#and I think everything I said about it is probably fairly accurate but let's face it I could not watch it more than once so

[spicymushroomz]

Baby, I’m Jealous

Sebastian Sallow x Ravenclaw!GN!Reader

Synopsis: You get asked out by a guy from Ravenclaw and a certain brunette is not happy at all

Not Proofread

All Characters aged up to 18.

Word Count: 1056

Warnings: Jealousy, not historically accurate, Sebastian is aware of readers feelings, no use of y/n, use of an oc love rival, rushed pacing, making out, probably bad writing.

Author’s Note: Omg im so sorry for not posting. Ive been rlly stressed and dealing with #issues lately so im so very sorry. Please enjoy this little sebastian sallow fic (p.s. I might make this into an actual fleshed out fic if y’all enjoy this!)

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Well, this was certainly an unusual day.

You sat down at the Slytherin table to eat with Ominis and Sebastian like usual, talking about various gossip going around lately, and discussing what shenanigans you might get up to later.

“No Sebastian, I am not sneaking into Scribner’s desk to find her weird demented romance books.” Said Ominis sternly.

“But Ominis! It’s for the greater good!” Pleaded Sebastian as you giggled at the two of their antics.

You had started hanging out with them after Sebastian showed you the Undercroft. 2 years back, even after all you went through, you stuck by each other. After these 2 years, it was no surprise you were in love with Sebastian. Even from the beginning you thought he was gorgeous, and Sebastian wouldn’t have it any other way.

You see, Sebastian had been aware of your little crush since the day he showed you the undercroft. He saw the blush on your face as he taught you confringo. He thought you looked great when you were flustered. It’s why for the past few weeks he’s been teasing you, whispering softly in your ear, fleeting touches, and sometimes you could’ve sworn you caught him staring at you. (Not that he would admit that anyways)

You desperately hoped he would ask you out, but as the days went by that hope dwindled. You couldn’t really blame him though, especially because he was trying so hard to look for a cure for his Sister, Anne.

You silently resigned yourself to a quiet, single life forever. Or at least, until you got over Sebastian. (Which might as well be forever)

Which is what leads us to this very strange, peculiar day. As Sebastian continued to plead with Ominis to go steal Scribner’s weird romance books, they failed to notice Dmitri Lockhart, another 7th year in Ravenclaw.

You met him on your first day, he was kind, if not a little cocky, and mostly everyone liked him. Apparently, he was the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team’s beater. You thought he was fairly handsome, with his toned body, fluffy blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. However you didn’t think he held a candle to Sebastian in terms of looks.

He sauntered over to the Slytherin Table, sliding in next to you.

“Hey there, [name].” He greeted.

“Hey Dmitri.” You greeted back. Sebastian clenched his jaw, his eyes lingering on how Dmitri’s arm was touching yours.

“So listen, I was thinking that maybe we could-well maybe we could go to Hogsmeade sometime this weekend?” He asked, stuttering a little bit. You were impressed by his straightforwardness but you wanted to refuse. As sweet as the boy was, you would rather hang out with Sebastian.

Which speaking of, was seething with jealousy. How dare Dmitri think he can just saunter over here and ask you out, especially because that’s what Sebastian was planning to do.

Sebastian looked at you, the faint blush on your cheeks made you look ravishing. What he wouldn’t give to kiss you there and then. But then this guy had to come over and make everything difficult. Sebastian knew that in the end it was your decision, so he just had to sit there and take it.

You smiled softly at Dmitri, and let him down gently. “I’m sorry Dmitri, but I’m afraid I already have feelings for someone else.” You said, glancing at Sebastian.

Dmitri nodded. “That can’t be helped then, sorry [name] see you later.” He said, getting up and walking back to the Ravenclaw table.

Sebastian smirked smugly. Of course you chose him over Dmitri, you were smart after all. He looked at you with dark eyes, like at any moment he would gobble you up.

“Excuse us Ominis, me and [name] need to go have a private discussion.” said Sebastian, leaving the table and gesturing for you to come with him.

Ominis sighed, hoping that whatever you guys were going to do, you would at least save some space for Jesus.

Sebastian dragged you out of the great hall and into a small corridor nearby.

“Where are we going?” You asked, excited. Sebastian looked at you with hungry eyes.

“[Name], I’m in love with you.” You turned red. This was not what you were expecting. You had no time to process before he hit you with a blunt question. “May I kiss you?” He asked frantically, his eyes fleeting from your lips to your eyes.

You were even more shocked, your brain short circuiting but still managing a small nod.

Sebastian wasted no time. Hungrily, he dove for a taste of your lips. He was like a starved man, having a meal for the first time in a month. He couldn’t get enough. He ravished you, not letting you come up for air for what felt like hours. His hands had wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He needed you closer to him. You drove him crazy, everything about you. From your lips, to your eyes, to the perfect shape of your body, everything. Everything about you was perfect for him.

When you finally looked at eachother, out of breath from the kissing, you were an utter mess. Dazed, and in a state of bliss you had no idea if this was real or the best dream you’ve ever had.

“I love you.” said Sebastian softly, “I always have.”

Realizing this was all real, and not some strange dream, you replied. “I love you too, I always will.”

——————————————————————————

Author: I know this is cringy, but I have been craving just a cringy little fic lately. It’s also nice to ease me back into writing after a short break.

[wildflowerwoodsworld]

You have so many interesting wips! And the crossovers too 👀

I am quite intrigued by the Clover Civil War AU, Spade gone wrong, and Captain Challenge... if you wish to elaborate! 🫡

I have too many ideas. Is it a blessing or a curse? Not a clue!

Crossovers are both incredibly fun and really timeconsuiming bc I like to be accurate with things (see the table of maths I did to work out wingspans for the wings au) so it generally means a lot of deepdiving into wikis.

The Clover Civil War au is, well, to be fair, calling it a Clover civil war is a bit of a misnomer. It's more Dante took over as Wizard King and now the general people (plus a couple of the captains who aren't captains) are rebelling. Of course, nearly all of the sitting captains want to help, but if they step out of line Dante will let Vanica brutally murder all of their squad and make them watch so, uh, they're toeing the line.

Spade Gone Wrong was the idea that, instead of kidnapping Yami and William seperately, the Dark Triad attack a Captain's meeting about a month earlier than expected and everything goes to shit from there.

As for the Captain Challenge, I actually have the opening of it written. Though, it is a pretty old peice and would need rewriting before I posted the actual fic. If I ever get around to finishing it.

"They're waking up," Charlotte called as the two figures on the screen finally started moving. It was supposed to be a standard test, she and her fellow captains were supposed to be watching Yami go through some challenges to prove that he was still fit to be a captain. Instead, two of the Bulls had got caught up in the transportation spell and were in the maze instead of Yami.

Finral Roulacase. First Class Junior. Spatial Magic.

Vanessa Enoteca. Third Class Junior. Thread Magic. Witch.

They likely didn't stand a chance in the maze, but Yami's squad had a history of surprising people, especially those two. Two thirds of Yami's infamous 'disaster trio'.

"Hey, Vanessa," Finral finally spoke, sitting up as he looked around the room. "I think we've been kidnapped." Vanessa groaned.

"Again?" she threw an arm over her eyes. "Captain's gonna killed us." Finral pulled a face.

"No. He won't kill us. He'll just make us wish we were dead." assuming that they had been kidnapped was a fairly logical conclusion, Charlotte had to admit, but to jump to worrying about how their captain would react rather than worrying about their potential kidnappers was- strange, to say the least. And, if she didn't know better, would paint some very unflattering implications about how Yami ran his squad.

"How is that any better?" Vanessa demanded. The two spent another few minutes on the floor before Vanessa pushed herself to her feet, sighing. "Well, either way, we should probably figure out how we're going to get out of here. We both know Captain's only going to be more annoyed if he has to come and get us. Again."

"Yeah," Finral agreed. "there's just one minor complication we need to consider."

"And that is?"

"My long range portals aren't working."

"What do you mean, they aren't working?"

"I mean, my long range portals aren't working. There's a barrier around this place that I can't break through."

"I thought that was impossible."

"Well, clearly it is possible." Vanessa groaned.

"Captain is going to kill us!"

"I have to ask, Yami," Dorothy, who was actually awake for once, said. "how many times have members of your squad been kidnapped?" whilst the rest of them were gathered around the screen, Yami was in the corner, blindfolded and with his back to the rest of them. The reasoning was so that he couldn't see his challenges ahead of time and cheat, but Charlotte was sure Nozel just wanted revenge for all the times Yami had embarrassed him.

"Depends on the idiot, but I generally end up having to save those two pretty regularly."

"Why them?" Rill asked, and it was things like that that reminded Charlotte just how young the Aqua Deer's Captain was.

"Their magic. Why else?"

"And you keep letting it happen?" Nozel scoffed. "Some Captain you are."

"I'd like to see you corral my idiots, especially those two, for any great length of time."

"Hey," Charlotte's attention was drawn back to the screen as Vanessa spoke again. "there's a door here. Captain can't be mad at us if we bust out before he even realises we're gone. We can just say we went to town or something."

"'Nessa, I love you, but there's no way Yami doesn't know we're gone. We were literally right in front of him." Finral said, wandering over and staring at the door.

"Shit, we were, weren't we? Hey, think we can use it as an excuse to get out of physical training? That stuff's brutal."

"You try that and Yami'll just say that it's another reason why we need to do it. I have no desire to do more because you wanted to get out of the thankfully small amount we actually have to do."

"You- you have to do the least!"

"It's called knowing when training's coming up and getting the hell out of there. Hardly my fault you can't portal."

"Oh, and here I thought it was your alternative methods of persuasion."

"Actually, that doesn't work anywhere near as well as you'd think it does. Yami's surprisingly hard to bribe."

"Wait, seriously? Then why the hell do you portal him everywhere and do the paperwork if not bribes?"

"It's called making a deal that's overall in my benifit-"

"It's called you being a pushover is what it's called."

"It's called knowing what the training plans are in advance and working out how to avoid them actually."

"Wait, you can figure that out from the paperwork?"

"Yeah. Yami has to get permission if he wants to do something that'll take us out of action for a while."

"Huh."

"Anyway, we're getting off topic. There's a door. How the hell do we open it?" Finral gestured to the large door next to them. "Dunno if you missed this little fact, but there's no keyhole. Which means we can't just pick the lock."

"Damnit. There aren't any hinges on this side of the door either, are there? No. Of course not. Because that would be too easy," Vanessa paused for a moment. "hey, are you sure this isn't some training exercise Captain thought up as punishment for dodging so many of his other ones?"

"No."

"You sound certain."

"There's no obvious time limit. If it was Yami, there'd be death spikes on a slowly lowering ceiling or something because he's a sadist."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, shut up and help me find a way out of here!"

[wowbright]

Redemptive (?) Violence in Two Scorsese Films: Goncharov (1973) and Silence (2016)

Tons has been written about the parallels between Goncharov and Scorsese's other mafia movies. But thematically, i wonder if we're not collectively missing something by considering its similarities to Scorsese's definitively non-mafia masterpiece, Silence (2016).

On the surface, these two movies don't seem to have a lot in common. Goncharov is--well, you know the plot. Silence (2016), on the other hand, is a historical drama about a persecuted Christian community in feudal Japan. And man, is it brutal. More brutal then all of Scorsese's mafia films combined. (I'm not joking here. After the initial scenes, I could not continue watching this film in increments longer than 5 minutes. It's a good film--a great film--but I absolutely do not recommend watching it to anyone.)

