction. You had a similar occurrence every day for almost a week. He would come in, grab an armful of groceries, put down his money, and he left. You would try and greet him whenever he would come in your store, it was always met with a curt nod.

"Vessel." You froze as he finally spoke up. You looked up, your eyes met with 6 slits on an odd looking mask. "You can call me Vessel." You couldn't think of how to respond at first. He had barely acknowledged your existence before tonight, what had changed?

"Vessel… (Y/N)." You stick out your hand to shake his. "It's nice to finally meet you." You smile as his hands clap into yours.

"You're different from the other people we've run into from town." He remarks.

"The reporters?"

"Some of them, a few others we just happened to cross paths with." You could feel him studying you. "You don't seem scared."

"Vessel, you've been coming in here for over a week now. If you were going to try and hurt me you would've done it by now." You notice the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

"I guess you have a point." He chuckles. You finish scanning his items and give him his total. He places the money down on the counter and picks up his bag.

"How come you never take your change?" You ask as he's almost out the door.

"I know you run this place by yourself, think of it as me tipping a small business." He flashes a brief, brilliant smile at you. You try to hide your shy smile by fixing up your register. "Oh, and (Y/N)?" You glance back up at him. "It's nice to finally meet you too."

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Tag List: @herripinkle @mustluvecho @jumpcauseimfroggy (If you would like to be tagged for Sleep Token stuff let me know!)

[generalluxun]

I hope you know that I don't take issue with you criticizing Miraculous on principal and that I've long learned that one fan's treasure is another fan's trash. Nobody need to like something completely and if asked, I'll probably rattle off on my own list of things I felt Miraculous could have handled better.

I guess... part of it comes from how there's a lot of negativity around Miraculous and, while they are entitled to express that, there's not enough for my side of "I love it overall, wart and all." Part of this is likely YouTube and Reddit promoting what happens to get the most clicks.

Hell, Tumblr reccommended that post to me when I was editing a Miraculous post for correcting. You know, in that corner where nine posts they think you'll like show up? I just have horrible practice when it comes to walking away because it eats at me that I'm letting somebody go uncontested in this age of poor media literacy (again, not trying to accuse you of anything).

What I'm trying to say is... I had you all wrong. I might not get your "potential" standpoint because Miraculous hasn't missed its potential for me but I'm not you. And I shouldn't have to be.

I... hope this rambling is coherent enough. I really don't want to offend anybody.

EDIT:Just added the readmore because the post was so long. Hey, Thanks for reaching out. That takes a lot. I appreciate it. In the spirit of sharing I'll run by exactly where the show 'missed the mark' for me. The first is just a 'potential' argument, and the others are sort of a chain of similar-and-escalating choices that... I don't know. They're not good. They hint at something just.. wrong I guess? In the writing room. I don't understand the choices, and I hope they're corrected. They *matter* in my opinion.

The first one (the potential argument) comes at the end of S2/Beginning of S3. The OG5 heroes they had there were SUCH a good setup. Nino, Alya, Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe.

Nino&Alya=Established couple who know each other's IDs

Adrien and Marinette=the promised couple, don't know each other's IDs.

Adrien&Chloe Childhood friends

Marinette&Chloe rivals (light bulling as of S2 but really nothing like the S5 retcon would have us believe at this point)

Chloe->Ladybug fangirl

Everyone knows Choe's ID, she doesn't know Anyone's ID

Alya-> Thinks for herself, yet very loyal.

There's just so many angles and storylines in JUST those 5. You could have never once touched the secondary heroes and you could have feasted on that. I'd say Kagami and Luka just because of how important they are on the civilian side could have been part timers, but yeah. The rest? I don't hate the class, they're fun! But you're stretched so thin trying to cover so many heroes that you don't get to really dig and explore. I've seen the other heroes called 'Marinette's pokemon' and it's kind of true, sadly. S4 was a parade of one hit wonders, they even had to stuff 4 into the final one! You could have tackled all the powers with fusions and let the other civilians be cool civilians. It'd make the 'Resistance' in S5 all the more interesting.

That's not to say there's nothing good about how it was done or it's the worst ever for not sticking with the sentai format. It's just a choice that's indicative of the surface level skimming. And it's got us in S6 with a 16(?)v1 scenario which is.... really low stakes as far as these things go. Yes they can course correct it somehow, but they *already* had to do that in S5. so having to do it again... you see how it was a setup for problems.

That honestly would have been all well and fine if the show hadn't gone as it did down another path. This is a 'Please read to the end' because there are a lot of takes on this and I'd rather not be lumped in with some of them.

It started with how Chloé was handled, is bad *for the audience of children watching the show*, and I have a very real problem with that.

Chloé is an abused child. Full stop. There is no arguing this. Neglect, verbal and emotional abuse. Not just from Audrey. It's on screen. People with actual degrees in the fandom have chimed in on this.

They didn't *have* to make her an abused child. I'm not sure they *intended* to do it. t is what they put up on the screen for eyes to see though.

Once you put an abused child on screen. It is my belief that you have an obligation as someone writing children's programing for children to see, to be sure that child's abuse is A)recognized in-universe and B)shown to get help.

This doesn't mean Chloé needed to be a hero, or even liked by her peers. She's just a classic example of a child who responds with anger instead of sadness. She's a 'bad victim' and bad victim kids are often overlooked because they DO tend to bully their peers(they can't fight back against adults so they pick on those they can) The message *needs* to be 'You too can get help' for any in the audience who identify with her, not 'You're just bad, oh well.'

The sow had Marinette push Chloe to act more like Audrey (Queen Wasp ending) which- is actually a perfectly reasonable mistake for Marinette who grew up in a loving household! But it was never revisited, it's basically ignored. yet, pushing a child back int the abuser's care, showing her that she might gain affection by emulating her mother *even harder*? ooof.

Strip away liking or hating Chloe when you think about this, and liking or hating Marinette. Just think about this in broad 'That's a child' terms.

The S3 fall- not terrible honestly! The finale even seems like it gets it. Master Fu's voiceover says 'Some lose hope' when they're showing Chloé. *lose hope* that's not someone gleefully embracing evil, that's a tragic oversight. The show actively built up that Gabriel and Nathalie -along with Lila- deliberately targeted and isolated Chloé. That's horrific, and you can have a payoff from that!

But- there was nothing. The kid manipulated by the two grown adult villains is just 'a villain' from then on. No consideration, no hints, just evil and evil, framed as the worst, we even added a whole 'Was here all along honest' character and retconned some very specific things to make her more eviler! It goes on right up to the point where her own father throws her to the abusive woman that *he a grown man* is divorcing. Let that sink in. He won't stay with Audrey because he knows how she is, but he's quite willing to throw his daughter away to her rather than take responsibility for the child he raised(badly) and try to fix it.

Which leads into the not-Chloe parts of things that as I said go kind of hand in hand. S5 went on a binge of very sudden and questionable 'redemptions' Every crappy dad out there got one. (plus two honorable mentions)

Jagged? He at least was *only* a deadbeat who left his kids alone despite living in the same city for 15 years... and he's the best of them!

Felix!-No he's not a dad, but we had such a very weird 180 on him. He shows up, is cruel to Adrien, tries to force himself on Ladybug, and is shown to be an all around heel. Gabriel Agreste(the episode) continues this, and then in Strike Back he passes ALL the miraculous and Adrien's amok to Gabriel without a care in the world. 2/4 of a seaon later he tries to wipe out humanity. As an excuse we get hints about his dad. Then right before the end we find out his backstory is basically Adrien's backstory with enough changed that they hope the teacher won't notice. One kidnapping later, he's one of the good guys now! He's just a little guy! Poof! Kagami, the girl who THRIVES on honesty, just kinda is like 'nah, everything is cool, and spills LB's secret to him.' It's s weird. This coming from someone who clocked Felgami from the moment they had the side-eye in Gabriel Agreste. I figured a well executed enemies/rivals to lovers though, not.... whatever this mess is. The only saving grace of canon Felgami is that there is no excuse against Lukloé now. Felgami is literally 'She'll fix him.' 🤣 (note: Even though they basically had Felix's abuse-photocopy-backstory off screen, I would still want him to get *help* for it too. all abused kids need to bee shown getting help. Kids need to see there is help to be had. Help doesn't generally look like 'Free girlfriend and Miraculous' though.)

Nathalié-This is probably the least-problematic after Jagged, but we do still have the fact that Nathalie already murdered one Senti-being wiht free will, and arranged for Fei to be an orphan again. (She knew exactly who Cash was when she hired him). We needed a bit more than a last second gasp to sell this one. On her own I don't think this would stand out as much, but it's just one more in a line of 'Redeem everyone but that one blonde girl' choices.

André! The guy who raised Chloé. The one who *showed her how to cheat, steal, and abuse power* Twice in the series she even explicitly states she learned what she does watching him. We've seen this guy, a grown man, bully and abuse his power, engage in corruption, and it's stated this is how he's been his whole career. But oh no, he's actually just a sad little guy who wanted to make movies. It's all his *daughter's* fault! she's so heartless. She sprang from Audrey and started controlling the happless *grown man* before she could even walk.... or something.

