#also school and work and everything about life but that’s less exciting
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petalsonmoon · 9 hours ago
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if your cascade, ocean wave blues come
the three times you give each other peace.
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part 2 of 3.
part 1 here.
wc: 2.1k
notes: thank you for the patience and for reading <3
and for the next 3 months, everything moved regularly slow.
you did your best in everything you put your strength in. you didn’t let the uncomfortable situation hold you back in getting better with mic and, granted, the results were appearing in your other life subjects.
you always did great in the theoretical part of school, always willing to learn new things and you had a saying you created yourself that was: all books eventually catch one’s attention. sometimes you gotta go through hell before everything gets interesting.
and accordingly, you put your name on the 3rd spot in your class raking.
you were proud of that.
In the span of those next months you trained with new faces. you made a good friendship with honenuki, growing to meeting each other after hours to not hold back in the sparing.
mic said that was a good idea. train with someone you didn’t know well to get habituated with the loud noises.
now, when it came to the exercises with class A there were interesting surprises.
the first one, happened 3 weeks after your encounter with bakugo, and unfortunately your group didn’t include him. and it’s not like you were looking for something here but that situtation you both had left you curious about the boy. for the particular reason that when you were feeling frustated and sad about yourself, his presence was a calming thought in that storm.
like. that was perfectly normal, right?
he didn’t ask why you weren’t at the presentation and he didn’t underestimated you for that either. and that’s all you wanted. to breathe peacefully and not being judged.
the second one, it happened 4 weeks after that. in spite of aizawa’s enormous lack of effort and energy to deal with professor sekijiro, they decided to unify the classes for the day and let the students review and establish in pairs how to manage their quirks whilst working with an unfamiliar sidekick.
you were incapable to control your wide eyes the second bakugo walked to you with heavy steps and serious eyes. some colleagues also noticed the strange occurrence and that made you a little unease. but you handled like the mysterious and confident person you pretended to be with him that day.
you held his gaze but you couldn’t fucking stop the sweat it was forming in the back of your neck.
because being honest, nothing really changed between you two, only a few exchanged glaces in the caferia but that was it. and being even more honest, class A was annoyingly famous around the school so you couldn’t (and didn’t have the balls) to approach the angrist boy in the faculty out of nowhere.
since the task was to be a sidekick you didn’t have to fight against him or anything, so you just took a sip of water and went on with it with your head held high.
bakugo was a handful with capital H but a brilliant leader, so it was a nice activity.
and you could really sense that each time it was an activity outside of your comfort zone, you were feeling less and less overwelmed with the noises. you were proud of that.
the training took practically the whole day and when everyone was tiredly getting back to the dorms, he passed by you. the bastard didn’t even look at you.
“meet me in the gymnasium in two hours.”
by the time the phrase is undestood by your brain, he’s already out of your sight.
but you already knew what it was going to happen. so, you went quickly eat some dinner, take a slow shower and mentally prepare yourself.
what is this feeling? excitement? nervouness? you tried not to look to closely at the tiny bit of giddiness also there.
when the time came you made your way to the gymnasium, trying to make your heart and brain settle down and as you entered the place you saw bakugo himself with his back to you getting ready.
you’ve seen him with those black tanks out and about from afar in numerous times.
getting a closer look of his perfectly broad back and designed bíceps made your brain and heart finally agree in one certain feeling.
that’s enough. he’s here to purely beat your ass.
you walk towards him and put your bag on the bench.
“took it to heart, i see.”
“no” he didn’t even look you.
“you’re kinda easy to work with” you admit swiftly as you start to get ready, taking your eyes off of him. “should make a great opponent as well.”
he grumbles in response.
“if you go easy on me i’ll walk.” you say.
and then you finally feel his eyes on you. “then don’t waste my time.”
and that’s how you had the most difficult practice of your life.
bakugo did not held back and you had to think ridiculously fast to survive every single insanely fast strategies he came up with. but you did not held back either and you’re very proud to say you put up with him for some good minutes before he won the match. the boy was almost number 1 of the entire school, you won’t minimize your efforts.
when it ended and you were on the ground he walked to you and offered his hand. and without saying another word you two spared again. and again. and again.
and it took you some time to get used to his explosions so near you but you think you could maneuver your reactions when you actually focused on learning his movements. you're not sure how he handles this loudness.
and he won every single time. but during fights you both were adjusting to how the other thought and moved. it was such an intense but pleasant experiment that you allowed yourself to comment to him your thoughts about his fighting, not judging nor imposing but simply a different point of view.
and you think you worded everything greatly because his eyes weren’t showing you an the usual amount of irritation and after a while he started to comment about you as well.
that was exactly 6 days ago.
right now, you were at the music room once again, sitting by the piano learning how to play twinkle twinkle little star through an app.
it was a choice you made after the festival and okay. not your proudest decision but it calmed you down when you needed. school is not easy and having a hobbie whilst wanting to become a hero is hard.
it was an inoffensive little bobbie.
you were think jingle bells was probably next.
you’ve been there for about 30 minutes when the door slammed open. they really needed to check it someday, people have not been gentle with it.
and you look up to find bakugo katsuki irradiating rage. it was clear he wanted to storm off to the couch he sitted last time but to your unfortunate it was close to the piano and he quickly stopped once he noticed you were in the room as well.
everything you knew about class A was from kirishima cause him and tetsu were strangely close. which is funny because he’s really close to bakugo too but you rarely talked to the blonde up until now.
well, you heard this week that class A had a very important evaluation today. the show-us-in-public-how-much-you-evolved-your-quirk-and-rescuing-people kind of evaluation. so this right now could be related to that information.
you tried to read in his expression if you’d be the target of whatever got him enraged but before you could analize anything he simply angrily sat and closed his eyes.
his irritation tugged something in you. a bit of impotence. you had no idea how to help him and you’re certain that ask him how is the absolute last option.
so you did the most reasonable thing. you look down and continue to play the piano.
twinkle twinkle little star.
if it helped calmed you down perhaps it did the same for him. the boy who smashed the drums. ha.
and for a fair 5 minutes that’s how you both stayed. once you thought you were beginning to understand how to differentiate the dozen of white sticks in front of you, you raise your head to find him in the exact position as before.
you don’t know him well but if you thought you did, you’d say the wrinkles around his eyes and the furrow between his brows seemed slightly relaxed.
“in the piano i’m better than you.” you say almost whispering and let out a chuckle. “ha!”
he shakes his head imperceptibly with his eyes still closed.
“you’re stupid.”
you play another verse of the one song you know on the piano before answering “i don’t think so.”
is that the ghost of a smile you see on his face?
“i can teach you.” you continue.
“absolutely doubt that.”
“you don’t trust me?”
he finally lowers his head and makes a face to you. a low and short grunt in response.
“oh no.” you shake your head “i thought we were past this. i swear i didn’t let you win when we trained. you won far and square, i promise.”
it was a single joke to lighten up his mood. you only intended to create a good and natural conversation but when you heard him snickering with a pinch of genuine laugh underneath it you wanted to make a few more jokes to keep hearing it.
“you’re stupid.”
“i thought we were past this too.”
“i’m gonna past you if you say that again.” his raspy but calm voice fills the room.
“i see you need a little more of twinkle twinkle little star in you.” you look down and start to play again with a surprising efficiency.
“for the love of god.” he looks up grunting.
“okay.” you stop playing.
you look at him again and his eyes are you. “learned this one today.”
“congratulations.” very sincerely sarcarstic of him.
“in half na hour. one note at of time” you add.
he grimace and you smile.
“just saying.” you add. you pass your fingers through the piano keys threatening to actually touch them. “do you consider yourself a good drummer?”
“i’m fucking great.”
you nod in response.
he raises his eyebrows for a millisecond. “how’d you know?”
now, that’s the tricky part. he doesn’t sound bitter or even rude. he’s completely neutral and you don’t know how to read this... challenge? audacity?
he noticed you weren’t at the festival and you know what he’s asking you now and you’re not sure how to continue the conversation. or how to take that in general
do you think you can handle how his view of you would probably change? if you’re confotable enought to share, does it matter? and surprising even youself, you think trust him to be honest without you getting hurt with him.
“are we caring about what the crowd says now?” your voice small.
“only the ones that don’t waste my time.” he replies just as careful.
well.
that was not good for your heart.
“let’s say” you start “i’m here learning an instrument. it’s not very different from why you’re here today.”
his brows immediately furrow “i think it is-”
“did we not” bold move interrupting him. “learn these instruments for the same reason?”
“careful.”
“and honestly-“
“aren’t you a honest person.” It comes out rough of him.
“this” you gesture lazily to the room. “it’s working for me.”
he is genuinely paying attention to what you’re saying. you don’t wonder if it’s because he’s getting angrier or you’re a easy distraction.
“at least that’s what i’d like to believe. i’m 3rd place in my class and i’m getting better... with everything else.” anxiety, you mean
he’s just staring and you keep going softly  “you’re practically top 3 of the whole school. and that’s a lot of pressure, i’d be terrefied.”
“yeah?” he hums.
“uhum.” red is a fucking intimidating color. “even the most powerful person in school needs a little bit of easiness. i hope this place helps you as it helps me...”
the last part comes out almost like a whisper. and you’re aware you’re talking too much but the boy already saw you sitting in a corner of this very room with ruined makeup. it doesn’t get worse or realer than that.
 “we just need to work on our control.”
then even his aura changes. he carefully tilts his head, daring you to continue.
“we?”
“don’t get me wrong-” you add.
“i’m not.” he hiss. shit.
“what i’m saying is...” you hesitate and push aside any warning in your head. and your exploding heart. “i don’t know you well, and i don’t want to assume. how could i know you from other peoples opinion?”
you can see him relaxing again. it’s very subtle. he’s not guarded anymore, so you take that in consideration. you start playing jingle bells in the background of your head to motivate you.
“but i come here to calm my mind and if you’re just like me... then you’re probably losing control of your brain too.”
you look down to your fingers and your breathing stabilizes. if you truly think about it, you were acutely more nervous about the fact of letting what you’re feeling out of you than him blowing your head out of you for what you said.
“are we psychoanalyzing each other?”
“no.” you shake your head “i just want you to enjoy twinkle twinkle little star with me.”
you want to look up but you’re scared.
“you know what i think?”
but with that you do look at him. he’s the softest he can be.
“that you are actually letting it control you.”
now, what the fuck.
how does he know things?
you’re the one with the furrowing brows this time. okay. he secret is always pretend you’re confident and in the control of the situation.
“oh bakugo,” you smile a little “are we friends now?”
“for a honest person you’re dodging a lot.”
goddammit. his aswers are always so quick.
“alright.” you compromisse “can we make na arrangement?”
“hm” that's all you got.
“every wednesday we train together after hours, that’ll help me” this part is true “and in return you’ll work on whatever makes you almost break the poor door everytime you come here.”
he was sending you a gaze that could blow you into atoms in the blink of an eye but you see that he thinks before answering.
“i'm not holding anything back."
him going along with you in this was enough as it is. "i'm not expecting you too."
"and then what?"
"then we meet at christmas and whoever is better will get a gift."
you bite a laughter when his response is rolling his eyes.
"like friends do." you add.
"i get it." he growls.
all of that leaves you with a sweet and fresh feeling. like when you're a little kid and you spend the day with your best friend of a week that is also your little crush that you don't know it's a crush cause you're too young and naive.
and that discovery doesn't ruin anything, cause you're a centered person. you're not expecting anything at all from this. having him as a friend is more than enough and you're grateful.
his phone seals the conversation when starts to ring but stops after he even got out of his pocket.
"fucking hate when they do that." he mumbles.
you look down again, not letting your mind twist.
"when i win and meet you in a month." he says very collected as he starts getting up "i'll need you to be very honest with me, got it?"
your whole body hair did not just went up with that. is he always like that?
"careful, bakugo." you hope you sound as nonchalant as him.
he's already by door when he answers you. "great. we have a deal."
he leaves closing the door more gently than you could.
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coconut-cluster · 9 months ago
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hello all I just wanted to pop in and say I am in fact writing chapter 5 of Crowns and Cutlasses, I didn’t just dip after posting the notes lol but I WON A FULBRIGHT so i have been busy and insane
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Rereading The Lightning Thief as an adult was such an odd and gratifying experience. I just finished the book in one day yesterday, and here are the things I made note of to myself:
-Wayyy less of the book than I remember is the quest. So much time is spent building up Percy's character, and his life and backstory.
-Percy is such a little asshole, it's hilarious. He is SO RUDE to everyone, it's my favorite. I want to live with how much more of a dick he is than I remembered. I remember golden boy teen Percy who's good at everything and is effortlessly cool in the perceptions of others in the later books best. Like, we obviously know him better, but I kinda forgot about his snotty little asshole sixth grader origins.
-As someone that works in the school system, he's so accurate to me it hurts. It's so relatable, his one teacher believing in him, him getting frustrated when the material doesn't come to him like it does the other kids. I don't have ADHD and I could just feel all those feelings. It's great.
-Every time Percy thinks about the "betrayal of a friend" line in his prophecy, I swear Luke is mentioned in the next line, or pops up in the next scene. I just appreciate Rick not going out of his way to seem smarter than his audience. He wants his readers, middle schoolers, to have the tools to solve the mystery.
-I can't remember if I knew his dad was Poseidon before the reveal. As an adult, it seems like almost a slap in the face it's so obvious, but I am pissed I can't remember if I was excited and surprised by the reveal.
-Annabeth is also a bitchy child, she's literally so bitchy. We don't focus on it enough.
-I definitely remember when it hit me as a child that Gabe was abusive. It was way after I read this book. I kind of like how casually the domestic violence is sprinkled in. Not only is it a children's book where that is not the focus, but Percy acts like how most kids would, I think. It's pretty fine and normal that Gabe hits him, he only goes ballistic when he finds out he hits Sally. Obsessed with how Rick, by even only barely telling us Gabe is abusive, is still like "-And we should kill him for it."
-Annabeth's crush on Luke was so obvious, she should be embarrassed.
-Totally forgot we have Gabe to thank for Percy for sure being an FBI fugitive and definitely on the no fly list irl as well as from Zeus. He's such a massive asshole.
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doritochoi · 3 months ago
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Teacher's Pet | C.S
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pairing: fem!reader x teacher!choi san
genre: pure smut, 18+, mdni ( because its always my fav)
warnings: san is in his late 20s, reader is 21 years old, public sex, unprotected sex, big!dick san, teacher x student relationship.
Every day when you left the school building, you would see your art teacher, Mr. Choi. He was sitting in the schoolyard with the other teachers, smoking a cigarette. Even if you weren't a smoker, this sight was inexplicably appealing. You noticed how the pronounced veins on his hand gripped the cigarette with undeniable elegance. It was a small detail that fascinated you every time. You didn't know exactly what attracted you so much to Mr. Choi. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, always with an air of mystery and distinction. Or maybe it was the passion he put into teaching art, inspiring you, to explore your own artistic talents. Despite the fact that you couldn't explain exactly why you were attracted to Mr. Choi, your obsession with him grew day by day. You knew everything about him, from the car he drove—a sleek black Bentley that gleamed in the sunlight—to his daily habits. Indeed, your obsession with Mr. Choi could not be explained only by the external details you observed about him. It was something deeper than that. You are seeing him not only as a teacher, but also as a protective and inspirational figure in your life. In his every gesture and every look you felt safe around him, like he was an anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Being a strong and wise mentor, you wanted to learn more from him and feel protected in his presence.
It was Wednesday, 7 PM. You always waited in the hallway to see your favorite teacher. You even knew when he arrived. You waited until you heard footsteps approaching, knowing it was him because his footsteps had a distinct sound you recognized. You see him climbing the stairs, and hurriedly you enter the classroom. You sat impatiently in the chair, looking towards the door and waiting for Mr. Choi. Finally, the door opens, and he appears in the doorway, exuding an air of safety and elegance. His black jacket matched his hair perfectly, and the slightly unbuttoned shirt revealed a bit of his well-defined chest. His hair framed his face impeccably, and each strand seemed to be carefully placed to highlight the fine features of his face. But the most captivating were his eyes. They were a warm, rich shade like melted caramel. In the sunlight, his eyes were shining in a charming mixture of gold and brown. His gaze, penetrating and mysterious, had the power to hypnotize you. Your eyes traveled further down, noticing his slightly transparent shirt and loosened tie. His slim waist was always a temptation for you. You wanted to feel the texture of his skin under your fingers, notice how it felt to hug that waist that seemed to be ripped from a work of art. Those pants, which sat perfectly on him, accentuating his well-defined figure, were hard to ignore. You couldn't help but turn your gaze to them, noticing how they molded perfectly to his legs and highlighted every movement of his graceful body. With every step he took, the pants seemed to draw your attention more and more, and you couldn't help but want him to get closer, to notice every detail of that charming appearance.
He sat down in the chair and you assumed he was sitting with his legs spread, imagining you could sit on his thighs and move lightly on them. This thought made you feel a little excited rubbing your thighs together. After that, he announced that the next mark would be given for a drawing that would impress him. You didn't hesitate and took out a sheet, starting to draw immediately. In less than ten minutes, you've created a perfect drawing of Mr. Choi in all his glory. His position was exactly the same as sitting on the chair, and every detail of his expression and posture was captured precisely. Mr. Choi sats up elegantly from his chair, and the subtle scent of his perfume wafted throughout the classroom, captivating your senses. With quick and sure steps, he began to walk through the students, finally stopping behind you. He bent down a little, put his hand on your shoulder, and you flinched a little from the movement he made. He looks at your drawing, smirks, then brings his lips to your ear whispering in a husky voice. "Can you meet me after class?", he said so softly that only you could heard. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You didn't even know what to answer, so you turned your gaze towards him, now staring at his features and nodded.
The hour passed extremely quickly and you have to go home, but you remembered your teacher's words. Before going to his office, you went to the bathroom. You unbuttoned 2 buttons on your shirt and lifted your skirt a little so that your red panties could be seen. You honestly didn't know what was in your head to do something like that, but you couldn't resist anymore. Seeing him so many times with that innocent face, pretending he doesn't notice you, it annoys the hell out of you. After you got your things, you headed to his office. You stopped in front of the big wooden door. That door made you to feel different things, especially since you know very well who is inside. You took a deep breath, put your hand on the doorknob and opened the door. As soon as you opened the door, you started to feel an intoxicating scent of vanilla that was present in the whole room.He was there, sitting on the chair and looking at the laptop. He looked at you from time to time, enjoying every part of your body. "I knew you would come", he closed the laptop making you startle a little. He got up from his chair now seeing how he looked. His shirt was almost undone, and his pants looked wrinkled, you didn't know what or who brought him to that stage, but he looked different. He was getting towards you, and you ended up hitting your back against the wall. You couldn't look at him, so you started lowering your head, looking at the ground. "Look at me, miss," he moved so close to your face that you could feel his breath. You didn't do what he was saying, you continued to look down, annoying him. He wasn't happy with what you were doing so he took your hands and stuck them to the wall above your head forcing you to look into his eyes. "Don't avoid the situation", he started to put his hand on your waist and then lower reaching your panties. He looks at them, then keeps playing with the material. "We both know what you want, and you know well that I can offer you everything you want", this time you could feel his breath on your neck, until you felt something wet. He kissed you in a unic style making you feel things. Mr Choi grins a little, watching how he can dominate your body and see what things he can do to you. "Tell me pretty girl, what is your on your mind?", his voice was so low that only you could hear it. His hands began to roam your body, undoing the buttons on your shirt, now remaining with only the bra visible. "Please, fuck me" ,these were your last words, not thinking twice about what you were going to do.
He picked you up in his arms, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he took you to the front of his desk, making you sit with your ass on it. His hands started going everywhere, from your firm breasts to your panties. He undid your bra, and a hand massaged your left breast, kissing you passionately. You let out a moan, making him even more excited than before, rubbing his cock against your leg as well. "Bend over ", you didn't even stop to think, because you got off his desk, and you bent over showing him an amazing view. He got down on his knees, tore your skirt, now showing only the red panties you chose for him. "Fuck, I can't wait to taste you", he starts running his hands on your inner thighs, then approaching with his lips, applying small kisses. "Stop teasing, please" , You knew he was the type of person who likes to tease, especially you. He always did this and he likes it a lot. With a determined hand, he starts and removes your panties, looking with such a charming look as if it was all he wanted. He licked his lips, started to come closer and without saying anything, his tongue was already doing its job. Mr. Choi’s tongue moved with deliberate precision, exploring every sensitive spot with a teasing slowness that drove you mad. Each flick and swirl sent waves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press against his mouth. The room filled with your moans, the sound echoing off the walls, blending with the intoxicating scent of vanilla that still lingered in the air. He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your wetness as he spoke, "Tell me how it feels, pretty girl. I want to hear every detail." You could barely form thoughts, but you managed to gasp out, "It feels amazing... please, don't stop." A smirk played on his lips as he continued his sensual assault, his tongue now circling your clit with agonizing slowness before giving it a gentle suck. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as you fought to stay grounded under the intense pleasure. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made stars explode behind your closed eyelids. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I can feel how much you want this." , "Yes, Mr. Choi... I want you so badly," you panted, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to savor every moment of this." He continued to work you with his fingers, each thrust and curl perfectly timed to keep you on the edge. His thumb found your clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles that had you teetering on the brink of climax. But just as you were about to tip over, he stopped, pulling his hand away and leaving you panting and needy. You let out a frustrated whimper, looking down at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Why did you stop?" He stood up, his body towering over you as he undid his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops making your heart race. "Because I want you to beg for it, pretty girl. I want to hear you say exactly what you want." Your eyes locked onto his, filled with desperate desire. "Please, Mr. Choi. I want you inside me. I need to feel you." He slowly lowered his pants and boxers, his hard cock springing free. He stroked it a few times, letting you see just how much he wanted you too. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Yes," you breathed, your eyes locked on his impressive length. "I want you to fuck me. Please."
With a satisfied smirk, he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet folds, teasing you just a bit more. "You’re so eager, aren’t you? Such a good girl, asking so nicely." You could only nod, your breath hitching as he slowly began to push inside you. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, was almost too much to bear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him. He started with slow, deliberate thrusts, each one hitting just the right spot inside you. "You feel so good," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "So tight and wet." Your nails dug into his back as you clung to him, your body trembling with pleasure. "Faster, please," you begged, needing him to take you harder. He didn’t need to be told twice. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more urgent. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the familiar coil of your impending orgasm tightening with each thrust. "Oh, Mr. Choi," you cried out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "I'm so close.", "Come for me, pretty girl," he urged, his voice rough and demanding. "I want to feel you come around my cock." That was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching around him as you screamed his name. He continued to thrust into you, riding out your climax, pushing you to heights of pleasure you’d never known before. As you came down from your high, he slowed his pace, giving you a moment to catch your breath. But he wasn’t done with you yet. He pulled out and flipped you over, bending you over the desk. The cold wood against your heated skin was a stark contrast that made you shiver. He entered you again, this time from behind, his thrusts deep and relentless. One hand gripped your hip while the other reached around to play with your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensations. "Do you like this, pretty girl?" he asked, his voice strained with his own pleasure. "Do you like being fucked like this?", "Yes," you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I love it. Don't stop." He didn’t. He kept up the punishing pace, driving you both closer to the edge. You could feel another orgasm building, this one even more intense than the last. "I’m going to come again," you warned, your body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, pretty girl," he commanded, his voice a growl. "Come all over my cock." With a final, powerful thrust, you did. Your orgasm ripped through you, more intense than anything you’d ever felt. He followed soon after, his own release spilling into you with a guttural moan. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound your heavy breathing and the pounding of your heart. He stayed inside you for a moment longer, savoring the feeling, before finally pulling out and collapsing onto the desk beside you. You both lay there, spent and satisfied, basking in the afterglow. "That was incredible," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming. He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You were incredible, pretty girl."
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javierpena-inatacvest · 17 days ago
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Chapter 7- For The First Time
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Summary: Eight days ago, you kissed Frankie Morales for the first time. Eight days later, you want to do more than just kiss him.
Word count: 8.6K
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) protected p in v sex, loss of virginity/first sexual experience for Frankie and Reader (some brief mentions of momentary discomfort bc of it) oral (f receiving- building the lore for Pussy Eating King Francisco Morales brick by brick), vaginal fingering, Frankie's got a big dick (it's also part of the lore, don't @ me) sweet and awkward teenage love, Frankie being everything and more, lots and lots and lots of consent, a four letter word that starts with an L, please don't yell at me, they're both 18 at this point in the story!!!
A/N: Soooooo all of a sudden I blinked a this was 8K plus words WHOOPS 🤠 I ain't gonna lie with y'all, this may be one of my favorite things I've ever written and have cried the whole way through it 😭 My plan was to have Frankie picking up MacKenzie from work in this chapter too, but obviously things got away from me very quickly, so that will be next chapter's problem!! Your kind words about this story mean so much to me, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!! 🥺💕
All The Things We Never Said Masterlist
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You, Summer of 2007, Age 18 
123 days. 