Silence, for those who aren't familiar, follows a pair of Portuguese Jesuit priests trying to shepherd their Japanese parish through government persecution. It's hard to watch because it's just one brutal martyrdom after martyrdom in this small community.

But unlike with cinematic narratives of Joan of Arc or even of the crucifixion of Christ himself, nothing good seems to come out of this sacrificial violence. We see people being burned alive, being crucified, being humiliated and tortured and killed in a myriad of ways--and there is no redemption in it. The martyrs don't express unalloyed joy in the face of their suffering. The musical score never wells up to ensure us that, yes, this pain and death was worth it.

It's just grim and awful and meaningless.

It's so bad that the Portuguese Jesuit missionary who serves as a priest in the community starts begging the believers to deny Christ publicly. They can believe it in their hearts, in the safety of their homes and village, but if anyone asks, they are not Christian. He assures them God will forgive them, because he cannot imagine this meaningless slaughter is what God wants.

Ultimately, Christians in the audience are prompted to wonder if even the crucifixion of Christ was worth it, if it was truly redemptive, or if it was just as grim and bleak and purposeless as every death portrayed in the film.

When I rewatch Goncharov, I see a young Scorsese struggling with the same themes. Sure, the characters in the film are terrible people, nothing like the good-hearted Japanese peasants portrayed in Silence. But Scorsese plays with the same ideas around redemptive violence. In Christianity, the death of martyrs is supposed to be redemptive by instructing and giving hope to other Christians. In Goncharov, we expect the deaths of Ice Pick Joe and Bruno and all those other horrible people to be redemptive in the sense that they are getting their just desserts, and by sacrificing them on the altar of death, we *should* be saving countless lives (because they can no longer kill).

But in Goncharov, these deaths are just as meaningless as the ones in Silence. Nothing good comes out of these people dying; the slaughter continues unabated. If anything, the pace increases, and the characters we thought could be redeemed fall further and further into hopelessness and despair.

The problem with Goncharov, and Scorsese's other mafia movies, is that the thrill of living underground, of having an alternate society, of pursuing riches and power at the expense of good--all those things seduce the viewer into romanticizing the struggles the characters go through. Scorsese's point might be that the violence is pointless and better avoided, but the audience is hesitant to adopt the same view.

So in a very real sense, Silence is a continuation of what Scorsese was trying to do with Goncharov. 40-plus years on in his career, though, Scorsese has learned to strip away every vestige of romanticism to ensure he gets his point across. No one is rich, no one is sexy. No one is engaged in a decades-long quest for revenge. No one is trying to set things right, to correct things, to make things even.

In Silence, violence is stripped down to its true essentials. It is cruel. It is unjust. It offers no hope.

These are also the things that Goncharov communicates. But they are communicated in a more palatable form, in a film you don't have to pause every 5 minutes just to get through, in a narrative where you can distract yourself with glamor and romance and what-ifs.

Look, I'm not condemning Goncharov fans for enjoying those things about the movie. Scorsese wanted you to enjoy them. He put them in there so you could actually get through the movie and receive its message at the end.

There's a risk that you won't get the message. But there's also a risk that you won't get the message in Silence, because chances are you're going to stop watching it before it's even finished.

And carrying out that narrative in both ways--in one version that is glamorized and easy to swallow, in another that is sparse and almost impossible to bear-- that's its own kind of genius.

[heliads]

Sudden Changes (Part Two)

When you, an Erudite, accidentally stumble upon Jeanine Matthew’s plans, she forces you to transfer to Dauntless. Your only hope is to blend in, although Four seems less willing to let that happen.

part one / masterlist / part three

This first encounter sets you on edge. You hate to admit it, that barely a few minutes into your tenure at Dauntless you’re already convincing yourself it’s all a mistake, but that’s the way it is. This is probably how your life will be until the day you die- terrified over the smallest of incidents, sure that any small happening means that Jeanine Matthews will be sending an assassin your way. This is no way to live, but you’re not sure that you have a choice about it. No, you have no choices left at all.

It was either this or die outright, you remind yourself. Even this nerve-strained way of life is better than that initial bullet. At least now you have time to grow and at least pretend that you got the easy way out, right? However, you’re not sure where to go from now. Jeanine included no terms of service in her deal. In fact, the only thing she said was that you would have to choose Dauntless. Then again, you’re fairly sure that if this man, Four, found out what you’d seen, you’d be back in that same scared place where you started.

That’s why you were sent to Dauntless in the first place, isn’t it? Jeanine wanted you to keep your mouth shut. You’d either learn to live as a mindless, brainless soldier, seamlessly fitting into the ranks, or you’d die and be stuck as a washed-out factionless roaming the streets, with nothing to do and no one to listen to you. However, you’re fairly sure that she hadn’t counted on one of her own Dauntless leaders questioning your presence here. Apparently Jeanine’s agenda only extends so far as herself, although that’s no surprise to anyone who’s ever known her.

This man, Four, however, you don’t know him as well. You may know Jeanine, or at least you thought you had, but he is a complete blank to you. You could swear that he looks familiar, like you’ve seen his face before, but every time you comb your memories, searching for a name to put to the face, you can’t remember a thing. This is unfortunate, especially since remembering who Four is could mean the difference between coming face to face with another one of Jeanine’s guards or accidentally discovering someone who could be an ally to you.

Regardless of who Four is or what his intentions are, you can be sure of one thing: he knows you, or must recognize you from somewhere, and he’s not going to leave you alone anytime soon. Ever since that first meeting, when he’d stared at you like you were someone he had pushed to the farthest corners of his mind, sure that he’d never see you again, it was as if he had sworn to himself that he’d never leave you alone. Wherever you look, he is there: down the table in the mess hall, watching you spar in training, eyes locked onto your knives and targets as you throw. His presence is silent, and he’s about as likely to say anything to you as any of the other initiates, but it’s there nonetheless. You can’t help but feel unnerved. You had hoped to blend into the crowds of trainees, but Four is making that impossible.

So, you throw yourself into your training with additional fervor. If he’s going to keep watching you, you might as well make sure that everyone else is watching you as well. Target practice, both with a knife and a gun, comes surprisingly easy to you. Maybe it’s because they both rely on taking careful aim, having perfect balance between what the eye sees and what the mind knows to be true. It’s about as close as you’ll ever get to Erudite in this dark corner of the city that the madmen call Dauntless.

Hand-to-hand combat, on the other hand, is not your forte. Not at all. You get the drills, sure, and it’s a good workout, but every time you’re put up against another opponent it’s like you’re missing some key part of a melody, repeating the same choppy chords while everyone else is improvising an entire symphony. Your punches are solid and sure, exactly what you’d practiced, but you can’t seem to quite put the pieces together the way the other initiates can.

Maybe it’s because you’re not used to this, the abandonment of all rational thought. As you watch your opponents, you notice one common thread among all those who win: they seem to run on pure adrenaline, and even when they study their opponent’s thought patterns, they don’t get lost in their heads, moving only with the speed of their fists. That’s where you’re lacking, you suppose, you’re still trying to cling to your past. If you let yourself truly fall, you might find something other than just the rocks at the bottom.

It’s after one of these days, when you just managed to eke out a victory over a girl who’s one place away from the bottom of the rankings, that Four finally approaches you. He walks next to you, arms folded across his chest. “You know, I figured that for someone who’s so good at rifles and knives, you’d be a little better in actual fighting.” You scoff. “Thanks for the kind words. I’ll cherish them always.”

Four chuckles. “Oh, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just wondering why someone who’s supposed to be the best of the best back in Erudite would transfer away, and especially to a place that she doesn’t even seem to like.” You freeze slightly, then keep walking, hoping to cover up your slight lapse. Judging by the sharp look in Four’s eyes, though, he hasn’t missed a thing. “Maybe I wanted a challenge.”

Four raises his eyebrows. “I can’t help but doubt that. Why are you really here?” You weren’t expecting him to confront you like this, not here and not now. He isn’t dancing around the issue, not at all. You weren’t anticipating such a direct question, and you don’t have a solid alibi lined up. Instead, you deflect, hoping he’ll leave well enough alone, although you doubt you’ll be that lucky. “Why are you so interested in my motives? Don’t you have an entire other group of initiates to question?”

Four shrugs. “All of them make sense. All of them look like they’re happy to be here. You, though, you keep backing down. You’ll be in the middle of a fight, about to win, and then something comes over you, like you regret being here at all. You’re holding yourself back, and I want to know why.” This takes you by surprise. You knew he was trying to figure you out, but you weren’t expecting such an accurate appraisal. “We all have our bad habits. I still can’t figure out why mine is worth your trouble.”

Four stops walking, forcing you to stop next to him. “You’re interesting, Y/N. I saw you before, back in Erudite. I don’t think you would have left there for a second, and you don’t like you entirely want to be here now. You could have made a last minute switch, but that doesn’t seem like you. Either you’re making a point of trying to never be true to yourself, or there’s something going wrong.”

He walks away now, leaving you stunned and staring after him. You can’t help but flash back to the look in Jeanine’s eyes when she’d watched you walk away, remembering the cold glare of a woman who would be willing to kill anyone who got in her way. If you confess everything to Four now, if you tell him what truly went down, what would happen to you? Would Jeanine find out? Would she let you live?

As it turns out, you’re not sure that you’re going to have much of a choice. You manage to scrape through the first stage of training, especially due to your skill with a gun and a knife. You were able to improve your physical fighting skills after you picked up on Four’s silent hint to be more aggressive and just go for it, and you find yourself comfortably within the upper half of the initiates. Not bad for someone who’s not supposed to be here at all.

The next stage of training, on the other hand, seems even worse than the first one. When Eric and Four explain what your fear landscape is and how you’ll be traversing it, a silent storm of dread rises up inside of you. You know what your worst fear is- being found out, watching one of Jeanine’s guards place the barrel of a guard in front of your skull. You have no doubt that it will show up in your fear landscape, and you have no idea how to explain it away without revealing yourself. You’ve been thinking of potential alibis for days, but none of them make sense.

So, when you walk in the door to your first fear landscape training session and see Four waiting for you, you can’t help but groan inwardly. There’s no getting out of this, is there? Four will know the truth, you’ll be in even worse danger than before. When Four places the needle in your neck, he must sense the tension radiating out from your every movement, because he reaches down and takes your hand. “You’ll be fine, honestly. This entire stage of training will take place in your head. From what I’ve heard, that’s your strongest suit.” Then you’re pulled under the tow of the drug, and you can spare no more thoughts towards the comforting look in his eyes as he looks down at you.

You progress through your first few fears without too much difficulty. The last one, the most difficult one to face, is the one you’d been dreading all along. The scene shifts into a familiar hall at Erudite, the one where the windows progressively disappear, as do the cameras. If only you’d noticed the way that the building practically called out for you to turn around and run. Maybe then you’d have made it out without all of this. Maybe then you’d still be at Erudite, with no idea of the thrills of life at Dauntless.

A new thought flies into your head, one calling for you to run. If you turn around now, you won’t have to see the scene over again. You wouldn’t have to know any of this, you could make it out. However, your footsteps continue down the hall, carrying towards the open door that you know will lead to the large room full of Jeanine’s plans. You’re already here, you might as well see the whole thing through.