And then after André's supposed redemption, we have him run from all responsibility as a father, and steal Zoé apparently? (S4 indicates Mr. Lee is alive and involved in Zoé's life. I'm pretty sure that Andre did something wildly illegal there. 🤣)

And then Gabe! What a kick in the teeth there eh? Now this one does take some outside-of-show information, but not Twitter. The writers did an actual commentary on the finalé explaining their intent. That was a redemption for Gabriel. The light is him ascending into heaven with Emilie, That was supposed to be Ladybug 'winning'. They legitimately believed the 'All the times I tried to be a good father' was warranted. I think they *thought* they were writing Movie!Gabe, and just missed the mark so hard.

That ties back into Adrien's abuse, which was also pretty obvious all throughout the show. More people care, because Adrien is a 'good victim' (sad and meek) so they take pity. Yet- The writing team doesn't seem to really *see* it as abuse. Gabriel just *really* loved his family and was *misguided*. And... yeah....

With all that having happened. This whole 'Marinette keeping the truth from Adrien' plotline just feels so icky. The boy has had no agency. He's got literally control rings. He's been lied to his whole life. Now his girlfriend, Ladybug, Marinette, the show's actual protagonist is lying to him.

There's so little hope they'll handle it well, considering *waves to the previous paragraphs*. Revelator and Alya's anger is the tiniest glimmer of hope that *maybe* with the end of the contract at the end of S5, there's a different set of priorities. It's just worrying, and why every time this specific thing comes up, I have concerns.

The writing room has shown they're shockingly insensitive to the topics they toy with. They can do lighter-side stuff just fine! But when it hits something heavy... oof.

Child abuse is a Very Big Deal for me. I'm a survivor myself. My own went under the radar, which is why *recognizing it in all it's forms* is extremely important to me.

Again-ML never had to do anything with this, but they *chose* to put it in, and once it's in, feel they had an obligation to handle it well. That's an obligation I don't feel like they've met. It's also not something that will improve if those who do see it just go silent and ignore it.

Silence and ignoring is exactly how abuse thrives.

If you're interested I could go into more detail on some of the specific examples of on-screen abuse elements that are present. I knw I left stuff out. In some cases it's so strange because you *think* they must be aware, but if they are then how could they just leave it unaddressed?

I'd love to get answers, but that's not an option.

Well, I bet this answer was more than you bargained for! Maybe it'll provide some clarity as to where the harshness comes in. To be clear, I really want Miraculous to be *better*, not to die. want it to address the abuse it's already displayed in a reasonable way. Once that's done, the hackles will go way back down.

If I lose any and all hope it ever will be addressed, then I'll probably walk away and just warn other parents off the show.

[rc-writes]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐰 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 | 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚 | 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙

pairings: jj maybank x reader

warnings: mentions of jj getting in a fight & he gets a black eye, slight use of cursing

a/n: hey, guess who's still alive!! i've been meaning to make a part two to this for over a year now but could not come up with a good enough storyline and it ended up going on my never ending to do lists :/ fortunately however season 4 seems to have jump started the gears in my brain because i thought up the entire outline for this in like two minutes the other night lol. anyways, i hope this follow up does part one justice!

When the midday bell rang signaling for everyone to either go to lunch or go home, you all but practically ran out of the building. Your attempt at trying to find JJ at school before first period and during class changes had failed and due to the strict deadline for the mural of two weeks you didn't have time to look around for him before you left. You hoped he might skip lunch or even the rest of the day to meet you at the restaurant.

Your hope slowly shattered piece by piece as the hours went by and the blonde boy hadn't shown. His previous attempt at painting a chicken still on the wall being a stark reminder of his absence. You hadn't had the heart to paint over it yet, leaving it for him to maybe continue tweaking it.

This situation then repeated day after day for a whole week.

You searching the halls of Kildare County High School before school and during changeovers, even deciding to spend a few extra minutes during lunch one day to maybe spot him somewhere. You thinking maybe, just maybe you'd turn the corner by the restaurant and he'd be there standing, waiting for you. And each day you found no trace of him.

Maybe because you only went half of the day and maybe you two just had wildly different classes on different sides of the building made for you two to keep missing each other. Maybe you had walked past him a million times and just hadn't spotted him in the crowd of students walking to and from classes. Maybe considering when you first met him, he was in the middle of skipping school so maybe he just wasn't there to begin with. Though this didn't explain why he was never there at the resultant.

By the fourth day of you coming up empty you had decided to ask around to see who his friends were. The only reason as to why you hadn't before was because it felt too desperate, but now you were bordering on being desperate.

Upon finding out he spent most of his time hanging out with the same three people, you spent another day staying a few minutes after your dismissal time to look for them at lunch. Soon enough you found one of them, a taller guy with curly hair that you hadn't forgotten the name of, but he only said he hadn't seen JJ around. Which you would have believed if it wasn't for him pausing for a long moment and adding in one too many 'uh's that left you to believe he was lying.

Now you felt like shit. Here you were thinking you had made friends with this cute, funny guy who actually seemed to care about your work, but it seemed like he had ditched you after only talking for a day. And it was one thing to get ghosted, another to have his friends also seemingly lying about his whereabouts.

Safe to say you had spent the fourth day wallowing in your own self-pity as you continued working on the mural, still refusing to paint over his contribution.

The truth was that JJ was also wallowing in his own self-pity from not that far away.

A few feet away actually.

In the public library across the street.

As he pretended to read some history book he found on a random shelf.

While instead of reading he spent the entire time he was there just watching you paint from the window.

Man, he felt like such a creep spying at you from afar through the half-tinted library windows, but it was to make sure you were safe from the assholes who wouldn't know great talent even if it slapped them in the face.

The reason for all of this was that he did actually show up the day after you guys' first meeting. He even made it a point to show up extra early so he could admire what you had painted after he had left the day before and surprise you when you arrived. But this exact time ended being the same time some group of guys showed up just to tag the wall.

At first JJ walked directly up to them to kindly explain that the mural was actually the work of someone who put in a lot of time and effort into it, but then things got a bit heated when the guys continued to pull out cans of spray paint. Saying something about how they were getting back at the fancy restaurant stealing customers from family business on the other side of the island. They didn't care if it was actual art made by the same people they claim to be helping as long as it meant hurting the people with money too.

Long story short JJ ended up with a black eye and a busted lip, but it was all worth it to him because the guys decided they no longer cared about the wall. It was all worth it up until he spotted you turning the corner down the street and he realized he did not want you to see him all beat up and so he quickly went off down the other side of the block.

He couldn't let you see him looking like this on the second time you two ever saw each other. What if you took one look at him and just automatically assumed the worst? What if you just saw him as just another asshole who got into fights every other day just for the hell of it? Yes, he had gotten into many in the past like just now, but it was all because someone he cared about was going to get hurt otherwise.

Oh god now that he thought about it, in just one day you had become someone he cared about and now he was definitely not going to confront you with this information on day two of knowing each other. What if you thought that was way too forward and pushed him away?

Something in his mind told him you didn't seem like the person to just make assumptions and turn him away without any explanation. That even if you thought it was too weird, you would probably just kindly reject him. But the mere thought of that being a wrong assumption was too much to handle and so he just decided to avoid you completely.

He had to admit that the idea sounded pretty stupid, but he didn't know what else to do. He wasn't good with feelings stuff or new people. Maybe you didn't even have a good time the day before and didn't care he was there again this time.

And so JJ had his own routine he stuck to for the week. Diving into the nearest classroom when he saw you walking in his direction at school, even if that meant accidentally interrupting a class or two almost on a daily basis. Pleading again and again to his friends to not tell you where he was if you asked, even though they continued to tell him he was being over dramatic. That you'd most likely understand what happened. Going to the library across the street every day after school and then leaving once he saw that you had left.

This was the same routine he continued to repeat on the fifth day since you had met. After pretending to browse the library for the hundredth time he saw that you had left and began to make his way across the street to admire your work up close.

Unknowingly to him however was that you had made it just around the corner before realizing you left one of your paintbrushes on the sidewalk and turned back around to go get it. Good bigger brushes were expensive and hard to come by so there was no way you were just going to leave it there.

Once you turned back around the corner you couldn't believe you were staring at JJ just standing there in front of the wall. His messy hair was shielding you from seeing his face, but you could recognize him anywhere. He really did leave such an impression on you in just the hour or two you talked a few days ago.

"JJ?" You called out as you walked closer to him.

JJ just about jumped out of his skin when he heard your voice. He definitely thought you were long gone by now. Instinctively he turned towards you and then quickly turned back around so you couldn't see his face.

The next minute or two was you two practically spinning in circles as you tried to face him directly and he tried his damn best to make sure you didn't. Eventually you moved fast enough to get in front of him and saw the reason for his avoidance.