That night Frankie told you he had made up his mind to join the Army after he finished with high school, you counted out every square on your calendar from April 15th to August 16th. You had 123 days left together before you left for college and Frankie left for boot camp. 
But April 15th was 2 months ago. 67 days ago, to be exact. Each day you crossed off your calendar filled you with a little more dread than the last. You tried not to think about the dwindling number, or the impending doom of August hanging behind July and June on the wall above your desk, but it was hard to not let the thought constantly nag in the back of your mind that the carefree summer days of spending practically every waking minute with Frankie were coming to an end. 
The only thing that seemed to put you at ease was just that- after the hurt and sadness of Frankie’s departure had subsided enough, you had promised each other that the last bit of time you had together, you’d do everything in your power to make the most of it. 
If there was anything you knew the other was good for, it was keeping a promise. 
There was no denying that the past 67 days spent with Frankie had been nothing short of magical. It seemed like for once in your life, everything was falling into place exactly how you wanted it to. 
Your soccer team had won the state championship, Frankie being the first to rush onto the field to congratulate you on your victory after cheering for you at the top of his lungs the whole game. The stress of school seemed to become irrelevant, your teachers easing up as you came to the close of your Senior year, you and Frankie’s after school hangouts now focused less on homework and more on goofing around. Graduation had come and gone, you and Frankie both walking across the stage of your high school gym, diplomas in hand, teasing the other relentlessly about how awful the other looked in the stupid, tasseled caps they had forced you to wear. 
Then, there was prom.
It had been no question that you and Frankie were going to prom together- it was an unspoken, standing agreement that the both of you had since the start of your senior year. For as much as homecomings or school dances had never been your (or Frankie’s) preferred way to spend a Saturday night, there was an undeniable excitement you had about it you couldn’t really quite describe. You kept chalking it up to the fact it was the biggest night of your senior year, or that all your best friends were gathering together to have an incredible party filled with dancing and fun. 
But neither of those things could account for the butterflies in your stomach when Frankie showed up at your front door, tuxedo on and flowers in hand, watching his jaw drop and heart stop when he laid eyes on you. 
“You look beautiful, MacKenzie.” 
From that moment on, those 4 words hadn’t stopped ringing in your ears. 
They rang in your ears as he held your hand the entire night, refusing to unlock his fingers from yours. 
They rang in your ears as you felt him grab your waist while you danced. 
They rang in your ears as he lovinging teased you about your drunken hiccups off sips of stolen beer cans in Santi’s basement where the party had traveled to long after prom had finished. 
They rang in your ears in the middle of your moonlit street as Frankie walked you home, making it no less than ten steps past Santi’s porch before he froze, staring at you like a trembling deer in headlights.
“What’s wrong, weirdo?” 
“There’s something I wanna do. I’m terrified you’ll hate me forever if I do it, but I’ve wanted to for so long and I don’t think I can wait anymore.” 
“Frankie, what are you-” 
“Can I kiss you, MacKenzie? Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.” 
“F-Frankie, I-” 
“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget that I-” 
“I was scared you would never ask.” 
It wasn’t until then you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss Frankie Morales. 
Now, you’re absolutely sure that you never want to stop kissing him. 
There’s something about the warmed, welcomed June air that makes you want to throw every caution you’ve ever had to the wind, finally understanding what all of those books and movies had meant about falling victim to a summer fling.
Ever since that night at prom, Frankie Morales was the only thing in the world that mattered. It had only been eight days since his lips had met yours under the midnight moon, but every day since, neither of you had passed up a chance to sneak away for stolen kisses and bodies tangled in messy dances of limbs, finding any excuse to spend a moment alone together. 
Maybe your pink cheeks and goofy grins were enough to let the world know how hard you had fallen for your best friend- even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t care. Right now, consequences don't exist. 
Right now, the only thing that does is you, Frankie, and a four letter word that lingers in the back of your mind. 
They especially don’t exist when you’re wide awake at one in the morning for the third night in a row, unable to sleep as butterflies rumble in your stomach and fly up to your chest after another day spent with the boy four doors down. 
You toss and turn under your sheets, unable to stand staring hopelessly at your ceiling another minute. You reach across your bed, plucking your phone off your nightstand, finding Frankie’s name in your messages. 
You: 
Hey, are you still up? I can’t sleep 
It’s barely ten seconds before his contact is lighting up your screen, making your heartbeat just a little faster.
Frankie :) <3
Im up 2. I cant sleep either 
Cant stop thinking about u 
You: 
Me either, even though we literally spent all day together haha 
You smile at your screen as you wait for Frankie’s response, fingers anxiously tapping on your keyboard until your phone lights up again. 
Frankie :) <3
Do u wanna come over? 
I wanna see u 
Your face scrunches in confusion, sitting up in your bed to peer out your window, like Frankie would be able to see your puzzled expression from down the street as you type back. 
You: 
I mean, yeah, but it’s 1 AM Frankie??? What about your mom? 
Frankie :) <3 
Shes working overnight at the hospital 
She wont be back until like 9 tomorrow 
Its just me 
You’re unsure of how to describe the feeling that’s beginning to brew in your stomach as you read his last three texts. A strange mix of excitement and anticipation washes through you at the idea of letting yourself indulge in the teenage rebellion of sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night. An even stranger mix of nerves and something else you can’t quite explain floods your veins at the idea of sneaking out of your house to find Frankie, alone in his bedroom. 
The feeling you quite can’t explain churns faster in your gut and travels down your lower half when you realize if you’re alone with Frankie in his bedroom, you want to do more than just kiss him. 
You: 
Are you sure?? 
Frankie :) <3
Promise 
I really wanna see u Kenz 
At this point, the strange feeling that’s seeped through every inch of your body must have made it to your brain, because you’re convinced it’s the reason you don’t know how to breathe anymore. 
You: 
Okay 
I’ll be over in 10 :) 
Frankie :) <3 
Ok :) 
Come in thru the back door  
Txt me when ur there and ill let u in 
You’ve never been up and out of your bed so quickly, fumbling with your comforter and pillows just enough to resemble something close to a body under your sheets if god forbid either one of your parents wakes up and decides to check on you for the first time since you were a toddler. 
Your breath trembles, inhaling and exhaling in long and deep rises of your chest, carefully tiptoeing across your bedroom floor. You’d give anything to be in something cuter than your pajamas, but opening your closet seems like too risky of a move in your plot to escape. 
You grab Frankie’s sweatshirt hanging over your desk chair, quietly shuffling it over your head before attempting to use the moonlight spilling in through your window as enough illumination to comb your fingers through your messy hair and wrangle it into a quick braid. It’s hard to tell from the half lit reflection staring back at you in the mirror, but you pray the once over you give yourself is enough to keep you from looking like a complete mess when you show up at Frankie’s door. 
The adrenaline of it all seems to kick your nerves to the curb as you stuff your phone in Frankie’s sweatshirt pocket before your fingers gently wrap around the curve of your doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re well aware of the ramifications that could await you on the other side. 
You’re also well aware that consequences are temporary, and no amount of fear of future punishment is keeping you from making it to Frankie’s bedroom tonight. 
It’s a James Bond worthy performance, the way you sneak down your staircase, avoiding every crack and creak with expertise, stealthily sliding past your parents bedroom and across the family room until you’ve crept through your kitchen to find your back patio.
You flinch with every squeal of the sliding glass door as you nudge it open, just enough to squeeze your body through. You grimace your face in fear as you pause, back to the bricks of your house, waiting for someone to catch you in the act. 
A few moments pass and the silence of your home stays stagnant, giving you the all clear to bolt across your backyard, dashing through your neighbors lawns until you find yourself at Frankie’s, hands shaking as your fingers punch at your keyboard. 
You: 
I’m here! Let me in!  
As your thumb presses send, your adrenaline has waived just enough to let the anxious tension take hold of your body, palms sweating and heart racing so fast it just may beat out of your chest. Your teeth gnaw at your fingernails, waiting for his response to text you that he’ll be right there, or he’s about to let you in, but this is Frankie- It should be no surprise when he opens the back door immediately. There’s not a chance in hell he hasn’t been waiting for you down here since the moment you texted him you were coming. 
“Hi.” You whisper, biting down your lip to contain the smile that’s spread across your face as he’s opened the door. 
“Hi.” He whispers back, tongue darting between his lips as his eyes wander up and down your frame before locking with yours. 
His palm grazes your cheek, cradling your jaw as he steps into you, chest to chest while your lips lock in a gentle, electric kiss, the kind that makes you want the taste of him to linger on your tongue forever. 
“You wanna go up to my room?” He asks, the hot breath of his words dancing across your skin as his mouth still hovers over yours. 
Before, you would have quipped him with some sort of witty, sarcastic response, teasing him that you’d rather stay out in the pitch black and get eaten by mosquitos until he dragged you inside, eyes rolling at your sass. Now, the best you can manage are shaky breaths while you nod your head in agreement, praying your brain will let you form some sort of coherent thought before you speak. 
Frankie grabs your hand as he pulls you into his house, taking the familiar path through his kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, the pounding in both your chests filling the silence for the words you seem to lack. 
He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him as you make it to his room, your bodies tangling and intertwining in a frantic dance, stumbling across the floor until the backs of Frankie’s knees collide with the bed, the two of you toppling over in soft giggles onto the mattress. 
“Fuck, I missed you.” Frankie sighs, one arm wrapped around your hip and the other resting on your face as he leans back in for another kiss, your smiles pressed against each other. 
“It’s only been like, three hours since I saw you last, dummy,” You quietly snicker, letting your hands wander up his chest, “You really missed me that much?” 
“Yeah, really.” He replies in between kisses, fingers digging just a little bit deeper into your side, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kenzie. You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever wanna think about.” 
You try to swallow the lump that’s lingering in your throat, but with each second that passes, it seems to grow, trapping the words your brain is fighting to get out. The simple bliss you’ve found in pressing your mouth to Frankie’s has become overshadowed by the looming tension spreading through you as you imagine the soft plush of his lips across your skin, or the way you want his hands to creep down the waistband of your shorts and ease the ache that’s been building between your legs. 
Your body freezes at the realization that you want to tell him that you can’t stop thinking about him either, that you can’t stop thinking about the fact you want more than just his lips pressed against yours, how you want him to be the first one you feel inside you, that he’s the only one you ever want. 
That there’s nothing more than you want to be his. 
It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize he’s making out with a half open mouth, pulling away with concern as he studies the pained expression across your face. 
“Kenz, a-are, are you okay? D-did I do something wrong?” Frankie stammers, gulping as he shifts himself to follow your lead and sit up on the bed. 
“N-no, no, it’s just that- fuck- I just- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” You stutter, face growing hotter and hotter as you furrow your brow, eyes peeled to Frankie’s blue and green plaid sheets as you try to find the words you want so desperately for him to hear.
Frankie reaches out his hand, gently resting it on the bare skin of your thigh, just below the hem of your pajama shorts. You glance down at the way his fingers carefully rub back and forth, trying to calm your nerves enough to look at him. 
“It’s okay, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I’m- I’m here to listen.” He responds, trying his best to be the anchor in your storm, despite his own nearly shot nerves. 
“I- I- I really like you, Frankie.” 
“I really like you too, Kenz.” He smiles softly, just enough teasing inflection in his tone to get you to giggle, just a little. 
“I just- I- um, do you- Frankie, do you- do you ever think about doing more than just kissing me?” 
A stark silence fills the room, quiet enough that each breath through your nose and thump in your chest amplifies and echoes in the space between you. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek watching Frankie’s face go blank, eyes widening with every second he lets your question process. His Adam’s Apple bobs in sync with the trembling exhale he takes before he looks back at you, praying that your word vomit hasn’t led to a detrimental mistake. 
“Do um, holy shit- you mean like, l-like what? Like, like, h-having sex? W-w-with you?” 
He’s panting like he’s just finished a marathon, his eyes darting wildly between you and his sheets, terrified to answer your question with anything else but his own question to make sure he’s really just heard what you said. 
The tops of your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you nod your head just enough, the subtle shake just enough to let him confirm his suspicions that you’re asking as a way of letting him  know how often it’s crossed your mind. 
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think about it.” He stammers, feeling his fingers tremble against your skin, hand still resting on your thigh, “D-do- do you? Um, think about it?” 
“Yeah.” You whisper, voice shaking as you reach down to lay your hand over his, letting your fingers slide between the gaps between his knuckles until they intertwine, gripping each other tightly, there was no chance the other could float away. 
The silence shifts to a different type of tension, a thickness in the air so palpable, it makes it just as hard to move as it does to breathe. The two of you stare at the interlocked hand resting on your thigh, stuck in a game of chicken of who dares to make the first move into the uncharted territory you’ve entered. 
“I- I’ve never-” 
“Me either.” Frankie interjects, cutting off the end of your statement.
It’s almost humorous to admit it out loud, like the both of you didn’t already share every detail of your lives with one another, and had somehow managed to let this fact fall between the cracks.
The two of you let out quiet laughs to yourselves, finding comfort in the comradery to work up enough courage to let your gazes meet again, wondering if Frankie can see the same yearning in your eyes as you see reflected in the soft brown his. 
“MacKenzie, I- I-” he mutters, scrunching his face with his swallow, trying to compose himself, “I only wanna do what you wanna do. I don’t- um, I don’t want you to think that if- if you don’t want to, o-or whatever, that I would be mad. I promise I would never, ever be mad at you because of that. Y-you know that, right?” 
“I know.” 
There’s not a part of you that doubts it. Not for a second. You know that there’s no one else on the face of this earth you trust more than him. 
There could be no one else but him. 
“You know I would never be mad at you either, right?” You ask, relieved as you watch Frankie gently nod his head. 
You’re not sure if it’s instinct or the weight of the tension that makes you lean into him, foreheads pressing together so that the messy curls of his sleepy hair are tickling your skin. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, waiting on your every breath as he leans back into you. 
“I want to. I want you, Frankie.” 
“F-fuck- Are you sure?” He asks, his free hand creeping across the sheets, carefully sliding up your thigh and under his sweatshirt you’re wearing, letting his fingers toy at the softness of your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. 
“I’m sure.” You whisper back, your own hand traveling up his leg and towards the tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. 
“I-if it’s too much, t-tell me to stop, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you, MacKenzie.” 
“I know you will. I trust you, Frankie.” 
“O-okay.” 
“Okay.” 
It’s then your mouths crash together in a messy dance of tounges and teeth, an instant electricity igniting in your core with anticipation and want. It’s frantic yet sensual, the way there’s nothing more you want than him, but can’t bear to miss a moment to take it all in, savoring every second you melt into him.
As your hands wander across each other’s bodies, Frankie shifts you to lay on your back so he can cage his frame over yours, the ends of his fingers barely daring to roam any farther than just below your hips or too far above your stomach. 
“C-can I take off your shirt?” He asks, already breathless at just the sight of you underneath him. 
“Technically your shirt, Morales.” You smirk, making his cheeks turn even more pink at the way you giggle when you say his name. 
“It’s yours now, looks way better on you than it does on me. Drives me fucking crazy seeing you in my clothes, Kenz.” He grins, carefully tugging your sweatshirt and the shirt underneath it above your head as you lift up your arms, helping him wriggle it free. 
As you pop out from under the fabric, the first thing you notice is the way Frankie’s jaw is hanging open, eyes wide as can be as they stay glued to your bare chest. 
“Holy shit.”  Frankie whispers to himself, tongue darting between his lips, staring at the way your nipples have hardened from being exposed and aroused. “Um, w-wow.” 
Seeing you topless sparks something in him to do the same, reaching over his shoulder to tug his t-shirt off his back and over his head, leaving nowhere for the heave of each heavy rise and fall of your chests to hide. 
Slowly, Frankie lets his hands slide up your stomach until he’s palming your breasts, grouping each one in his hands, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against your sensitive buds. 
He leans down to kiss you, starting at your lips before trailing down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your chest, carefully kissing each handful he has in his grasp. 
You’ve never felt your core ache the way it does now, throbbing with want and need for more, just from the way Frankie’s groping you. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling- you’ve touched yourself before with this exact scenario playing in your mind, but never has it made you feel like this. 
“Y-you can take off my shorts, i-if you want.” 
“O-kay.” 
The gentleness of Frankie’s gaze makes your heart skip a beat, the chocolate brown of his eyes locked on yours as he scoots himself down the bed until he finds himself settled between your legs, now parted open for him. 
It’s then you’re overtly aware that Frankie is about to see you completely naked, a new wave of anxiety crashing through you as heat rises in your cheeks and makes you fidget the fabric of his sheets between your fingers. 
“I- I- I’m not wearing cute underwear. S-sorry.” You stammer, wincing as Frankie’s thumbs begin to dip below your waistband. 
“Seriously, Kenz?” He chuckles, pausing in his tracks to shake his head in disbelief, “Do you really think I care what underwear you have on right now?” 
“Well, n-no, but-” 
“You really think I’m about to turn down having sex with you because you’re not in the right underwear? That you won’t even have on in like, three seconds?” Frankie snickers, trying to help ease your clearly visible nerves. 
“Shut up.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you playfully swat at him, forgetting about the fact you were topless and immediately clamming up again as you felt your breasts sway against your chest. “S-sorry, I- I’m just kinda nervous.” 
“Why are you nervous?” Frankie questions gently, wrapping his hand around your calf, thumb softly circling your skin. 
“Well you’re about to see me naked for the first time, Frankie. I think that’s a pretty fair reason to be nervous.” You force the stifled laugh stuck in your throat, attempting to uphold any confidence you have left in your facade. 
“You’re about to see me naked too, Kenz. Would it make you feel better if you saw me pantless first?” 
He says it like he’s teasing, but you know there’s a part of him that’s serious- that he’d do anything to make you feel better, even something as simple as being the first to forgo any clothes on his bottom half. 
“No, I know, Frankie, it’s just-” 
“Do you know how beautiful I think you are?” 
It catches you off guard, how quick he is to stifle your protest, the warmth of his words flushing your cheeks, now shifting to fit the delicate grin that’s growing between them. 
“You’re so beautiful, MacKenzie. Everything about you, I swear.” 
He must feel the butterflies churning in your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to grab your sides, leaning over to press soft kisses just above your waistband. He stares up at you once more, giving each other subtle nods of reassurance as his fingers play with the elastic, carefully helping you to lift your hips just enough to shuffle your bottoms down your legs until they’re a crumpled pile on the floor. 
It eases the tension that’s built throughout your body as you watch in real time how Frankie’s brain short circuits, mesmerized by the view that’s revealed itself between your legs. You timidly squirm your lower half against the sheets, just enough to feel the sticky warmth of your arousal that’s been pooling since the minute you stepped foot in Frankie’s bedroom. 
“H-holy- holy fuck. O-oh my god.” Frankie murmurs to himself, eyes locked on the puffy, wet mess of your pussy, “MacKenzie, I- wow. C-can, um, can I touch you?” 
“Mmhmm. Y-you can touch me, Frankie. F-fuck, I want you to. Please.” You whisper, letting your legs part for him more, clit pulsing with anticipation to feel Frankie’s fingers. 
“I-if it doesn’t feel good o-or, you know, you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” 
“Okay, Frankie.” 
You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this wound up, every throb of your core pulsing through your body with so much intensity you’re convinced you may explode if Frankie doesn’t touch you this second. 
The pads his fingers gently slide over your swollen lips, collecting the slick that clings to them before he brings them to your clit, his precise and delicate touch still making you gasp the moment he starts to circle around your sensitive nub. He swirls his fingers with the lightest touch like you’re made of glass, scared he’ll break you if he dares to push too hard. 
“You can, fuck- you can press more if you want.” 
“Okay. I just- I didn’t wanna hurt you, or anything.” 
The corner of your lips curl with a soft smile, the stiffness in your muscles relaxing with how warm and safe he makes you feel. 
“I-in the same place, though? Same circles, just like, more pressure?” He asks, quietly calculating his next move as you shake your head in response. 
Frankie begins to circle again, slowly increasing the weight of his fingers against your clit, brushing against it in just the right way to make you whimper in delight. 
“Oh my god-” You sigh, breath hitching in the back of your throat. 
“Good oh my god, or bad oh my god?” Frankie questions, terrified he’s done something to upset you. 
“No- no, good oh my god. K-keep doing that.” You stammer, pulse quickening as a familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build in your stomach. 
Your reassurance gives Frankie the boost of confidence he needs, drawing tight circles around your nub with the pads of his fingers for a few moments, until his thumb takes over, leaving his middle two fingers free, ghosting over your entrance. 
There’s a louder moan as Frankie barely slips his middle finger inside of you, lightly prodding in and out of your hole, welcoming the new fullness in the warmth and wet of your walls. 
He pumps a few more times, letting his finger sink deeper with each stroke until he’s knuckle deep, reaching further than any spot you’ve been able to feel yourself. It’s when a second digit joins his first that you feel nearly breathless, the stretch and sting making you wince for a moment as you adjust, realising how much thicker and stronger his fingers are than your own when you touch yourself. 
Frankie immediately notices your tense expression, quickly pulling back, raising his hands like he’s been caught in the act, guilt ridden look painted across his face. 
“Fuck, Kenzie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m sorry.” 
“No, no, it’s okay, Frankie! It feels good, I promise, your fingers are just a lot bigger than mine.” 
He tilts his head in confusion for a second until the lightbulb clicks with him that he’s not the only one in the room who's ever been horny and taken care of themself to help solve their problem. 
“Wh-what do you think about? Wh-when, when you touch yourself?” He asks with a quiet caution. 
“I- I think about you, Frankie.”
You answer without hesitation. Not to appease him, not to convince yourself, but because it’s the truth. You’ve thought about him more times than you can count. 
Your answer ignites another spark of self-assurance in him, carefully letting his thumb swirl against your clit as his middle finger gently slides back into your entrance, working up to the same tempo he was at a few moments ago. 
“I think about you, too. All the time.” He confesses, a willing admittance now that you’re laying your cards out on the table for him. 
“Well, there was one time, a long time ago, I thought about Orlando Bloom after I watched Pirates of the Caribbean.” 
You’re not sure what spurs on your unnecessary addition to your comment, but it makes you and Frankie both snort, needing a moment to compose yourself from your fit of giggles. 
“Are you trying to tell me you’re really into pirates?” Frankie laughs, biting down on his lip. 
“No, you dork! That’s not- Jesus, you know what, forget I ever said anything, okay?” You sigh, rolling your eyes at Frankie, trying to will away the reds and pinks that plague your cheeks. 
“Your secret’s safe with me, Kenz, don’t worry.” He teases, his smile slowly shifting to a stoic sort of concentration as he stares down at his fingers pressed against your pussy. “I- I wanna try something.” 
“What?” 
“Can I um, can I go down on you?” 
“Wait, really?” 
Despite your own inexperience, you weren’t naive enough to ignore the rumblings from friends of friends, or stories of girls on your soccer team, constantly complaining about how all their boyfriends wanted them to suck their dicks with nothing in return. They’d claim it was gross, or weird, or that it would taste disgusting, so you’d be hard pressed to not believe that every boy under the sun mostly likely found themselves in the same school of thought. 
“Do you not want me to?” Frankie questions, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment you’re sure he feels in his chest at your puzzled reaction. 
“N-no, it’s just that- I didn’t think that- I thought guys thought that was gross.” 
“What? Who said that?” Frankie scoffs. 
“I don’t know, like, Sarah and Morgan from the soccer team always complained about how their boyfriends never wanted to because they said it was gross or whatever.” 
“Well Sarah and Morgan’s boyfriends have a single brain cell left between them after all the hits they’ve taken during football this season.” 
The two of you laugh again, finding relief in the way your friendship prevails through the discomfort. 
“You really don’t think it’s gross?” 
“No. I- I think it’s kinda hot.” 
It’s now Frankie’s cheeks that are flushed with crimson, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. You can tell he has more he wants to say from the way his eyes dart between yours and the bed, forcing you to tilt your head with that little nod he knows means that you’ll keep pestering him until he breaks. Lucky for you, it won’t take much. 
“Santi stole this DVD from his cousin's house, and honestly most of it was so stupid because obviously it's all fake. Like, no one’s that excited to get fucked at a doctor’s office. But anyways, there was this one part at the beginning where uh- where the guy goes down on the girl and I- um, I don’t know. I- I wanted to try it, I guess.” 
“Really didn’t think I was gonna have to worry about not picturing Santi in my head tonight.” 
You and Frankie giggle as you pretend to gag at the thought of Santi becoming a part of you losing your virginity, praying there never comes a day he finds out he’s in part to thank for Frankie’s peaked curiosity. 
“I- I want you to. If you want to.” 
“I want to. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” 
The pace of your pulse begins to quicken again, watching the way Frankie’s face lights up as he races to position himself between your legs, laying flat against the mattress with his face hovering above your heat, his hot, trembling breath tickling your folds. 