So, you keep walking, and when the ceiling opens up before you to reveal the room you’ve seen so many times before, whenever you close your eyes, you don’t run. When the guards come over, pointing guns at your head, you don’t back down for a second. Instead, you let your fists fly out as you’ve been taught, and you take them down without another thought towards the matter. This is what you’ve been learning all along- not to regret what might have been, but to fight. You’ve always been fighting, you realize. Maybe Dauntless provided you with the opportunity to make it all count for something.

You grab one of the guards’ guns, and when you turn back around, Jeanine is in front of you. Her voice is cajoling, as if you’re one of her students again. “Y/N, what is this? Don’t be ridiculous, put the gun down.” You shake your head. “You can’t scare me any longer. You might have forced my path, but I’ve made it my own. You won’t control my thoughts any longer.” You know the simulation, you know what you’re expected to do. All the same, when your finger closes on the trigger, you can’t help but look away, unable to stare your mentor in the face as you point the gun her way.

You wake back up in the Dauntless room, gunshot echoing in your ears. Four is staring at you with unabashed horror. “That’s why you left? You found out something that Jeanine Matthews wanted to cover up?” You nod, wrapping your arms around you as if the meager warmth can stave off everything that you’d seen. “I wasn’t supposed to be there that day. She gave me a choice: I could either transfer here or die by the end of the night.”

You’re not sure why you’re telling Four everything, not now. You’ve been so afraid of letting anyone know anything about you, and here you are, spilling your entire heart out to Four like he’ll be willing to watch over it for you. However, he doesn’t look like he’s about to rat you out to the Erudite guards. Instead, he’s shaking his head softly, his face wrought with something almost like guilt. “I just- do you regret leaving? You were meant to have a strong future in Erudite, to do things that no one else had even dreamed about. Now you’re here, a soldier for the rest of your life. If you could set things right, would you?”

Your attention snaps back to him. Those are dangerous words, and he knows that. Even entertaining that thought would mean rising up against Jeanine, against Erudite and the other factions. So, you stand up to face him, unwilling to commit to anything until you know Four’s true motives. “It depends on what setting things right would mean. This is a tricky city, you know. Anything anyone says could be taken the other way.”

Four sighs. “Right. I should clarify. This city, this faction system, is flawed. You know that. There are people with too much power over everyone else, and the factions don’t account for everyone.” You stare at him. “You’re talking about the Divergents.” Four hesitates, confidence wavering as if he’s about to make the worst decision of his life. “I’m one of them.” You shake your head softly. “Even saying that could get you killed. Why are you trusting me with this?”

Four steps forward, taking your hand. “I want you to remember everything you saw in that room. If Jeanine was willing to kill one of her best students, she must be covering up something big. If you can tell me everything you remember about what was in that room, we might be able to have some leverage. Leverage can get you anywhere in this city.” You nod slowly, realizing what he’s saying. “It could make sure you stay alive, even if your secret comes out.”

Four inclines his head. He looks back to you know, eyes seeming to swallow you whole. “Will you do it? Will you work with me?” You give him a half smile. “I’m not sure that I have a choice. I’ve been running ever since I got here.” Four shakes his head. “That’s not an answer. Y/N, we could both be killed for this. If you want out, I won’t judge you for it.” Your smile broadens. You didn’t expect this generosity, not from him. “I’ll do it, Four. Honestly. I won’t back down now.” Four smiles in return, the expression almost foreign on him. It makes his eyes soften, the hard glares of a soldier gone from him. To be honest, it makes your own gaze stray on him for a little longer, unwilling to put away this picture of him in your head. “When do we begin?”

ty luna once again

divergent tag list: someone who is way too cool to be one of my fears @underc0vercryptid​

[demonicheadcanons]

The Obey Me Brothers When the MC is Sick

AN: MC is gender neutral. TW for obvious mentions of illness (warning for anyone with emetophobia) and death (no actual death included). The MC has a general ‘bug/fever’ style illness to keep things simple. Like last time, I’ve included scenarios that take into account whether or not you’re close, because I want to consider what they’d be like when the MC first gets there vs when they’ve been there for a while.

Note: All of the brothers aren’t worried about getting sick, because I headcanon that whilst the demons can pass on harmful illnesses to humans that can be deadly, the opposite generally is not true.

Total words: Around 5k. This was written in 3 different sessions so there may be some inconsistencies. Sorry for mistakes, its 1am and I’m too tired to double check everything. Enjoy!!

 Lucifer

· If you’re not close: He’ll check up on you, take your temperature, and ask about the symptoms. He’s not necessarily cold, but just seems rather emotionless, or he might come off as frustrated - because he is. It wouldn’t be good for Diavolo’s goals if something were to happen to you, so the entire thing is an inconvenience.

· He’ll take care of you to a degree, but he’s not going to be a very comforting presence. He’ll give you any medicine or potions he can find that might help, or he’ll ask Solomon or a doctor to look after you. The warmest gesture you can expect from him is a cup of herbal tea in the morning when you wake up.

· Have fun catching up on all the schoolwork you missed after. Lucifer claims he has too much work to do to help you, and he’s telling the truth... kind of.

· If you are close, he’s going to ask you to move to his room until you get better - this is so that he can keep an eye on your whilst working at his desk, so that his brothers won’t constantly disturb you, and also because he wants to be as close as possible; he can comfort you easier if you’re right there, and he can spend the night with you in his arms if it makes you less miserable.

· He’s going to be gentle and attentive. He’ll take his gloves off and check your temperature with one hand, and then ask a lot of questions. “How do you feel?” “Where does it hurt?” “Do you think you can eat?” “Can you drink some water?” “How do you think you got sick?” He wants whatever details you’re willing to give so he can paint an accurate picture of things and start resolving it as soon as possible.

· When he’s with you, he’ll rub soothing circles against your palm or the back of your hand with his thumb, or against your cheeks and jaw, or along your arms and sides - whatever seems to comfort you most.

· He’ll ask if there’s anything you want him to do, or anything that you think might help - he’s not your servant, and he does have to bite back his pride a little to ask, but if he can make you happy then he has plenty to be proud for. He knows humans are more fragile than demons, but going by everything you’ve said it seems like this isn’t a serious illness, just a little sick spell. Lucifer is one of the more realistic brothers - he knows not to panic too much. However, he’d still rather not see you upset or hurt if he can help it.

· If you’re physically being sick, he’s going to initially step back because its rare for demons to get to that stage, and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. After a bit he’ll take to rubbing your back and mumbling whatever reassurances he can think of. He won’t admit it, but it definitely threw him off a bit, and it makes him even more anxious and doting for the next while.

· He feels guilty if he has to leave to go to class, but he’ll tuck you in and leave you with some tea and light snacks. He can’t afford to miss out on work, he has far too much to do already without falling behind and he doesn’t want to disappoint Diavolo. A lot of people are counting on him. That said, between classes and during breaks he’s going to be checking his phone to see if you’ve messaged or left any missed calls. If you haven’t, he probably won’t text each time to check up on you, but he’ll send at least 1 text a day whilst out to see how you’re doing.

· When he gets home, he’ll make sure his brothers aren’t doing anything stupid where he can see them and then head to his room to see how you’re faring. When you start to get better, you can see him smile faintly with relief and he flops down on the bed beside you, graceful as ever but more relaxed than he’d been the last few days.

· When you’re well enough to eat and your fever is down, he stops worrying. He’s a bit irritable around this time, though - its not your fault. His brothers are all really excited that they can see you up and about again, and when you turn up for dinner after not being there for a few days, they’re all so loud he starts to think he might need a day off to deal with the headache it gives them.

· If his brothers start teasing him for being so worried for the last few days, he’s going to snap fairly quickly. Please don’t be offended - he was worried, he made it clear he was when he was around you.

 [Other brothers after the Read More]:

Mammon

· Close or not, he’s panicking. If you’re not close, it comes across as him teasing you about how weak you humans are, and he might come across as rude or inconsiderate. In reality, he really doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act, and he feels bad for it because Mammon is more emotionally in tune, and feels bad when others around him feel bad. He’s also just, trying to get more information - is it serious? Do you need a doctor? Should he go get Lucifer or even Lord Diavolo?

· Mammon isn’t the kind of person to wish harm on anyone, even if he doesn’t like them. When he finds out you’re sick, he’s going to quietly hope you get better soon, and then try and convince himself that he doesn’t care because you’re just some random human anyway. Still, he’ll be relieved once he hears that you start doing better, but the entire time you’re sick he’s worrying that you might die because humans are like that.

· If you are close... be prepared. Mammon is not leaving your side. He comes to wake you up in the morning and you seem more out-of-it than normal. Your face is flushed, so he checks your temperature with his forehead (its what he’s used to, he doesn’t even think to do it with his hand or arm). When he realises you’re much warmer than usual, he starts panicking.

· He’ll ask you about it first, but if you don’t give him clear answers or you seem a bit unsure, he’s going to go get Satan or Lucifer and bring them back to check up on you - he would go to Solomon, but he’s not close enough to him to predict how he’d react, and so leaves it as a last resort. If they give the all clear and say you just need a few days to recover, it relaxes him a little, but he’s still going to be on edge until you’re back to your usual self.

· Mammon is focused on comfort. When he’s sick he doesn’t want to be alone and he wants to be held. He’s either holding your hand, or laying right beside you with his arms around you, rubbing your back until you fall asleep. You’ll have to ask if you need anything like water or painkillers because he’s only going to leave if he really needs to eat, and if you’re physically being sick he’ll feel guilty but he’s not going to bring back any food because its impossible to predict how the Devildom food will interact with your illness.

· The first time you truly hear him snap at Lucifer probably happens whilst you’re sick - Lucifer comes to tell him he needs to go to class, because he’s missed too many lessons, and initially Mammon will plead with him and promise to attend every class for the next month no matter what, all pride thrown out the window because you’re important to him. If Lucifer still refuses to let him stay home, he’s going to get pissed. You shouldn’t be alone right now, and he’s adamant about that. It takes you quietly opening the door of your room, wrapped up in a blanket and flushed from the fever, to make the two stop arguing. When Lucifer sees you, he lets out a low growl and then leaves Mammon to do whatever he wants, filing an excused absence for the two of you.

· When you start getting better, Mammon lights up. You could swear he’s got stars locked away in his eyes that first morning you wake up and you seem almost back to normal. He keeps an eye on you, still, but his nerves finally die down a bit and he feels like he can breathe again. He’s grinning every time he looks at you, because he really is so happy you’re doing better, but if you bring it up or tease him he’s going to pout and refuse to speak.

· When you’re completely recovered, he might seem distant for a day or two - he needs to fall back into his normal schedule, and he needs a good rest. He’ll be there for you if you come to him, but he’s not glued to your side like he usually is.

 Leviathan

· If you’re not close, he’s not going to know you’re sick unless someone posts about it in the group chat. Even then, he doesn’t pay any notice to it. You’ll get better. Whatever brother you’re close to will take care of you much better than he will anyway - that’s why you chose them, they’re better and more capable than him. Levi barely pays attention to anything at all for those few days, and spends most of his time holed up in his room with one distraction or another. He doesn’t understand why he feels lighter when you’re back at breakfast again, but he does. He keeps an eye on you from then on, but nothing really changes.

· If you are close, he can’t define how he feels no matter how hard he tries. He’s worried, he knows that much, but you’ll get better, right? Was he qualified to take care of you, if you were seeking him out? Shouldn’t you just rest for a few days? Wouldn’t that be enough to help you? He honestly doesn’t have a clue what would actually help you feel better, and so won’t even think to get medicine or painkillers unless you ask him to.