You couldn't help but gasp softly when you saw the half-healed bruise across his eye. "JJ what happened?" You instinctively began to reach for his face, but he softly blocked you with his hands.

"It's fine, I'm fine. I've had worse," He tried to fake a smile, but it faded as quickly as it appeared when he saw a new flash of worry come across your face. Shit why did he say that?

"I- bad wording, sorry." He added quickly. "I just mean it's fine, nothing I can't handle."

You shook your head slightly, not having it for his attempt at brushing this off. "JJ just tell me what happened."

He just stared into your eyes for a moment. Man were they pretty and also dangerous. He'd swear that he would have admitted to whatever you wanted him to if you kept looking at him like that.

Eventually he sighed, running his hand through his hair as he closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again when he decided to just tell you the truth.

JJ then explained what had happened with the taggers in a rollercoaster of emotions. One moment he'd pretend to reenact a moment dramatically before realizing that might worry you more, so he'd then cut the explanation short and brush it off as if it was nothing.

You would have laughed at his back and forth if it wasn't for the genuine worry that had overtaken you. As he explained the whole ordeal you couldn't help but feel bad that you had automatically assumed the worst of him. That his avoidance of you was all because he was just some asshole, when in reality it was really the complete opposite.

"You tried to take on four guys by yourself for me?" You questioned once he finished telling the story. He nodded, a thin smile on his face. "JJ that is incredibly stupid but also incredibly sweet in an odd way."

"I couldn't just let them ruin all your hard work." He shrugged it off as if it was something just anyone would do.

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face, shaking your head in disbelief that anyone cared enough to literally fight for you.

"Just next time call for backup or something, so you don't get hurt again." You gestured to his bruised eye.

It was at this moment you yourself realized how much you began to care about him already. It seemed to just be incredibly easy and right to get attached to him so quickly. Though your moping around all week should have been your first sign to this.

"I'll try, but I make no promises." JJ flashed a stupid grin at you that even though you hadn't known him long you could just tell it was a signature move for him. You couldn't help but playfully shove at his shoulder, the both of you laughing.

"Alright now to make up for avoiding me for a week I must demand that you be here one o'clock sharp tomorrow to continue helping me get this painting done." You spoke in an exaggerated fake drill sergeant voice as you pointed to the half-finished mural.

JJ quickly responded in character, raising his hand up in a salute. It was clear as day that he was holding back a grin, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Aye, aye capt'n! Will do!"

You couldn't help but laugh more. "Pretty sure that's how you'd respond to a pirate not a commander."

"No, I'm pretty sure it can be both."

"Yeah, okay Maybank. Sure." You nodded, laughing.

You couldn't believe you made it a whole week without ever talking to him. Hell, you didn't know how you've gone your whole life without him in it. Come to think of it, you weren't sure if you've laughed this much just in the last month alone before you met him.

The one thing you did know, however, was that you were determined to have him stick around for the rest of it, whether he liked it or not. Though something in the way he looked at you made it not very hard to see that he definitely would like to.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 49

Back to our chronological watch of Doctor Who! We've had a go at including the 14th Doctor stories in the list, btw, since those aired after we started the project. I would like to be particularly showered with praise for how we worked out a date for Wild Blue Yonder, which required us to do a deep dive through the Doctor Who Adventures comics to find a 2006 comic featuring horse people, who had a robot made of duralinium, which was mined in 1970s episode Colony in Space, which gave us a rough future date, which we added three years to as listed in Wild Blue Yonder's computer. We're extremely cool.

(We shall see if we include 15th. Probably not - we've gone past a LOT of those episodes, so we'll probably sadly skip it this time around. But, in future...)

ANYWAY! Last time, in 1986, we watched Bill be Cyber-converted, Nardole be permanently abandoned on a Cyberman-infested spaceship, and the Doctor leave to regenerate. But WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN TIME?

Why, it's Father's Day in 1987 of course! And Rose asks Christopher Eccleston's Doctor if they can see her dead father on the day he died, and also we finally meet Jackie, her mother! An Experience.

Well. I say that. In fact, she first asks to see her parents on their wedding day, which is quite a nice thing to go and see if you've never met your dead dad who died when you were a baby, but unfortunately, Jackie has clearly reported Pete the Dead Dad to Rose through rose-tinted glasses (pun intended) because he's uhhhhhh a bit shit. On their wedding day, he gets Jackie's name wrong. The Doctor is delighted by this.

"I thought he'd be taller," frets Rose.

Actually. I should stress. This is not a good Rose episode. We're back to not really seeing what all the fuss is about with her. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, she didn't like the wedding. But Jackie tells Young Rose in flashback that when Pete died - a hit and run accident as he hastened to the wedding of some friends - he was all alone. Rose, a 19-year-old, decides she wants to be there with him when he dies. She asks the Doctor to take her.

The Doctor, a 900-year old who has witnessed the deaths of multiple planets, sees no issues with this whatsoever and thinks it sounds like a quirky day out.

So they go to Grangetown, in Cardiff! Or, you know, wherever in London this is supposed to be, but I'll tell you where it actually IS, Tumblrs: the church my sister got married in to her first husband. Fun fact! Her wedding was actually three months after this episode aired, so the day after watching, her mother-in-law went down there to make sure giant monsters hadn't actually damaged the stonework and ruined the photos to come. But WHOOPS SPOILERS okay okay

So they go to Grangetown to watch a man die, surrounded by 80s posters declaring Thatcher to be losing the election and also some sort of acid face event called Energise on 20th Nov 1987, one of which has been vandalised with the words BAD WOLF. We've seen that before! Gwyneth the psychic foresaw the Big Bad Wolf! Exciting. Probably coincidence.

Anyway, to the surprise of no one, the whole thing is a bit overwhelming for poor Rose, and she can't bring herself to go to her dying father. This, I should stress, is not what I judge her for. I think we would probably all succumb to overwhelm under such circumstances. It is, as they might say, A Bit Much.

But, she then asks the Doctor if she can try again, and he agrees, and she gives into the inevitable split-second impulsivity and saves Pete's life, and this, very obviously, causes a big time fracture, and this actually is also not the issue! It's not! If I had the chance to save my father's life, yeah, I'd probably do that too!! I do not judge her for this!!!

But what IS intensely fucking irritating is her hyper-defensive narcissist-in-training brattitude that she subsequently maintains throughout most of the episode, only finally admitting that maybe she fucked up at the end after a whole load of people have died because of it AND THE DOCTOR HAS TO SPELL OUT FOR HER THAT MAYBE SHE SHOULD APOLOGISE. It is INCREDIBLY annoying. It frankly made me want to watch her step on Lego. God is anyone ever less sympathetic or attractive than when they pull this shit? Fuck. Fuck I'm so annoyed by it. Having to forcibly remind myself that she has previously been great. Fuck.

Actually I'm not done, because the Doctor, you see, is fucking raging, and takes her to task.

"My entire planet died!" he snarls. "My whole family! Do you think it never occurred to me to go back and try to save them?"

WHICH IS PLOT!!!!

He had a family??! His whole planet is dead here??? We did not know this!!! We know it's true for some later Doctors, sure! But not for Eccleston!! Was this the Time War? Ooh, this is juicy. Also, a really fucking good point. Unfortunately, Rose throws an actual tantrum and starts in on the thought-terminating cliches like "Oh so you'd rather he was DEAD?" and "Oh so you just don't like that someone else is important to me!" at which point the Doctor takes her TARDIS key and makes to abandon her in 1987, a move I'd heartily approve of; especially when Rose then starts doing the smug "Oh, you won't abandon me, you'll totally just wait for me, and I'll make you wait a long time" thing.

For the record, if she tried that with me, I would very literally abandon her. Fuck her. She can try and get a job with UNIT. Dick.

Anyway. Naturally, plot then happens, because some giant flying scorpions with vaginas in their chests turn up to eat people from old to young. This is on account of time being fractured. Radios start playing songs that haven't been released yet. Phones start playing Alexander Graham Bell's first ever phonecall. Rose gets out her mobile, which is great, because Pete is like WHOA, IS THAT FUTURISTIC DEVICE A PHONE and we look at it and go "God, remember the Nokia 3210?" Everyone ends up in the church at the Friends' Wedding, where the Doctor tries to summon the TARDIS with the TARDIS key, and Rose has lots of conversations with her dad, and her mam humorously thinks she's her dad's mistress. At the same time, the car keeps driving past the church, looping in and out of time over and over again.

(Also, and I cannot stress this enough, the music and cinematography are some of the most dated-looking television I've ever seen. Steff and I have decided that we are going to be watching one (1) story from the English series mixed into this project for the hell of it, and this episode is... honestly, barely more modern-looking. Shit's wild.)

Anyway, Pete works out that Rose is his daughter from the future.

"I see it," he says, touchingly. "My eyes, Jackie's attitude."

This would be a more meaningful line if they had cast someone whose eyes looked even remotely like Billie Piper's.