You swear he licks his lips before his mouth meets you, but the slow, long drag of his tongue across your clit already has your head thrown back against his pillow, the warmth and wetness lighting you up from the inside out with jolts of electric pleasure. 
He repeats it a few more times, languidly lapping in smooth and steady strokes, each with just a little more pressure than the last. It’s instinctual, how you buck your hips towards his face, like your body knows it wants more before your brain can process it, signaling to Frankie you’ve given him the okay to keep going, to give you more. 
Little gasps escape your parted lips as his tongue moves faster, circling your clit the same way he had with his thumb, making your body melt into the mattress. It’s almost unearthly, how good it feels, little fires igniting in your stomach with every flick of his tongue. 
You don’t mean to startle him with how loudly you whimper as he intensifies the pressure, mouth still latched around your clit while his brown eyes peek up at you, breathlessly nodding to him that he shouldn’t dare to stop now. 
He takes it as a sign to test the waters even further, letting his middle finger be sucked into the warmth of your velvety walls before ever so carefully sliding in another. The stretch is still there but the sting has faded, his fingers a welcomed addition to ease the way you realize you’ve been clenching around nothing, subconsciously desperate to fill the empty ache in your core. 
Inch by inch, he sinks them deeper until you feel him bump against a soft spot inside you that makes you scream in a way you’ve never felt before, fireworks exploding everywhere in your body as his tongue and fingers work in tandem. 
A familiar tingle rapidly begins to build at the base of your spine, except the same type of tingle you’ve experienced alone has never multiplied and compounded in the same way this one does. 
Desperate for something to grab on to, one hand fists at Frankie’s sheets, the other, shooting down to the messy curls of his hair, burying your fingers until they disappear under his unkempt locks. 
You’re not sure if you’re so pleasure drunk you can’t think straight, but you swear you can feel that stupid, smug smirk pressed against your pussy as you hold onto him for dear life. 
He keeps the same pace with his tongue, fingers prodding in just the right spot to make you feel like you’re losing control, limbs numb and shaking like jello as you feel the tingle creep down your legs and up through your chest. 
“F-Frankie, I- oh fuck- fuck, oh my god, fuck, I- I- oh my go-ahhhhhhhhhh-”  
It’s all consuming, the way the pleasure washes over you, like waves crashing into the shoreline- relentless and never ending. There’s a moment you’re convinced your body’s left this planet, floating off in space in a cloud of endless ecstasy. 
You’re not sure how long you’re lost in the electricity of it all- Minutes? Hours? Years? You’d believe any and all of the above. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you come to, greeted with the image of Frankie still settled between your legs, wild haired and goofy grinned. 
“Frankie…. Holy fuck.” 
A beaming, boyish smile lights up across his face at the way you’re panting, wiping the shiny slick stained around his mouth with the back of his hand. 
“Yeah? D-did it feel good? Did you um- did you-” 
“Yeah. Holy shit. Remind me to thank Santi’s cousin if I ever meet him.” 
“Jesus Christ…” Frankie sighs, rolling his eyes at your giggles, heart melting at the way he can’t hide his rosy cheeks and curled lips every time he looks at you, “It felt good though? Like, Actually?” 
“Yeah, it felt really good, Frankie.” You coo, watching Frankie prop himself up to sit back on his haunches, letting your gaze wander down his bare chest until you reach the clearly tented fabric of his pajama pants, lingering just long enough for him to notice where you’re staring. 
Silent tension fills the room again, the both of you realizing that you’ve only conquered one part of the journey you’ve embarked on together, and that the second half of your travels pose many more risks than the first. Frankie is the only one you want by your side as you brave your adventure together. 
With a little push, your back parts with his mattress, sitting up to close the gap between you. You’re close enough now that your hands can roam up his thighs, softly palming at the stiff bulge straining under his pants. 
“Oh f-fuck-” Frankie stutters, jaw going slack with ever pass your hand makes over his erection. 
“Can I take off your pants, Frankie?” You whisper, burying your head in the crook of his neck, craning your head just enough so that the hot words of your breath dance in his ear. 
You can barely finish your sentence before Frankie’s scrambling off the edge of the bed, standing up straight to give you the easiest access to shuffle his pajamas down while you kneel on the mattress. 
You pray Frankie can’t feel the way your fingers shake as they sink under his waistband and brush against his stomach, pulling his bottoms down just slow enough to memorize the subtle V that sinks between his hips, or the soft trail of barely there brown hair under his belly button that thickens with every tug. 
With one final breath, you slide them down enough to finally free what’s been hiding underneath, his length fully hard, bobbing as it springs free. This must have been what it felt like for Frankie, understanding the way his eyes went wide and brain went blank after he saw you for the first time.
It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, the concept of what he’s had tucked away in his pants.
What does, is how the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of you. 
“F-Frankie… Holy shit.” 
“What? I-is something wrong?” He winces, immediately bracing himself for the worst. 
“No, it’s just- just like, Holy shit, Frankie.” You reiterate, making it very clear you’re more than impressed as you gesture at what’s hanging in front of you. 
“O-oh, t-thanks.” He stutters, a sweet shyness overtaking him as a result of your admiration. 
You scoot yourself closer, a boldness overcoming you as you delicately wrap your hand around his length, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. You pray that whatever you’re doing feels okay, but from the way Frankie’s whimpers and moans escape from his parted lips, you take it as a sign you’re safe to take another step further.
“Since you went down on me, do you want me to go down on-” 
“N-no!” He pauses, drowning his face in his palm for the way he’s panicking, making you drop him from your grasp, “No, I- uh- shit- sorry, sorry, no it’s just- No, not because I don’t want you to- b-believe me, I really want you to. Like, really want you to.” 
“O-okay, so?” 
He must feel awful for the puzzled and pained expression on your face, reaching with both hands to cradle your jaw, making sure your gaze is fixated on him. 
“I’m sorry, I promise nothing’s wrong, I just- fuck- I don’t wanna cum yet and I know if you go down on me, I will in like two seconds, and I wanna cum when we’re having sex. I-if you still wanna, ya know, have sex. Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I think I’m- I’m nervous, too. ” 
The top of your teeth graze your lower lip, batting your lashes in heavy, long blinks, your lips curling in a sympathetic smile that you’re not alone in your uneasiness. Finding comfort in the uncomfortability, together. Knowing how easy it would be for him to play it all off like no big deal, or pretend to mask the confidence he lacks, and yet, he doesn’t, makes you want him even more. 
“Do you still want to? I- I’m nervous too, but I want to. It makes me feel less nervous that it’s with you.” 
The tender kiss he plants on your lips as your bodies move in sync down the bed is the only answer you need, shuffling backwards towards the pillows while Frankie hovers his body over you, mouths only parting to let you settle into the mattress. 
Each kiss becomes more frantic and desperate than the last, mouths melting together as your tongues wrestle. The way he kisses you is all consuming, enough to make you feel like the only people in the world that exist in this moment are you and him. 
“You sure you want to?” He gasps, fighting for his words to escape his parted lips. 
“I’m sure.” You whisper back, barely soft enough for him to hear. 
The two of you nod, Frankie shifting his weight to reach across you, shuffling through the drawer of his nightstand until he fishes out the box of condoms he has hidden away. He sits back on his knees, carefully ripping a square from the line of packages, tossing the rest over the side of the bed. He’s even more delicate as he tears the edge of the foil he’s holding in his hands, removing the rubber and methodically rolling it down over his shaft. 
“It’s on right... Right?” 
“Yeah. I practiced putting them on earlier this week so I didn’t look like a complete idiot when I tried to do it the first time. Although I think telling you that probably makes me look like an even bigger idiot.” 
“No it doesn’t,” You softly reassure him, “I’d rather have you do that than put it on wrong. I don’t want any of your babies yet, Morales.” 
Yet. 
You’re not sure what makes your brain decide to add those three letters into your sentence. You’re also not sure why you don’t hate that it did. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s a chance that maybe Frankie didn't hear it, but you know that boy would die before he stopped hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. 
There’s a part of you that also swears he’s trying with everything in him to keep from smiling. 
Your attention shifts with Frankie’s body, hovering back over yours with his fist wrapped around the base of his shaft, sinking his hips to line himself up with your entrance. His tip brushes against your clit, a familiar jolt of pleasure swirling in your stomach at how you clench around nothing, anxious and aching to feel him inside you. 
“I-if it’s too much, or it doesn’t feel good, or you wanna stop, just-” 
“I know, Frankie. I’ll tell you, I promise.” 
Your low exhale syncs with Frankie’s gulp, each of you bracing yourselves as you finally feel his tip breach inside you. You try your best to relax, squirming your bottom half with each inch Frankie sinks himself deeper. You’re sure there’s a wince as he pushes past the halfway point- not painful, but a sting and stretch in a way you’ve never felt. Frankie freezes, gently grabbing your hip. 
“You good, Kenzie? You want me to stop?” 
“No, I’m okay, just kind of stings a little, but it still feels good. Maybe if you didn’t have such a big dick, it wouldn’t be a problem.” You tease, letting out a little huff of laughter. 
It’s now Frankie’s turn to scrunch the muscles of his face, cocking your head at the grit of his teeth. 
“Frankie, are you okay?” 
“Yup. Yup, I’m good. When you laughed it squeezed my dick and it felt really good and I’m trying not to make a fucking fool of myself right now.” 
“Sorry, no more laughing, got it.” You grimace, desperately trying not to giggle at Frankie’s pained concentration as he shakes his head at you. “Y- you can keep going, though.” 
“F-fuck, o-okay.” 
There’s another deep breath before he’s pushing his hips towards you, taking his time as you feel the pain start to shift to indescribable pleasure, the feeling of how full he is inside of you making every wire in your brain short circuit. 
“Holy fucking shit.” Frankie whispers under his breath, “Fuck, you feel so good, MacKenzie.” 
You wish you had the words to tell him how you feel the same, but the best you can muster is a muffled moan that escapes from your unhinged jaw, brain empty at the sweet stretch of his fullness, stagnant inside you. 
F-fuck Frankie. Oh my god.” You murmur, letting the muscles of your face untense so the weight of your eyelids can flutter open, soaking in the image of Frankie above you. The rest of your body follows, slowly beginning to relax as you adjust, yearning for more than just his hips flushed against yours. “Y-you can move, Frankie.” 
He lets his arms sink from the plank he’s holding, letting your chests flush together so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin with the first thrust of his hips, steadily sliding in and out of your heat, savoring every second of the sensation. 
“You still okay, baby?” Frankie coos into your ear, the new nickname only adding to the way you want to clench down around his length as he keeps his languid pace, dragging his cock along the warmth and wetness of your walls. 
“Mhmmm. You can go faster, i-if you want. F-fuck, it feels so good, Frankie.” 
The way you whimper and whine his name sets off a low rumble deep in his chest, lips locking with yours as you feel him pump just a little harder, his length nudging the same, savory spot he had found before with his fingers. Your hand shoots up to wrap around his bicep, nails marking crescent moons in his skin. 
Every move he makes is solely based on your reaction, reading the way your body responds to him before daring to take a step further. Your iron grip and sweet moans are enough to spur him on further, a steady rhythm now working through each thrust of his hips. 
There’s a new knot in your stomach that starts to tighten, building in your gut and slowly creeping its way to spread throughout your body. The coarse hairs curling at the base of his shaft brush against your clit just enough to spark a jolt of electricity to your core, bucking your hips into his with each thrust. You’re desperate to reach the same high he had given you before, eager to ease the ache of your sensitive bud. 
Frankie picks up on the way you rut back into him, snaking his hand down your front, making just enough space between your bodies to let the pads of his fingers find your clit. The pressure he adds with the circles and swirls makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat, overwhelmed with arousal by how all encompassing Frankie is. 
It’s hard to believe how quickly you find yourself becoming addicted to him, your body yearning to become one with his and never separate. You want your heart, your soul, for all of it to be his, and only his, to be unable to find where you end and he begins. 
The only thing you want is to be his. 
With each stroke, your pussy flutters faster around his length, the tingle that had formed at the base of your spine now seeping through your veins, teetering on the brink of collapse. 
“F-fuck- fuck, Frankie, don’t stop. Fuck, I- I think I’m- I’m close.” 
If it was anyone else, there would be no words to describe the embarrassment from the pathetic whimper you let out at the way Frankie groans while he punches into you. A look of pained concentration splays across his face, focusing with every brain cell he has left to make sure you finish first. 
“Shit- I- I- fuck, I’m close, too.” He stutters, chest heaving in between each word. 
He presses his forehead into yours, meeting you with the tacky sheet of sweat that now clings to his skin and dampens his curls. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body laid across yours- you almost dare to wish that this moment, this feeling, would never end. 
But the way he whispers your name, each letter warm and tickling your skin, a sweet symphony only he can sing is what sends you over the edge, pushing you past the point of no return. 
“M-MacKenzie… f-fuck, MacKenzie-”  
Each syllable is an explosion inside you, lighting you up to send sparks through every last limb until you’re sobbing his name, singing his own sweet song back to him. 
“Frankie, Frankie, Frankiefrankiefrankie-ahhhhh-” 
The dam inside you finally breaks, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you as you squeeze around him, swallowed whole by the electricity of it all. 
There’s not much your mind can process after you snap, but there’s enough strength left to keep your gaze locked on Frankie and the way he gasps as his jaw drops after you’ve finished. He’s just as lost as you, relishing in your afterglow as he chases his own high, each thrust more sloppy and erratic than the last. 
“Fuck, fuck, holy shit MacKenzie, fuck, I’m gonna cum so ha-aaaaahhh-” 
There’s only one last shift of his hips before he’s spilling into the condom, a final moan that follows his release as he collapses into you. Your chests rise and fall in sync, breaths heavy as you pant in the soft silence that fills the room.
The quiet brings a gentle comfort, basking in the bliss that radiates off each of you as you let yourselves drift back to earth, praying it gives you enough time to remember how to speak. 
It’s Frankie who arrives back first, too consumed with your own journey back to hear the way his voice breaks as he carefully whispers your name. 
“MacKenzie?” 
“Yeah, Frankie?” 
“C-can I tell you something?” 
“Anything.” 
His sweet call brings you back, thumb brushing against the warmth of his cheek, waiting on every word he's working himself up to say.
“MacKenzie, I- MacKenzie, I- I think I love you.” 
It's then you're sure your heart stops- four little letters forcing a smile so wide across your face, your positive your cheeks may hurt for days after.
Maybe, if you're lucky, they'll keep hurting like this for the rest of your life.
“Can I tell you something, Morales? I think I might just love you, too.” 
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Text
Honey Girl. Chapter Five.
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Chapter Four. Chapter Six. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Synopsis - Does absence make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything ten times more difficult?
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. angst. mention of illness.
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 5.7k
Author's Note - it's here!! as always, I can't thank you enough for your love, support and patience with this fic. us writers lead busy lives, and i've been trying my hardest to find the time to write whenever I can, so it means so much that you guys stick with me - even when things take longer than expected. love you all. you're angels. please feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and suggestions - it always makes my day when you're all so passionate. mwah.
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
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The sand is warm beneath your feet, cooling breeze cascading across your skin. The waves caress the shore in repetitive motions, lulling you into calm.
Sunlight beaming down, you shield your eyes and look up, sighing in contentment at the shades of blue that paint the sky.
A shriek and a laugh come from somewhere on your right. You look over and see a couple and their toddler running after each other, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean. The little girl can't stop giggling, tripping over her own feet as she chases her parents. Something tugs at your heart, deep and visceral.
It's been three months since you left home.
It's been three months since you saw Bucky.
He calls every few days, trying to give you the space you need while also keeping in touch. You have to resist the urge to call him every ten minutes. It's an improvement, at least. It was five minutes when you first moved.
He texts you good morning and goodnight everyday without fail, just to let you know he's there. You can't sleep until you get his text. It's like a lullaby, reassuring and soothing. Like a chamomile tea, warming and calming you from the inside out.
You think about him the most at night time. Your days are spent running around preparing for the bakery. Testing, retesting, writing up recipes, measuring out quantities. You want it to be perfect.
The baking is taking your mind off Bucky, for the moment at least. You've thrown yourself into your new role, eager and excited. Stella's ecstatic to have you around. You love that you're still just as close as you were, despite the time apart. Friendships like that are rare.
Lacie calls you most nights. She demands to know what you did that day, who you spoke to, what you made. It's like therapy, sitting and decompressing together over videochat. She's a lifeline, whether she knows it or not.
And of course, the most supportive people in your life - your parents. Your Mom is desperate to come and visit, begging that you let her know when you're less busy so you can show her around. She loves the sunshine just as much as you. A woman after your own heart.
On the nights when the doubt creeps in, unwelcome and dark, you remind yourself how lucky you are. Surrounded by people who adore you, support you, love you unconditionally. And then the night doesn't seem so dark. The light pours through the cracks.
You walk home from the beach, warmed and carried by the knowledge of love.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"This is ridiculous."
Stella's perched on the edge of your countertop, blush pink macaron in her hand.
"Good ridiculous?"
She scoffs, looking at you incredulously.
"Where did your confidence go? You never doubted yourself in school. Yes, good ridiculous. It shouldn't work, but it does."
Shouldn't work, but it does. Seems to be the story of your life at the moment.
"I need these on the menu."
"You don't think they're a little... pretentious? My best seller is a chocolate chip cookie. A honey and rosewater macaron isn't exactly a childhood favourite."
"Babe. That's the beauty of this. You can put whatever the hell you want out in your bakery. So what if they're unconventional? They're delicious. That's all that matters."
"Okay. Fine."
You relent, thinking about her earlier question. Where did your confidence go? When you graduated culinary school, you never doubted your abilities. Your technique, your flavours, your presentation - you had full faith in all of it. Now, you seem to be second guessing yourself.
You know it's because of your Tethering.
Before, you understood how the world worked. Good, bad, in between. Love, lust, the very clear difference between the two. You watched as other people found their forever person, and acknowledged their new journey.
And then you found Bucky. Or, Bucky found you.
Suddenly, the world you'd lived in before no longer made sense. The people, the places, the relationships, all impacted by the way you feel about your soulmate. Everything, everyone, everywhere, reminds you of Bucky. You're experiencing emotions you've never felt before. It's disorientating, confusing, complex. Your understanding of the world has changed completely.
It takes time to adjust.
No one ever talks about the way your Tethering turns your life upside down.
For some, it's completely positive. They enjoy the uprooting, revel in the change.
For others, it's a huge adaptation. One filled with tears, and confusion, and doubts.
Both are valid. Both are understandable.
You remind yourself of this every day.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"There's someone in the café that wants to speak to you."
The youngest waitress, Isabel, stands in the kitchen doorway, looking at you hopefully. You set down your piping bag and wash your hands, talking to her over your shoulder.
"Who is it?"
"No idea. Some guy. He's kinda hot. Brown hair, tall, beard."
Your heart skips a beat, breath caught in your lungs. Bucky jokes sometimes about coming to see you, but would he just show up announced? Do you want him to?
You can't feel it in your chest, you realise suddenly. You can't feel the ease, the relief, the knowing. Maybe being apart for so long has weakened your connection. The thought makes you strangely emotional.
You inhale carefully and thank her, before making your way out. It's almost closing time, and there's no one around other than the man stood with his back to you.
He turns around, and you realise quickly that your hope was misplaced. You've never seen this person before. He is handsome, admittedly. But he's not your soulmate.
"Hi."
"Hey. Are you the baker here?"
"I am."
He holds out his hand for you to shake, stepping closer.
"I'm Rafael."
You tell him your name, and he smiles, nodding.
"Forgive me if this is weird, but I had to meet you. To thank you properly, in person."
You don't say anything, so he continues.
"Let me, uh, explain. Sorry, should have started with that. My sister is sick. She's going through treatment currently, and it's been super hard on her. She's had no appetite whatsoever, and she's losing weight rapidly."
He takes a deep breath before continuing.
"A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a load of stuff from this place because my Mom was coming to visit. My sister tried your earl grey and lavender cookie, and ate the entire thing. It was the first time I've seen her eat for weeks. So, I came back and bought basically all of them every day."
You laugh, coming to a realisation. You wondered why those cookies were selling so well all of a sudden.
"I just wanted to say thank you. It might not seem like a big deal, but it's really huge for us. I also wanted to explain why all of those cookies were suddenly going missing at like ten in the morning."
You gesture at him to sit, the both of you taking a seat at one of the tables nearby.
You talk for almost an hour, listening intently to Rafael as he tells you about his family. He moved to California to be with his sister Maria when she got sick, no one else around to care for her. He asks about yours, and you tell him about your parents and their constant encouragement. He's also interested in how you got into baking, so you tell him all about culinary school, and the dreams your Grandma gave you when you were a kid.
"You're really talented, you know."
"I bet you say that to all of the bakers around here. But thank you."
His fingers brush yours where they're resting on the table, making you shiver.
"I'll make Maria her own box, if you like. I'll leave them behind the counter, just tell Isabel who you are."
"You'd do that for her?"
"Of course," you smile. "The idea that I'm helping someone with my silly little creations makes me really happy. We can work out a schedule, and I'll make sure I bake Maria some extras when I do my usual batch."
"You're incredible. Seriously. Thank you."
He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. The two of you are sat in the café as the sun sets, orange glow illuminating the room. You didn't expect to make a friend today. You're glad you have.
"Well, I should probably go and clean up the kitchen. You know where to find me, if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Rafael."
He rises when you do, smiling at you earnestly.
"You too. Nice to finally put a face to the cookie, so to speak."
You chuckle and show him out of the door, waving as he walks down the street. Suddenly, he turns around, striding back towards you.
"I'm so sorry if this is forward, and please feel free to say no, but... are you single? If you are, I'd love to ask you to dinner sometime."
The answer to that question is much more complicated than Rafael could ever imagine. So instead, you say,
"I'm not. I'm Tethered, actually."
His brows raise in surprise, but he's smiling.
"You are?"
"Yeah, I am. He doesn't live here, though. He lives back home, where my parents are."
"You guys are married?"
"No! Not yet. It's, uh... a complex... situation."
"Ah," he says, gentle, knowing look on his face. "I thought Tetherings weren't meant to be complex. Isn't that the whole point? That they're easy?"
You laugh, but it's not malicious. You're thinking about how sweetly naive he is, how he's got a huge storm coming his way one day.
"He's my Dad's best friend."
You're not sure why you're admitting this to a man you met an hour and a half ago, but you are. It's almost a relief, to get it off your chest again - to tell someone who's completely neutral, who doesn't know either of you.
"Woah."
"Yeah."
"That... is complicated."
"Yeah," you chuckle. "Understatement of the century."
Rafael leans against the wall, watching you intently. He's curious.
"How did your parents react?"
"They don't know yet."
His eyebrows raise almost comically high.
"Wait, what? How did you hide that? I thought it was supposed to be impossible to hide that you're Tethered. Although, I guess I had no idea, seeing as I asked you out."
"We wanted to figure it out for ourselves first, before telling anyone. And then I moved out here, so we're doing long distance. Like I said, complex."
"Understatement of the century," he laughs.
You look at each other for a moment, before he smiles.
"I'm sorry I asked you out. I wouldn't have, if I'd known."
"Please, don't apologise. I admire your... courage?" you grin. "And I appreciate you coming to see me today. I have like two friends here in Cali, so it's nice to feel like I've made another."
He smiles again, wider this time. Someone's going to be lucky to be Tethered to him one day, you think.
"I know it might surprise you, given my good looks and... courage," he chuckles, "but I don't have many friends out here either. I've been so focused on Maria, I haven't had time to socialise."
"The Universe works in funny ways, huh?"
"Sure does."
You wander back through the door, ready to close up for good this time.
"I'll see you tomorrow, for the cookies. And I'd love to meet Maria one day, if she's up for it."
"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll bring her by."
"Thanks, Rafael."
"Of course. Thank you."
"Of course."
That night, when your Mom calls, you get to tell her you've made a new friend. That makes the both of you very happy.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
You're testing out a recipe in the kitchen of your new apartment when your phone rings.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I am, actually. I'm settling in."
"Good, I'm glad. I don't wanna keep you on the phone for too long, but I wanted to ask you something."
"Go ahead, Dad. Anything."
"How would you feel about surprising your Mom for her birthday?"
"What kind of surprise?"
"I know you haven't been gone all that long, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, I was thinking you could come back to... be her gift? She really misses you, you know."
"I miss her too," you say softly, trying to keep your voice even. "I'll talk to Stella, see if we can figure something out. I'd really love to see you guys."
"We'd really love to see you too, sweetheart."
"I'll call you back later, when I've organised everything. Love you, Dad. See you soon, hopefully."
"Love you, kiddo. Proud of you, you know."
"I know," you smile. "I know."
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The journey always seems shorter when you know you're going home.
You make it back in record time, salty ocean breeze whipping through your hair as you cruise along the roads. You take a deep breath and sigh it out, relief filling your lungs. It's good to be back.
You can't let your Mom see you, so you head straight back to your apartment. Your Dad told you they're in the process of renting it out, but they haven't made much progress yet. For now, it's still yours.