· He has to view it as an opportunity to get the ball rolling - if you come to him for comfort, or he feels he can offer any, then he can spend the time you’re sick getting closer to you. He can show you that he might just be able to offer something, anything at all, to your relationship. But... in his room, please? He’ll carry you there if he needs to, he has to be able to feed Henry and relax where he’s surrounded by his comfort items and his fish-tank walls.

· His bathtub bed (and his room as a whole) is quite cool and helps keep his temperature down, so he’ll set you down in that. If he’s also not focusing on keeping himself warm, he can drop his temperature enough that even just having him rest a hand on your forehead lowers your temperature. It takes a lot of courage, but if you’re up for it, you can sit in his lap and marathon TSL and he’ll keep his cold arms around you so you’re not overheating. He almost cries if you fall asleep like that - do you really feel so safe and comfortable around him?

· If you’re being physically ill he won’t have a clue what to do. Its not something he has experience with, so he’ll probably just wait outside the bathroom and call Lucifer to see what he says. When you come out he’s in pieces, tears in his eyes as he wraps his arms around you and holds you there. He’ll ask if there’s anything you want him to do if it happens again, and whilst it might make him feel a little ill himself, he’s willing to rub your back or hold back your hair if you need him to.

· If he’s asked to go to class or to a student council meeting, he’s reluctant to leave you alone. He makes sure you’re all set with TSL on and a handheld game system within reach, and a glass of water, and enough blankets and pillows... he’s nervously darting about the room making sure things are perfect. Right before leaving, he hesitantly kisses the top of your head and leans down to talk to Henry. “You have to take care of them, okay?”

· When he’s not around you, he’s nervous and unfocused. Where he’d usually spend his time glued to his phone so that he didn’t have to focus on the world around him, he now just stares off into the distance. He walks faster to make it feel like time is moving a little quicker, and the second he’s free, he rushes back to his room to check on you.

· When you start getting better, Levi in part wonders if anything he did helped. It was probably the doctor, or maybe one of his brothers came in whilst he was gone and helped, but all it takes is a ‘thank you’ from you and he’s tearing up. He wraps his arms around you until he’s too flustered to keep holding on. He still doesn’t want to let you out of his sight.

· It does end up being a bonding experience - Levi trusts himself a little more around you. He thinks that even if he’s not the best, you’re still open to his presence, and he’s not bothering you all the time. He finds himself closer to you, asking if you want to hang out more, and he’s more open after the whole experience. Really, an experience like this is the perfect way to break down some of the walls he’s built, so being sick isn’t all bad in the end up.

 Satan

· If you’re not close, Satan will offer advice he’s found in books to you or whoever is taking care of you. He’s the most willing to help even if you’re not that close, because he has knowledge on the subject that the others lack. If a doctor isn’t available, he’ll be the one to check your temperature and ask about your symptoms and give a general diagnosis on the problem. If other brothers aren’t sure what to do, he is one of the first they call for advice after asking Lucifer (they think Satan might be better at dealing with it, but Lucifer is responsible for your safety and well-being, so the brothers view it as being necessary to keep him updated and get his opinion. Otherwise, they would usually go to Satan first and only to Lucifer if it was serious and/or you needed time off school.)

· The most he’ll offer in such a case is advice, though. You won’t get any real comfort from him, unless you call him and are clearly distressed, in which case he may offer some generic words of comfort over the phone before he calls someone you’re closer to and tells them to go take care of you.

· If you are close, he’s still going to be checking your symptoms, but he’ll be closer - instead of hovering over you from a distance, he’ll sit beside you on your bed and press a hand to your forehead and cheek instead of rushing to get a thermometer, and if you lean against him, he’ll put an arm around you whilst he asks about how you’re feeling.

· He’s one of the few brothers who prefers for you to stay in your own room - he’s aware that being physically ill is common for humans, and he can’t have you being sick on his books. Also, his room is too messy to fathom trying to take care of you properly. He ends up setting up a corner of your room for him to relax in whilst you’re recovering, with a selection of blankets and some pillows that Belphie was willing to lend him, so long as he washes them before returning them. Satan brings a couple of books and settles there until you’re better. He’s aware that he won’t get ill, and so doesn’t worry about proximity to you. He just thinks you might want your own space.

· If you ask him to, he’ll cuddle up beside you or sit beside the bed and read to you. His voice is low and steady and relaxing, and if it helps you sleep, he feels quite proud. He often ends up falling asleep right beside you, and it takes a moment for him to come around again when he wakes up. A lot of time is passed that way, with the two of you napping or him curled up in the corner in his impromptu fort, reading, as you rest.

· He’s not proud of it, but he finds it almost enchanting if you’re moody whilst sick. Its entertaining to him, and he wants you to get better, but he’ll still analyse your mood and actions the entire time you’re ill to see what makes you react in certain ways. He’s not intentionally provoking you, he promises, he’s just curious by nature.

· He asks a lot of questions in general - about how you feel, about what you think of a certain topic, about the human world. He’s trying his best to provide some sort of distraction for you, and the second you furrow your brows or start to look distressed, he produces another question or topic for the two of you to discuss or mull over instead. If it gets to a point where you stop answering, he’ll sit beside you and run a hand through your hair with an uncertainty similar to someone petting a cat that isn’t quite friendly yet. He wishes he could offer more comfort somehow, but Satan isn’t sure how he’s supposed to do that, so he just ends up acting like he normally does with short bursts of extra contact if they appear to help.

· If you’re physically sick, he’ll hold your hair back and then sit you down and get you a glass of water. Sips only, he reminds you - if you gulp it down, you’ll just be sick again. He’s practical, and he reminds you of anything he feels necessary when you’re ill - “don’t do this, it’ll make it worse” and “how about you try this, it might make it better?” become common phrases. He’ll listen to what you have to say, but will still gently coax you towards whatever advice he’s following out of a book if he can, because surely something has to help?

· When asked to leave for class, Satan complies without an argument, but he does notably struggle to maintain his composure when he remembers that you’re alone and suffering. Still, he reminds himself, if he goes to class he can tutor you on whatever you’ve missed when you’re better. So long as no one pisses him off, it’ll be alright. He checks up on you when he gets home, and realises that as long as you have everything you need before he leaves, that he can leave for short periods of time so as not to disrupt his schedule too heavily. He only really does so to go to school or cook, but knowing he can do that leaves him much less stressed than most of the other brothers, and he ends up a lot more organised too when you’ve recovered.

· When you start to get better, he tries to help get your school work out of the way as quickly as possible so that you’re not falling too far behind. He’ll still encourage you to relax and take it easy, but you’ll be caught up in no time with his help. He also prepares foods that are lighter when its his turn to cook so that you don’t distress your recovering system too much. Satan seems calm, and the next time you feel under the weather, he now knows exactly how to react to bring the least stress to both of you. He’s definitely the fastest to adapt.

· Bonus: You absolutely steal his heart if you ramble whilst somewhat out of it. Especially if none of your thoughts really connect but you’re trying to tell him something, anything that pops into your mind. He sits by your bed and rests his arms on it, with his chin propped up on them as he looks at you and listens intently, smiling the entire time.

 Asmodeus

· If you’re not close, Asmo won’t really do anything. You might get a simple ‘get well soon, honey x’ text, and that’s about it, or maybe some moisturiser with a note about how you should still take care of your skin even if you’re under the weather. Asmo keeps his distance and goes about his days as normal, without any real concerns or worries. You’ll get better, he doesn’t have to stress himself out over some human.

· If you are close, he’s all over the place for the first few hours. He makes sure your bed is comfortable, being the only brother other than Satan who wants you to stay in your own room so that there aren’t human germs all over his, and so that if he needs to, he can have his own time in his room. He’ll give you the comfiest pyjamas he can find that still look ridiculously stylish, and will ask if you want any help changing with a suggestive smirk, but any offers he makes are fully genuine - if you want his help changing, no funny business, he’ll absolutely do it.

· He’s not worried about getting sick, so Asmo stays physically close, but he’s also just not interested in being intimate with someone who is ill. Because of this, you get a break from his more suggestive nature. He’ll press soft kisses to your forehead when he’s trying to get you to relax or sleep, but that’s the only kisses you’re getting until you’re better and there isn’t a trace of your fever left.

· You may not feel great but your hair is going to look great, because he focuses on it. There’s an intimate comfort in having someone wash, dry, play with, and style your hair, and he hopes its enough to help you feel a little better. If you seem distressed his hands go to your hair, and he runs his fingers through it gently. If it’s messy or hasn’t been washed, he’s going to offer to help you bathe, but if you’re too unwell he’s going to prop you up in a chair, swaddled up in a blanket, and he’ll handle your hair. While he’s at it, he’ll wash your face and apply moisturiser to your face, hands, and arms. He quietly tells you something about how feeling cleaner can make you feel healthier.

· He’s not forceful about anything. It’s the first time he’s cared about anyone almost as much as he cares about himself, his first time putting someone before him, so he treats you like he’d treat himself. He knows that when he’s sick he sometimes really just wants to rest and be cared for, so he’ll do that for you. He rubs your back and tells you to let it all out, to complain if you have the energy to, and he’ll listen to everything you say. He tries his best to focus on you anyway, but when you’re sick and you ramble and whine, he couldn’t focus on anything else if he tried; he’s startled to realise just how important it is to him that he understands how you’re feeling in that moment so that he can make it better.

· He’s actually pretty good at attending classes, and because his attendance is high, Lucifer is more willing to let him have the few days off whilst you’re ill so he can look after you. Asmo leaves every now and then to wash, eat, exercise, or just to stretch his legs and have a bit of a break, but he does try to spend as much time as possible with you. Sometimes he’ll sit by the bed and scroll through Devilgram and read out posts to you or show you anything he thinks you’ll like.

· When you get better, he books a full spa day for the two of you - it helps to wash away any remaining traces of the illness, without being too overwhelming. It also helps him - its going to take a long time for him to get used to taking care of others, but he thinks its all worth it at the end of the day.

 Beelzebub

· Close or not, Beel is at least a little concerned. Being sick is one of the worst things that could happen in his opinion, and the second you stop showing up for meals, he notices and asks about you. He finds out what’s happened from another brother, and worries the entire time he doesn’t see you. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’ll tell whatever brother you’re close with to stay by your side as much as they can so you don’t feel too lonely. He’s relieved when you show up again, and will try to get closer to you so he can be closer to you next time you’re ill.

· If you are close, he’s at your door the second he realises you’re ill, and carries you back to his room if you’re comfortable. You’re wrapped up in blankets with as many pillows as Beel could coax Belphie into giving him, and he’s ready to take care of you as best he can. To him, this just involves staying glued by your side. He’s roped Belphie into helping, so that when he does have to leave, Belphie is by your side holding your hand in his place. Outside of that, Beel tries his best to only leave if you’re resting.

· He initially planned to have Belphie bring him food when he needed it, but then he felt too guilty because he couldn’t give you any and it might make you feel nauseous. Whilst you’re ill, no food is allowed in the twins’ room because of this.