He asks what sort of dad he is, and this is where we get a bit of heartstring pulling, of course. Rose does not want to tell him he's dead in her time, and so she lies. She tells him he read to her every night, and took them for picnics on Saturdays, and was always there for them. And as she lovingly describes the ideal dad she always dreamed of having, Pete's face falls.

"That's not me," he says quietly.

Child!Mickey turns up and hugs Rose. She talks to the Doctor, and finally admits that she might have made a mistake here perhaps.

"There used to be laws stopping this kind of thing from happening," the Doctor says, tired. "But now they're all gone. And I'm going the same way."

INTERESTING

Meanwhile, there's an incredibly lovely bit where the bride and groom ask the Doctor for help. He asks them how they got together, and tells them they're brilliant, and promises to help them. He uses his key to try to summon the TARDIS back, which will save everything.

"When time gets sorted out - ?" Rose asks, tentatively.

"It'll be fine," the Doctor says. "The thing you changed will stay changed."

"You mean me," Pete says behind them. "I stay alive."

He worked it out! Good for him. Unfortunately, Jackie hears them talk and say they're father-daughter, and in a jaw-droppingly audacious plot contrivance, Pete decides the way to prove to his wife that this is their time-travelling daughter is to take Baby!Rose (side note - the baby actually does have his eyes) and put her in Adult!Rose's arms, an act that absolutely no one would ever think to do. Reaper monsters immediately enter and kill the Doctor, ruining the whole plan.

Pete realises he needs to die, and nobly sacrifices himself to the car. It's actually a fairly lovely scene between him and Rose.

"I never read you those bedtime stories," he says. "Never took you on those picnics. I was never there for you. But I can do this for you."

It's really lovely. So he jumps in front of the car, and Rose gets to hold his hand afterall as he dies, which changes history a little bit but not very much, so that's fine. The Doctor returns, as does everyone else. End of episode.

Finishes kind of... abruptly, actually. And it's not as heart-wrenching as it should be. Ah well. Eccleston's always great.

Let's update the board!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (Suspects: River, Missy, Me, Clara)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). Is this the Flux?

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (Nope: she is definitely not blown up)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NOPE, back to not working.)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? He used to be blue, and could apparently go back to it??? He’s some sort of helplessly criminal con-artist??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)

Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?) She’s deffo pregnant and the baby becomes River, but why inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (Not anymore, somehow)

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War? NEW INFO: did this destroy the Doctor's planet and/or family?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf? NEW INFO: Gwyneth saw "the Big Bad Wolf" in Rose's mind, and it was on a 1987 poster as graffiti

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?

Is Rory plastic or not? Yeah, must be, he couldn’t possibly remember being plastic otherwise

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras? A psychic midwife says she’s just normal human

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven? Is this because she’s now dead?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather? This is presumably the star-eyed water faerie

How did Nardole die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name? Missy says it’s “Who”

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

How and why did Amy melt?

What’s the question that will make silence fall?

Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?

How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?

How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?

What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?

Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?

What happened with the space whale?

When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years? Since Roman times, it seems

How does the Doctor survive River? He doesn’t, apparently

How does he erase himself from history

Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?

When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?

What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?

Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead? Is it because of River as an astronaut?

Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?

Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?

River says she’ll die one day when the Doctor doesn’t remember her, let’s hope she doesn’t mean it

Why doesn’t the TARDIS like Clara?

When was the Master Prime Minister?

When will the Doctor go and rescue Nardole and the colonists?

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twelve

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven

A/N: ...................I was not expecting this chapter to turn out the way it did.................Hope you guys enjoy! And if you wanna be added to the tag list just lemme know! Oh and do tell me your favorite scene so far!

The walk back had been quiet. Neither teenager felt the need to say anything.

But then there was nothing to say now was there?

She had been attacked by someone who could've hurt Iroh and Zuko, and yet Orora had not said a single word. Despite her own fear, her priority had been to protect the both of them. Besides the fear hadn't been for her. The fear had been the result of her mind conjuring up the various dark outcomes that would come to play should the identity of the two Royals be discovered.

He had pushed her out of the way of an attack, taking the blow meant for her. Granted Orora could've handled herself, but with how scared she had been, and the way he had seen her trembling despite her effort not to, Zuko hadn't wanted to leave it up to chance. His main thought was that he didn't want her getting hurt.

Least of all while protecting him.

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he was a little surprised to see her walking with her head slightly bent. What was she thinking, he wandered, eyes dropping briefly to the string linking them together. It hung slightly loose, though was rather short, given how their hands were only a foot or so apart.

He looked away. And not a moment later, Orora turned her head slightly to glance at him. The streets were nearly empty, given that it was late in the evening, and yet she found herself walking right next to him. A rather common, yet unconscious, occurrence since they had arrived in Ba Sing Se.

Reaching their building of residence, Orora motioned for him to go ahead. "I need to fill my satchel with fresh water." She gestured to the community well that everyone used.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And leave you to be attacked by another crazy guy?" Though his gaze was serious, Orora could almost detect a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Playful sarcasm, she hoped.

Her eyes flashed with something akin to annoyance and.........gratitude? Was that it? Jet hadn't sneaked in a kick to his head had he?

While Zuko recalled if what he had seen was real or just the light coming from a nearby open window, Orora quickly bended fresh water into her satchel. Closing the cork she waved her arms, allowing more water to bend up from the well, enough so that she could splash her face with it.

Sighing at the feeling of the cool liquid, her body instantly relaxed. Having water touch her skin had always had a calming effect on her, and she needed to regain her composure after the plethora of emotions she had felt within a span of an hour. Tilting her head to allow the little rivulets of water to run down her face and neck, her eyes focused on the moon above. Inhaling deeply, the young girl smiled, arms hanging loosely at her side as she allowed herself to simply bask in the presence of it.

The sound of water splashing had him glancing in Orora's direction from where he had been looking around, keeping watch. His usual mask of seriousness slipped away as he watched her standing there. Her eyes were focused on the moon, so there was no chance of her catching him looking.

So he continued to gaze upon her.

After a couple of minutes, she walked back to where Zuko was standing. She didn't bother wiping her face, or even bending the water droplets from her skin as she passed him and walked up the stairs.

It was after a few steps when she realized Zuko wasn't following her. Glancing over her shoulder, a hand on the railing to keep her balance, she blinked at the Fire Nation Prince who was staring right at her.

"Aren't you coming?" She asked.

The words seemed to startle him out of whatever daydream he was in. He met her gaze, before abruptly looking away and bolting up the stairs, nearly pushing past her as he did.

Orora frowned in confusion, completely missing the obvious redness that adorned his cheeks given the embarrassment he felt at being caught staring at her so openly.

Then again, he couldn't help himself, his treacherous mind reasoned, she had looked so peaceful and calm in that moment.

Almost serenely pretty.

Shaking his head, pushing his hair back from his forehead, he stepped into their home. It was dark, a problem he remedied by lighting a couple of candles.

With his fire-bending.

An act that prompted Orora to reach out and grasp his wrist from where he had been aiming at another candle.

"What're you doing? You were nearly discovered tonight. Do you want to get caught?" She hissed right in his ear. Zuko only scowled at her. "I wouldn't be careless with my bending Orora. And I checked outside to make sure we weren't followed."

She pursed her lips, looking annoyed once more. An emotion that was a normal occurrence for the two teenagers when it came to dealing with each other. "Be that as it may, I would prefer that we not test with our luck. At least not tonight."

Stepping away from him and dropping his wrist, trying to ignore how comforting his warmth had been for the brief moments she had touched him, she quickly lit more candles. Using spark rocks this time.

Once done, she turned to Zuko, hands on her satchel.

"Take off your shirt."

Having been in the process of drinking some water from the pitcher, Zuko spluttered. Coughing, water dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt, he stared at her wide-eyed and slightly panicked.

"What?!"

Realizing just how she must've sounded, Orora shook her head vigorously, even as her cheeks tinged pink. Despite her dark complexion, the evidence of her embarrassment was still visible.

"Spirits Zuko! So that I can check your chest. Jet hit you pretty hard." She clarified, bending water and coating her hands with it. Wiping the spilled water from his chin, his face still burning, Zuko shook his head. "I'm fine. I don't need you to look at it."

He moved to walk away. "I'm going to bed."

Nostrils flaring in anger, Orora allowed her arms to snap forward, creating twin whips from the water she had meant to use to heal him. The whips wrapped around his wrists and yanked him back. "Hey! What?!" He stumbled but managed to recover his footing as Orora brought him to stand in front of her.

The firebender rounded on her, golden eyes alight with an anger that would send any other person running for the hills. But not Orora. She stared back, calm and cold. A cold anger, he would often muse to himself.

"What was that for? I told you, I don't need your help." Having dropped the whips, she bended the water back inside her satchel, never once letting her eyes stray from his furious face.

"Why do you have to be so reckless about this? About everything?" She demanded. "I'm offering to heal your injury. What if you're hurt badly? What if your injury gets worse if left untreated?"