You inhale the familiar scent, smiling gently. There's something so particular about the way a place smells when you feel like you belong there. It's like home and comfort and ease all rolled into one.
You unpack a little, folding your clothes and tucking them into the dresser. You told Stella you'd probably stay a few days, wanting to spend as much time with your family as possible. You're rifling through the refrigerator and thinking about a grocery list when there's a knock at your door.
You know who it is.
A feeling of relief washes over your body, tension melting from your shoulders. Your lungs fill easier, your breath falls deeper, everything is a little brighter, a little more colourful.
You open the door to be met with the sight of Bucky Barnes.
He's in work pants and a white t shirt that's stained with grease and oil, heavy boots on his feet. He must have come straight from the Garage.
He looks at you carefully, as if he isn't sure that you're real. You rake your eyes over his form, trying to drink him in. All the pictures you've taken and saved don't do him justice.
He exhales, beaming grin appearing on his face.
"You're here."
You can't help but smile back, his happiness spreading through you.
"I'm here."
Bucky rushes forward and scoops you into his arms, enveloping you completely. He wraps himself around you as he tucks you into his chest, his grip tight and unrelenting. You breathe him in, overwhelmed with emotion and sensation. You didn't realise how much you needed this. Three months is too long.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, slight shake in his voice. He's holding off tears. So are you.
"My Dad wanted me to surprise my Mom for her birthday. It's all a secret."
He smiles, before leaning down to capture your lips in a knee buckling kiss. A kiss that says I missed you. A kiss that says I need you. A kiss that says please don't leave me again.
"How did you know?" you whisper when you pull away for air.
"I felt it. I think I knew the moment you arrived back in town. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, for a second. But there's no mistaking that feeling. I had to come and see for myself."
"We're getting pretty good at this whole soulmate thing, huh?" you laugh, unaware of the tears running down your face. "I missed you, Buck. So much."
"I missed you too," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Didn't think I was going to survive, some days."
"Me too. Do you know how many times I stood with my car keys in my hand, ready to drive back to you?"
He chuckles and then sniffles, emotion dripping down his cheeks.
"I did exactly the same thing. So many times."
You wrap your arms around his middle, reveling in the way he smells like gasoline and home.
"How long are you here for?" he murmurs, worried he'll disturb the peace.
"I'm not sure. A good few days, at least."
"Okay," he breathes. "I can do a few days. We can do a few days."
"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know, to be honest. It was all kinda last minute."
"It's okay, pretty thing," he mutters into your hair. "It was a nice surprise."
"You're coming tonight, right? To my Mom's party?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
You stay wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, savouring his warmth. He rubs absentminded patterns across the skin of your back, committing the softness of it to his memory.
"I should probably get back to work. I took off with no warning."
"You're the boss. You're allowed," you chuckle.
He laughs with you, and the sound lights up your nerves, illuminates your bones. It settles itself in the hollows of your ribcage, tangles itself in your heartstrings. It's like medicine.
"Can't wait to see you tonight," you whisper. "Wear something cute."
"I always do," he winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Miss you already."
"Miss you more."
He looks at you, smiling.
"Man, we're the worst."
"Truly."
He kisses you once, twice, three times before finally leaving, reluctant to let you go. You spend the rest of the afternoon floating on air, relaxed and at ease. You haven't felt like this in a while.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
Your Dad sneaks you into the house through the side door, hiding you in the kitchen as he ushers your Mom through to the back yard.
It's decorated with floral garlands and streamers, flowers in vases covering the table he's set up. The golden, warm fairy lights illuminate the space, keeping it soft and intimate. He's been watching, carefully observing the way that she does things. He's recreated her party style perfectly.
There's a few of her closest friends waiting for her, gifts littering the spare chairs. Your Dad walks her outside, hands covering her eyes.
"Surprise!"
You watch through the door as your Mom gasps, grin on her face.
"Oh my God! You guys!"
She runs into your Dad, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," she says in disbelief.
He sets her back down on the ground and kisses her gently.
"I got you something. I hope you like it."
That's your cue. You sneak out as quietly as possible, standing behind her.
"Happy Birthday, Mama."
She whips around to face you, shock written across her face. Her eyes well up, tears threatening to spill. Yours do the same, bottom lip quivering.
She throws her arms around you, tugging you into her.
"I'm so happy you're here, baby girl. I missed you so much."
"Missed you. You look beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you! Look at you, all sun kissed and glowy. You look so pretty, sweetheart."
You grin at her and she does the same back, your Dad beaming at your identical smiles.
"You're the best gift I've ever received. Then and now."
You're overwhelmed, suddenly, by the realisation that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how many miles are between you - your Mom will always be in your corner. Your Dad will always be in your corner. Bucky will always be in your corner.
You think, for a moment, that despite everything, you might just be okay.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The night goes off without a hitch.
You drink, you laugh, you sing. You and your Mom dance to ABBA, Bowie, Donna Summer. Your Dad joins in, and can't help but grin every time he watches his girls together.
What a life, he thinks. I'm the luckiest man in the world.
When everyone gets a little past tipsy, your Mom changes the music to something slower, jazzier, richer. Your Dad pulls her into his chest, holding her close as they move to the melody. You're sat at the table taking off your heels when Bucky slides into the seat next to you. He pulls your foot into his lap and undoes the strap, sliding the shoe off gently. He rubs his thumb into your sole, smirking when you groan.
"Have you been avoiding me tonight, pretty baby?"
His cheeks are flushed slightly, top few buttons of his shirt open. He's been drinking a little, his walls lowered more than usual.
"I have to."
"Oh yeah?"
"I feel like I'm gonna burst into flames every time you look at me," you whisper. "I kinda want to rip your clothes off, baby."
He groans at the nickname. You know exactly what you're doing.
"It only takes one look for a minute too long to figure out how I feel about you, Buck. They'll work it all out instantly."
"Dance with me," he murmurs suddenly. "Your parents are too busy staring into each others eyes. Come on, honey. One dance."
His big blue eyes bore into yours, and you know you're fucked. You're never going to be able to say no to him.
"One dance," you whisper.
He takes your hand and leads you to the decked area, brightened by the golden lights. Bucky slides a hand over your back, resting there carefully. You intertwine your fingers with his and step into him, embracing the warmth that rolls off his body.
I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday begins to play, and the two of you start to sway gently, eyes never leaving each others. Bucky pulls you in closer, and you melt into him. You don't care about the repercussions anymore.
Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's something else.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"That was close!"
Your Mom's giggling as your Dad holds her, having just saved her from tripping down the front steps. Everyone's giddy, both from drinking and from laughing.
"Sweetheart. Bucky. Come back for lunch tomorrow. Your Dad ordered too much catering, and we need help eating it."
"Mama, are you sure?"
"I want to see you as much as possible before you go, babygirl. You too, Buck. I feel like we don't see you as much as we used to."
"He'll be there," you reply before he can protest. "We'll carpool, and I'll bring a strawberry and cream tart that I made for you."
She kisses you on the cheek, your Dad leaning in to kiss the other side.
"Love you both."
"Love you," they say in unison, laughing and yelling jinx. "Get home safe, you two!"
"I'll take care of her," Bucky chuckles. "Always."
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"Why don't you see my parents much anymore?"
You and Buck are walking home along the sandy coastal path, fingers intertwined and sides pressed together. You look up at him, frowning slightly when he hesitates.
"Don't lie to me, James. I can feel it, remember."
You place a hand on your chest to remind him, and he nods.
"It's not the same here without you."
You weren't expecting the sincerity. It knocks you off balance a little.
You stop when you reach a wooden bench, sitting down and pulling him with you.
"So you're isolating yourself from the people who love you?"
He smiles, sadness rife in his eyes. Your tough guy act is crumbling.
"Not on purpose. It just kinda happened."
"You promised you'd talk to me, Buck. Especially if it got too hard. You need to accept support from people, or everything is going to come crashing down."
"I know. I know. But every time I go to their house, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I go to the beach, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I walk past your building, I'm expecting you to be there, waiting for me to pick you up. Even when I'm sailing, I can't stop thinking about that day we spent on the boat."
"The other day I had to make three batches of buttercream, because I messed up the first two. I was so distracted thinking about you that I split them both."
He laughs, then, wholehearted and genuine. You can't help but join him, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.
"Bucky, you have to promise that you'll keep going, even without me. You have to see my Mom and Dad like you used to, you have to still sail and go to the beach. You can't put your life on hold for me."
He takes a deep breath, sliding an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer.
"Okay. I promise."
You whip your head around to look at him.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that, honey. You're right. I've been waiting for you to come back, so I can start living again. But life is still happening, whether you're here or not."
"Wise words, wise man," you smile. "Not a minute goes by where I don't think of you. You know that, don't you?"
"I know. I feel it."
You watch as he brings your linked hands to his chest, placing them there. You rest your head on his shoulder, lulled into calm by the steady melody of his heart. You swear it beats to the rhythm of your name.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The two of you can't bear the idea of separating, so Buck comes home with you.
"Have you got a blanket?" he asks as he's kicking off his shoes.
"I have. What for?"
"The couch."
You process for a moment before it clicks.
"You're not sleeping on the couch, Buck."
"No?"
"No. I want your ridiculous, radiator-like body heat in bed with me."
He smiles, all giddy and lopsided, before striding across the room to you. Cradling your face in his rough hands, he kisses you with fervour. He's making up for lost time.
You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling, smirking when he groans. He retaliates by grabbing your ass and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you through to your bedroom, lips never leaving yours.
Throwing you down onto the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head, watching you hungrily as you do the same with your dress. You're left in your underwear, leaving little to the imagination.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "Makes me want to cry."
You reach for him as he settles on top of you, your hand sliding along his stubbled cheek.
"I'm so glad you're feeling what I'm feeling," you whisper. "I'd think I was going insane otherwise."
Bucky kisses you again, before trailing his lips across your jaw, your ear, your neck. He's careful not to leave any marks, as much as he wants to. You glide your hands along the expanse of his shoulders, his back, his biceps. He's so strong, so broad. It makes you ache.
"So fuckin' pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Like a goddamn dream."
You throw your head back as he attaches his mouth to your tits, nipping and sucking as he goes. Your hands are in his hair again, reveling in the way his groans vibrate through you.
Bucky slots his knee in between your legs as he kisses across your chest, smirking when you grind your hips into it. You chase the friction as best you can, moaning when it hits you just right.
"Needy baby. You don't want my fingers? My mouth? No? Just my knee?"
You nod, then shake your head. You're not sure what you're asking for, drunk on him already.
"Please, Buck. Anything."
"I'll give you whatever you want if you keep saying my name like that."
He makes quick work of pulling your underwear down your legs, swiping his fingers through your wet heat.
"Oh, fuck," he chokes. "Fuck, honey. Is this all for me? Hmm?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
"Yeah?"
"It's yours, Buck. I'm yours."
Bucky drops his head forward, bumping your nose with his.
"I think that's my favourite thing you've ever said," he mumbles against your mouth.
You reach up to kiss him, sucking his tongue before biting at his lips. You can't get close enough. Every inch of your skin is pressed to his, and you still want more.
Bucky crawls down the bed, situating himself between your legs. He nudges at you with his nose before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved.
You'd forgotten what people said about sex when you're Tethered, but it all comes back to you now. Everything is heightened, your senses on overdrive. It's like Bucky has the handbook to your body, and all he has to do is read the instructions the Universe has given him.
He's got you teetering on the edge in no time, right on the precipice. No ones ever made you feel like this. It feels like some sort of small miracle is happening, an otherworldly connection.
"Give it to me, honey baby," he murmurs into you. "Let me see how pretty you look when you come."
You tug at his hair as you reach your climax, the vibrations of his groan only prolonging your release. Bucky helps you ride it out, only ceasing his action when he's satisfied you're satisfied.
He rests his head against your thigh and looks up at you as you come down, breathing heavily.
"You good?"
"So good," you grin. "Never better."
"Me neither," he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you again. You taste yourself and whine, desperate to feel closer to him.
"Need you," you demand against his lips. "Need you more than anything."
"I know, baby," he soothes as he smooths the hair back from your face. "Gonna give you everything you want. Anything in the world."
You're on the verge of tears again, completely overwhelmed. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. You think maybe you would, if he asked you to.
Bucky slides home in one gentle thrust, easy as breathing. The both of you exhale, savouring the moment. It's like nothing either of you have ever felt before.
You pull his face down to you, resting your foreheads against each other.
"Buck, I-"
"I know," he breathes. "Fuck, I know."
"Need you to move, baby."
He nods and kisses you sweetly, before pulling his hips back and gliding forward. The angle is just right, both of you keening.
"Fuck, honey. So pretty. So tight. Fuck."
Bucky sets a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. It's like he can read your mind, knowing exactly what you need. All you can say is his name as stars cloud your vision.
He slides his hand down your front, rubbing perfect circles on your clit with his fingers. You clamp down on him and he groans, low and gutteral.
"Need you to come, pretty baby," he whispers hoarsely. "Please. Waited so long for this. Please."
The desperation in his tone is what throws you into your release, muscles tensing and back arched. You grip his biceps, scratching your nails into his sun kissed skin.
Bucky can't hold on any longer, falling over the edge with you. The way he says your name as he does will be ingrained in your mind forever.
He drops his weight onto you entirely, no longer able to hold himself up. You wrap your arms around him, drawing absent minded patterns across his back. You're both sweating and panting. You're both completely content.
"Holy shit," he whispers after a while.
"You think it's gonna be like that every time?" you ask, grinning.
Bucky rolls off you and lands on the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.
"Honey, just you wait. I've got moves you've never seen."
You snort, unable to hold in your laughter. You're floating on cloud nine, satiated and warm.
"You're the worst," you giggle, running your fingers over his abs gently.
The two of you stay intertwined for hours, enjoying the way your bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both drift in and out of sleep, conversing in the gaps. At some points, you just lay in silence, completely comfortable. No one needs to say anything. You both know what the other person is thinking.
Eventually, the sun rises, casting the room in a golden orange glow. Bucky looks like an angel, illuminated by the morning light. You wonder for a second if he is, sent down as a gift to you.
Suddenly, you feel an intense sadness in your chest. You look up at Bucky from where you lay across him, and see a single tear drip down his cheek.
"I don't want you to go."
The only sound that can be heard is his sorrow hitting the pillow.
"I don't think I want to go."
He strokes your hair softly, taking a deep breath to try and get a handle on his emotions.
"You have to, baby. It's your dream."
Your bottom lip wobbles for a second, before the words come spilling out.
"You're my dream."
Bucky sniffles, and you continue.
"I could have nothing, but I have everything if I have you."
You sit up and Bucky does too, capturing your lips in a tear stained kiss.
"We'll be okay, my honey girl."
You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his warmth bleed into your bones.
"I know," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.
You know you'll be okay. It just doesn't feel like it right now.
You wonder how many times you can keep leaving and coming back before one of your hearts breaks for good.
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tag list part one
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kenyummy · 5 months ago
Text
MISTER TUTOR ꒰⚘݄꒱ YUKIMIYA KENYU
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[NSFW] SYNOPSIS : yukimiya kenyu is your tutor. by extension, he is also your favourite victim to tease. also by extension, you two always end up in the exact same way each and every tutoring session.
note : hi this is smut !!!! mostly pwp so heh. heh. theres a severe lack of kenyu fics on tumblr and everywhere honestly so i decided to be a good samaritan and do my part in adding to his slowly growing fic collection. i love love love kenyu hes my boyfriend forever and ever <333 also reposted from my wattpad which u should so check out btdubs
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Yukimiya isn't sure when, but eventually, tutoring you took up a huge portion of his life. First assigned for a homework task that you had not completed—his teacher made him tutor you on how to do it and exactly how to hand it in.
Then, his math teacher made him study with you, since you were falling so far behind. You and him spent hours studying together, but nothing ever worked. Either you got him too riled up to continue this session (which really, led into a session of something else), or you yourself were way too unfocused to even consider actually trying to learn from the boy in front of you.
Either way, you and he did not mesh well together, especially in a study-like area. In a library—you were far too loud. At home (either one of your houses)—he was practically asking you to feel him up, God forbid you two were left alone in the house, as well. Even at school, you kept finding yourself getting distracted by the multitude of people that pass by, and every little thing around you intrigued you more than your work ever did.
You never read your assigned novels, something which he couldn't understand. It was just reading, and yet, you acted like it was the hardest thing in the world to do? Whatever the reason was (perhaps you could simply not read), Yukimiya needed to find a strategy that worked for you.
As your (self-proclaimed) tutor, was it not his job to make it so you don't flunk every single test? He thought so.
So, he went through various strategies with you. Studying in timeslots—it didn't work, because when you took a break, you decided that you didn't feel like going back to doing boring old work. Cramming everything in at the last minute—this worked a little better, but was still a giant failure. Sure, it had you actually studying, but you forgot everything as soon as you walked into the test room since your mind had no time to actually process it all.
Whatever it was—it was like your entire being refused to study like it would kill you (from how badly your grades are dropping, he isn't sure that's the only thing that will). A vivid procrastinator, that's what you are. Still, Yukimiya Kenyu is nothing but determined. When he's set on something —you best believe he'll go out there and get it like a champ.
That's why he was sure that this study method—tailor made to fit you—would absolutely, undoubtedly work.
You were surprised when Yukimiya asked you if you wished to spend this week's weekend study session at his house. (He isn't dumb, in fact, he's the complete opposite—and he knows exactly where you two "studying" at a private place like home leads).
So why did Yukimiya ask this? Has he perhaps turned over to the dark side? The thought of that—and perhaps, at what's to come—makes your stomach twist in excitement.
The day came without so much of a hitch. You spent the last few days of the week lazing as usual—your mind couldn't leave the thought of this weekend's "study" sesh with your favourite boy alone.
You wondered this, even as you took a train and made your way to his house—you've been there so often that his address was practically branded into your brain—and you thought about all the things he'd make you do.
Your face flushes.
As soon as you ring the doorbell—you stand outside waiting for less than a minute—you catch sight of Yukimiya Kenyu himself. Clad in a flowy, white dress shirt, and baggy grey sweatpants—he looked deliciously domestic, and it made your heart race in your chest. Especially when he spares you that smile—that godawful, lady-killer smile that could knock somebody dead—you think you may faint on the spot.
"You're just on time. My parents are going out to see my grandma, so it'll just be me and you alone for a few hours. Should be more than enough time for substantial studying, no?"
Alone? Few hours? Come on, Yukki, you know me better than that.
Now, you were starting to grow suspicious at his deliberate choice of wording and his all-too-well grin. Yukimiya Kenyu... what are you planning? Are you actually planning on getting any work done? No, not really. But that doesn't mean you can't be suspicious of this pretty boy in front of you. A studious, straight-A nerd would surely not fall into his tempting desires without at least a little bit of prodding—which is exactly why you're so wary of this whole setup.
You're led to the familiar sight of his room, somewhere you've been countless times before, same as always. You make yourself comfortable on his bed and watch as he pulls in a second chair to sit at his desk. He sits down at the one he just brought in, and motions for you to take a seat beside him on the chair he had originally had on his room.
His smile is so guileless, you can hardly get a good read on what he's feeling. It almost makes you nervous. Still, you obey, and take a seat, watching silently as he pulls out a few binders and unclipped a piece of paper. A mock test.
Wow, already? He was making you go through a practice test based on the subjects you're learning in math at the moment. Well, this wasn't too surprising. Yukimiya usually went through these with you anyway, so he could get a feel for how much you know about the subject already.
He snuffles his chair closer, eyes gleaming behind lens, "We should spend today going over these questions. If that doesn't take much time, we can just spend the rest of the day chilling out."
Yeah, we all know what you mean by "chilling out".
You nod, back slumped into the chair behind you and you groan, "Ugh... that sounds boring at hell... Can't we do something more fun, Yukki?"
With a cheeky grin and a knowing glance at the bed behind you—you think you make your intentions abundantly clear. You're certain he knows what you mean—this is always how you get what you want, after all.
By now, he'd be pink-cheeked, or perhaps even sloppily making out with you already, but not this time. He keeps the same blank, air-headed expression that he's plastered on his face since this whole tutoring thing started. "No, not this time. I've thought of a way to help you remember the fornulas, actually. I'm sure this strategy will work."
You raise a brow, clearly suspicious of his judgement. He said that same thing the past three times, and you ended up failing said three tests. "Really?"
He nods, smiling, "Really. Let's just start, and I'll try to incorporate it as naturally as possible."
Strange choice of words—but you like to trust your Yukki, so you don't question it. You and him quickly flip to the first page, and it starts with a question on area for a shape you do not recognise—with all sorts of numerals and numbers that it already makes your head spin.
"Do you understand how to solve for x?" He asks, and you think it's easier to straight up say no, rather than lie and look stupid, so you shake your head. "Alright. I'll try to explain it the best I can."
He starts talking, but it's hard to focus when his big hand is taut on your bare thigh, rubbing up and down mindlessly on the skin. You didn't realise he'd come so close to you—he's practically pressed up against your side.
Whatever. You try not to think too much of it. You focus on the sound of his words and sort of figure out how to solve what they're asking, "So, to find x, first you have to use the measurements already given, and then times that?"
He nods, "Yes, but that's not the end. You then still have to find y and z."
You groan, running a hand through your hair and sighing loudly—showing off your exhaustion five minutes into the session, "Ugh... this is taking forever... is this shit seriously on the test?"
Yukki leans up and presses a peck to your forehead. It feels oddly romantic, it makes you blush, "I know it's long, but you'll get it. Just focus, alright? I promise you'll understand if you do."
You really hope his mystery study method actually works.
Yukki continues trying to explain the concepts and formulas on how to solve the shape on the paper—and you're trying, you really are, but his fingers inch up, further and further and it makes it really damn hard to concentrate.
(Curse him, and the stupid effect he has on you.)
His hand stops moving for a moment, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. His words finally stop sounding like a jumbled mess and more like actual teaching, "I get it! You just..."
You proceed to re-explain the concepts he brought up, and worked out the question on the paper with ease. Yukimiya grins, perfect pearly whites behind his teeth and he's clearly proud, "Good girl. You're actually listening to me this time. Let's move on to the next question."
An algebraic expression—so many letters, numbers and symbols and you don't know what half of them mean. Yukki takes one good look at your face and understands exactly what's going through your head—absolutely nothing.
He begins to explain the equation to you once more—his hand inches up even further. It has practically disappeared under your skirt.
Is he doing this on purpose? You can't help but wonder, heat crawling up your neck and your stomach feels tense with anticipation. Usually, you'd think he would be—but he's not even looking at you, completely and utterly focused on the question.
Maybe he doesn't even realise.
The thought makes your skin crawl, but you push down these feelings (and try to ignore the soft touch of his fingers on your inner thighs), attempting at solving the question.
He shakes his head, brown curls falling over his pretty eyes. "No, that's not how you do it. I'll show you."
He leans forward and takes the pen from your hand—fingers brushing over yours—and wastes on time in solving the question while explaining its properties and what steps you need to take. Yukki is a good teacher. He's smart, he's thorough, and he makes sure you understand everything before you two move on.
But you really, really, can't focus because his fingers are now right atop your clothed cunt, stroking softly—it's driving you mad—and languidly, like it didn't do anything to you.
You hiss through your teeth when his index finger brushes over your clit, "Yukki..."
He looks so genuinely confused you almost believe he does not realise what he's doing, "Hm? What? Do you not understand?"
You furrow your brows in an angry motion, "No, are you kidding? You... You're—" The words die in your mouth as soon as you catch sight of the glowing, very much teasing, smirk on his lips.
Fuck. He does know what he's doing. Fucking prick.
You swallow thickly when his fingertips press a little harder, "Is this seriously the strategy you were talking about?"
He still acts oblivious, despite the way he's unabashedly glowing with joy, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let's just get back to the question. Do you understand it?"
You suck up your pride and take the pen from his grasp—solving the question easily. Yukimiya places his free hand on your head and pats it as a reward—his fingers stop moving so you have time to recuperate your thoughts—but this process soon repeats itself through the next three questions.
You can hardly think straight—but, a thought passes over your mind that maybe if you finish this up as soon as possible—he will finally stop teasing.
You find yourself working as quickly as possible—the sight is enough to please him. Perhaps this strategy really was working. Yukimiya thinks he's struck gold.
You look just like a regular diligent student—well, as diligent as a student can get with a hand shiver with their skirt. You're solving these questions with minimal difficulty and you're actually showing your working out. He hasn't felt this proud since he brought his pet turtle to show and tell in seventh grade (you teased him relentlessly for weeks after that, but he took like like a champ out of love for his pet).
... But still.
Perhaps a part of Yukimiya is rather selfish. A little voice that would never speak unless he found himself caught in a situation like this with you speaks up inside his brain—which makes his eyes glaze over with a sultry gleam and a small, almost harmless thought appear in his head.
What if...