· Beel is large and warm, making him perfect for cuddles. As mentioned in a previous post, the one issue is that if one of you is already feverish, you’re liable to overheating, and so Belphie has to set up a fan to keep you at a more reasonable temperature. With this in place, Beel lays down and wraps you up in his arms and stays there for as long as he can. He’s not one for words, but he’s happy to listen if you want to complain, or with some prompting, he’ll talk about his past and about what he and Lilith and Belphie got up to when they were angels in the Celestial Realm. If you still overheat, he kneels down by the bed and holds one of your hands in both of his, gently playing with your fingers and tracing shapes over the back of your hand idly as he speaks or listens.

· He checks your temperature regularly with his forehead, desperate for any sign of recovery, and sheepishly kisses it afterwards as an apology for disturbing you. Every time he leaves he comes back with a fresh glass of water, and will hold it up for you to sip at - if you can’t eat, you at least need to drink a little. If you end up being physically ill, Beel holds your hair back and rubs your stomach carefully. He makes a steady, quiet whining noise in his throat the entire time without realising it because he’s so sad and concerned that you’re this ill. At this point, even if Lucifer or Satan has promised you’re going to be okay and you’ve been checked by a doctor, Beel is calling them to his room and making them check again.

· No one can convince him to leave for class. He’s reluctant to go to classes anyway, although he got a little better when the exchange programme started because he wanted to be wherever you were. However, now that you’re stuck at home, he’s determined to stay by your side no matter what - it should have started a fight between Beel and Lucifer, but Beel looks at him once with those sad, puppy-dog eyes, and Lucifer lets him be. He wouldn’t be able to focus in classes anyway.

· When you start getting better he prepares a lot of food for a feast, although he asks Satan first about what foods would be light enough for you to eat. Whatever you can’t eat, he will, he reminds you, so you shouldn’t feel too pressured to finish everything. He lets you return to your own room, and the two of you have a movie night together. Beel pulls you into his lap and hugs you close to him the entire time because he’s so happy he doesn’t really know how to express it. If you’re still tired or unwell he’ll alternate between feeding you and feeding himself, and when the movie ends he presses a kiss to the top of your head, letting you rest if you’ve fallen asleep - if not, he reluctantly gets up to put on whatever you’d chosen to watch next, and then cuddles up with you and runs a hand through your hair until you fall asleep.

 Belphegor

· Belphie doesn’t really pay any attention to you if you two aren’t close. He barely even knows you’re sick, and only picks up on whatever his brothers say around him. He doesn’t think about it too hard and goes about his days as normal, and his thoughts only drift towards the topic when he’s alone in the attic and can’t sleep. He briefly wishes for you to get better soon in his head, and then immediately denies that he ever thought about you and forces himself to move on from the topic.

· If you are close, good luck. Belphie’s motto for being sick is that the more you sleep, the sooner you’ll get better. There’s some truth to it, but he’s quite extreme. You’re carried to the attic the second you’re ill and dumped unceremoniously on a large nest of pillows and throws. Belphie flops down beside you and wraps his arms around you and tells you to close your eyes.

· His sin’s influence may not work well on you, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to make use of it anyway - he focuses hard and puts whatever spare energy he has into trying to make you sleep and have peaceful dreams, warding away nightmares for the entire time you’re ill. It works enough that sleep finds you easily, but for the brief periods where you are awake, you’re going to feel pretty dreadful because you’ve overslept so much and your body is crying out for some care. It takes time and effort to extract yourself from Belphie’s arms to be able to go get some water or go to the bathroom.

· If this becomes distressing, Belphie will listen when you shake him awake and tell him that you want to stay awake now for a while. He curls up beside you, the two of you facing each other, and smiles tiredly. There’s a comfortable silence in the room, only broken when one of you voices something or when Belphie yawns. If heavily prompted, Belphie might tell old, old stories of his past, and what humans were like long ago when he first visited the human realm. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes to talk, holding your hands together between the two of you, trying to create a calming aura so that you don’t feel too bad.

· If you’re going to be physically ill, Belphie brings a bin or bucket of some kind to the attic and encourages you to aim for that. There’s no formality to it and he sounds almost uncaring, but the second you have to make use of it he’s standing by you, worry filling his features as he tries to figure out how to make you feel better. He hesitantly pats your back but leans away as far as possible because the smell is a little too much for him. He’ll help you rinse out your mouth and then lay you down again, begging you not to be sick on his pillows whilst he goes and cleans out the container.

· You get better quickly with Belphie, the sleep working its magic. Because of how quickly you are recovering, Belphie is allowed to stay with you to help you get better so that you don’t end up missing too much school. He’s already missed so much that another day or two doesn’t really matter in the long run, and it won’t be noticeable when added to the pile of schoolwork he has sitting in the corner of his room that he’s slowly working his way through with you.

· Belphie has this gentle smile on his face every time he looks at you, his hair an absolute mess. You’re welcome to stay in the attic for as long as you need to, but Belphie becomes unresponsive as he tries hard to build back up the energy he used helping you rest. Its your turn to ‘take care of’ Belphie now, which mostly just involves letting him rest his head on your shoulder, chest, or lap and running a hand through his hair as he naps.

[gubler-me-up]

Fact Check

Request: I love all Reid don’t get me wrong but there’s just something about early seasons awkward soft and shy Reid that’s just too perfect! I love the idea of the reader always asking later on in the day if he could finish the fact ramble someone cut him off on as they were finding it interesting and him just beaming. Or him being self conscious about being lanky or smth and reader confesses how attracted they are to him and he just smiles so big and confesses right back

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! We love an early season, awkward Reid! This was definitely a heavily (not really) researched fic for me because I had to make sure everything coming from baby Reid’s mouth was nothing less than accurate 😤 Hope it’s cute enough, fluffy enough and everything you ever wanted from this request! Enjoy!!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Fluffiest of fluffs

Content warning: None

Word count: 1.7k

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It was the second day in a row where everyone was piled with paperwork to complete. You were working vigorously to complete your share by the end of the day. The last thing you wanted to worry about during the weekend was taking home case files to complete them by Monday. You looked around to see if everyone else had the same mindset as you. As you suspected everyone was nose deep in files, except for Dr. Spencer Reid.

As always he had finished early and was just sitting reading one of his many books he brought with him to work. He had his adorable reading glasses on and his long fingers were scrolling down each page as if it was nothing. Sometimes you wished you could read 20,000 words per minute so you could have some leisure time at work.

Your thoughts were interrupted and so was your gaze as you turned to look at Morgan who let out a big, exaggerated groan. You knew how much he hated paperwork out of everyone on the team. He got up and stretched to release some tension from sitting down for several hours.

“I hate paperwork,” he mumbled.

You chuckled. “Join the club.”

“You know, you wouldn’t be piled with paperwork if you didn’t procrastinate so much when it came to doing paperwork, you wouldn’t feel so scared by it,” Spencer said without looking up from his book.

Morgan scoffed. “I’m not scared by it, Reid. I just hate doing them, especially as many as we have.”

“Actually, a lot of the time procrastinators avoid the task at hand because they feel physical pain associated with said task. A great example would be someone who procrastinates tackling a mathematical or scientific equation because just thinking about it hurts them. The parts of our brain which feel pain actually-”

“And it’s time for my coffee break,” Morgan said before leaving his desk.

You looked over at Spencer and saw the excitement of spewing facts about procrastination leave his eyes. He went back to looking down at his book and continued to read. While he was telling Morgan his procrastination fact, you were intrigued. You too struggled with major procrastination.

You truly loved hearing him ramble on about random facts though. You felt more educated about a wide range of topics not even your best college professors could touch on. You always caught him after work to ask for him to finish his fact and he was always glad to tell you the rest. He looked so ecstatic every time you asked and his precious cheeks would turn a little pink. It was as if each time you asked, he didn’t expect you to.

“Psst, hey, Spence,” you whispered.

He looked up at you. “Yes?”

“Does the parietal lobe actually feel pain when we’re scared about something we’ve been procrastinating?” You asked.

“The parietal lobe is quite an expansive part. The centre of the brain controls how a person identifies objects, interpreting touch, understand spatial relationships and feeling pain. Since we have identified what we fear, that part of the brain now associates it with pain automatically. To make ourselves feel comfortable again, we naturally avoid whatever we’re procrastinating,” he explained.

You gawked at him with awe. It was quite entertaining hearing him spit facts out as if he was an audiotape of a textbook. He looked embarrassed again and began to stray his eyes away from yours to avoid your stare. To be fair you shouldn’t be staring at him with such intensity anyway.

“That was very interesting. Thank you for that, Spence,” you said as you looked away from him.

“Any time, Y/N. Glad you like them,” he said.

When he said that you could just hear the smile in his voice. You giggled silently to yourself. You were happy you could make him feel as if he had a sense of belonging when his facts weren’t needed for a case.

“Hey, Y/N. How many case files you got left?” Elle asked.

“About 20,” you said.

“23 if you’re not rounding,” Reid chimed in.

“What the doctor said,” you replied.

Elle chuckled. “Well, since you’re 23 files away from being done, would you be interested in any coffee to speed the process up?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Do I ever.”

“You know coffee can actually stimulate a sense of anxiety, which I don’t think would be handy right now considering you’re almost done,” Reid said.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Dr. Coffee addict. Besides, in your world Y/N is almost done, but in our world she’s going to need a coffee to keep going. How do you take it?” Elle asked as she stood up.

“Two sugars with milk,” you said.

“You should try switching out milk for cream. Cream actually makes coffee stay warm longer because-”

“And I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked away.

You looked over at Spencer who went back to reading again. You were going to ask him to continue, but thought it was best to ask him after you were done your case files. If you neglected them any longer your fear of having your weekend ruined would become a reality. Unlike Morgan, you were ready to kick your fear of doing case files to the curb.

At the end of the day, you packed up your things to leave. You ended up finishing all your casework and could finally look forward to the weekend. You walked out of the bullpen towards the elevator. To your pleasant surprise Spencer was there still.

“Hey, thought you left already,” you said.

He turned his head around to look at you. He had taken his glasses off and you could see his big, hazel eyes clearly. His face was so inviting with his awkward smile and rosy cheeks. You couldn’t understand why anyone would shut down his eager fact spilling with a face like his.

“No, I, uh, decided to stick around a bit,” he said.

“Great. I just wanted to say how right you were when you said cream makes your coffee stay warm longer. My second cup was warmer way longer than my first. Why is that?” You asked.

His awkward smile turned into a beaming one. “Well, it’s because cream thickens coffee, so it slows the process of evaporation. By slowing the initial evaporation process, you avoid losing a lot of heat altogether.”

“Oh my God, I’ve been drinking coffee wrong my whole life?” You rhetorically asked.

“Actually not your entire life because according to American Academy of Pediatrics the proper age for coffee intake is 12 or older with the average intake being between 85 to 100 milligrams per day,” he said.

“It was rhetoric and sarcastic, but that is one fact I did sort of know,” you giggled.

He blushed. “Sorry.”

You pressed the elevator button. “No, it’s fine. I love hearing you tell facts, so I don’t mind.”

“Why?”

You looked at him confused. “Why what?”

“Well, I-I mean, um, no one really asks me to continue a fact,” he said.

“Well, I’m not them. I enjoy learning through you,” you assured him.

The elevator doors opened and you both walked in. You two stood fairly close to each other in an empty elevator. You looked over at Spencer, but he didn’t look at you. He was looking straight ahead, trying his best not to make eye contact with you. His face was even redder than before. You cleared your throat, but he didn’t even move his eyes over to you.