Zuko scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from her intense gaze. "You're only offering because you feel guilty that I got hurt pushing you out of the way."

That had to be the only reason. She didn't care about him enough to actually be worried about him.

Orora was silent for a beat, blinking at him before she huffed. "You're right. I do feel guilty." He smirked smugly.

He was right.

"But I'm also worried about you."

His mind, or maybe his heart, came to a sudden halt.

Now that he had certainly not been expecting.

Mouth slightly agape, he turned his gaze back in her direction, noting how this time, for once, she couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes found the white patch of hair. An overwhelming feeling overcame him. One that nearly compelled him to reach out and touch it. His fingers twitched at his side, and he would've done it too.

If Orora hadn't looked back up just then.

"You didn't even comprehend the situation before you decided to fight Jet. What if he had been a better fighter then you?" She asked. Though she had claimed that she was worried for him, her tone sounded angry.

A feeling he reciprocated as the scowl returned to crease his forehead. "But he wasn't. And I won. Besides, he was about to attack, Orora. If I hadn't defended myself, I would've definitely gotten hurt worse."

"We could've talked to him." She tried to reason, prompting Zuko to let out a laugh of disbelief. "Are you honestly that naive? Do you think he would've listened to you?"

She was nearly fuming with anger at his tone and his words. Condescending would be the best way to describe them both. She could even see it in his face from how close he was standing to her. Only a small step away. "Its not about being naive, Zuko. Its called avoiding a physical conflict where it can be avoided."

"We're here to build a peaceful life." She continued. "And that means not getting into physical fights with the first threat that comes our way. Fighting isn't always the answer."

Zuko glared at her before moving to turn away. "I've spent the last few years fighting Orora, and it's whats kept me alive and helped me survive." So saying, he started to walk towards their bedrooms once more. He didn't want her to be satisfied by the fact that what she said was true. Zuko was almost afraid she would be able to read his mind and see what was in his heart if she looked at him hard enough with those intense blue eyes of hers.

But Orora wasn't having it.

She was tired. Tired of the half-truths and the lies. Tired of not getting the full picture. Tired of being unable to understand him.

But what frustrated her the most? Was that she couldn't help him.

And she wanted to. So badly.

"So thats it then is it?!" She called after him, her voice raising slightly. "You're just gonna keep fighting until it gets you killed?" Her words brought him to a sudden halt, an act that prompted her to keep speaking. "You fight all the time Zuko. And not just with me or your Uncle. You fight life. You fight against what fate has planned for you in that moment. You never allow yourself to simply......be!"

She could see the tension in his shoulders before he turned to face her. "Well life hasn't been kind to me Orora, its why I fight back." He responded, his voice matching her tone. "I have to fight, because if I don't I'll only loose more pieces of myself like I have over the years."

"You'll loose yourself anyway just by fighting so much. Not to mention all the good things you'll miss in life." Silence followed her words, several moments where the both of them just stared at one another.

"You don't have to fight all the time Zuko." She said, her voice soft and gentle.

He clenched his fists and nearly bared his teeth. "Yes, I do!"

She threw her arms in the air, a breathless laugh of disbelief falling from her lips as she did. "Spirits, why do you intend to fight with me even on this?! I know you think I'm right. I can see it in your face. I've known you long enough to read you Zuko."

"Don't pretend like you know anything about me, Orora." He all but growled, stalking forward so that they were nearly nose to nose. "You know nothing."

She had to tilt her head back to look at him properly. "Alright then fine, tell me. Why do you fight all the time then? Why are you so intent on attacking anything or anyone, even if its someone who offers you kindness and love?"

"Because its who I am."

"Thats not an answer."

"Yes it is!"

"It's not and you know it. You're always giving your opinion on everything why not this huh? Why do you insist on being so stubborn? Why do you always fight back?"

"Because the last time I didn't fight back, I had my face burned off by my father!"

Silence.

A horrified silence followed his outburst.

Zuko's eyes widened in horror as his mind caught up with what he had said. And while his mind worked a mile a moment, trying to come up with something that would help him take back what he had just said, what he had just revealed, Orora's mind was sluggishly trying to process what she had just heard.

His father.

Her face paled.

The scar.

Her pale blue eyes found the marred skin widening in sheer horror.

His father had burned his face?!

She opened her mouth, looking as if she were about to say something.

But what?

Behind Orora the latch on the door pushed up, the door opened, and Iroh stepping in carrying several bowls of food on a tray. "The restaurant by the tea shop were kind enough to offer us food for the night and I could not refuse." He stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

His nephew and his pupil both in fighting stances, Orora with ice daggers clutched in either of her hands, and Zuko looking ready to throw a fireball.

Iroh's heart clenched in his chest as he took in the two children. This is what the war had turned them into. Being on guard every moment of the day, ready to defend themselves against the enemy. "You need not be so tense, the danger has passed." He tried to reassure them, and though they did drop their defensive positions, the tension in their bodies remained.

"I'm going to bed." Zuko stated, and before Iroh could even ask him about dinner the young prince had disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Is he alright?" The concerned man asked, to which Orora gave a small shrug. His face settled into a concerned look. Something had happened, he sensed, between the both of them.

And it would be best if he not step in, he mused to himself as he and Orora ate in silence. Allow them to work it out between themselves, he reasoned as he watched his pupil play with her food rather then eat it.

He did notice how she put a plate on top of Zuko's bowl of food, in an effort to keep it warm.

                                          ————————–

It was well past midnight, she was sure.

And yet she couldn't sleep.

She hadn't even bothered going to bed. Instead, once Iroh had retired, she had opted on making herself some tea. Clutching the smooth clay cup, she had settled on the floor, back against the wall. She had removed her dress for the day, leaving her in a loose shirt and baggy pair of trousers. Her shoes were discarded on the floor, and she had removed the comb from her hair. At every other interval she would lift the cup to her lips to take a sip of the sweet concoction she had brewed, but other then that, she remained still.

Her mind, however, was racing faster then she had ever thought possible. And yet, none of them seemed to be making sense. She would start thinking of something, before another thought would overtake it.

The only thing all her thoughts had in common was that they were all centered around her soulmate.

A sudden thump from above had her nearly jumping out of her skin. Dropping the nearly empty cup with a small clatter, she was jumping out from the window just behind her and had swinging herself up onto the roof.

Only to stop short when she saw what, or rather who had made the noise.

Zuko stared back at her, looking just as startled as she felt. "I'm-I'm sorry. I just thought it was someone attacking again." She quickly explained, feeling a little embarrassed. Why was she so paranoid about the smallest of noises? She hadn't been this way while they were roaming the countryside.

For his part, Zuko shook his head. "Its fine." He was sitting the slightly slanted roof. His hair was mussed, as if he had been tossing in bed, and his sleep clothes were rumpled. He was wearing nearly the same style of clothing she was, though his shirt had no sleeves to them. Her curiosity got the better of her as she asked. "What're you doing up here?"

The banished prince shrugged in response. "Couldn't sleep." There was an almost resigned tone in his voice as he spoke. Orora nodded. "Yeah, me neither."

Their eyes met, a mutual understanding passing between the both of them. Finally, Zuko, being the first to look away, sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I suppose, you have some questions." Biting her lower lip, Orora gave a small shrug. "Only if you want to answer them. I don't want to force you or anything."

He shook his head. "No, I think....well....you've stayed by us for so long. You........you deserve to know." Not wanting to see her reaction to his offer, especially if it was negative, he turned away.

A small stretch of silence, one where Zuko thought that maybe she didn't want to know. Didn't want anything to do with him. Then again, who would? His own father had banished him. His mother had left him. And his sister had never liked him.

But then he felt her coming to stand next to him before settling down. She mirrored his pose, legs against the chest, arms wrapped around them, chin placed between the valley of her knees. His arms rested atop his knees though, both their gazes trained towards the skyline of Ba Seng Se.

"Did your father really...." She trailed off, shifting her head so she could look at him. For his part, Zuko didn't move his gaze, however he did nod. "He did. It was punishment, for speaking against him at a War Council."

"Kind of a harsh one don't you think?" She muttered, to which Zuko shook his head. "I deserved it." The three words slipped so easily out of his mouth that Orora literally froze from the shock of it. How could he even think he deserved to be punished so brutally? Zuko was oblivious to her inner turmoil as he continued. "I spoke against him in front of the entire War Council. It was not my place to question him or doubt his decision."

"But you're the Prince. Aren't you allowed to give your opinion?" She asked, wandering just how politics worked in the Fire Nation.

He shook his head. "Not when it goes against the Fire Lord's word."

Orora frowned. "But what if his word is wrong?" Her question had the Prince tensing up, something that she caught prompting her to ask her next question. "He was wrong wasn't he?" Had Zuko been burned because his father didn't like to be called out when he did something wrong?

"One of the Generals suggested they send new recruits as a diversion. Sacrifice them, use them as bait." A dark frown marred his forehead. "Fresh meat he called them."