With his sudden movement, you jolt in your chair and  hands fly to his wrists, clutching it over the fabric of your skirt. "Y... Yukki—!!! W—What—"
His two middle fingers plunge deep into your cunt and immediately take up a relentless pace—your chest begins to heave as he consistently keeps pressing against that soft, squishy spot inside of you that makes your mind fog up.
There's no freaking way you can act like— The thought dies in your throat when the heel of his palm rubs against your clit and you bite back a small whine.
The small little clicking sound that is made each time he thrusts his fingers in and out is almost inaudible in your ears when he begins to speak, lips brushing against your ear, "Keep going, gorgeous. Don't let me stop you now. You're doing so good."
Your leg jitters against him when he smiles against your ear and he feels your cunt pulse.
Still, you pick up your shaky fingers and try to keep a steady grip of the pen—it's hard when all you want is to throw your head back on his shoulder and sit there all pretty for him—but you know better than to ignore Yukimiya Kenyu.
Despite his gleeful demeanor, he seems to take joy in asserting himself over you. You wondered if maybe he just had a sick kink.
Every time you came close to solving the question—he would press harder and harder, and every time you tried to lean back onto his shoulder, he would stop abruptly and ask you what you think you are doing.
You just could not win with Yukimiya Kenyu.
He's driving you crazy. Maybe this is how you make him feel on a daily basis—but you actually think you're going to go mental from this torture. Your handwriting had gotten noticeably messier and more shaky every time you tried to solve that question—even when you did, his pace was absolutely relentless. He did not let up.
"Yukki!" You whine out, cheeks all puffed like a cute little fish and you glare at him with so much anger he actually almost feels bad for a second. Almost.
He takes far too much enjoyment in something like this to feel any menial sense of guilt toward you. Besides, it's not like you didn't have this coming. Despite all this, he knows you will take whatever gives you graciously because you are absolutely enamored with him.
(He thinks that, with a small smile. It's okay for him to say that, right? It's not like it's not reciprocated.)
"Yes?" He responds, slowly, teasingly. He can feel your thigh start to shake as a sign of your impending orgasm, so he starts to slow his thrusts—the tantalizingly sluggish drag of his fingertips across your walls give you a little more than nothing.
You could scream in frustration. He grabs ahold of your thigh and tugs it over his left leg, so that you don't get a chance to close your thighs are his hand—it makes it all the more torturous.
Your words are breathy and heavy on your tongue, "Yukki... lemme... please let me—"
His thrusts speed up, and his thumb begins to rub hard circles on your clit. Your chest heaves with each breath and you start to moan sweetly into his ear. You throw your head back, onto his shoulder and grip onto your skirt—but this time he does not stop. In fact, he seems to go even faster.
You can practically envision the smug expression he must have on his face at this moment—his ego fed and arrogance through the roof. "What? You wanna cum?"
Mindlessly, and desperately, you nod. White-hot fire starts to churn in your lower belly and it spreads to the tips of your toes when he keeps rubbing harder. You're getting close, with your stomach twisting and heart beginning to beat in your ears.
"Y—Yeah... please..." Somehow, you manage right choke that out and whimper right into his ear.
Your thighs begin to shake. He does not stop. "You wanna feel good, gorgeous? Go ahead." He presses a soft, chaste kiss to your temple—an almost laughable contrast to how you're nearly brought to tears by your orgasm, lower half shaking and rutting up into his unrelenting touch with a sense of desperation.
He likes it when you're desperate. It makes you all the more cute.
He helps you ride out your pleasure, all with a pretty grin. Your babbling thanks and praises for his fingers soon die down when your post-orgasmic haze hits you, and you lean back into his touch with low breaths.
After a few minutes of him just holding you like this, hand placed lightly on your thigh—you look up at him, then down, then back up again. "You want me to help you out with that?"
He seems to be slightly taken aback by your bold offer—despite moments before, he sported a cocky smirk and sultry gaze—but manages to gather his composure quickly enough to answer.
He shakes his head and gazes at you kindly, "Oh, you don't have to. I still need to teach you some more formulas—"
Your brows furrow and your remove your leg from over his. "Yukki—don't be like that. Lemme take care of you, okay? Yeah..."
A smile falls upon your lips as his cheeks grow pink. Even when your duck down below his desk—it feels all so surreal. Even when you tug down his grey sweats that did not hide anything, it almost feels like a figment of his imagination.
It no longer does when he feels the fiery enclosure that is your lips wrap around the redden leaky tip of his cock. Yukimiya slaps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes taut shut. His heart is beating a million miles an hour in his chest. He feels like he cannot breathe, but the air gets knocked out his lungs all the same when your move your mouth down.
You use your hand to spread his pre around the base of him—jerking off what your mouth did not fit, until you go a little lower. He thinks his face may be on fire. The hand that does not cover the lower half of his face grips the edge of his table with full force.
He dares not to look down at you and dares not to catch the nasty, foxish gleam in your eyes.
You go down more, then back up. You press a chaste, loving kiss to the bulging tip, then, you go back down again. This time, a little further. You keep doing this until your jaw relaxes enough for your nose to press against the smooth skin of his abdomen—you allow your hands to wander his hard stomach.
"[name]..." His voice trails off shakily, a small moan escaping his lips as his hips jerk forward. You choke a little, but keep going. His glasses are growing foggy from his hot, heavy breaths and he doesn't think he's ever felt any hotter.
The room temperature must have shot up by at least twenty degrees. He feels searing.
Yukimiya's heart nearly beats out of his chest when you pull back once more, staring directly into his half-lidded, cloudy amber irises, and gave a sloppy kiss to the cute little freckle that was on the pulsing head of his dick.
His breathing picks up and his chest heaves. Fuck.
He groans aloud as your mouth sinks back down and your throat presses around his cock. His hips jerk forward again, and he takes this reaction as his opportunity to start thrusting. You suddenly sit still with your jaw as open as it would allow you to be—as Yukimiya lazily thrusts into your mouth.
His hand entangled itself into your hair and he grabs a tight hold of your head as he moves you to his heart's content. The wet choking noises that you make when your lips are snugly wrapped around the base of his cock give him butterflies.
He looks down at you, sweat beading on the side of his face and low grunts escaping his lips, "Ffffuck.... So... mmmm..."
He can hardly firm actual words—his head lolls back and his eyes shut in pure bliss.
Searing hot electricity zaps through his veins—his abdomen contracts, and it's a telltale sign he's getting closer. You use your tongue as much as possible while his thrusts are getting wild and erratic —his groans soon turn into desperate puffs of air.
"[name]...! Gonna..." His hot and heavy pants ring in your ears and his low groans are such a noise you'd never expect to come out of such a perfect pretty boy's mouth. He pants hard. "[name]...!! [name]...!!"
It seems your name is the only word he can formulate at the moment, when his cock twitches in your mouth and spurts of white shoot out the tip right into your throat.
He grabs your hair hard and presses you as close to his abdomen as you can get—hips shaky as you squeal and your throat instinctively tightens—the whine he lets out is something that will forever be imprinted into your memory.
You nearly cough it all up when he finally pulls out of your lips—breathing growing steady and shoulders relaxed into a calm posture—but you force yourself to swallow, and you give him the cutest smile you can possibly muster when you do.
Yukimiya stares down at you with hazy honeyed eyes filled with unbridled lust—hidden only behind the fogged up lens of his rounded glasses. "[name]... You..."
He looks embarrassed when you stick out your tongue at him and it is perfectly clean. He places a big hand on your head—a stark difference compared to his previous way of gripping your hair—he strokes it softly under his touch. "Good girl..."
He chuckles.
Yukimiya Kenyu looks absolutely debauched—you don't think you've ever seena prettier sight. His shirt is disheveled and his cheeks are a searing hot red. He is absolutely gorgeous.
That why, when you crawl up from your kneeling position, and he cradles your aching red knees when you place yourself flat on his lap, you kiss him with all the love you can muster. You do not feel much love—but all of the adoration you do feel is directed solely at Yukimiya.
"So, how did I do, Mister Tutor?" A teasing, coy smile places itself on your lips when you pull away, hand sneakily running itself all over his hard torso.
The smile he beams at you is nothing less than radiant. "A+."
© KENYUMMY 2024
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moonriverrise · 2 years ago
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Steve has a secret, well “secret” may not be the correct way to describe it. He has something for himself, thats what. Ever since he stopped playing basketball and doing swim competitions once he graduated he's had way more free time, which at first he filled with shifts at Family Video, or bothering Robin.
Then, when she started school he started doing art more. Which, may come a surprise to many, as he never really talked about his interest in paintings and old art.
Greek sculptures that are able to show life in a still ethereal way, while still being able to twist it at their will. Renaissance oil paintings, capturing tragedy yet still being able to portray it as beautiful, in their own terrible twisted ways.
He likes sketching on paper, painting on canvas. His paintings aren't usually too different from the things he sees around him. Honestly thats the only things he paints, people, his friends, places he goes, things he sees that stick with him, dreams, moments that play on repeat in his head.
Around his Junior year, after the Demogorgon, Steve had turned the sad basement in his sad empty house, into his own space. A place where he can go and do his art, hang it, play music on his walkman, or using the record player he got from a pawn shop a few months prior. Somehow the basement is the only space that actually feels like his in his house, not even his bedroom.
Steve’s art was not very consistent to be honest, mostly the kids and Robin, landscapes that he liked, the Demogorgon/dogs, the Mindflayer (he needs some way of getting those out of his head, and somehow drawing them down feels freeing.) He does have a few paintings of Nancy from when they were together, she’s become less of a model for his work after everything though.
The last time he painted her in a painting alone, was one of that bathroom in a girl he barely knows’ house, a spilled drink on Nancy’s dress, and red solo cups littering the counter.
Steve’s art shifts though, after a moment that will never leave his mind. He knows who Eddie Munson is, obviously. How could he not? Honestly Steve isn't that surprised Henderson and the others befriended the guy, he does run a DnD club.
But then, Henderson needs a ride home after their club meetings because his mom is working late, and then Lucas and Mike’s parents are also asking Steve to pick them up too. Babysitting duty, as per usual.
Steve arrives a bit earlier than he planned. He didn't have any project to consume himself into, hitting an art block begrudgingly. But then, Steve sees Eddie Munson, sitting on a fake throne, watching the kids and other club members argue, he has his chin rested on his fist, and he's wearing a white tank top, showing off his shoulders, given the fact it’s still September.
The lighting of the small theater room captures Steve’s interest like a moth to the flame, and he is regretting having left his sketchbook at home, even though he never draws around the kids or anyone he knows.
Eddie Munson’s face and curly locks fill up the pages of Steve’s journal and some canvases for months after, and Steve rarely genuinely complains about coming to pick the kids up.
Afterwords, months later from that day. Chrissy Cunningham dies, and Eddie Munson almost goes with her. God, or whatever deity that was looking down upon him, was on Steve’s side in that moment, when he was able to revive Eddie and then drag him out of the Upside Down.
Steve gets closer with Eddie after that, they become actual friends. Steve was so used to witnessing his muse from afar, it was so…exciting, to see Eddie in all his glory, just a few feet away, and his smile being directed at him.
“Do you even have any hobbies, Harrington?” Steve blinks. Him, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and the party, are all hanging out by the pool. Steve is lounging on one of the chairs, sunglasses over his eyes as Eddie talks beside him.
“What?” Steve responds.
“I mean…I like barely ever see you do anything besides sort Movies at Family Video, or boss around the kids. Like, what do you do when we're not all together?” Eddie asks, moving his hand a little as he talks. Steve thinks for a moment.
“Funny,” Steve answers instead. Eddie scoffs.
“I'm being serious, man! What do you do?” Eddie laughs a little, most likely at the ridiculousness of it all. What would Steve know, Eddie is like a puzzle, and Steve has to take every minute slowly, deciphering everything he lays out for him, via tongue or action.
“I don't know, what do you do?” Steve says, almost carefully.
“Band stuff, DnD, Writing,” Eddie lists. “And I guess saving the world now, but thats a bit of a side hussle.” Steve scoffs.
“Whatever, man.” And thats that, they don't talk about it again. But it sticks with Steve, because his friends really do think he doesn't do anything with his life. It's not like he has college classes to study for, so what does he do?
Later, maybe two or three weeks after, Steve decides he wants to show Eddie his space. The two of them are alone, Robin is in Nevada, visiting her grandparents, so the trio’s usual movie night is cut down to a duo’s movie night.
Although Steve finds himself mostly focusing on Eddie and his beautiful hair sitting next to him, than watching ET. The little alien scares him a bit anyway. Eddie notices him staring though, his eyes flickering to meet Steves, then a smirk spreading across his lips.
“We are watching a movie, lover boy.” Eddie says. Steve goes red, his gaze shifting to his lap. Steve furrows his eyebrows then stands and shuts the TV off. “Woah! Hey!”
“I want to show you something.” Steve says, it's a bit quieter than he meant it to be, but his tone indicates something to Eddie, which has him staring at Steve, starstruck.
Steve walks out the room and hears Eddie follow him. He gets to the basement door and opens it, flicks on the stair light.
“Basement- woah- okay, guess I'm getting murdered. Thought I’d go out in a more metal way than this.” Eddie says as they walk down. Steve laughs a little and shakes his head.
“I just think you should see this.” Steve says. “Nothing life threatening, I promise.”
“Alright, I trust you, Stevie.”
“Good.”
Steve turns and flicks on the light as they step onto the concrete. The lights flicker on, revealing the paintings on the walls and art supplies on the tables and counters.
“Woah-” Eddie says. “Is this, all your stuff?” Steve sighs, he folds his arms and faces Eddie. He looks shellshocked.
“Yeah.” Steve says. “You said I don't have any hobbies, I do, actually.” Eddie looks around, walking slowly.
“Is that Henderson? Why is he wearing yellow gloves?” Eddie asks. Steve walks over to a painting of Dustin from Steve’s angle while they were walking on the train tracks, a bucket of raw meat is in one hand and he's wearing the headphones for his radio.
“D’Art,” Steve says. “That was when we were leading him away. I made that one after everything happened. I was trying not to think about the Demogorgon stuff and everything, so I just drew him. I have one of Max from that day I never finished painting in a stack I think too.” Eddie doesn't say anything for a minute after Steve is done explaining.
“You can paint.” Eddie says, though not like a question. “These are beautiful…” Eddie looks around and walks to another one he sees. It's one of the Byers and Hopper’s, all hugging while laughing. El looks the happiest. Steve had painted that after they had all gotten together after everything. “Why…didn't you tell anyone?”
“About what?” Steve asks, folding his arms as Eddie brings up a hand to touch the painting.
“This- Steve, you're amazing at this. These are…” Eddie trails off as something catches his eye, he slowly starts to walk towards a big painting propped up behind one of the tables laid out in the middle of the room. Steve walks to him to see which one he's looking at.
An angel, knelt over a puddle, crying as it stares at his reflection, which is blurred and dark. He stands in a forest, his wings are long and huge, sprawling out above him.
It’s one of Steve’s bigger ones, the inspiration came from a dream he had after they had read about Icarus in his english class back in Highschool.
“It’s… magnificent.” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles gently at Eddie’s reaction. Eddie backs up a bit and looks away from the painting. “Is that me?” Steve follows his eye, to the painting. Eddie walks towards it, Steve stays behind him. It’s the first one Steve ever made of Eddie, the one of him on the throne.
“Yeah, it is.” Steve says. “I made that the first night I came to pick up the kids.” He says. “The first time I met you, actually met you.” They share a look.
“You are incredible, Steve Harrington.”
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holdmytesseract · 12 days ago
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Okay so I saw your post asking for an idea with Daryl in season one of his show, so here goes:
Reader is also American, who has been with the nuns for a while. Five years, maybe. She went looking for something (you can decide what!) and ended up stranded in France. Naturally, she picked up French and sort of became a translator for Daryl. One day, maybe when they’re at the school with all the kids and the sick teacher, the kids can see the way Daryl looks at reader, and vice versa, and they’re continuously teasing them about it. Daryl obviously doesn’t understand what they’re saying, but he figures it out by the way reader acts all shy and bashful and suddenly can’t look him in the eye when the kids are around. The ending is totally up to you!
Idk this is a silly idea. You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, ofc. I love and appreciate you regardless 💜
He loves me - he loves me not... 🌼
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: When a strange man suddenly stumbles into your life, you didn't think much of it. Until you had to admit to yourself that you had fallen in love with him - and it didn't stay unrecognised...
Warnings: possible Spin-Off S1 spoiler, usual TWD stuff? fluff, some slight drama... idiots in love?
Set in S1 of the Spin-Off series!
Word Count: 4,2k
a/n: Thank you, @dixons-sunshine , for that wonderful request! 🧡 And a HUGE thanks to @fictive-sl0th , for being my translator and for helping me along with this. 🧡
EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist
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"A bunch of bad decisions," was the man's answer to your question.
"How did you end up 'ere?" He threw it immediately back at you. "A bunch of bad decisions, huh? Well... I could say the same." You took a deep breath of the fresh Spring air. "I, uh, travelled to France for my boyfriend. He had a work trip which took him here. Paris, to be exactly. It was meant to be a surprise, but... When I arrived at the hotel he stayed in, I caught him in bed with another woman, so, yeah... Should've stayed at home in LA." He looked at you; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. "'M sorry 'bout that." "Don't be. He was an asshole." You immediately waved him off. "After a few days, I decided to fly back home, but then everything collapsed... The world collapsed. I was forced to stay. That's when I met Isabelle. We both needed help, so she took me with her. That's how I ended up here. Unfortunately, neither me nor the nuns were able to help her sister - but that's a different story." You gave the man a soft smile, which he answered with a nod; once more biting the inside of his bottom lip.
You had shown the stranger - Daryl, around the abbey and were now on your way to the kitchen, in order to get the man Isabelle had so suddenly dragged into your life something to eat. You weren't a nun, but it has been a long time since you had lastly seen other people besides the women who lived here - let alone a man... You felt nervous and awkward, but also a strange kind of happiness and excitement. Perhaps it was normal. Especially in a world like that...
He had followed you in silence then; his eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. However was the silence highly unpleasant - at least for you, so you decided to start another conversation - even though you knew that what you were about to ask him was probably the most stupid way to get him indulged in another chat... "Are your clothes fitting? They alright?" You gazed over at the gruff and visibly marked, yet undeniably handsome fellow American.
You noticed how he began to fumble with the beige suspenders he wore; giving himself a once-over. "Yeah, thank ya. Jus'... Ain't what 'm bein' used to." You could imagine. After all, you saw what he had been wearing when Isabelle had brought him in... Tattered jeans, a washed up black shirt and a more or less damaged and yellowed leather vest with angel wings on it. Oh, and that poncho. You reckoned he went from 'bad boy biker' to 'good boy church-goer' only within a few days. The black slacks, light blue woollen sweater and the suspenders were definitely not his style, and yet it suited him to perfection - that was at least what you thought.
"Sorry about that. It's the only men clothing we got around here. Obviously," you joked; trying to light the mood - and it worked. The man snorted out a small laugh.
That was the first memory you held of Daryl Dixon. You couldn't deny that your eyes had gotten stuck on Daryl that day - and now, a few days, weeks or even months, who knew, later you still hadn't been able to pull them away. Was it love at first sight? You didn't know. All you knew was that the man who had stumbled into your life out of nowhere drew you in like a moth to a flame.
When the abbey fell and only Isabelle, Sylvie, Laurent and you were left, you didn't even think a second about parting ways with Daryl. He certainly was stuck with the four of you now - and vice versa. The mission was clear... Bringing Laurent to the nest; first destination Paris.
Like always proved the way to be more difficult than anticipated; with a lot of stones getting thrown into your path. That was most likely the reason why you ended up imprisoned by a horde of kids and teenagers, who lived inside their old school. Well... 'imprisoned' wasn't the right term anymore after a thorough conversation - and a little white lie. Quite the opposite... You had become guests and even got invited for dinner; no longer being considered a threat. Luckily.
Now you were standing in the former classroom turned into a kitchen to do the dishes. You volunteered for this; wanting to give something in return for the kids' hospitality. To your slight surprise volunteered Daryl as well, what got only smiled at by Isabelle and Sylvie - much to your confusion. You didn't know what was so funny about that... Yet.
"Almost done," you stated with a smile and handed the man beside you one of the last plates needing to be cleaned. The archer took it with a grunt; his hand accidentally brushing yours - and you could've sworn that your stomach did a 360; his touch leaving a sizzle behind on the skin of your hand. It caused you to stop in your movements and lift your head to meet the mysterious man's eyes - blue-greyish pools, in which you got immediately threatened to drown. It took you everything to hold on. All you could see and focus on was him; causing the rational part of your brain to immediately send a distress message to your heart and asking what was going on. Well... Deep down you knew and it wasn't really difficult to figure it out... Falling in love with a man you barely knew. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Could you prevent it from happening? No.
"Madame Y/N, père (father) Daryl!" The voice of a young boy suddenly cut through the air and caused you to fall from cloud nine back down to earth. Blinking, you turned your head - and your attention to the approaching child, whose footsteps could be already heard against the wooden floor. Unbeknownst to you, did it take Daryl a second to get himself together as well; the archer highly confused about what just happened. The foreign feeling coursing through his veins did not fail to scare him a little bit.
"Dans la cuisine! (In the kitchen!)," you called back; leading him to the right destination. The boy appeared in the door frame within a few seconds; a huge smile on his face. "Allez! Nous avons allumé le générateur! (You have to come! We powered up the generator!) " The kid exclaimed happily; a huge smile on his face. "Nous serons avec vous dans une minute. Nous avons presque terminé ici (We'll be with you in a minute. We're almost done here.)," you answered and gave him a smile in return. He nodded, "Bien! (Alright!)" and stormed off again.
You turned back to Daryl; instantly seeing the question marks displayed on his face. He didn't even ask you to translate for him. You just did it. It sort of came naturally to you. By now you literally had become his personal translator - together with Isa. Sylvie was still a little shy around the man and Laurent was improving his English skills.
"He said we have to come. They powered up the generator. Guess it's time to watch some TV," you explained; smiling. "Let's get this done and go." Daryl nodded; the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "A'right."
Once you and Daryl were finished with the task at hand, you made your way through the building and up to the attic; side by side. "Did ya already speak French as you got stranded 'ere?" The archer suddenly spoke up to break the not necessarily unpleasant silence between the both of you. You shook your head. "No, I didn't. I remembered some words I learned back in school. Basic stuff, you know?" "So ya learned to speak French?" You nodded, "Yeah, I did." and shrugged your shoulders. "Had to. I spent now over ten years in France. Had a lot of time to learn the language... Isa was a good teacher, and Laurent the best classmate." The man beside you nodded; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. You noticed from the very beginning that he had the tendency to do that. A habit, possibly?
When you reached the attic, everybody was waiting for you and Daryl already. The kids were antsy and bubbly; full of anticipation and impatiently waiting for the big screen to light up.
Daryl sat down on an empty seat beside a young, blond boy. Your plan was to join him, but Laurent waved you over with a smile; silently asking to sit with him. Of course, you couldn't say no to the boy's wish, and sent your fellow American an apologising gaze, which he acknowledged with a jut of his head; telling you it was okay. So, you sat down beside Laurent with a smile and wrapped an arm around him; halfway hugging him. He meant a lot to you. After all, you knew him since the day he was born. He was family - just like Sylvie and Isabelle.
No minute later, the screen lit up and the 'TV programme' started to play - much to all kids' joy and excitement. The series you were watching was one you were familiar with... 'Mork & Mindy'. It was a series you didn't catch when it first got shown on TV, but your dad introduced you to it a few years later. Glancing over to Daryl, you could see on his face that he knew 'Mork & Mindy' as well. The man's lips were curled up in a soft smile. It definitely looked like he was visiting the past in his mind; probably thinking back to his childhood.
It wasn't the only glance you stole at Daryl that evening. Your eyes wandered way more often to him than you actually noticed. You didn't, but quite a few another pairs of eyes did... Familiar and unfamiliar...
It was already quite late when everybody returned from the wonderful 'movie night' and retreated to their rooms. You shared a room, and bed with Isabelle - not for the first time in all those years, so neither of you had a problem with that. Why would you?
The nun had already settled down in bed and watched you join her with a small smirk on her lips. A smirk you knew quite well by now. "What?" She looked at you; still smiling. "The French are very poetic and love poetry, you know."
Why is she telling me this? You asked yourself.
"Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point," the blond woman spoke in her native tongue to quote Blaise Pascal; her smile never faltering. You frowned. "The heart has reasons the mind doesn't know? What's that supposed to mean, Isa? Is there something you want to tell me, or...?" The nun just smiled. "Oh, I think you know what I mean. Well, at least your heart does. I noticed, you know." You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest. "Could you please stop talking in riddles? Noticed what?"
A soft chuckle left Isabelle's lips. You didn't get it. "The way you look at him."
And suddenly, it fell like scales from your eyes, causing your cheeks to turn beet red. "I-I..." You stammered; looking everywhere but at your friend. "You, uh... You see that?" "I dare to say that it's not very subtle, Y/N." You swallowed. "O-Oh..."