“Are you okay, Spen-”

“Out of curiosity, Y/N, do you actually enjoy talking to me?” He asked as he turned to look at you.

You nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you just seem as if you’d rather talk to Morgan or Elle over me,” he said.

You chuckled. “Is that your profile of me, doctor? If so, it’s weak. I love nothing more than hearing your facts or informing me of something new in your world of expertise. I really like talking to you.”

He looked at you wide-eyed, almost stunned. You don’t think once in his entire life he felt as if his rambles were appreciated somewhere. You were glad you could let him know that they are and that your ear was always ready for them.

“I wouldn’t expect you to find someone like me great to be around. I ramble, I’m awkward looking and lack a bit in understanding social cues. You’re more uniformed and I just thought you’d like people in your circle to be the same way,” he said.

“Spencer, I have no idea how Gideon even got you into the field with profiling skills like yours. I think you’re amazing mentally and physically. The social cues could use some work, but everything else is darn near perfect,” you said.

A wide smile flashed on his face before he tried to hide it by pressing his lips tightly together. He looked at the floor for a few moments. You had probably broken Dr. Spencer Reid. If he had nothing to say you had messed some wiring up.

He looked back up at you. “I… I think you’re amazing as well in every way possible.”

You giggled. “Is that a fact or a guess?”

He chuckled. “Um, uh, a fact.”

The elevator doors soon opened and you both stepped out. You looked at him as you pulled out your car keys from your purse. He fully embraced his big smile as he still tried to avoid eye contact with you. At least you broke him in one area.

“How about we fact check your fact about me and go get coffee sometime. Only with cream and sugar, of course,” you said.

He looked at you and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great, I’ll call you,” you said as you waved him goodbye.

He waved at you as well as you both turned your backs to each other to go your respective ways. You were giddy about your future date with Spencer. Half because you thought he was an amazing individual and wanted to know him on a deeper level. Half because you wanted to know what new facts he could tell you. Either way it was going to be a grand time for both of you.

—–

MASTERLIST

[iam93percentstardust]

Hey, I hope you're had a very pleasant birthday and birthday month! If the prompte are still open: Can you do Stony with Tony finally and sorta randomly confessing his love to Steve and Steve only then realizing that what he feels for Tony is romantic love as well?

Hello! Sure thing! Quick note: there’s a change between present and past tense for a flashback, for anyone who doesn’t like that kind of thing

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

~

“I love you,” Tony says, and Steve doesn’t quite know what to do about that.

He won’t say that he’s thought about it before because he hasn’t. But he won’t say that he’s never thought about it either—because he has, occasionally, glanced at Tony’s ass outlined by his perfectly tailored pants and appreciated the sight, and he has, once or twice, wondered what Tony’s warm, sparkling eyes would look like when hazy with pleasure. But a quick, glancing thought that he immediately moves on from is not the same as being attracted enough to Tony to think about asking him out or anything past that.

And now that he’s faced with that question, he doesn’t know what to say. Is he supposed to thank Tony? Is he supposed to acknowledge his feelings and say that he doesn’t feel the same way? Is he just supposed to ignore what Tony said? This is why he has so much trouble with his dates—he never knows how to act in a way that isn’t awkward. No wonder Natasha recently declared him hopeless after he came back from his last date covered in her sticky drink because he accidentally called her a dame.

“I love you,” Tony says and Steve doesn’t know what to do about that, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to do anything, because Tony nods immediately afterward, says, “Good talk,” and turns and walks away like he wasn’t expecting an answer—or at least, not one that he would like.

Steve doesn’t know what to do about that either.

~

“Do you think I’m in love with Tony?” he asks Natasha later that day when they’re relaxing on the couch while some mindless sitcom plays in the background.

Natasha blinks at him and then caps the nail polish she was using and puts it on the coffee table. “Do you think you’re in love with Tony?” she asks carefully.

He frowns at her. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I should just tell you what to think.”

He sighs and takes another sip from his Coke, only to realize that it’s empty. Yeah, that describes his life pretty well. “I’m gonna get another one,” he says, standing up. “Do you want something?”

She shakes her head. It’s not until he’s in the kitchen, grabbing another Coke from the fridge, before she asks, “What brought this on?”

Steve thinks about the vulnerable look on Tony’s face as he said those three words. He probably wouldn’t like it if Steve told Natasha what they’d discussed. Or, well, he’d probably act like it was fine but he’d secretly feel hurt and might put the workshop into blackout mode again. Steve hates it when the workshop is in blackout mode. He doesn’t like that he can’t get to Tony when he’s feeling so terrible that he has to shut himself away. He wants to be there to support him, and he hates it when he’s the one who makes Tony feel like he has to close off the workshop.

“Nothing,” he tells Natasha.

She gets up to come into the kitchen, where she eyes him for a moment and then declares, “Tony finally told you, didn’t he?”

How does she always know?

“How do you always know?”

She smiles enigmatically. “I always know,” she says in that mysterious tone.

Steve glares at her. “Tony told you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to admit that you two are friends.”

“Hmm,” she agrees. “But not today.” She hesitates, watching as Steve starts preparing a ham sandwich. “So Tony told you he loves you and you said?”

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shrug. “JARVIS, do you think it would be a good idea if I took this to Tony?”

“Sir has not expressed an explicit desire to keep you out of the workshop but I believe he would not appreciate you down there at the moment.”

Steve sighs. “Great. Could you send U up here to bring this sandwich down?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

With that taken care of, Steve turns back to Natasha, following her back out to the living room. “I didn’t say anything because Tony didn’t give me the chance. He just took off.”

Natasha is quiet, studying him for a long moment. He knows what she’s thinking, since it’s probably the same thing he thought: that Tony was too afraid to hear the answer to give Steve the chance to respond. Eventually, she asks, “So how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says honestly. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about Tony like that before but—we act kinda coupley, don’t we?”

Before Natasha can respond, the previously bright sky outside goes dark. There’s a bright lightning bolt right outside the window, followed by the crash of thunder and then a loud rushing sound. It dissipates after a moment, the sky lightening again.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS says, “Thor has returned to the tower.”

~

The Steve and Tony story goes something like this: instead of going on his planned road trip, Steve returned to the tower the day after the Chitauri invasion to offer his apologies to Tony about what he said on the helicarrier. Somehow—and he’s not sure how, even to this day—he found himself getting wrapped up in the tower repairs with a room of his own on one of the lower floors. And by the time those were done, Tony had apparently also redone some of the apartments near the penthouse as a headquarters for the Avengers. Steve hadn’t been lacking for options after the battle (the Army, in particular, wanted him back) but he’d moved into the tower permanently instead.

He and Tony had clashed a few times in those early days but once Bruce came back from wrapping up his affairs in India and Natasha and Clint left SHIELD to join them, they settled into a bit of a truce.

And over the semi-regular movie nights and the training spars and the late-night conversations after they both couldn’t sleep, that truce became a friendship and before Steve quite realized it, Tony had become one of his best friends. Slowly, Steve found himself being pulled out of the shell he’d withdrawn into after waking in this new century. Tony dragged him to lunch at new and exciting places, places that Steve could never have even dreamed of when he was growing up. They planned missions and training days together. Steve had even gotten adept enough at handling the press with Tony to feel confident accepting interview requests with him.

He hadn’t realized though that Tony had taken it as something more serious though. And now that he does know, he’s not sure what to do about it.

~

He eventually goes to Bruce, since Pepper is busy dealing with a business merger and Colonel Rhodes is out of town in some undisclosed location (though Steve is certain that Tony knows where). Bruce’s lab isn’t quite the wonderland of light and holograms that Tony’s is, but it’s still impressive to someone who grew up with nothing. Tony makes sure that Bruce has all the latest equipment so the lab is a gleaming marvel of sleek instruments with silver and white colors everywhere. It doesn’t look like the most soothing environment but the speakers pipe out some sort of piano music that Steve vaguely recognizes and there’s a teapot on one counter, keeping whatever Bruce is drinking warm.

Bruce is currently examining something under a microscope. Steve can make out what looks like a purple smear on the slide from where he’s standing in the doorway, but that’s it. Bruce doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, even though JARVIS announced him, so he waits patiently until Bruce has rolled away from the microscope.

“Bruce, you got a second?” he asks quietly.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Bruce asks, offering him a tired smile. He waves Steve over to the teapot and offers him a cup.

“Just a couple minutes ago. I didn’t mind waiting,” Steve assures him. “What’s the blend?”

“Lavender and chocolate.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Bruce hands him the steaming mug. Steve has to add the sugar himself (only Tony knows how he prefers his tea).

“What brings you to my lab? Tony’s downstairs today,” Bruce says, fixing a cup of his own.

“I’m not looking for Tony. Not yet anyway,” Steve corrects. “I did want to talk about him though.” He hesitates and then decides to take the plunge. “Has Tony ever said anything to you about—ah—”

“About his feelings?” Bruce asks knowledgeably. “It’s come up a few times.”

Steve takes that to mean that it’s come up fairly frequently. Tony does like to overshare sometimes and trying to figure out what he’ll overshare about and what he’ll clam up about is about as accurate as trying to make one of Clint’s trick shots. “He told me today,” he begins carefully. “But he didn’t let me say anything.”

“Well, he wouldn’t,” Bruce says, like that’s perfectly reasonable and not absolutely surprising to Steve. He must see the confusion in Steve’s face because he adds, “He only just figured it out a few days ago himself, even though he’s been talking about you for months. I don’t think he was expecting you to feel the same way as him right after he realized it.”

“But why would he say it then?”

Bruce takes off his glasses, holding them in front of him as he thinks. “Tony—he’s got a weird relationship with love. He told me once that he thought he’d lost the chance to tell Pepper he loved her, first in Afghanistan and then with the palladium poisoning.”

“His parents,” Steve realizes. “He didn’t get to tell them either.”

“Exactly,” Bruce says, pointing at him with the glasses. “He doesn’t like to wait. So even though he knows you don’t feel the same way, he felt it was important to tell you.”

“What, in case I die tomorrow?”

“Or if he does.” Bruce must catch the stricken expression on Steve’s face as he smiles gently. “It’s not just about getting the feeling off his chest for Tony. It’s about making sure that you know you’re loved too.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly.

~

Normally, he would go down to the workshop to think about something that’s puzzling him but he doesn’t want to bother Tony right now. Instead, he goes to his second-favorite room in the entire tower: the library. The library was designed specifically by Tony for Steve after he mentioned how much he liked the tablet Tony had given him but how he missed paper books too. He hadn’t been angling for a library out of the conversation but Tony, generous to a fault, had immediately gotten to work on one.

It’s a beautiful room, completely incongruous with the sleek modern style of the rest of the tower, but perfect despite that. It takes up an entire two floors of the tower with balconies, a spiral staircase, and several sliding ladders for Clint to reenact a scene from some movie that Steve hasn’t gotten around to watching yet. Tony had done the room in dark wood with enough windows to make it feel light and airy instead of cramped. There are little nooks hidden among the shelves and a few window seats for anyone who wants to gaze out over the New York skyline while they read.

It’s perfect, made all the more so because Tony designed it for him.

“Steve, you should have realized how Tony felt sooner,” he mutters to himself as he settles on one of the cushy armchairs with his sketchbook. But how could he have? According to Bruce, Tony hadn’t even known how he felt until a few days ago.