A cold feeling erupted in her spine, traveling down to the very tips of her toes, and racing through her veins. "How could they do that? They were just soldiers following orders." She spoke, her voice soft with disbelief, eyes wide.

Zuko turned his head to look at her, a surprised look playing about his features. "That's exactly what I said, but it wasn't my place to speak out. I disrespected the War Council, which in turn meant I disrespected the Fire Lord. I challenged them, and a challenge in the Fire Nation means-"

"An Agni Kai."

He stopped short, giving her a surprised look. "I didn't think you would know about that." She gave a small shrug. "I used to read a lot. And that included reading about all the other Nations as well. Didn't have anything else to do at the North Pole." She admitted with a small smile. Zuko returned the smile before continuing, the curve of his lips disappearing.

"So yeah, I had to fight an Agni Kai. I had thought I would be fighting the old General who had come up with the plan. But when I faced my opponent, I found out it was my father."

Orora released a startled breath, eyes widening in horror. "Spirits. Is that when he burned you? While you were fighting him? Wait no, you said you didn't fight back against your father." She corrected herself, remembering their conversation from earlier.

He nodded. "Yeah, I didn't fight him. I could never fight my father. I begged for forgiveness, told him I always had the Nation's best interest at heart but it was no use, and well," He turned his head to look at her fully. "You see the result of it everyday."

Orora had to remind herself to breath as she allowed her gaze to land on his scar. Just because he had spoken what was right, he'd been burned, scarred for the rest of his life.

"And if that wasn't enough." Wait there was more? "He banished me from the Fire Nation. Said I had dishonored him, and the only way to regain my honor, and be welcomed home was if I found and captured the Avatar."

She frowned. "But Aang only appeared a few months ago. How long ago did your father banish you?" She asked, trying to figure it out in her head.

"Well, I was thirteen when I was banished, spent almost three years traveling the world looking for him, chased him for months up to the North Pole. Lost my ship and my crew. My sister declared us traitors to the Fire Nation and since then we've been living as fugitives." He let out a dry chuckle. "Its been a few eventful years."

Orora waved her hand. "Wait wait! Go back, I'm still stuck on the first part. You were thirteen?!"

He frowned but nodded. "Yes?"

"You were only thirteen years old when your father burned you and banished you?" She confirmed again, her voice breathless in her disbelief.

He frowned. "Whats so difficult to understand about that?"

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Orora looked like she was about to tackle him. "Whats so difficult?! Whats so difficult!?" Her voice rose slightly as she moved to sit on her knees beside him. "Whats difficult for me is that I don't understand how your own father scarred you for life, before banishing you from your own home?! How could he do that?"

He blinked at her, looking a little startled at her outburst. "Didn't your father banish you too? Just because you were fighting for the right thing like I was?"

She stopped short. "Oh." Where she had been speaking so passionately before, she slumped where she sat. "Right, I forgot."

Zuko blinked at her. "How could you forget something so important?" He asked, sounding just as incredulous as he looked. She shrugged. "I mean I do remember it from time to time, but I don't let it define who I am."

She gave him a meaningful look, one that had him pursing his lips and looking away. "And at least I wasn't a kid when my father threw me out." She reasoned, to which Zuko gave a small smirk. "We're still kids Orora. I mean teenagers are considered kids right?"

Nodding, she hummed. "Thats debatable, for the both of us. I mean we've both been banished by our fathers. You were scarred. I was disinherited. You're wanted by your Nation. I nearly died. And I'm sure attempts have been made on your life." She looked at him in a questioning manner to which he gave a small nod.

Sighing Orora closed her eyes, before shrugging. "I don't think I would use the word kids to describe us Zuko." She finally stated, straightening so she was sitting facing the skyline once more.

Though this time, she sat much closer to Zuko then before. The lull in conversation allowed her to think on what she had heard so far. But the lack of mention of someone had her frowning in confusion.

"You've talked about your father, your sister and I know you have an Uncle, but what about your mother?"

She could physically feel him tense up beside her. Turning her head, she watched as an unbearably sad look overcame his features. For once, he didn't bother to hide his emotions. "She disappeared a long time ago. No one knows where. The official story is that she died, but she just....left."

Spirits, she had never heard his voice sound so broken and hopeless.

"Were you two close?" She asked, her voice soft and barely above a whisper, as if afraid any loud noise would shatter the moment. He nodded. "I.....she was.....is the only person who really knew me. I've never been that close with anyone. Not even Uncle."

There were still parts of himself that he had no intention of sharing with his Uncle, though he knew the old man was already aware of them.

"My parents weren't soulmates, so it was easy for her to leave I suppose." He added, feeling that all too familiar anguish settling in his chest whenever he would think about his mother leaving him behind too.

Something warm and soft pressed against his arm, before slowly sliding up to cover his hand. He turned his head to see Orora right beside him, her eyes trained to where her hand covered his.

"I'm sure that whatever reasons she had for leaving, it broke her heart to leave you." Earnest ice blue eyes raised to meet his amber gold hues. "I'm sure she loved you Zuko. Maybe, one day, you can go and look for her."

A blush stole across her cheeks, a nervousness overcoming her, but she continued. "And when you do, if you'd like, I can be there with you to help however I can." Zuko stared back, mouth slightly agape. He couldn't understand why she would offer to do something like that. Help him. No one had ever offered to help him voluntarily. He had always had to fight for his right to be heard, seen and, at one point, even to live.

Feeling that perhaps she had overstepped a little bit, Orora shifted her gaze to look out to the sky once more. It was beginning to change color. Dawn was approaching. "But only if you need it." She added, her grip on his hand not letting up. "I don't want to overstep any boundaries or anything."

"Why?"

That one word had her frowning in confusion as she looked back at him. "Why what?"

He had a rather adorably confused look. "Why would you want to help me?"

Orora blinked. "Oh." She pursed her lips before answering. "Because its the right thing to do."

Though her answer was spoken in a kind tone, Zuko couldn't help but feel disappointed. About what though, he had no idea. Brushing a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, Orora sighed and continued.

"And also because, somewhere during these few months, despite how we met and whatever animosity has been between the both of us, I've come to see you as a friend Zuko." Spirits, her face felt like it was on fire!

For his part Zuko wasn't any better. While her blush was subtle given her tanned skin, his was more then obvious. The sight of Zuko blushing did have an involuntary laugh falling from her lips. The two of them lapsed into silence, watching as the sky grew lighter in color, and as the first beam of sunshine appeared, Zuko felt his entire body thrum with energy at the sight of the rising sun.

"Well so long as you can tolerate the ugly scar and bad temper, I suppose you can come along." He tried to joke, though the mention of his scar had her frowning darkly.

"Its not an ugly scar Zuko." She stated firmly, moving so she could sit on her knees again. This time she held his hand in both of her own in the space between the two of them. "You got the scar because you were trying to protect innocent lives. The person who gave you the scar? They're the ones who are truly ugly Zuko." He looked like he was about to argue, but she didn't let him.

"Even if I hadn't heard this story, I would never think of your scar as ugly, because I never would've judged you on your appearance." Her gaze had not left his during her entire speech, but now it did. A kind smile played at her lips as she reached out with her other hand, to place it atop his chest, where she could feel his heart beating under her touch.

"You are a beautiful person Zuko. You've proven it so many times since the day we met at the North Pole. And no scar is going to hide your kind heart."

Zuko felt as if Orora's voice was echoing in his ears, her words sounded strange. No one had ever associated such words with him. Yet here was a girl, he had not even known a few months ago, looking at him so openly, kindly and earnestly that he felt that this was nothing but an illusion.

Clearing his throat, the young prince averted his gaze, unable to continue looking at her. "Th-thank you, Orora." It was a miracle how he was able to form just those simple words. Spirits, he was going to be permanently red in the face if she kept saying all those things to him.

Sensing that maybe she had embarrassed him enough, the young waterbender retreated her hands from his person, though neither of them missed how his hand flinched when her hand left his. Almost as if he were about to reach out and grasp it again.

"I should get down and get a few hours of sleep before we have to work." She stated, slowly standing up and brushing the front of her clothes. "See you later, Zuko." Her heart was lightened for once. She hoped that what she had said would help him somehow.

He had to say something! Anything! Anything to assure her that her words didn't fall on deaf ears, that her kindness to him wasn't something he was about to throw right back in her face. He had done that too many times, and she was right. Maybe it was time to accept the kindness people showed him from time to time.

"Orora?" He called out to the parting waterbender, trying not to recall just how warm her hand had felt enveloped in his own a few moments ago.

"Hmm?" She turned around to look at him, a smile on her lips.

One that he mirrored as he said. "I'm glad that we're friends." He admitted, prompting the girl's smile to widen even more.

"So am I Zuko."

Deep down they had both come to care for one another, and not just because they were soulmates, but because they were friends.