Isabelle smiled and patted the free space on the bed beside her. Cautiously, you climbed in and sat down on the old mattress; criss-crossing your legs. "Why are you embarrassed? You don't have to. L‘amour, l‘amour - ça arrive toujours." You smiled softly at her; fumbling with your hands. "I don't know... It's just... I actually barely know him. How can I fall in love with a stranger?" Isabelle shrugged her shoulders, "Your heart knows. Isn't that enough? Don't question it." and placed a hand on your wrist. "Perhaps isn't Laurent and the mission the only reason God sent Daryl to us..." She smiled again, and you couldn't help but widen your smile.
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Your friend wasn't the only one who noticed the looks you were giving Daryl - like you found out on the next day. You were supposed to go on a small mission with Lou - the kids' group leader and Daryl, but you headed out on the once intact and most likely beautiful school yard earlier; deciding to get some fresh air. You watched Laurent play with a some of the other kids; smiling. Some were playing tag, some hide & seek and a few others had a huge rope and were skipping. You didn't think much of it at first, but then you listened closer to what the two girls were singing while swinging the rope. Your brain instantly translated the song, since you knew it so very well. You sang it yourself, back in your school days...
"Y/N and Daryl sitting in the tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage!"
You blinked, had to listen twice to make sure you heard that right... You did. They were singing the kissing song, including your and Daryl's name... "Hey, ya a'right?" The sudden sound of the voice from the man in question urging to your ears ripped you out of your thoughts, but didn't improve your situation. Not even in the slightest. You could still hear the girls singing - now even louder as it seemed; given the fact that Daryl joined you to sit on the small wall by the fence.
Instantly, your cheeks reddened; shocked and even a little embarrassed that also the kids - strange kids noticed that, and of course, because Daryl's presence.
You cleared your throat; quickly nodding. "Yeah, uh, sure. All good." You could tell from the look on your crush's face that he was quite suspicious about your behaviour and answer, but he dropped it and accepted your answer with a nod.
The both of you continued to watch the kids with an unpleasant silence between you, until you noticed a young girl approaching you with a smile. "Y/N?" You gave her a smile. "Oui?" "Tu es américaine? (You are from America, right?)" You nodded. "En fait, je viens de Los Angeles. (Yes, I am from Los Angeles.)" The girl nodded and glanced shortly at the bulky man sitting beside you. "Et père Daryl, il est aussi américain? (And father Daryl is American, too?)" You nodded once more. "Oui, il est. (Yes, he is, too.)"
She smiled and brought out a daisy from behind her back. "Donc, tu connais la comptine 'Je t’aime' ou ça n'existe pas en Amérique? (Do you have the 'He loves me - he loves me not.' game in America as well?)"
You swallowed hard at her words; knowing of course exactly what she meant - or rather what she hinted at. "Je crois que oui, mais je ne l’ai jamais entendu en français. (We do, yeah. But I, uh, don't know how it goes in French.)" The little girl's eyes widened; now shimmering with excitement. "D‘accord! Je te montrerai! (Alright! I show you!)" She started the 'He loves me - he loves me not.' rhyme; all the while plucking petals from the daisy. You listened closely; trying to be attentive.
Meanwhile Daryl was 'just' a silent participant of whatever was going on. The archer didn't understand a single word - besides his name - of what you and the girl had talked about. Until she pulled out the daisy from behind her back...
She finished plucking the daisy until the last petal. A big smile lit up her sweet face as she gazed at you, then Daryl and back at you again. And before you could even say something, she brought out another daisy; now stretching out her hand to you. "C'est ton tour! (Now your turn!)" The excited child in front of you announced.
You would've lied, if you said you didn't see it coming. Of course you did - and that child was a smart girl. She also knew what she did.
Swallowing hard once again, you gently took the daisy from her small hand - a nervous smile on your face. Doing like the girl showed you, you started the rhyme; trying to remember how it went and plucked the petals of the little flower in your hand.
"Je t'aime, un peu, beacoup, tendrement, passionnément, à la folie, pas du tout..." Of course was destiny a lousy traitor and you landed at 'beacoup'- a lot... Now you couldn't prevent the blush from spreading all across your cheeks. You desperately tried to play it cool, given the fact that the man who literally was this all about was sitting right beside you - most likely knowing what was going on. Sure, he may not speak French, but you were quite certain that he knew the game you and the little girl had just played. He knew what was going on. You did not dare to look at Daryl; too afraid of his reaction.
And the little girl? She just giggled and once more looked from you to the archer and back, before she turned on her heels and ran away.
Unpleasant silence lingered between you and Daryl. The man knew the game you had just played - but he was still oblivious of your feelings for him. Yes, the little girl's looks were quite revealing, but why would such a beautiful, stunning creature like you fall in love with a brute, messed-up redneck like him? Impossible. He needed a proof; to test this insane theory.
"Y/N-" Your name leaving his lips was enough to send you into a frenzy - and you panicked. Hastily standing up from the little wall, you fled; quick steps carrying you as far away from the archer as possible.
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After the 'incident' in the school yard, you and Daryl didn't talk for days. Only necessary conversations were held. Nothing more. And even during those, you struggled. You couldn't look Daryl in the eyes. Not even for a second. You were sure that the others noticed as well, but just didn't decide to intervene. Your usually extroverted and open self had turned into a shy, bashful woman - as soon as Daryl invaded your space. You were just too afraid of rejection and unrequited feelings - what in your point of view was most likely the case. You may not knew him a long time, but you could tell that he was a lone wolf. He didn't need your or any other company.
You sat on one of the big, wooden tables, close to the edge of the rooftop. A few candles were the only source of light, as you overlooked the once so bright and shiny city of love, which had turned dark, cold and dead. At least at night. The rusting, decaying Eiffel Tower looming above the darkness; only illuminated by the full moon shining from above the sky. It held a strange kind of beauty.
Footsteps and some rustling noises coming undoubtedly from behind you piqued your attention. Nevertheless, you didn't turn to face the approaching person. You didn't have to. You knew by the sounds of the heavy boots connecting with the concrete ground to whom the steps belonged - and it caused your heart immediately to speed up...
Daryl.
Wordlessly, he took a seat beside you; picking nervously at his hands. From the corner of your eye you saw that he was still wearing the black slacks, woollen sweater and suspenders. Did that man ever sleep? Apparently not.
Silence was still lingering between the both of you; spread over your bodies like an invisible blanket - until the archer cleared his throat. "Can't sleep?" You swallowed hard and shook your head; nervosity skyrocketing. "I, uh, needed some fresh air," you answered; still not deigning to look at him. Daryl nodded - rather to himself than to you, and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a moment; contemplating his next words.
"Couldn't sleep 'n was thinkin' the same." You didn't answer; not having the slightest clue what to say.
Daryl kept quiet as well; recognising that what he had on his mind turned out to be way more difficult to say than he anticipated... His brain worked hard to try and figure out a new plan, but not really successfully.
He had to suppress a groan. Why were things like this always so difficult and complicated? He just wished he could just follow an instruction...
After a few minutes and a trillion failed ideas, Daryl just threw wind into caution and went: Fuck it - and go like a bull at a gate.
"Yer avoidin' me."
Three words... Three words shouldn't leave such a sting on your heart, right? And yet they did. You were walking a thin line between being ashamed and nervous. "I-I do?" Daryl snorted out a scoff; crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "Ya ain't shittin' me, woman. I ain't blind or stupid." "W-Well, I... I don't mean to, it's just... complicated...," you stammered; unable to find the right words to explain this to the man. "'S complicated now, but a week ago it wasn't? Why? 'S not makin' sense." And he was right. You knew he was. He had backed you up against the wall. You ran out of arguments and white lies; leaving you no space to escape.
"It... It's because..." You sighed. "You know why. You know what happened in that school yard. You're a smart man, Daryl. Don't tell me you didn't figure it out and count one and one together."
The archer's heart fluttered at your words. He did read the sign correctly - and the realisation made his stomach flip. A sensation he hadn't felt often in his life before. Something he never thought he'd be graced with experiencing.
Daryl could tell how nervous and antsy this conversation made you, so he tried to keep it together. For yours and his sake.
Though, nobody said this was easy... And words weren't exactly his strong suit.
"A'right, listen..." He may have been ineloquent, but he knew how to compensate it. Especially when body language failed him as well.
"There was this man. Jus' a normal guy in this broken world. He went out lookin' for somethin', but... All he found was trouble. 'N tha' trouble brought him to a place so far from home. All across the ocean, 'n... All the man wanted was to go back 's fast 's possible; this bein' the only damn thing on his mind... Gettin' back home; back where he thought he belonged. But then somethin' happened 'n suddenly he saw things with diff'rent eyes..." "What happened?" Your mouth spoke quicker than you brain could think. Daryl shrugged his shoulders; the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. "A woman."
Your eyes widened and you finally dared to turn your head to look at him - directly into his beautiful blue-grey eyes, and it almost left you breathless. "H-He... He fell in love?" You witnessed Daryl chewing on the pad of his thumb, before he gave you a nod. "Yeah, 's what people do, right?" He slid cautiously closer to you, until his hand brushed the back of your hand. "Fallin' in love..." Daryl whispered in his deep, raspy voice, and slowly took your smaller hand in his big, clammy hand; loosely intertwining your fingers.
Your heart almost stopped; a gasp leaving your lips as the final realisation kicked in... He reciprocated your feelings. They weren't unrequited. The love was mutual - and it caused a firework of emotions to explode within you; blowing away all the negativity. The shyness, the embarrassment, the shame.
A smile spread over your whole face - so bright it could light up the whole world. Daryl was sure of it. Throwing caution to the wind - driven by the love coursing through your veins, you quickly leaned over and pressed your lips against Daryl's. You could tell that he was slightly taken by surprise - but he did not pull away. The archer could never reject you. Quite the opposite...
He lifted his free hand and gently cupped your cheek in his palm; feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips and locking your lips to his. The kiss was clumsy and slightly chaotic; given the fact that he hadn't kissed somebody in a very long time. Not that you minded. You weren't better. In your eyes the kiss was perfect. Daryl-like.
You smiled; still with your eyes closed, before you slid closer to the archer as well. You rested your head against his shoulder; feeling the fabric of his woollen sweater slightly scratch your cheek.
"Yer comin' with me back home, right?" You nodded instantly. "I'd love to." Daryl smiled and squeezed your hand. "Yer gonna love Alexandria... The Commonwealth, n' all the people livin' there. I jus' know it."
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lily-onher-grave · 1 month ago
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okay okay okay thoughts/excited ramblings about the wicked movie under the cut bc i've seen it and now i'm insane about it again
let's be real it's kinda hard to fumble the opening number of a musical especially when that opening number is no one mourns the wicked and yet i was still absolutely blown away it was SO GOOD
the lil munchkins running, the singing in the streets, the posters of the witch (side note all the artwork was insanely good and just added so much to the style of oz i feel like) it was all so awesome
NOMTW becomes so sinister and they nailed it
obligatory emotional babbling about glinda standing alone in the crowd as everyone sings 'the wicked's lives are lonely'
before i left for the theater i was like 'take your bets on if i'll cry' and my roommate and i agreed that yeah obviously i would. but what i didn't expect is for ariana's sad face to knock me out in five minutes flat. i was done for
the effigy. holy shit. and handing the torch to glinda. i want to go see the whole thing again just so i can rewatch that scene. my heart still hurts
(also nanny! sort of not really. but i liked the childhood scenes i liked that elphaba had one (1) good thing in her life before shiz)
SHIZ okay shiz honestly shiz was the thing i was most excited for bc c'mon, we don't write about our gothic magic school all the time in fic for nothing. and honestly it was so good. the shots of the whole castle! the library design! the balcony moments and the stairways and just like the layers of architecture and the way morrible could kind of be anywhere at any time. the way it felt so grand and yet so small at the same time. idk man the vibes were good and the set was beautiful
glinda arriving by boat was magical that's all
the way everything dillamond had was tailored to him was fantastic it was so good
actually i want to shout out the library set design again and how it tied into the clockwork theme that never gets fully called out even in the musical but it's still so good
where's my time dragon clock tho
also back up the scene where elphaba loses her temper in the courtyard--when she breaks the relief of the wizard, there's old artwork of Animals behind it and i gasped out loud when i saw it
and that was the first moment i thought 'this is brilliant but i still want an hbo dark fantasy political drama tv show based on the book'
speaking of the dark fantasy political drama tv shows, the Animal meeting!! i'm so glad they put more stuff like that in there
actually as a whole the movie felt more grounded and less comedic than the musical. i think they did a fantastic job of keeping the magic and silliness and charm and wonder of the show while still adding those extra bits of drama and dire circumstances
anyway gelphie fic prank wars trope is officially canon great work everybody handshakes all around. i was cackling (silently. i promise i'm a respectful moviegoer)
the ozdust ballroom being illegal makes so much sense. it being underwater was fucking cool. boq and nessa were actually really great and i usually don't care about them at all during this scene
also i love love love nessa and i cannot wait to see more of her. but showing her multiple times on the sidelines when elphie was being humiliated was such a good choice. the tension between nessa obviously caring for her sister yet always caring for herself more is so delicious and i always want to see it fleshed out more, and i think they did such a good job with her? her and elphaba have sweet moments which i love, and her wanting to be independent and only elphaba really understanding that is so so good. and having her just watching elphaba for so long before finally saying she can't watch. god i can't wait to see her be desperate and selfish and cold in act 2, it's gonna be so good
side note boq also looking upset by elphie being bullied. i miss my brotp man
but let's talk about what's most important: the gelphie dance. because oh my god i started crying all over again. so did elphaba. and glinda wiping her tears i'm dying i've died oh my god
i always get a little bit surprised when glinda seems more head over heels than elphaba. idk why. but ariana's glinda is absolutely more head over heels than cynthia's elphaba and i loved it
(they just. freaking LEFT the party. just zipped out of there as soon as they hugged. glinda was like hmmm i just realized some things and grabbed elphaba's hand and ran off while the night was young. and fiyero stared after them knowing that he stood no chance whatsoever)
also i'm like 72% sure the guys sitting next to me were a couple? and they both cried during the gelphie dance too and it was a very unexpected but very funny moment of solidarity
i say ariana's glinda is more head over heels and i stand by it but elphaba's fond little smile when glinda was pouting about sharing secrets almost made me start sobbing again they're so GOOD they're so CUTE and she is SO heart eyes for glinda immediately!!!
i need to be sedated i swear
popular was adorable 10/10 no notes absolutely nailed it i loved every second
also glinda sitting next to elphaba in class now. my heart <3
after dillamond gets hauled away (again with this being more violent and dark and those moments of drama coming through more in the movie i loveeee) glinda doesn't sit down until elphaba does
also they had several little moments of elphaba looking to glinda and glinda either shaking her head or nodding. they've been friends for 2 days and they're already having silent conversations i love them <3
the poppy spell? was sick as hell????
another seeing of wicked, another complete sense of bafflement as to why fiyero is there
i say this jokingly but the fiyero and elphaba romance really does feel like a product of the early 2000s especially now that it's on screen rather than on stage. idk maybe that's just the lesbian in me talking though
the train design is also sick but we knew that from the trailers
okay look logically yes i knew idina and kristin would have cameos. but i'd been crying on and off and one short day's magic had already taken hold so they caught me completely off guard. it was great
the wizard stuff was really sweet. and while i was hoping for more time put toward shiz and stuff, i do think those moments did a great job of 1) showing how much elphaba just wants to be loved 2) foreshadowing the wizard being her father and 3) laying the groundwork for her briefly considering working with the wizard in act 2, which is a decision that never quiteee feels right in the show
i love that they put more lore into the grimmerie btw. very cool
the hot air balloon was random but fun. i wonder if it'll come up again in act 2
every time. every damn time glinda starts singing in defying gravity i just want someone to end it right there. glinda grabs the broom, it fades to black, and they both lived happily ever after
fuck
defying gravity taking place at sunset because it's at the end of their one short day of happiness
also UM morrible coming up and hugging glinda when she's crying. exquisite emotional manipulation i'm screaming
elphie! seeing! her! inner! child! i loved the baby elphie scenes even though i prefer creepy 'horrors' elphaba always. but seeing her come back was sooooo fucking good
elphaba only ever relying on herself, in the end
glinda's final 'i hope you're happy' took me out, as it always does, as it always should. and reaching out from the balcony? i'm sobbing again
morrible dragging glinda into the darkness while elphaba flies into the sun! someone fucking help me i'm already wrecked by these two
honestly my biggest complaint is that now i have to wait for part two, i want to see the rest nowwwww
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koolades-world · 1 month ago
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do you think we'd be together in every life?
volume one: everyday life; lucifer
in which you and your lover are brought together over and over again no matter the timeline, no matter the circumstances
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"Lucifer, do you think we'd be together in every life?" You asked him.
"That's a silly question, my love. I'm sure of it." He responded.
...
You pulled up into the mostly empty parking lot in front of your work. You were excited for your first official day, despite having already spent a fair amount of time in your workspace, so you'd arrived early. A few others cars were sprinkled throughout the parking lot already. You gathered your bags, and headed into the building.
The first thing you did was drop everything off at your desk, and make sure you had everything you needed. Once that was set, you decided to head to the break room, and start the coffee pot for your coworkers.
The halls were empty, and most room lights were still off. While you were a bit too soon, that only gave yourself more time to prepare for the day. After all, elementary school started early, so you felt you should too. As a teacher, it was your duty.
When you entered the break room, it seemed as if someone had already been in there. The lights were on. A couple chairs were pulled out, and the coffee pot you'd intended to start was already ready. The fridge was also slightly ajar, so before you got yourself your morning coffee, you decided to shut it. What you weren't expecting, however, was to find a short, blond child staring up at you. He looked to be about eight or nine years old.
"Hi." You couldn't think of much else to say.
"Hello." He didn't move, but greeted you back.
"What are you doing in there?" You opened the door further to get a better look at him.
"It was too hot." He stated matter of factly. He glanced at you like you were interrupting something, and like he wanted nothing more than for you to leave him alone. You didn't know children could have a death glare that intense.
"It is warm in here." You nodded along with the child.
"My dad went to make it colder. He should be back soon." He picked up a random stick of butter that rested on a lower shelf of the fridge that had been in there for who knows how long, and looked at it. It seemed like he was doing everything he could to pretend you weren't there. You scrunched up your face, thinking. You believed the kid, but that didn't stop the situation from being odd.
"I'm back." The door to the break room opened, and you turned to meet the gaze of the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen in your life. He had dark hair, and intense red eyes. A pair of rectangular glasses sat on his nose, and wore a matching sweater vest. "Satan. Get out of the fridge." He sounded exasperated, but the young boy obeyed. He set the butter down back where he'd found it and shut the fridge door behind him.
"Hello! Nice to meet you. I assume this is your son?" You greeted the tall man happily.
"Yes. I'm sorry about him. I went to turn the AC on because he kept complaining about the heat." He let out a long sigh.
"I'm Mc, a new third grade teacher. This is my first day." You smiled pleasantly at him.
"Lucifer. Pleasure to be acquainted. I'm a junior high teacher. Seventh grade." He extended a hand to you. His nails were painted a messy, deep red. You took his hand, and shook it. His hands were freezing despite the room still being warm. "Satan. Introduce yourself. They're your teacher this year." Lucifer's words took you by surprise. He must've done his research.
"My name is Satan. My favorite animal is a cat, and my favorite color is green." He didn't move a muscle and stayed firmly planted beside his father.
"Satan..." Lucifer trailed off, tired.
"Well then, I'm Mx. Mc. I can't wait to get to know you this year! I love cats too. I have two at home." Satan's face lit up; a sharp contrast from the closed off kid you'd discovered in the fridge less than five minutes ago.
"Can I see pictures of them?" He stepped closer to you. his eyes sparkling.
"You can, but I left my phone in my classroom." You patted your pockets, realizing in your excitement, you'd left it in your bag.
"Dad. I'm going with them." The young boy less demanded, more stated a fact to his father.
"Are you alright with that? I'd hate to make you look after him for longer than you're supposed to." Lucifer asked.
"I don't mind at all! He can come pick his seat and help me do a little setting up." You were so excited that he'd warmed up to you. "Besides, it looks like you could use a break. You're much braver than me for handling middle school, and I imagine you need to time to prepare for the day, handsome." You patted his arm, and his tired expression morphed into one of surprise. He averted his eyes, seeming to want to look anywhere but your face, his ears tinged red.
"Thank you." He said. He picked up a cute little lunchbox and backpack from the corner of the room, and handed it to his son. "Have a good day. I'll see you this afternoon. I love you." He kissed the top of his head. Your heart melted at the affection he was showing Satan. Despite how exasperated he seemed with the boy, you could tell he loved him.
"Bye Dad." Satan's crooked smile was adorable. It was something you hadn't seen yet. He had a gap between his two front teeth that you would probably never forget.
"Ready?" You extended a hand to Satan.
"I'm ready to see pictures of your cats." Both you and Lucifer burst out laughing at his insistence. You waved to Lucifer, and he waved back. You looked forward to the end of the day, knowing you'd get to see him again.
The rest of the day flew by. Satan was very warm to you, but could've been nicer to his classmates. He almost made one boy cry, but he apologized, and seemed to become friends by the end of the day. Elementary ended before middle school, so you took it upon yourself to look after the boy until his dad was ready for him. You couldn't bring yourself to send him into a gaggle of middle schoolers.
So, when middle school finally let out, you gathered your things and walked Satan to Lucifer's classroom. Satan burst into the room, and hugged his dad. "Hi." Lucifer paused his cleaning up of the room.
"Before you ask, he was lovely to have as a student, and made some friends." You readjusted your bag on your shoulder.
"They have a black cat, and a gray cat." Rather than talk about his day, he told his dad about the conversation you'd had about your cats that morning. "We have to go meet them." Satan pointed at you.
"Satan, you can't just invite yourself over to other peoples home's." Lucifer, while he still seemed tired, sounded happy to be reunited with his child.
"I don't mind. If he does good in class, that is." You could tell he was a bright kid, and if that was the motivation he needed, you were more than happy to be that for him.
"I'll be the best then." Satan yelled. You began laughing again. You could already tell it was going to be a fun year.
"Then, it's a deal." You nodded. "Speaking of my cats, I need to get going home to them. I haven't left them alone for this long in a while."
"Bring new pictures of them tomorrow." His face was very serious, letting you know that he really wanted to see more of your cats.
"I can do that." You opened the door. "See you two then." You stepped out into the hall, but the door took it's time closing.
"We've talked about asking, rather then demanding things, bud." You heard Lucifer say.
"I'm doing you a favor. I'm helping you marry them." Satan stated that like it was common knowledge. Lucifer chocked on his words once he heard you laughing to yourself in the hallway. When the door finally shut itself, you could no longer hear the dynamic duo.
You gave what Satan said a little thought. You certainly wouldn't mind getting to know Lucifer better. While you knew not to get your hopes up, you had an odd feeling that you and that devilishly handsome man would get to know each other very well. You couldn't wait for tomorrow.
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flippinpancakes64 · 4 months ago
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Could you do the cullens with a mate who is a painter?
The Cullens with a Painter! Reader
I haven’t painted in YEARS omg, I moved to using my iPad a couple of years ago but I still remember the basics so here we go
Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!
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Edward:
He’s also an artistic person
So he understands what drives you to create
His favorite thing to do is to play the piano while you paint
It just makes him feel so warm inside
He loves watching you paint as well
It’s so fascinating to watch what you see in your mind and then as you translate it onto the canvas
And he loves your artwork
He hangs it up all over the walls in his room
Genuinely thinks you should enter in a contest
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Alice:
She loves your artwork so much
It’s so fascinating to her how you can just conjure up something so amazing
She also loves to buy you new paints and canvases
Every time she’s out buying new clothes or something she sees a new paint and she’s like “ooh that color’s pretty”
Keeps every single thing you make for her
Loves watching you work
She doesn’t care if she’s being creepy
She just loves you and wants to hang out
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Jasper:
He’s fascinated and enamored by your emotional state when you work
He loves when you paint faces because your mind flickers to whatever emotion you’re trying to convey on the paper
It’s a very interactive experience for him
He almost likes tuning in to your mind more than your actual artwork
But he does obviously love your paintings
He does whatever you want him to
You need a life model? Well it’s a good thing he can stay still for hours
Want more paint? He already has his car keys in his hand
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Rosalie:
She used to be really into painting and drawing
But she always thought she was bad at it so she just stopped
So when you come around she falls in love with it again
She wants you to teach her everything
She’s always hard on herself
She thinks her stuff is never as good as yours
But she loves painting with you
She can almost overlook her own hatred for her artwork
And yes she hangs up everything that you make in her garage
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Emmett:
I don’t think he’s a very artsy person
Unless you want to call the fact that he can gut and skin a bear in less than 30 seconds an art form
But he can appreciate good art
So when he sees some of your paintings for the first time he is blown away
“You made these? Like actually? That’s so fucking sick”
Proudly displays anything you give him
You doodled on a paper during school and he stuck it in the front pocket of his binder
And he tells everyone who asks exactly where it came from
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Esme:
She’s a painter
I don’t make the rules I just follow them
All of the artwork currently hanging up in the Cullen house is her work
And yes she’s very proud of the grad cap piece
So she is so excited when she finds out you also love to paint
Two peas in a pod
Painting dates are a must
And she is more than happy to take down some of her stuff to make room for yours
You don’t even need to ask
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Carlisle:
I feel like he’s a jack of all trades
He’s been around long enough I sure hope he knows how to do everything at least a little bit
But he’s nowhere near as good as you
He’s so proud that his SO is such a talented artist
He convinces the clinic to hang up a couple of your pieces in the boring exam rooms
People compliment them all the time and he tells them exactly who made them
Don’t ever worry about buying art supplies ever again btw
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Vampire! Bella:
I don’t remember if she ever drew during the books or movies, but she just screams art kid to me
She had a phase in middle school, thought she sucked so she stopped
So she’s astonished when she sees what you make
“I couldn’t make that even if Van Gogh himself taught me”
She loves watching you work
It’s so calming to her
If she could sleep, she would fall asleep watching you
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daiziesssart · 8 months ago
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a humiliatingly long character analysis of lily evans
Someone sent me an ask that briefly mentioned how misunderstood Lily is, and before I knew it I was typing out this monster. I am. sorry. This is literally just me rambling about her, what I find compelling about her character, and why her character is so often misunderstood.