He sketches as he thinks, no subject in mind until he looks down to find that he’s roughly sketched out Tony at his workbench, arguing with DUM-E over something silly. Steve smiles fondly down at the drawing, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Tony’s cheek. He remembers this argument. It had been a couple weeks ago. Tony had asked DUM-E to bring him a wrench and instead, DUM-E had brought him two screwdrivers, three hammers, and a level before finally bringing the wrench. It had made Steve laugh, which had just encouraged DUM-E. Tony had acted frustrated but he knows Tony well enough to know that Tony had been secretly proud about DUM-E’s personality, both for DUM-E and for himself. After all, as Tony said, any monkey could design an AI. It took skill to design one with character.

In his sketch, he’s drawn something of that conflict in Tony’s face—the frustration in the downward turn of his mouth but the pride in the twinkle in his eyes—and it only makes him more beautiful.

“Beautiful,” Steve repeats, awed at the thought. Tony is beautiful, when he’s tinkering, when he’s flying, even when he’s going toe-to-toe with Steve over something stupid (usually Tony’s self-sacrificial tendencies).

He flips through the book, taking in each drawing: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Thor, Tony, Bruce, Tony, Tony, Tony. “Yeah,” he murmurs, looking back down at the drawing he just finished again. He thinks he’s got it figured out.

He stands, tucking his sketchbook under his arm. “JARVIS, do you think Tony would mind talking to me now? I’ve got something important to tell him.”

JARVIS is quiet for a moment, then says, “Sir would be happy to see you.”

He makes his way downstairs, thinking about what he’s going to say, but as soon as he sees Tony—wonderful, beautiful, perfect Tony—playing with one of those incredible holograms he designed, the words fly from his mind and he blurts out, “I’m not in love with you.”

And then he winces. Yeah, okay, so he’s a bit of a disaster.

Tony looks hurt for a moment, but it’s quickly covered up with dramatic offense. Before Tony can make one of his infamous quips that’ll just make light of the situation, Steve crosses the workshop and pulls Tony’s hands into his, rubbing them gently with his thumbs.

“I’m not in love with you,” he repeats. “But I think I could be soon. I’m not where you’re at yet—my brain isn’t nearly as quick as yours, Tony, of course you’re a step ahead of me here too. But Tony, you’re on almost every single page of my sketchbook. We go on what we might as well call dates together. We talk for hours. I know you almost as well as I know myself. I’m not in love with you yet but I think I’m only a couple dates away from it, so you should take me out, and we’ll see how fast I can catch up.”

Tony is smiling by the end of his little speech. “How are you always so good at that?” he asks.

“I was born like this,” Steve says seriously, only to crack a grin when Tony laughs.

“No you weren’t,” Tony argues. “You were born small and spiteful.”

“And full of good speeches. But no one wanted to listen to a little guy like me so I had to bottle them up to use on you.” He pauses and looks down at Tony. “Um, not to pressure you, but does a date sound good?”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “Depends. Where are you going to take me?”

“Oh, am I taking you? You’re the billionaire, shouldn’t you be treating me?”

Tony’s eyes darken as he purrs, “Only if you’re very nice.”

Steve shivers. He hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to have the full Tony Stark Seduction TechniqueTM turned on him, but he’s thinking about it now and it is absolutely delightful. “What if I’m not nice at all?” he whispers, hands tightening on Tony’s.

Tony’s smile turns downright filthy and he leans up to brush a kiss over Steve’s cheek. “Hmm, I’ll think of something,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear.

He’s not going to act like a caveman and take Tony to bed. He’s not. He’s going to—“Sal’s!” he blurts out, immediately regretting it when Tony takes a step away, brow wrinkling confusedly. It’s really cute. Steve wants to kiss it away.

“What?”

“Sal’s,” Steve says again. “Best burgers in Brooklyn. I want to take you there.”

Tony smiles again. “Sounds like a date.”

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter One: The Season Begins

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Despondency, depressive undertones, death of a parent, grief, unsolicited advances, age old sexism, strained parent relationship, nosy neighbors, food, lmk if I missed any pls!

W/C: 3.2k

A/N: And here we go! The first chapter! Welcome & thank you for tuning in, it means the world, truly! As I mentioned before, this story may not be the best for some, so please heed the warnings & proceed with caution. The sadness will not consistently be in each chapter, that much I promise, but we have to get through it right away so we can understand our dear Reader’s mindset as of right now. NO EZRA YET, SORRY! And like I said before, this is probably not totally historically accurate, so take everything with a grain of salt pleeease. Other than that, enjoy!

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

~APRIL FIFTEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Your eyes flutter open on instinct as the sun rises against the pale blue of the sky, its ochre rays peering from behind the grassy hills and across the wheat fields while waking the birds. They start their day with a song, shaking their feathers and stretching their wings as they merrily fly through the air in search of their morning meal. The hens that found solace in their coops from the stark chill of night chatter amongst themselves as they roam around their pen and the lone rooster releases its shrill call, a signal for the day to begin. Beat you again, you think.

The sun rises a little higher now, the bright of day in full effect as it fills your room with its intense luminosity. You lie in bed a moment longer, watching the dust mites float through the air and dance in front of your nose with each exhale of breath you release. Signs of life all around you, from the dew drops that formed on your window in the early morning to the muscles within your very skin twitching as you climb out of bed. Every little thing teasing and taunting you of significance, of meaning just on the horizon, yet so far out of your reach.

This is your life. Each and every morning, day, and night is as repetitive as the last. Wake up before the rooster crows and stare into the minute cracks rippling through the ceiling, envious of the pollen that manages to escape through and longing for you to shrink microscopic enough to hide away as well. Fill your basin with cold water you had gathered the night before to wash yourself quickly before your father wakes. Clothe yourself in your underdress, long sleeved, blue work dress layered on top with the sleeves rolled up, an apron cinched at your waist, and dirty and worn, black boots laced up tight enough to prevent you from minding the ache they feel as the day progresses.

You look at your reflection in the hazy mirror as you braid your hair; the drabness of the glass only accentuates exactly how you perceive yourself. The girl staring back at you was but a shell of the one you knew before. Before, when you still had ambitions that would have led you far from this town. To a place you could live anew. Now, just an empty being as one day fades into the next. Eyes that no longer gleam, hair that no longer shines, skin that no longer glows.

You had given up long ago of any hope and dream of something more, surrendering to the bleakness and repetitiveness of this life when your mother passed. A promise on her death bed to help care for your father any way he needs. And this is what he needs. You, here on the farm, helping tend to the chickens and the cows and the small shop he owned in town. The one your mother ran that was unceremoniously thrust onto your lap. The organ within your chest beats solely to pump the blood through your veins and keep you breathing, if only for the promise you made to your mother.

You fasten the gold chain around your neck, a locket with a faded photograph of your mother hidden within hanging to your breast. You tuck it into your blouse to keep her close to your heart and head down the ladder, stepping lightly as to not awaken Pa any earlier than necessary. Your Pa, an old man now with hair white as snow, only having turned the shade since Ma left.

Wrinkles crease deeper into his skin and the bags under his eyes droop slightly to his cheeks now on his once chiseled face. His strength has dwindled within the last year, and with no other siblings to share the burden of the farm, you knew you could not leave your Pa to deal with it by himself. So your own dreams and goals were swiftly thrown into the dirt to be rained on and turned to mush, impossible to be picked up again.

As you finish grounding the coffee beans and throw them into the pot of already boiling water resting on the range, Pa begins to stir and soon after wakes up, the aroma of caffeine acting as his own signal to wake. Leaving the house to give your father privacy to dress, you head to the hen coop to gather a few eggs for breakfast.

You take a deep breath of the crisp morning air, the smell of apple trees at the front of the house, then the smell of grass with fresh dew, to the smell of hay and chicken feed as you get closer to the pen they are corralled in. As you head back into the house, Pa is already seated at the small, round table with his tin of coffee.

“Good morning, Pa,” you greet softly.

“Good morning daughter. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Grace to our health, Pa,” you say, as you always do when he gives you his thanks.

Financially, you and Pa were well off enough; you still couldn’t afford luxuries like sugar, but you were able to live comfortably with only the necessities and the occasional new pair of boots. You were grateful to have the farm and the shop, both reliable sources of income for your small family, and you were blessed that Pa was still able to work the fields, but you know as time passes and his joints weaken, you would then need to take over the labor. There was truly no path for you to leave this life.

The older women around town had begun to whisper about you, not necessarily trying to keep their gossip from reaching your ears. They were just as bad as the hens that cluck around their pen all day. A never ending chatter of you being stuck in the house or the farm or the shop, working as an old maid for the rest of your life.

You’re still fairly young, just over two decades of life in you; sure, the girls you once played in the streams with as children were all married women now and on their third, fourth, fifth child, but you didn’t feel the desire to find a husband just to bend to the simple mold of life this society has cast. If you were to still have any control of your life, it would, at the least, be that.

You crack the eggs into the beaten and tired pan over the range, letting them cook to completion before removing and plating them, along with a roll of bread and the butter you had just churned the day prior. You walk over to Pa and place his portion down before working on your own. Pa sends up a quick prayer and starts to eat. His prayers turned to letters to Ma, but he never failed to speak them before every meal or before bed, sometimes even when a sudden abundance of eggs were laid or vegetables had sprouted during the night.

“The season is nigh for corn and potatoes,” Pa mumbles and you feel your heart sink to your feet.

You had forgotten about the season, when Ma and Pa would work the fields together endlessly, sweating through their work attire to be washed every evening. You still feel the creak in your elbows to this day. It is the busiest season, bringing in the most coinage for the year, but now that it was only you two, you worry about juggling between the shop and the farm.

“Pa, how will we manage?” You voice your concern. Pa takes a deep breath.

“You will hang a notice in the shop when you go today,” he says matter of factly. “Ask Mr. Williams if you are able to hang one on his window at the post as well.”

“And what shall it say?”

“‘Seasonal laborer wanted – will provide lodging with pay’.”

“Where will he stay?” You inquire.

“The barn; we will provide him blankets and he will be free to use our wash basins when needed and we will offer him meals.”

“It will be a lot of money expended, Pa; will we be all right?” You ask as you sit at the table with your plate and coffee tin.

“We will make do, daughter,” he says, the finality in his voice signaling for this conversation to cease. “We will not be able to pay handsomely or feed him much, but we require the extra hand if we are to pass the season.”

“Yes, Pa.”

You lower your head and eat your eggs in silence. You don’t pray anymore, not necessarily feeling the need since your Ma was taken, as well as your aspirations. Pa finishes his coffee, leaving the dishes in the wash basin and grabbing his hat, walking outside into the fields to begin preparations for the season. You sigh; the tears that have long hidden in your ducts refuse to spill out to bless you with relief.

The last time you properly cried was for Ma; every day you feel them there, the pressure building in the corners of your eyes, but nothing ever falls. A mind trick, you suppose, to force you to focus on the more important things. You don’t have the time to spare to release them; your mind and body are now slaves to the farm and the shop.

After your breakfast, you walk to the wash basin with your dishes, hand pumping the water from the pipe just off the side and using the homemade lye soap you learned to make from your mother. Once the dishes are washed, dried, and put away, you walk over to the black safe in the corner of the room, turning the dial to its correct numbers and pulling out the metal lockbox from the inside.

It carried within it the sales ledger for the shop and the velvet bag for the coins. Pa empties the bag every day as he looks over the ledger, placing the coins into another metal box that only he has the key to. He gives you coin anytime you ask, as long as it is needed for the shop or food for the house and, occasionally, on special days.