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[somewhereincairparavel]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write Jason x daughter of Apollo reader who’s always overworking herself at the infirmary

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when the skies are gray"

author's note: I intended it to be full fluffy but I made it hurt comfort instead, I hope you don't mind <3

Jason hadn't seen you in days…. recently the infirmary was packed with patients, Jason literally being one of the dozens. The apollo healers were at their peak of pressure. You were performing stitches while the others were performing surgeries. After all the chaotic rush cooled down a little, you told Will to take some rest, while you checked off the list of patients that were admitted in your notepad.

That was when Jason stepped inside the infirmary, you didn't even notice until jason vigorously back hugged you.

“What?” You snapped, you were exhausted and didn't really want to see anyone at the moment, not even your boyfriend. Jason pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling brightly while giving them to you. What a sweetheart.

Unfortunately, you had too much coffee and that made you cranky.

“thanks. Put them in the vase.” You said, not taking your eyes off of your notepad while aloofly gesturing to the empty vase on your desk.

You felt Jason frown genuinely. He put the flowers inside the vase as you asked him too, which you did albeit a little coldly. But he knew you were stressed out, so he didn't think much of it. He put a hand on your shoulder gently and moved closer to whisper in your ear.

“sunshine, don't you think you should be taking a break? You look exhausted and you didn't show up to dinner yesterday, have you even eaten? Be honest please” he asked in concern

You always loved Jason's worried mom behavior because you thought it was endearing, but today, the pressure levels of the past few days, witnessing your siblings in distress because they failed to save one patient, watching fellow campers in physical pain, just got too much, that you snapped.

“I am FINE Jason! Just because I didn't show up yesterday does not mean I didn't eat. Have you considered the possibility that I had food sent to me over here in the infirmary? Gosh.. can't you see I'm busy? Why are you so overbearing? Leave me alone, please.” you regretted your words the moment they spilled out. Jason looked like a kicked puppy, as a flash of hurt went through his eyes. But they disappeared almost immediately as his eyes were replaced with steely coldness.

“I was just checking on you, babe. because I was worried.....tell me how many of your friends have actually come in to see how you were, the past week?” He asked, with a dangerously calm and steady voice, staring at you deeply while making a very fair point. That's what happens when you were raised in the most unemotional camp ever. You switch back to your old ways.

You looked at him a little stunned, and were unable to respond to his question. Because you had no answer. Nobody apart from your siblings had come to check on you, up until Jason arrived.

“Exactly. So if you think that me caring about my girlfriend’s health and being worried about her is “overbearing” then fine. If you continue to push me away when I clearly mean well, then so be it. I hope you like the flowers, and please, for the love of god, get some rest. We'll talk when you're feeling less mad” he added.

But this time, you could've sworn that his voice was shaky and that broke you. You had never said mean stuff to him like this before, and this time, it had clearly affected him. He had done nothing but be sweet to you. Even now, he was talking you calmly without telling at your outburst.

You watched miserably as Jason walked out of the infirmary. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you reached your breaking point of the week. You had officially pushed away the one person who loves you more than anything. Simply because you were stubborn to hear him out.

It was currently 1:00 AM, and you finally collected yourself to go apologize to Jason. You needed to fix what you broke before it was too late. You found yourself staring at the flowers he'd oh so happily given you before you ruined his mood.

You tentatively stepped into his cabin, trying to make as less noise as possible. You couldn't wait until morning for this, you missed him to death. Jason was sleeping quietly, he was never the one for snoring, he wasn't a deep sleeper either, so every time you had even accidentally brushed against him, he'd wake up with a jolt.

You gently got into his bed, and wrapped your arms around him from behind while burying your face into his hair. This time though, he didn't wake up with an alert jolt. Instead, he took your hands and tightened your grip around himself.

“You're awake?” You whispered to him curiously.

“Well, what do you think?” Jason whispered back, the smile in his voice evident. He turned around to face you, and you held his cheeks with both your hands, softly stroking them. He was staring at you, this time, any trace of coldness had vanished. You took a few seconds to admire his gorgeous eyes before you spoke.

“Jason… I'm sorry… I didn't mean anything I said. I really didn't.. I was just feeling cranky about how shitty my week had been, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you.. I had no right, especially not when you were so sweet abou-” you were cut off with his lips pressing on yours.

“That's okay, love. I know you didn't mean it, I just wanted to give you space to think everything through. I was never mad. Just upset that you were overworking yourself too much.” he replied after pulling away.

You teared up again.

“I love you so much.” You said, pressing your forehead onto his. He smiled brightly.

“I love you too. Now, do you want to talk about how you've been feeling? You need it, Let it out babe. I'm always here.”

Both of you spent the rest of the night, talking about each other's feelings and cuddling. Jason felt fulfilled as he saw you peacefully napping, getting the rest you deserve.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.” He whispered, kissing your hair.

[morganwrites12672]

1998 - Sixteen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Gladys helps you sort through your feelings (and she meddles a bit). After that, Dean decides to stop by for a visit.

Word Count: 3.0k

Rating: PG-14

A/N: I really hope you guys are enjoying this series! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 (there's the link to the master list). But, this can be read as a stand alone.

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South Dakota was miserable during the summer. September seemed to be the hottest month, even if it was supposed to have started cooling down by now.

Sitting on Gladys's porch, a glass of sweet tea in hand, the two gossiped. Gladys seemed to know everything about everyone despite living further away. Gladys owned one of the few properties in this part of town. Everyone had many acres, and avoided each other.

Gladys had begun babysitting Bobby's daughter whenever the girl had been a mere baby. It hadn't taken the older woman long to figure out what Bobby's real job was. Surprisingly, she hadn't been that shocked. There had always been something off about Bobby Singer.

The older woman took another drink of her sweet tea before looking over at the girl sitting on the porch swing. It slowly rocked back and forth. She had noticed how the girls gaze drifted to the apple orchards.

She enjoyed watching the branches sway in the light breeze. She felt Gladys's eyes on her and turned her head.

"There's something on your mind sweetheart," Gladys said, she could tell exactly what it was too. Even if the younger girl didn't even know what it was she felt.

She shrugged, "It's about Dean."

"I can tell. What about him?" Gladys asked with a small smile. She could read the Singer girl like a damn book. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve.

"I don't even know!" She exclaimed, leaning back on the swing. She set her iced tea down. "He's making me nervous and it's really weird," She mumbled, a light blush coating her cheeks.

Gladys chuckled, "Oh, honey. That's called a crush."

Her cheeks turned scarlet. She quickly avoided Gladys's gaze. "I don't like Dean!" She insists, crossing her legs. Her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn't like Dean.

"Mmmhhh. Sure you don't," Gladys replied with a roll of her eyes.

She sighed, looking out to the orchard again. The apples were all red and crisp. Gladys had mentioned going out to pick some to make a pie soon. She had offered to help the older woman. It's not like she had anything better to do.

It felt like her father kept her under lock and key. He refuses to let her go on any hunts with him. He's taken her a handful of times, but she always gets forced to stay in the motel room. The one time she snuck out to help, she was grounded. Now she wasn't even allowed to stay at the motel rooms!

It wasn't like she could go into town to make friends like a normal kid. Her family was considered the towns outcasts. People gave her weird looks of she ventured into town. Eventually, she learned to keep her head down.

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Her father had been out of town for a couple of days. He was working a case on the other side of the state, down in Edgemont. So, she was left to answer the phones and help any hunters looking for lore.

She was sitting in her father's office, reading through book after book. The phones had been silent for a while. She was about to go see Gladys whenever the regular phone started ringing. She frowned as she walked across the room to the landline.

She picked up the phone and put it to her ear, "Singer residence. Who's calling?"

"You weren't answering your cell," said a deep voice.

A small smile formed on her face. She would recognize that voice anywhere. It has been a few weeks since the last time she had seen Dean. Both of them had been busy.

"It's up in my room. I've been busy in dads office," She replied. She had noticed the hunt of concern in his voice. It made her stomach flutter. Maybe Gladys had been right.

"I'm a few hours away from your house. We were passing through Edgemont and found your dad," Dean explained. "My dad's staying to help him wrap up the case. And, uh, Sammy wants to help too."

Dean would be coming to see her. Alone.

The thought made a light blush creep up on her neck and cheeks. She knew she was being a bit delusional though. There was no way in hell that Dean liked her back. She probably wasn't even his type.

He was older and more attractive. He might only be two years older but right now it felt like twenty years. Anxiety curled up in her gut. She wanted him to like her, even if that was unreasonable.

"You still there?" Dean asked her. She had been silent ever since he had told her that he was on his way.

"Uh, yeah! S-sorry," She replied quickly. "I guess I'll see you in a few hours." And with that, she slammed the phone back down on the receiver. She wiped her now sweaty palms on her jean shorts.

Could she have been anymore awkward?

She kept herself buried in books for the next few hours. If anything could ease her anxiety then more books could. It was comforting to read them. They all reminded her of her childhood. She thought back to whenever she had thought that the books were only stories.

A small part of her was thankful that her father had lied. Even if she had isolated and alone, she had gotten to be a kid. She hadn't grown up knowing that the monster under her bed was real.