This is long as hell so I'm putting it under a read more lolol
Part of the reason I like Lily so much (other than my being ginger and projecting onto any redheaded female character I see) is that even though she isn’t explored as much as her other Marauders Era counterparts, we know enough about her to start building the framework for her character. And what I see is a girl who was incredibly interesting, kind, and flawed.
One thing I always think about in regards to Lily is that she was dealt with a pretty unfair hand. As soon as she receives her letter, she’s basically torn between two worlds, both of which have been less than welcome to her. On one hand, we have the muggle world that she’s known all her life, but once she starts integrating into the wizarding world, she likely feels a bit of a disconnect with that world. To twist the knife further, her sister- whom she loved dearly and grew up so close with- starts outwardly resenting her with such unbridled hostility that they likely couldn’t even be in a room alone together without major conflict. 
On the other hand, we have the wizarding world– a world she’s not as familiar with and one she soon learns holds a demographic of people who hate everything she is and would rather see her excommunicated or even dead. And even though finding out you’re a witch/wizard is probably such an exciting and life-changing moment, I can’t help but also take note of the difficulties, especially if you’re the only one in your family with magic. You’re essentially uprooted from the only way of life you’ve known at an already complicated age, and now you have to quickly become acclimated to this new world that you only just found out existed. Not only that, but now you’re suddenly attending a school with classes that are primarily focused on this world of magic (which is still brand new to you), and you have to work extra hard to play catch up in order to do well. Like, that all seems like… a lot for a kid to handle.
And then I remember how young she was when she was thrown into that mess. She was only 11, and kids that age desperately crave any sense of belonging. I mean, that’s something that still holds true for adults, but it’s especially critical for a developing child. So imagine Lily, ages 11-15, struggling to stay afloat in this weird purgatory between these two parts of herself, both of which have been the cause for major and traumatic experiences relating to rejection in her life.
(I say it was the “cause” even though it’s obvious that those things were never her fault at all, but when you’re a young kid navigating the world, the only thing you’re able to process is that the common denominator is you, therefore you’re the one who must shoulder the blame.)
So now we have this tween-teenaged girl who has a dysfunctional relationship with two major parts of identity and probably feels absolutely lost. 
This is why her hesitancy to end her friendship with Snape makes sense to me. Even though by fifth year he’s already well past toeing the line with the dark arts, Lily was willing to overlook some pretty egregious and troubling things in order to maintain the relationship. I kind of interpret that as her way of desperately clinging on to any sense of belonging she has left; her relationship with Petunia has already been poisoned, and now there are people who resent her existence as a witch; if she loses Severus too, what and who else does she have? And what tone does that set for her, if everyone and everything she’s come to hold close to her ends up turning her away?
It’s also important to note that not only is Severus one of her few remaining connections to the muggle world, but he’s also a wizard who grew up in the muggle world; he understands her, and I don’t doubt that he gave her some stability at times when she needed it (her finding out about her being a witch, her having trouble acclimating to the wizarding world, etc).
I see this as being one of her flaws and I can actually appreciate how relatable and realistic it feels. Lily is not a bad person; on the contrary, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone to describe her as such. Not to get all clinical and boring, but the interesting thing about (unhealthy) coping mechanisms is that it can actually be really hard to identify them in your own behavior. Unless you’re in therapy and/or are actively psychoanalyzing yourself, you likely don’t even realize how many of your common behaviors are born from self defense mechanisms put in place by your brain after past events.
To me, it makes sense why she avoided actually confronting the idea that Snape was too far gone. We know that she was aware of the path Severus was taking, but it almost seems like she was still convinced that she could save him, and could possibly steer him back in the right direction. It’s only when she becomes the target of his bigotry that she realizes that the Snape who called her a ‘mudblood’ was not the same Severus who was the one who held her hand and introduced her to this new, exciting world.
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In a general sense, yes, it is selfish, to only take a stand when something starts affecting you personally. But I also think it’s important to note that it’s unlikely that this was a conscious decision on Lily’s part. In my eyes, it was easier to delude herself into thinking she still had a chance to save him before it was too late when she was able to separate him from his actions (considering, a lot of the time, she was only hearing about them after the fact, rather than seeing them firsthand). But the elusion is shattered once she sees that the Snape she grew up with– her friend, Severus– is, in fact, the same person who’s out there calling other students slurs, dismissing the malicious use of Dark Magic on others as just “a laugh”. There we see a Lily who is actually revealed to have been somewhat aware of Snape’s involvement with the darker side of magic, and genuinely feels pretty ashamed about her inaction.
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Also, this is in no way me being a Snape-anti, and I actually could do an entire separate analysis on his character alone and why I find him so interesting.
Anyways, that moment in SWM is probably somewhat of an epiphany to her. It’s like a dam that’s been broken, and now she’s overwhelmed with the realization of exactly how much she overlooked in order to keep their friendship afloat. And for someone like Lily Evans, someone whom we know is opinionated and unafraid to call others out on their bullshit, that can be hard to swallow and feel pretty mortifying and shameful. And I think this was a huge turning point for her- at that point, she doesn’t have the luxury of avoiding uncomfortable truths anymore and now that she’s getting closer to graduating and being thrown out into the world on the brink of war, this was probably a really sobering discovery.
This is where we don’t have as much info to go off of, and a lot of it is up to interpretation. But we actually have little crumbs to go off of following her graduation and leading up to her death.
One of my favorite little tidbits isn’t in the books, and @seriousbrat's post reminded me about it. Here's the actual entry on Pottermore for anyone who's interested, but I'll summarize: after James and Lily began dating, Lily brings James to meet newly engaged Petunia and Vernon. Everything goes downhill, because Vernon is a smarmy asshole, and James is still pretty immature and can’t help but mess with him (which… fair, I guess). Petunia and Vernon storm out after Petunia letting Lily know that she had no intentions of having her as a bridesmaid, which causes Lily to break down into tears. I mention this because I also think it’s a pretty important aspect of her character; like we’ve seen in her past friendship with Snape, Lily seems more than willing to forgive others most of the time. Petunia is a bit of a complicated character herself, but she was objectively very cruel and unfair to Lily once it became obvious that she was a witch and Petunia was not.
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Something that always stands out to me is just how desperate Lily is to earn Petunia’s trust and approval again. Even up until her death, she was more than willing to mend the relationship, were Petunia ever to consider. 
This is a detail about Lily that I feel is misunderstood quite a bit. I’ve seen a lot of instances of her character being reduced to a one-dimensional archetype with little to no complexity. And often, that archetype is “know-it-all, prudish, self righteous bookworm who is also a goody two-shoes with a stick up her ass”. What annoys me is that the reason for this is most definitely the scene in which she blows up at James in SWM for bullying Snape, and hurls quite a few insults at him directly after an extremely devastating and overwhelming situation for her. This frustrates me because we know for a fact that she’s the polar opposite of this archetype I’ve seen her reduced to. 
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In actuality, she’s referred to as popular, charming, witty, bright and kind. From flashbacks we also are shown that she’s opinionated, bold, and not afraid to challenge others. With other context, like her interpersonal relationships, we can also see that she’s pretty emotionally driven and wears her heart on her sleeve. 
(I know Remus didn’t mention Lily much in the books, but I really love how he described her in the movies. He tells Harry that the first thing he noticed about him was not his striking resemblance to his father, but his eyes, the same eyes Lily had. He also calls her a “singularly gifted witch” and an “uncommonly kind woman”.
“She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even and perhaps most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves.”
I know there are mixed feelings on whether or not the films count as canon source material, so take it with a grain of salt, but I personally cannot see a world in which Lily and Remus didn’t become close friends.)
Here we have a direct description of what she was like and who she was, corroborated by recounting of memories of her, and yet for some reason, this feels like the thing that is most commonly lost in translation.
I don’t think I can say why I think that is without mentioning the dreaded M word (misogyny- it’s misogyny), but I also don’t want to get too off topic so I’ll be brief: female characters are typically not given the same grace as male characters. When we have an undeveloped male character, he’s awarded the assumption that despite his lack of depth, there still exists a complex and multifaceted character– it’s merely just potential that hasn’t been tapped into. Whereas when we have underdeveloped female characters, they are taken at face value, meaning that not much exists beyond the little information we have of them. They are not presumed to have a life or a story that exists beyond the surface of what we know like male characters are. That’s why I think characters like Regulus, Evan, or Barty (just to name a few) are more popular than Lily, despite being less developed than she is.
(Before anyone gets defensive, no, I don’t think it’s an individual problem that you alone need to be shamed for. I think it’s the result of a deeper issue regarding misogyny in media as a concept; these are things that we’ve all unknowingly internalized and while it’s not our fault, we still have to do the work to deconstruct those learned prejudices.)
What I find really cool about her character is that despite how much she’s been hurt, she’s also still known as one of the most loving, kind, and considerate characters. There were so many times in her life where the love she received was conditional and ripped away from her– and I think that’s what makes her sacrifice even more poignant. She was able to protect her infant son from an extremely powerful dark wizard, wand-less, knowing that her husband was just murdered in cold blood, just from how much love she felt for Harry. Her love was a force of nature on its own, and I just think that’s such an amazing thing about her. 
I know I’m biased, given that she’s one of my favorite characters, but even upon delving into this, I still just find it so incredibly hard to understand how anyone can actively hate her (not indifference, but actual dislike). In my opinion (again, no one is unbiased, and she is a favorite character of mine, but trust me when I say that I’m trying to be objective as possible when I say this), she’s probably one of the most likable characters of the Marauders Era. I think perhaps a lot of people haven’t given her a chance or really taken the time to learn about her character, but it could be a myriad of other reasons that I’ll never understand. 
There's so much more I could say but this is long enough and I will stop myself
Lily Evans, u will always be famous to me
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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 months ago
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02| four-letter words
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: You meet Aaron Hotchner and he makes you see everything in colour; he makes you feel like you're the only girl in the room. But then, as you find out that you're not, you realize the colour he actually makes you see the most is grey. Warnings: sexual harassment, miscommunication, complicated relationships, emotional and physical cheating (not in this part technically), references to abuse, based on olivia pope and fitzgerald grant Words: 5.1K
Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 3
a/n: long-awaited, but here's part 2. the next part is coming soon, and it'll be the last part of aaron and r in college! it'll shed more light on their relationship in '05 compared to '89 and '90.
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JULY 1990
You were going on your third year at Georgetown soon, then you'd be graduating.
It was exciting, invigorating. This was everything you'd worked for finally coming together. your dreams coming true. The last decade of your life had been spent trying to get exactly where you were. No drinking, no drugs, no downtime—no distractions.
You didn't come from money—but you didn't tell people that, of course. Everyone just made their own assumptions. Georgetown Law was an expensive school, saved for people who could afford it. So you worked your ass off, garnering scholarship money and planning your life out to a tee.
It's why, every second that wasn't spent studying, you were working at the bar. The only reason you weren't working during the day was because you were interning at a professor's practice.
Everything was counting on this next year for you, just as it was for everybody, but the stakes were higher for someone like you specifically.
Aaron didn't know that.
He went to boarding school when he was younger. Based on the way he'd tense when it was brought up, you knew his childhood wasn't the best, but you also knew that Aaron Hotchner likely never had to wonder if there would be food on the table, if the roof over his head would suddenly disappear.
He didn't have to wonder if his future would even be possible. So it just wasn't something you talked about, even though you shared everything with each other.
Almost everything.
"Slow down, Hopscotch! Not all of us are blessed with long legs."
Your chiding was met with a laugh, and even though you were meant to be scolding him, the sound didn't fail to bring a smile to your face. You were growing to really like that sound, even though it got on your nerves at first.
You might've even loved that sound.
Aaron turned around then, nearly making you bump into him. "Hey—!" You cut yourself off with a squeal when his arms swooped under you, effortlessly picking you up by your thighs and then throwing you over his shoulder like it was nothing. Your eyes widened. "Aaron— Aaron!"
You felt him shrug. "You were complaining. So I took care of the problem for you."
Your mouth opened and closed like you were a fish, stammering in shock. He was still walking full stride through the hallway, like you weren't even there. He just picked you up, for God's sake. In the entire time you'd known him, he'd never done anything of the sort.
You were a little startled.
"Hopscotch, put me down right. now." Your pleas fell upon deaf ears as he just continued to move forward. "Your neighbours might see!"
He snorted. "So? We're literally almost there."
Again, you were just sputtering in shock. He was right, though—you arrived at his apartment in no less than thirty seconds, and he was reaching into his pocket for the keys soon after. This reminded you of the matching key in your own pocket, the one he gave you after just a couple months knowing each other. In case you ever need it, he'd said, or if you just wanna drop by.
That took you off guard at first, but you learned that Aaron was always direct, never one to beat around the bush. He wanted your friendship badly, and after watching him work for it tirelessly, who were you to deny him?
It wasn't like you had many friends in the first place. Perhaps that's why it always surprised you when he did things like this, things like giving you a key to his place or throwing you over his shoulder, insisting he drive you home after your shift, buying you the exact bag he'd seen you wordlessly eyeing in the mall for your birthday—an expensive one, at that, a little too expensive for a law student.
Was it surprising because you weren't used to it or was it surprising because it was him doing it? You didn't know, and you weren't sure if you wanted to.
This, this right here, was a good friendship. You knew that as Aaron set you down and gave a kiss to your head, giving you feelings you shouldn't have had. He doesn't mean it like that, you told yourself, assuring yourself that he didn't think much of the things he did.
He couldn't. He was your best friend, your only friend.
And that's all there was to it.
You and Aaron spent that summer together, attached at the hip. It felt good to have a friend, to let loose every once in a while and breathe. He reminded you to breathe.
You didn't know how you could've possibly passed this up before, how the old you could've just ignored him. It was luck that he ended up at the place you bartended for. It was luck that you met him. Luck, and maybe another four-letter word.
You didn't believe in Fate. It felt wrong to believe in something that took credit for everything you did. It wasn't Fate that got you into one of the most prestigious law schools in the country; it was you.
But what else could you call this? What else could you call a man being thrusted into your life, relentlessly trying to be your friend even as you gave him every reason not to? 
You didn't know. All you knew was that, if Fate existed, you'd have to thank her. You were starting to believe in it all.
Fate, luck, and other four-letter words.
"I'm really gonna miss you when you're gone, Y/N."
You barely stopped yourself from whipping your head around. At first, you were startled by the noise itself, thinking he was asleep, but then you were startled by the words themselves.
It was 3 or maybe 4AM. You got off your shift at the bar a little early and went to Aaron's for a movie, but he tapped out halfway through. You were just starting to clean up when he spoke. You almost didn't hear it; his voice was just above a whisper. 
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. He didn't say things like that—that wasn't what the two of you did. You didn't talk about your feelings; neither of you did.
All the things Aaron had ever said to you ran through your head at that moment, all the times he might've toed the line but never crossed it. In all that memory, you couldn't find anything like this.
But this was something friends said, right? To show each other they cared? This wasn't out of line; this was just him being a good friend.
As you stared at him and the glazed over look in his eye, that's what you told yourself. That this was normal, that he was a great friend— your friend.
But he wasn't looking at you like you were a friend.
You got over the little shock you had, throwing him the best tired smile you could muster. "I'm not gonna be that far. I plan on staying in D.C. when I graduate, so you don't need to worry." You didn't say that you'd miss him, too. But he knew. He always knew.
Looking back, you wonder if he knew everything else you weren't saying.
"I know." There was a beat, but he didn't look away from you; you couldn't tell if you hated that or loved it. When his voice returned, it was just as soft. "It's just going to be different."
Another beat passed, the whirring of the AC being the only sound audible as you stared at each other. Then, tenatively, you grabbed his hand, engulfing it yours. You didn't know why you did it—you just did.
You squeezed it, not allowing yourself to break eye contact once. Because you hoped he could see the other words in your eyes that you didn't know how to say. You hoped he could feel them as your hands melded together. 
It's going to be okay, you said. You think he understood, because he squeezed right back.
It was gonna be okay. The sentence spanned through your mind, along with another. You don't know if he caught the other one; you weren't sure if you even did.
Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.
And other four-letter words you didn't have the power to say.
Life moved on as if that day in Aaron's living room never happened, and in your eyes, it was best that way. You weren't good with feelings; they'd never gotten you anywhere. Even if you were starting to feel something, despite all your best intentions and every time you told yourself otherwise. 
You told yourself you were wrong, that whatever you were feeling only felt weird because it was unfamiliar. Friends weren't something you had a lot of—you just didn't know how to handle it, that was all. And however Aaron was looking at you—however you thought he was looking at you—was nothing more than a trick of light.
His eyes just look different in the dark, you convinced yourself. That wasn't entirely wrong.
But it wasn't entirely right, either.
The club was dark, much darker than the bar you worked at, but the strobe lights compensated for it. The lights danced around the room much like the patrons, randomly and without care. You paid mind to neither as you maneuvered across the floor, heading straight for the bar.
Aaron was back at your booth. Your booth. You snorted to yourself at the thought.
Of course, they had a booth. 
It was his friend's birthday, and for some reason, Aaron wanted you there. You couldn't fathom why he'd even agree to attend if he wasn't comfortable with them, but there were many things about his behaviour that you didn't understand.
You understood his discomfort, though. After spending just thirty minutes with them, you were eager to find any opportunity to leave. They were dumb jocks, not entirely dumb—this was Georgetown, after all—but they were nothing like the crowd you thought Aaron would hang around. You wondered how they even became acquainted in the first place, but then again, you weren't exactly someone he'd typically be friends with either.
Where'd you find this broad, Aaron? they asked.How'd you get her? they asked. She looks out of your league, they said. Sweetheart, what are you doing with him? they asked.
We're just friends, he responded. Every single time. It was the appropriate response, the Aaron Hotchner response, but there was an edge to his voice as the words left his mouth, an edge much sharper than the roundness he normally spoke to you with. 
You didn't understand that, either.
As soon as the opportunity arose, you volunteered yourself to get the next round of drinks. You missed the look Aaron sent you as you left.
At the bar, you waved the bartender down. "Could I get six beers, please? For table 18?" The guy didn't acknowledge you with anything more than a nod, but that was enough for you.
"Nothing for yourself?" The voice, unexpectedly close, startled you.
You jolted, spinning to see Aaron's friend standing behind you. He was the birthday boy—though, you couldn't exactly remember his name. Mike, Mark— it was some name with an M that you didn't care to memorize, nor recall.
You gave him a smile, reminding yourself that even though this guy was uninteresting, he was Aaron's friend, and so the least you could do was not be rude. Plus, it was his birthday.
"I have work tomorrow," you reasoned, choosing to ignore the fact that you didn't have to go in until late in the afternoon.
"Ah," he said. You thought he'd leave it at that, but you'd soon learn that the birthday boy was persistent. "Does that mean you'd be busy tonight?"
You kept the smile on your face, even as it got tighter with his implication. "Yeah. I plan on turning in early." You were no stranger to intoxicated men that had trouble taking no for an answer; you saw it all the time, and you knew how to handle it by now. Smile, don't insult them, be polite, and wait for them to walk away.
Aaron's friend didn't walk away.
"Aw, come on, baby." The name sounded slimy coming out of his mouth. Ignore him, your mind chanted, don't cause a scene. "I can pay you." 
Just as you'd turned back to the bar, your head was whipping back around. "Excuse me?"
The guy must not have seen the incredulity splayed all over your face; that, or he just didn't care. He shrugged. "I know you could use the money. Aaron's told us all about how you're here on scholarship." He said the words carelessly, unknowing of the weight they held.
He— he did? He told them that— his stupid friends that he couldn't even bear to spend a single night with? You didn't even tell him that; you didn't talk about it. Did he just make that assumption and run with it, then go around telling people?
Your Aaron, the one who waited for your shifts to end and bought you pretty things. Did he... did he just do that because he felt bad for you?
A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around your head, but you fought to keep your face impassive. The smile on your face had long since disappeared. "I don't need your money," you spat. The drinks arrived, but you didn't notice.
He smirked, somehow finding your words amusing. "Oh, baby, don't be offended. I'd be the one truly gaining something here. I'm sure a night with you would be priceless."
The inner voice telling you to stay calm was silenced, and you couldn't tell if you were so angry because of the his words or because of your friend. "Go to hell," you sneered, drinks completely forgotten as you turned away, ready to catch a cab home by yourself.
You were just about to walk away when, suddenly, you felt a foreign sensation, followed by stinging, cementing you to your spot. It was only when you heard his boisterous laughter over the music that you realized what happened.
He slapped your ass.
He slapped your fucking ass.
You pivoted, but before you could even do anything, the boy was sent staggering into the bar. It didn't register to you until you saw the fist following through. Your eyes followed that fist to its owner, meeting a head of dark brown hair.
He wasn't looking at you. His eyes were trained on Mike with a look you didn't recognize, almost like he was baiting him to get back up. With the way he stayed slumped on the bar, you think he was out cold. But with the way the look in Aaron's eyes didn't disappear, you also think he didn't care.
He knocked a guy out for you— his friend.
The same friend he talked about you with.
At that thought, you felt your shock wear off. You spun back around, and in a matter of seconds, you were bulldozing through the crowd at the door. Your ride was still inside, but at that moment, you would've rather walked home than go anywhere near him.
You passed through the mob swiftly, barely registering the call of your name. Was it because of the music or the ringing in your ears? You couldn't tell. 
"Y/N!"
You got outside, rain immediately hitting your head. Was that why your face was wet?
"Y/N!"
Cars whizzed past the club in a flurry. You waved your hand in the air, trying to hail a cab. Why weren't they stopping?
"Y/N, stop." Your hand in the air was grabbed by someone behind you, and only then did you finally realize who was speaking.
You twisted your hand out of his grasp, refusing to turn his way. "Fuck off, Hotchner." The ice in your voice was colder than the raindrops hitting your skin, but even you could hear it crack.
He tried to grab your hand again, but you didn't let him, and so he tried a different approach, grabbing your arm and holding onto it like his life was on the line. Aaron was persistent. He knew how to work people—his debates you'd seen were evidence of that—but you weren't about to let him work you. 
He apologized, "Look, I'm sorry for—"
"For what?" you sharply cut him off, finally turning his way. The sight you were met with nearly broke through your rage. There was that look again, that look in his eyes that could convince you to stay with him forever if he asked you to. Genuine fear.
Fear, and other four-letter words.
You brought your guard back up, using his fear to your advantage and ripping your arm from his hand, turning away before he realized that there was a puddle in your eyes that matched the ones forming on the ground.
You waved your hand again, and on a stroke of luck, a cab finally stopped. Perhaps the universe didn't totally hate you. Before he could utter a single sound, you cursed, "Just fuck off, Aaron."
And maybe the universe actually took pity on you, because Aaron let you get into the cab without any further protest.
If the cab driver noticed the shake in your voice when you told him your address, he didn't say anything. He was silent the entire ride, and you were thankful that he didn't acknowledge you as you tried to stifle your tears.
You were also thankful that you didn't live in a dorm so that, when you got home, you could let the sobs wrack through your body at full force.
God, you told yourself you wouldn't befriend Aaron Hotchner. You told yourself you wouldn't let this happen—that you wouldn't let yourself get hurt. You weren't even supposed to give anyone the opportunity to hurt you, and yet there you were, crying over a boy who wasn't even yours.
He's not yours, Y/N, you berated yourself. He's not yours. The late night movies, the way he sat with you at the bar as you worked, the way he'd study with you and buy you presents. None of that meant anything.
He didn't owe you anything. He didn't owe it you to be the same person around you that he was around his friends. He didn't owe it to you to think of your feelings.
No, he felt sorry for you. Sorry. That was a five letter word.
And it was the only thing Aaron Hotchner felt for you.
Once you stopped crying, you got off the floor and miraculously made it to the bathroom. You weren't drunk, but your legs felt like jello. You weren't sure how much time you spent on the floor sobbing, but when you turned on the light and looked in the mirror, you realized it must've been a long time.
Mascara streaked down your puffy cheeks. Your eyes were so red that it almost looked like you'd been crying for hours. You wiped at your nose, sniffling, and opted to look away from woman in the mirror, turning the faucet on. You didn't want to look at her anymore; she was pitiful, and you weren't supposed to be pitiful.
You couldn't remember the last time you cried so much.
You splashed cold water onto your face, rubbing away at the tear stains. You didn't stop until the swelling looked like it was actually decreasing, but the red in your eyes didn't totally disappear. It made you scoff. You hadn't drank a single drink that night, yet you still looked intoxicated.
Is that what letting people in does? you wondered. Poisons you?
Another scoff left you. You hadn't planned on drinking much that night, but after the events that took place, you figured you might as well.
You opened the bathroom door and made your way to the kitchen. Aaron bought you this bottle of wine once, didn't tell you how much it cost but you knew it was expensive. You were gonna save it for a celebratory occasion, but this was fitting enough.
Just as you were entering the kitchen, you were knocked out of your daze, jerking backward. You threw a hand onto your chest. "Holy fucking shit—"
"Hey, calm down, it's just me—"
"What the fuck, Aaron?" You couldn't keep your voice down, looking at the man in front of you in your dark kitchen with his hands raised as if he was trying to placate you. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack— what the fuck are you doing here?" you fired, barely giving him a chance to answer. "How did you even get in?"
Part of you was shocked that there was a man in your apartment in the first place. The other part was shocked because that man was him.
Aaron kept his left hand up, using his right to reach into his pocket and pull out his key ring. It dawned on you then before he even said it. "You gave me a key."
You couldn't help the sigh that escaped you, even if you tried. You didn't know if you were more mad at yourself for giving him such a thing or at him for using it. He never did before; you only gave it to him after he gave you yours. "And so you chose tonight to use it?"
If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under already. All the sadness you'd felt had disappeared, dissipating into this pure anger. Anger at what he said. Anger at how he ran after you like he cared when you knew he didn't. Anger that he was in your house. And anger that he looked so calm.
Aaron had this ability that not many people had, the ability to remain composed in even the worst of situations. It's what would make him a great lawyer one day. It's also what made it so surprising when he seemingly lost it earlier and punched his own friend, one that he surely knew longer than he knew you.
He was an amazing actor. But it made you wonder what the act really was. Was the composure the mask, or was it the pretence that he gave a damn about you? Was it both? Which one was fake and which one was real? Who was the real Aaron Hotchner?
You realized you didn't know.
Maybe you never did.
He let his hands fall to his sides, reasoning, "I figured you wouldn't have let me in if I knocked."
An incredulous laugh left you, in disbelief at what he was saying. "Of course not." The words didn't come out as strong as you would've liked them to.
"Why?" he questioned. If you didn't know any better, you would've thought he was pleading. His voice was soft, too soft, too unlike the Aaron you thought you knew and also unlike the Aaron you found out about tonight. 
For some reason, you felt a tug at your heartstrings.
He took a step closer, prompting you to take a step back. "What did I do, Y/N?" God, was he going to make you say it? Hadn't you been humiliated enough? "Is this about Matt? Because I swear to you, he won't ever bother you again—"
You cut him off with a loud groan, unable to take it any longer. "God, Aaron. No, this isn't about your sleazy fucking friend!" Against your better judgement, you took a step forward, getting close enough to jab your finger in his chest. "This is about you."
You were reminded then that Aaron's eyes looked different in the dark, but you could've sworn you saw hurt. 
"What— what did I do?" he stammered.
You repeated his words under your breath, scoffing, "What did you do?" You shook your head before you looked back up, a renewed fire in your eyes. "Am I your charity case, Hotchner?"
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "What?"
You didn't back down, repeating yourself and enunciating every word slowly. "Am I your charity case?"
Now, he almost looked offended. Angry. But not as angry as you. "What the hell would make you think that?"
Sarcasm laced your voice. "Maybe it was your friend propositioning me because I apparently 'could use the money?' Maybe it was you telling them that I am here on fucking scholarship?" You took another step closer to him, but you failed to see the realization cross his face. "What else did you tell them, huh, Aaron? That you hang out with me because you feel bad for me? That you pay for everything because it makes you feel better about yourself? That I'm so fucking easy all you have to do is wave a wad of cash in my face to get into my pants—"
"Stop it, Y/N! Just fucking stop." He threw his hands into the air, and that momentarily stunned you, but you kept going.
"Oh, you're swearing now. So that means I've touched a nerve—"
His jaw was clenched tightly. "You're being disgusting."
"Am I?" Your voice cracked, and it was almost like you could hear your heart doing the same. The tears were resurfacing. "So how do you think I felt?" You pointed to yourself. "How do you think I felt as I stood there and found out that my—" you cut yourself off.
Your what? What were you gonna say? Your best friend?
Lord knew that Aaron Hotchner was more than that to you, even if that's all he could be.
Your breathing was heavy. You trained your eyes back on the ground, not wanting him to see the tears in your eyes. 
The room was silent. You could hear only the sounds of your own breaths and the rain outside. You were waiting for him to leave so you could find some semblance of peace. You just wanted to be left alone, away from him and all the things he made you feel.
But another part of you was waiting for something else. That part of you was waiting for an explanation. An explanation as to why he would say that, why he would do something like that to you. You knew better than to expect that, so you didn't, but deep down it was what you wanted.
You know better, your brain whispered. You heard his feet shuffle, and you knew then that he was finally leaving. And that was what you wanted, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Just as you were waiting for his feet to keep moving, you looked up and you saw that he wasn't at the door; he was right in front of you.
Aaron stared down at you with an intent gaze, like he was peeling back all of your layers the same way he did with case files. Any previous anger was gone, replaced with emotions you couldn't pinpoint.
Move, your mind said. Tell him to leave.
You opened your mouth to utter the words, but for some reason, they didn't get further than the tip of your tongue.
Almost hesitantly, Aaron rested his hands onto your shoulders, and you let him. Naively. Stupidly. It was dumb of you, and you knew it.
Dumb, and other four-letter words.
"Y/N," he started, and then he paused, like he was trying to find the right words to use. The Aaron you knew always knew what to say, but this one looked shaken. It was unnerving, to see a man like him falter, to see a man that stood so tall suddenly get smaller.
After a few moments, he seemed to have decided what to say, but his words didn't sound rehearsed. "I want you to know that I would never speak about you out of turn. It's my last wish to embarass you, let alone place you into a situation you are not comfortable with." 
His voice was wholly earnest. He looked like he was telling the truth—he was looking at you like he was begging you believe him—but that wasn't enough.
"So why would—" you paused at the lump in your throat. "Why would you tell them about the scholarship?" You wanted to come off demanding, authoritative, but your question was just barely above a whisper.
Aaron's composure wavered. He opened his mouth and then he closed it. "I— I didn't know it was something you hid." You sighed, but he must've sensed that his answer wasn't good enough because he continued, "I didn't tell them because I wanted to belittle you, Y/N. I told them because I was proud."
What?
You took a step backward, and this time, he let you. With his hands now free, he brought one up to his head and ran it through his hair.
Confusion filled you and painted itself all over your face. Your mind worked hard to try and decipher what he meant, gears turning and coming up empty. You didn't understand.
He looked back up at you, and now you could make out new emotions in his eyes. Doubt, masked by a blanket of assurance. "I do talk about you," he revealed. "It's— it's nearly unconcious. Habit." His thumb and forefinger tapped together, a nervous tick of his you'd noticed early on. "The topic of the scholarship came up by accident. I was talking about how smart you were, how you're so smart you got here by merit." He swallowed as your brows furrowed. "That's where the conversation began, and that's where it ended. You're not my— fuck. You're not my charity case, Y/N."
Things started coming together, but none of it made any sense. You couldn't see the picture this puzzle made. It's impossible.
What was he saying— did he know what he was saying?
Maybe he didn't know, but you needed to.
You whispered, "Then what am I to you, Aaron?"
His eyes didn't leave yours. You could see the indecision within them, the struggle as he tried to find the right words to describe your relationship. 
You supposed he never did.
Because, within seconds, he advanced and his lips were colliding into yours. You were surpised by how quickly you reciprocated, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, letting him pour all the words he couldn't say into this kiss.
A kiss.
A kiss and other four-letter words.
taglist: @c-losur3 @aadu2173 @todorokishoe24
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vampykween · 1 year ago
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Second Chances (part 1)
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i wanted to write about singledad!ghost x teacher!reader (which is so self indulgent as im a teacher hehe) and thus this was born summary: little poppy is simon riley's entire world and you've just had yours turned completely upside down. despite everything, it seems like everything falls into place when you're with each other. this is going to be a little series - i already have a few drabbles written and have l more ideas up my sleeve, but feel free to let me know all of yall's ideas too!! dedicated to @suimon since you love my dad!ghost so much hehe mwah
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Simon is just short of pulling his hair out. He’s spent all morning wrestling with a five-year old who, last night was bouncing off the walls excited about her first day of school, but now is inconsolable and quite frankly working his last nerve.
“Poppy, love, please just get dressed. We don’t have all morning for you to mess about.”
Poppy shrugs her shoulders and blows a raspberry right in her father’s face. “Let me go, I’m not going to school,” the five-year old squirms in her father’s grasp, less than thrilled at the prospect of getting dressed for school.
Simon briefly considers whether he should invest any more energy into their morning battle or if he should just concede and let his daughter win this round. Despite her protests, he keeps his hold on Poppy and tries his best to calm her down enough to reason with her. Sometimes Simon couldn’t believe this was his life, he was tussling with his daughter about getting ready for school, when in a past life all he was ever worried about was backing his team throughout a mission. He used to be a trained killer now the only thing he’s an expert at is making silly voices for all the book characters at bedtime.
“You were so excited about school just last night, what happened lovie, what’s going on with you?”
Poppy just stares at him with her big doe eyes, the ones that look exactly like her mother’s, and makes Simon’s chest ache painfully. It’s moments like these that make him feel like the grief would never end.
After a drawn-out minute, she finally squeaks out, “What if I don’t like school? What if people are mean to me?” Simon’s heart breaks at his little girl’s admission, he, of course, worried about those things too; he wasn’t sure he even wanted to send her off for hours every day, but he also knew that Poppy could handle it.
Simon grasps both of her much smaller hands, “You’re the best girl I know, what’s not to love yeah? I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends, sweetheart.” Simon isn’t sure who he’s reassuring more at this point, but he’ll say anything to get them both through this day and all the ones that come.
Poppy sighs loudly and by something short of a miracle, she concedes with getting dressed; Simon let her pick out her own outfit, in hopes that it would rekindle her previous excitement. It helped, but only marginally.
Standing in the doorway of the classroom, is not the teacher Simon had been expecting. When he thought of teachers, he imagined either super strict, uptight older women or bright and bubbly young women fresh out of university. You were neither of those – you wore a bright smile that reached your eyes, and your voice had the most warm and comforting lilt to it. Contrastingly, you were dressed head to toe in an all-black outfit, but it didn’t make you look dark and dreary, no, on you it worked quite well. Poppy finally, but reluctantly revealed herself from behind her father’s legs, and stepped forward to greet her new teacher.
“Hi! What’s your name?” you were clearly not from anywhere near, and Poppy immediately comments on it.
“My name is Poppy, like the flower, and you talk very funny.”
Simon groaned, “Poppy, that’s not very polite, love.”
“No, no it’s alright. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that this morning,” you laugh breezily, not affronted by the little girl’s observation. The sound of your laugh is like a mirage in a desert, and Simon is taken aback at how much the sound affected him. You crouch down and introduce yourself to Poppy, then rise to greet Simon as well. You hold out your hand, clearly in an attempt to shake his, and he shakes his head to clear his stupor and takes your hand. Your hands are much smaller than his own, and much softer, not calloused from battlefields and the hardships of life.
You hope you’re coming off as a well put together adult, one who’s supposed to be in charge of people’s most precious gifts. Threatening to ruin your façade is the fact that you’re shaking hands with quite possibly the hottest man you’ve seen since you upturned your life and moved to London a few months ago. This is your student’s dad, jesus get a grip, you hastily remind yourself. You can’t help yourself though, and your eyes are roaming over his massive hands searching for a wedding band. You’re not sure whether it’s a good thing or not when you see there isn’t one. He’s hot, but he’s got a child, and you’ve just had your heart shattered into a million pieces this summer. The last thing you need is to be lusting after your student’s unreasonably hot father.
You’re not even sure you want to be here; nothing had gone the way you planned and now you’re a million miles away from your family – who had forewarned you that your ex maybe was not worth moving across the world for, but you were in love, you didn’t want to hear that.
Poppy, who seemingly gained some confidence, breezes past her father and finds her way easily into the classroom. You looked back up at her father, realizing you hadn’t caught his name – he tilts his head ever so slightly at you as if he’s trying to discreetly assess you and it makes your palms sweat.
“I didn’t catch your name, can’t call you Poppy’s dad all year now, can I?” you prod causally, laughing despite the stifling air that was forming between you two.
“You can call me Simon,” he replies elusively and suddenly you’re overcome with the feeling that there’s something mysterious about this man – and as attractive as he is, the revelation also makes you feel unnerved.
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zerun0 · 2 months ago
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"Where Love Flows Like Water" — Viktor x Y/N (Female)
English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advices on how to improve my work.
Inspired by my own personal experience. — !SFW! — Established relationship, Fluff, Flirting, Aquarium, First kiss. — Word count: — 2,5k (Full uncut version on AO3)
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The streets of Piltover had a soft glow in the afternoon sun, casting warm light onto the city’s elegant architecture. The Academy loomed large behind Y/N as she descended the steps, her heart racing in her chest. She had spent the entire day thinking about this moment — her very first date with Viktor.
Viktor, the enigmatic, brilliant student, whose mind seemed to work on levels beyond most. His quiet demeanor and thoughtful nature had always intrigued her. Y/N had been unsure if he even noticed her amid his busy research and invention-filled life. But here she was, walking toward the Piltover Aquarium for an afternoon together. A gentle breeze toyed with the strands of her hair as she neared the entrance, where Viktor waited.
Dressed in his usual simple, well-worn jacket and gloves, Viktor’s warm, golden eyes lit up as he spotted her. His crutch was resting against his side, and he gave a slightly shy wave as she approached.
"Y/N," he greeted, his voice soft but tinged with nervousness. "You look... lovely today... so lovely."
A slight blush warmed her cheeks. "Thank you, Viktor. You look... thoughtful, as always."
He chuckled, his gaze lowering for a moment, the tips of his ears tinged pink. “I suppose that’s a compliment.”
Y/N giggled as entered the aquarium together, the grand, dome-shaped building humming with a gentle energy. A calm, serene atmosphere filled the space, enhanced by the soft gurgling of water and the shifting colors reflected from tanks.
— In the aquarium —
The first display they passed was a large circular tank filled with a school of shimmering, silver fish. Their scales caught the light and reflected it in an iridescent cascade, creating patterns that danced across the room’s walls.
“These are Glimmerfish,” Viktor said, his voice calm but tinged with the excitement that came when he spoke about something scientific, as he tried to start talking to Y/N to make things less awkward. “They reflect light in a way that creates optical illusions — see how the patterns change as they swim? It’s fascinating.”
Y/N leaned closer to the glass, watching the fish move in unison, creating a mesmerizing effect. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered, her breath fogging the glass slightly. “I can see why they’re called Glimmerfish.”
Viktor stepped beside her, his presence warm and comforting. There was something undeniably charming about how he talked — always quietly, as though each word mattered. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and Y/N could feel his gaze. She smiled, turning toward him, catching him mid-look.
His eyes widened, and he quickly glanced back to the fish, fumbling for words. “Uh, yes, they… they’re quite interesting. Their patterns... ah, tend to shift based on light conditions.”
Y/N let out a small giggle, the sound soft and affectionate. “You know so much. I love how passionate you get about these things.”
Viktor cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing as he looked at her. “It’s hard not to be, when the world is so full of things to learn. But I… I’m glad you enjoy hearing about it.”
They moved on, walking side by side through the halls of the aquarium. The soft glow from the tanks cast a blue light over them, making everything feel dreamlike. As they wandered deeper into the displays, the conversation between them flowed easily, even if both of them were slightly nervous. Y/N found herself relaxing more with each passing minute, feeling more comfortable in Viktor’s presence.
As they reached the next exhibit, a wide tank filled with a variety of colorful, exotic fish, Viktor hesitated. “May I… hold your hand?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, laced with the vulnerability of someone unused to asking for such things.
Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question. She blinked, looking up at him, her face warming. His hand was outstretched slightly, hovering between them, as though he was unsure if he should pull it back or continue forward.
“I...I’d like that,” she said, her voice soft and sincere.
With a tentative smile, Viktor gently took her hand in his. His grip was light, delicate, as if he were afraid of hurting her, but Y/N squeezed back reassuringly. They stood together for a moment, both looking down at their intertwined fingers, the silence around them broken only by the soft splashing of water and the distant hum of life inside the tanks.
The tank before them was teeming with vibrantly colored creatures. Fish of every shape and size darted through the water, weaving between the coral structures that had been painstakingly recreated to mimic an ocean reef. There was something playful and innocent about the way the fish moved, as if they were dancing just for the two of them.
One particularly striking fish caught Y/N’s attention. It was small and round, with long, delicate fins that billowed like silk in the water. Its body was a soft pastel pink, and it had a curious expression on its face, like it was examining them as much as they were examining it.
“That one looks like it’s judging us!” Y/N said, pointing at the fish, a light laugh escaping her.
Viktor chuckled beside her, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Some of these species are known...well... for their intelligence.”
The fish hovered near the glass for a few moments, its wide, unblinking eyes following their every move before it darted away, disappearing into the coral. Y/N sighed contentedly, leaning slightly into Viktor’s side as they watched the rest of the tank’s inhabitants swim lazily by.
“It’s nice,” Y/N said softly after a while, her gaze still on the fish but her thoughts clearly on something else. “...Being here... with you.”
Viktor’s grip on her hand tightened just slightly, a silent acknowledgment of her words. “I feel the same,” he admitted quietly. “I… wasn’t sure if this would be something you’d enjoy. I know I’m not exactly the most… exciting person.”
Y/N turned to look at him, her expression soft and earnest. “Viktor, I like you for who you are. You don’t have to be exciting or different. I like your quietness, your thoughtfulness. This—” she gestured to the aquarium around them, “—this is perfect. Being with you is perfect.”
Viktor’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around them. The soft glow of the tanks, the gentle hum of water, everything faded into the background. It was just them, standing close, hands entwined, hearts beating in sync. Viktor’s face softened, a rare smile gracing his lips — one that was just for her.
Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, the warmth in his eyes filling her with a sense of closeness she had never experienced before. She could feel the faint tremor in Viktor's hand, the same nervousness that fluttered in her own chest, but there was something else, something tender and unspoken in the way he looked at her.
"Viktor..." she whispered, barely able to form the words as her throat tightened with a surge of emotions she couldn't quite name.
His name, on her lips, seemed to anchor him. He took a breath, slow and measured, as if the weight of the moment had finally settled around them. Viktor's fingers tightened slightly around hers, as though gathering the courage to act on the emotions swirling between them.
The area was empty, dark, lighten up only by the artificial lights from the tanks... it felt like the perfect moment.
He trailed off, his eyes dropping to her lips for the briefest of moments, then returning to her eyes, asking a silent question. The air between them crackled with tension, but not the kind that pushed them apart. It was the kind that pulled them closer, like a magnetic force drawing them together in ways neither of them had fully anticipated.
Viktor’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around them. The soft glow of the tanks, the gentle hum of water, everything faded into the background. It was just them, standing close, hands entwined, hearts beating in sync. Viktor’s face softened, a rare smile gracing his lips — one that was just for her.
Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, the warmth in his eyes filling her with a sense of closeness she had never experienced before. She could feel the faint tremor in Viktor's hand, the same nervousness that fluttered in her own chest, but there was something else, something tender and unspoken in the way he looked at her.
"Viktor..." she whispered, barely able to form the words as her throat tightened with a surge of emotions she couldn't quite name.
His name, on her lips, seemed to anchor him. He took a breath, slow and measured, as if the weight of the moment had finally settled around them. Viktor's fingers tightened slightly around hers, as though gathering the courage to act on the emotions swirling between them.
“I…” Viktor began, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze locked with hers. “I don’t always know how to express what I feel, but right now…”
He trailed off, his eyes dropping to her lips for the briefest of moments, then returning to her eyes, asking a silent question. The air between them crackled with tension, but not the kind that pushed them apart. It was the kind that pulled them closer, like a magnetic force drawing them together in ways neither of them had fully anticipated.
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she felt Viktor lean in, the space between them growing smaller, the warmth of his presence enveloping her. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a rush of excitement and nervousness overwhelming her senses. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, they were closer than ever, his forehead resting lightly against hers. The soft scent of him, the subtle smell of his cologne, woody and floral, surrounded her.
“Is this… okay?” Viktor asked softly, his voice barely audible, his breath warm against her lips.
Y/N’s heart swelled at the care in his words, the quiet hesitation that made him so uniquely Viktor. She nodded, her lips parting slightly as she whispered, “Yes.”
That one word was all it took. Viktor closed the remaining distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was a gentle, fragile thing — as though he were afraid she might pull away, afraid to break the spell that had woven itself between them. But Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her free hand finding its way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.
The kiss was sweet, unhurried, and filled with all the emotions they had both kept locked away for so long. Viktor’s lips were warm, slightly chapped from the long hours he spent working in his lab, but they moved with a tenderness that made Y/N’s heart flutter. There was something so intimate in the way he kissed her, as though he were discovering a part of himself he had never known existed until this moment.
Slowly, hesitantly, Viktor pulled back, his lips hovering just inches from hers. His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling with the weight of what had just happened. His hand was still in hers, fingers gently intertwined, as if he were afraid to let go.
They stood there for what felt like forever, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the soft hum of the aquarium filling the space around them. It was as if the world had shifted on its axis, and all that mattered now was the connection between them, the unspoken promise that whatever had just bloomed between them was something worth nurturing.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t… I don’t always know how to express these things. But I’m… happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
Y/N smiled back at him, her heart swelling with affection. “I’m happy too, Viktor.”
"Shall we continue.. our little date?" - Y/N said happily, holding his hands tightly
"YES ! " - Viktor spoke, his voice louder than he intended - "I am sorry, we should...continue" - He said nervously, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
They continued their walk through the aquarium, hand in hand, the soft light reflecting off the tanks painting their skin in hues of blue and green. Viktor pointed out more fish to her as they passed by — some tiny and darting quickly through the water, others large and slow-moving, their scales shimmering under the dim lights.
At one point, they reached a tank filled with jellyfish, their translucent bodies glowing softly in the darkened room. The jellyfish floated gracefully, their long, tendril-like appendages trailing behind them like ribbons in the water. Y/N and Viktor stood in awe, watching the way the creatures moved with such effortless grace.
“They’re so delicate,” — Y/N whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the sight.
Viktor nodded, his gaze fixed on the jellyfish. “Yes. But they’re also resilient. Some species of jellyfish can live for hundreds of years, regenerating themselves over time. They’re a fascinating example of nature’s ingenuity.”
Y/N smiled, marveling at how Viktor could see the beauty in even the smallest things. His mind worked in ways she could barely comprehend, always seeking to understand, to learn. It was one of the things she admired most about him.
They stayed there for a long while, watching the jellyfish drift lazily through the water, neither of them feeling the need to speak. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that they didn’t need to fill the air with words to enjoy each other’s company.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” Viktor said softly, his voice tinged with the uncertainty that always seemed to accompany his thoughts. “But I know that… I want you to be part of it.”
Y/N’s heart swelled at his words, a wave of warmth and affection flooding through her. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with the same sincerity that had always drawn her to him. “I want that too, Viktor.”
— Outside —
As they left the aquarium, the evening sky above Piltover had turned shades of pink and orange, the sun setting over the horizon. They walked side by side, still holding hands, their steps slow and unhurried. The cool evening air was refreshing, a pleasant contrast to the warm glow that still lingered in Y/N’s chest.
“Thank you for today,” Y/N said softly as they reached the steps of the Academy.
Viktor smiled at her, his eyes warm and filled with a rare sense of peace. “No. Thank you, Y/N. For making it… special.”
They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to break the quiet, lingering closeness between them. Finally, Viktor lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft, shy kiss across her knuckles.
Y/N pulled him by the tie, and closed a passionate kiss on his soft lips. His eyes were wide as he stared surprised at what just happened, but only took him seconds to relax and reciprocate the kiss.
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