As she was grabbing a new lore book from one of the piles next to the staircase, she heard a cars engine. She placed the book back in the pile before running to the window. A small formed on her face as she saw the Impala.

Dean had finally arrived. Every second that she had spent waiting on him had quite literally felt like an eternity. It wasn't often that she was able to have a friend. She told herself that's why she's excited to see Dean. She ignored Gladys's words from earlier.

She didn't have a crush on Dean. No, that was ridiculous. She wasn't someone Dean would choose. He probably had his pick of any girl he wanted. Why would he settle for her? She was weird as hell.

The second Dean knocked on the door she practically threw the door open. It had been a few weeks since the last time they had seen each other. She stepped back from the door so that Dean could step inside.

"How was the drive?" She asked, there wasn't anything better for her to say. Her mind has practically gone blank at this point.

Dean stepped into the house before shutting the front door behind him. He looked as handsome as ever. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach.

"It was fine," Dean replied casually. "Your dad still won't let you hunt with him?" He asked with an amused smirk.

He thought that part was ridiculous. He had seen her with a shotgun. She was a damn good shot. Bobby keeping her on lock down made no sense. His own father had let him help with hunting as soon as he was old enough to shoot straight.

"Still grounded," She replied sourly.

"You'll be eighteen before you know it," Dean pointed out.

Even though he had already turned eighteen he still followed John around. He probably would until Sam was old enough to go with him. He wouldn't leave his brother with his father. He refused. Sam needed him. He had barely been willing to leave his brother with their father to visit her. But, he had really wanted to see her. Alone.

She sighed. Only two more years.

The pair made small talk for a while. Dean told her about the recent hunts he had went on with his father and Sam. She told Dean about possible weaknesses for some monsters she had read about. He agreed to try a few, if he found a way to do it safely. John would be pissed if he got hurt doing something stupid.

After an hour, the landline began to ring. She frowned before walking over to answer it. It would either be her father or Gladys. She hoped it was her father. He always let too much time go inbetween phone calls. She knew how dangerous his job was. Sometimes it was nice to know that he was okay with more than a quick text or email.

She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. Before she had a chance to greet the caller, a familiar voice began speaking. Well, more of demanding.

"I saw that damn car go down the street whenever I was checking my mail," Gladys said quickly. "If you and that boy come pick some apples, I'll bake a pie."

Dean gave her a curios look, unable to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. He wondered if it was either John or Bobby. Maybe even Sam. He doubted his dad would bother to call unless the older man needed something.

"Sure thing Gladys," She said into the phone with a small smile. Apple picking was something she enjoyed. Growing up Gladys would send her into the orchard with a little wicker basket, and a promise of a fresh apple pie.

She said her goodbyes to the older woman before hanging up. Glancing out the window, she noticed that it was almost sunset. It should have cooled down some since she had been over at Gladys's.

"Um, that was the neighbor. Gladys," She began. "She asked if we could go pick some apples at her orchard. She said she'd make a pie if we did."

"Pie?" Dean replied with a smile. He would do anything for a good slice of pie. The thought of a slice of homemade pie made his mouth water.

She let out a small laugh at Dean's reaction. She had known he would agree. Dean had always loved pie. It hadn't taken her long to figure that one out.

Dean grabbed the keys to Baby out of his pocket and began walking towards the door. She hurried to grab her cellphone off the counter before running out the door after him.

"Can I drive?" She asked, almost teasingly.

"Over my dead body," Was Dean's quick reply as he opened the driver's side door.

She had expected that. Dean was very overprotective of the Impala. It had been worth a shot though. She had mainly done it just to mess with him. Plus, it would have been cool to drive the car. She had just gotten her license, she'd only driven on her own a handful of times.

It was safe to say that she wasn't the world's greatest driver.

She hurried to open the passenger door before climbing in. She then carefully shut the door. Dean started the car and began driving down the road. She leaned back in her seat. It was peaceful. The soft hum of Metallica was the only noise in the vehicle. Until she spoke.

"It's about two and a half miles down the street. You'll see her driveway," She said to Dean so that he would know where he was driving.

Dean nodded, but didn't give a verbal reply. Driving was the most relaxed she had ever seen Dean. It was definitely something she noticed.

After a couple of minutes, Gladys's driveway came into view. An old red mailbox made it stick out. Well, that and the collection of gnomes surrounding the mailbox.

It wasn't long before the Impala was parked a few feet away from the house. Gladys was waiting at the foot of the porch, an old wicker basket in her hands.

She opened the door before practically jumping out of the car. She walked over the to Gladys and grabbed the basket with a smile. Gladys gave a mischievous smirk before looking between Dean and her. Gladys raised an eyebrow.

"You must be Dean," The older woman said before shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Dean looked almost nervous under Gladys's gaze. He felt like every inch of his skin was being out under a microscope.

The older woman finally gave him an approving smile. "You two have fun in the orchard."

She began walking towards the apple trees. After a few yards, she felt Dean's presence. Looking over her shoulder she noticed that he was practically walking at her side.

The apple trees were all beginning to flourish. Juicy red apples weighed down the branches. But, she kept walking further into the orchard. The best apple trees were further out. Well, and her favorite one was further out.

It was the tree that she used to sit under and read sometimes. She had spent quite a bit of time out in the orchards growing up, and still did. She remembered whenever she was young and still clueless. Before a weight was placed on her shoulders.

She now knew what she would do whenever she grew up. It felt like she had no other option. She wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that people were being killed by super creatures. People she could save.

"What are you looking for?" Dean's voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned around a little bit so that she could face him.

"The best tree," She replied without missing a beat.

Dean let out a sigh but kept walking.

The air was much cooler than it had been whenever she had sat on Gladys's porch, drinking sweet tea. It was nice to have someone like Gladys to span with. The older woman have good advice.

A tree that was larger than the rest came into view. The apples on it's branches were a deep shade of red. They all looked crisp and juicy. She stopped walking a few feet from it and set the wicker basket down.

"This one."

She walks over to one of the low hanging branches and picked a bright red apple. She held it up, showing it off to Dean. He chuckled at the way she beamed. She was proud of the perfect apple she had picked.

"You're kind of cute right now," Dean said as he picked an apple before placing it in the basket. Realizing what he said, his nerves spiked.

She had a similar reaction. Her cheeks looked about as red as one of the apples now sitting in the basket. She stuttered for a reply and ultimately gave up. Butterflies weren't fluttering in her stomach, no. They felt like a swarm right now.

Dean looked at her with his signature smirk upon seeing her reaction. Oh.

She quickly went back to picking apples. Dean was too nervous to say anything about her reaction, or his admission. He had thought she was cute for a while. How could he not?

Sam had often pointed out how Dean seemed to stare at her. He couldn't help it. She was fucking perfect, and clueless about it. He had wanted her for a while. However, she was Bobby's daughter. The older man would probably shoot Dean for even thinking about his daughter.

The two spent a while in the orchard, picking apples in a comfortable silence.

As she was turning around to place another apple in the now almost full basket, she bumped into Dean. She would have fell if he hadn't wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.

Their faces were mere inches apart. She stared at him with wide eyes and crimson cheeks. Neither one of them moved. They were stuck in this moment.

Until, Dean leaned in closer. His lips were hovering, barely even an inch away from hers. He couldn't keep his eyes off her lips. He brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly.

Instead of replying, she pressed her lips to his. At least her first kiss would be nice. She wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and let her fingers gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.

Dean groaned into this kiss, his lips pulling away from hers for a second. He looked down at her. He admired her pink cheeks and wide eyes. It was obvious by her nerves that she hadn't done that before.

He knew a bit about her lack of a social life. He had overheard Bobby talking to his dad about it. The older man has been concerned about his daughters refusal to try and make friends. Dean thought that there was more to the story.

She pulled Dean closer again, kissing him. Their lips moved together in tandem. Dean pressed her against the apple tree behind them. As the kiss broke, she leaned her head back.

Dean's lips softly kissed her neck. He was careful not to leave any marks. Bobby would kill him if he came home and saw a hockey on her neck. Dean would be the obvious culprit, and a dead man walking.

His eyes did linger on the soft curves of her breasts. He was only able to see a little bit with her shirt on. He debated asking to take it off, but decided that that would be something he could save for later. Maybe for whenever he wasn't kissing her in the middle of an apple orchard.

She felt Dean's lips leave her skin. She looked back at him and his hand went to her hair as he kissed her again. She smiled into the kiss.

After a minute, she pulled away. "We should probably get the apples to Gladys. . ." She said. The older woman would know what had happened. It was obvious. Her hair was now a mess and so was Dean's. Not to mention how both of their cheeks were flushed.

Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, yeah. We probably should." He leaned forward quickly and left a quick kiss on her lips before jogging towards the house.

She mumbled a curse before grabbing the basket of apples and running off after him.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed it. And lastly, thank you to @scott-is-now-online for helping me with some of the dialogue.

Taglist: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @lmhf1 @espressovz @illicithallways @tranquilitybasegrunge

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