You pick it up and take it with you to the front door, pulling your bonnet and fabric bag from the hook they hung on. You stick the lockbox inside your bag, as well as the key assigned to it, and head outside. Pa is already far into the fields, hacking away at the dirt and smoothing it out for the new growth. You don’t bother saying goodbye; he knows where you’ll be. Where you’ll always be.

Living alone with Pa became quite challenging, you were disheartened to learn. You’ve always had a loving bond with him since you were a child; maybe he expected the same from you as he did from Ma, but he still managed to make his lessons on the farm enjoyable, doting upon you as any loving father would. Now? The anguish you both have felt since losing the feathery soft and caring love of your mother strained the relationship between you two.

What was once a thick belt of leather that connected you now pulled further and further apart until it became as frail as rubber, threatening to snap at a moment’s notice. You love your Pa; of course you do, and you know he loves you too. If only you could grieve together.

Upon entering the town, the people are going about their normal routines. The baker stacking the fresh loaves of bread in his window, the shoe shiners along the streets working tediously on men’s boots, the hens clucking – the older women gossiping away passionately about whomever they desire. As long as it isn’t you today.

You reach the shop, key in hand as you unlock the brass keyhole and turn the knob, the small bell dinging above you as you enter. You flip the sign in the window from the side that reads ‘Closed’ to the side that reads ‘Open’ and you pull back the shut curtains, allowing the light of day to flow into the small room.

Heading back to behind the counter, you remove the lockbox from your bag and set it on the shelf underneath in its usual resting place. You barely have a moment to remove your bonnet when the bell dings and you look up to greet the person who has walked in. Wonderful.

“Hello, my sweet,” the man husks and you find it difficult to choke back the bile rising in your throat.

“Hello Silas,” you say flatly. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Darlin’, you know exactly how you may be of service to me.”

Silas Taylor, a boorish man of thirty-eight years, has desperately been attempting to attract your affection for the past two years. He had the decency to respect you and Pa after your mother passed, halting his advances for all of one week. Considering his age, he did not show any signs of maturing, both in his looks and his brain. One might even label him handsome, were he not such a crude and overbearing personality.

Ma and Pa had bid you to consider his proposal, but in time came to understand he was not the best man you could have as a husband. Pa despises Silas, has even told him so to his face, yet it did not cause Silas to stray from pursuing you. Disrespectful, despicable, a generally awful person, Silas is.

Why he had you locked on to his sights, you weren’t sure. You never gave him the opportunity to court; staying cordial as to not make an outright enemy of him, yes, but never once have you made it apparent you enjoyed his attention. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Silas, please. I must ask you to leave my shop if you are not interested in a purchase,” you implore, hoping he will understand your position and take his leave.

“But, little one, I am very interested in a purchase. What must I do to make you my wife?” He grins, as charming as the manure out in the fields. In a flash, your vision goes red as you replay his statement in your mind.

“I am not for sale, Silas. That is the most offensive remark you have said to me yet,” you declare harshly, the acidic bile in your stomach turning into a burning rage.

“There must be something that can be done, my sweet. You name it; the most lavish jewels and dresses your pretty, little mind can dream of,” he presses on with a smile only found on masks to scare the children with.

‘Pretty’ and ‘little’, amongst his unwelcome endearments, are the words to send your mind into a downward spiral to declarations that you’d rather not say unless you were alone, lest he take offense and decide to wreak havoc on you and Pa. You put your foot down and grab his arm roughly, pulling him with you to the front door. He only laughs at the scene unfolding, rather pleased with himself that he’s ruffled your feathers so.

“Silas, I am no longer asking. Please leave,” you say as plainly as you can, doing your best to keep the tremble of anger out of your voice.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles satirically. “Until our next meeting, my love.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, his strength surpassing yours and his thick, wiry mustache rubs harshly against the tender skin of your hand. You furl your lip and flare your nostrils, unable to contain the look of disgust on your face as he glares at you perversely with his black eyes. You tug your hand away and the bristly hair under his villainous nose scrapes you with the motion.

You stand with your jaw clenched and hands balled up in tight fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as you watch him walk away, leaving puffs of dirt trailing behind with each cocksure step he takes. If you were to only be allowed one person to despise in your lifetime, it would be Silas Taylor.

“Dear, are you well?”

A gentle, aged voice calls out to you from behind. You whip around quickly, your skirts twirling as you face the elderly woman that has hailed you.

“Mrs. Williams,” you greet, willing your fury from the unpleasant interaction to rest for the time being.

“Was that Silas Taylor you were speaking with?” She asks.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, it was.”

“He’s a quite handsome lad, dear. It is known all over town how you have bewitched him. Why do you not accept his proposal?”

Adelaide Williams; the sweetest among the hens, but still a hen nonetheless. You sigh deeply to yourself, deciding not to engage in the conversation with the one woman who treats you with any shred of respect and kindness, even if her ideals still match those with the others in town.

“Mrs. Williams, while I have you in my presence, may I ask a favor?” You appeal.

“Why, of course, my dear!” She smiles, all thoughts of your personal affairs exiting her imagination.

“Do you suppose it would be alright to leave a notice at the post office? We are asking for help on the farm for the season.”

“Yes, dear, it’s quite alright,” she smiles, her wrinkly skin creasing along her cheeks and eyes.

“Thank you; will you wait a moment while I draft it?”

She nods and follows you inside the shop, slow in her old age. You quickly grab a sheet of paper and a fountain pen, inscribing the words your Pa informed you to write in large enough letters.

“I imagine this season will be most difficult without your mother. I am so very sorry, dear,” Mrs. Williams says as you write and your hand quakes slightly at her comment. “How have you and your father been managing?” Cluck, cluck, cluck.

“Not without difficulty, Mrs. Williams, but we manage nonetheless,” you say courteously, not wanting to relay any information that could be the next piece of news to travel through the grapevine. You finish the notice and hand it to her.

“Shall I direct him here or to the farm?” She inquires as she reads the note, perhaps looking for anything contradicting what you already stated would be written.

“The farm, more suitably, so he can speak directly to my father,” you reply. “Many thanks to you and Mr. Williams,” you end with a sweet smile.

“No thanks are required, my dear. Anything to help you and your father. Your mother was a wonderful being. I was proud to have known her.”

Another quake. You nod politely, letting her hold your forearm as you walk to the front door. The bell dings as it opens and you watch her while she walks down the wooden pathway to the post office. Once you’re sure she’s well on her way, you turn back inside and draft another notice for the shop window before you begin arranging the merchandise for the day, taking inventory of goods that are depleting, and checking order forms belonging to families around town for produce off your farm.

A most provincial and forlorn life, indeed, that you will have to bear until the end of your time here on Earth.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

[remuswriting]

first words; t. kei

Summary: In a world where the first words your soulmate say to you is on your wrist, Y/N manages to get “hello”

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Male! Reader

Warnings: Intense angst, Hanahaki, slight enemies to lovers, swearing, mentions of fighting, brief mention and vomit (mentioned with Hanahaki).

Word Count: 18,572 words

Notes: This took months to write but it’s finally done.  I hope it’s not entirely over the top and somewhat enjoyable.  This is my longest ficlet I’ve ever made and I literally slept for 14 hours after I finished writing it.  Anyways, would you guys be interested in longer pieces like this or do you prefer shorter things?

Read on ao3 if it glitches on you!

Y/N loved the concept of soulmates.  Seeing the first words they’d say to you on your wrist seemed magical.  Sure, it was weird to get it on your 10th birthday, because what if you had met your soulmate before then?  The h/c haired boy didn’t really care though because soulmates were so cool.  Someone that was to love you for the rest of your life and in return, you loved them back.

His mother had to tell him to calm down because he’d start coming up with all sorts of scenarios of what they could possibly say to each other.  His best friend Hinata Shouyou shared the same enthusiasm over it though, so he supported the excitement his mother didn’t like.

Hinata’s 10th birthday was before Y/N, and the words on his wrist were really strange.

“One day I’m gonna set for you.”

The two spent the ginger’s birthday looking up what that meant, and they learned about volleyball. The ginger didn’t seem as excited about it until he’d see the match on the tv when he was riding his bicycle a year later.

The h/c boy’s birthday finally came around and Hinata had stayed over so they could find out what his soulmate would say together.  When the clock struck midnight, the word appeared and Y/N wondered if he still liked soulmates.

“Hello.”

He looked over at Hinata, who was staring at his wrist in confusion.  It was common to get regular greetings, but that didn’t mean Y/N wanted one. It was fairly silent until his mother opened the door excitedly with a huge grin.  She had been excited about this too, but hearing her child come up with things his soulmate would say was hard to handle at times.

“So, what’s she going to say?” The woman asked, and Y/N slowly showed her his wrist.

“She’s going to say hello.”

Silence fell back over the room.  His mother and father had cool words, but he got stuck with ‘hello’?  He wanted something cool like what his father had, which was ‘We’ve been here for way too long’ or is his mother’s ‘You’re right, let’s leave.’  Those are cool and you automatically know who’s your soulmate, but hello gave you nothing to work with.

“I know what to do,” Y/N said as he put his hands together. “I will just never say hello unless it’s to an adult.”

His mother and his father looked at him confused before the ginger’s face lit up as if he suddenly understood.  Y/N’s mother was still in the dark about what was going on.

“She’ll be the one to know! If you say something weird, then there’s no mistaking it!” Hinata exclaimed and the h/c boy nodded excitedly.

“Yes!  If she’s decided to mess up my life, then I’ll mess up hers!” Y/N exclaimed, and his mother just stared at him and sighed.  Of course, her son would act like this.

When they went back to school Monday, people asked him about what his soulmate would say and would look disappointed that it was only ‘hello.’  He was known around school for getting everyone involved in interesting conversations, people knew who he was without even having to say hello.  Next year, he’d be in junior high and hopefully he’d find his soulmate there.

 ****

 Y/N moved before his first year of junior high, he was 30 minutes away by car; so, it wasn’t like he was 100% gone.  He played on his junior high volleyball team because he had also fallen in love with volleyball when Hinata did, and he hoped one day they’d go against each other.

“Hey, you’re L/N, right?” Naoko asked, he was on the soccer team.  The h/c boy nodded as he sat on a bench outside wrapping his ankle with an ace bandage.  He had twisted it during practice but refused to let anyone actually know about it.

“You’re Naoko, right?” He asked, and the black haired boy nodded.  Soon enough the soccer player sat next to the h/c boy on the bench.  It was awkward because the h/c boy haired boy didn’t know why the other was there.

“I have a friend who wants to confess to you, but doesn’t know how,” Naoko said, and the other just looked at him confused.

“I don’t know either,” he said as he looked back at the wrapping as he checked to make sure it was good. “I don’t ever get confessions and I’ve never confessed.  Why not ask a girl or something?”

The black haired boy looked at him frustrated, but not in a way that it was at him.  What was so frustrating about all of this?  The girl could just come up and say she likes him, it’s not like he’ll accept if he doesn’t know her.

“Just tell her to just confess to me.  My schedule is pretty much the same every day.”

“It’s not a girl,” Naoko said. “That’s why he doesn’t know what to do.”

Y/N looked up at him in shock and confusion.  He’d always thought it was fictional for people to be gay; something for women to fetishize, so he’d never given it a single thought.  The guys in his class always talked about girls, but he had never really been interested in it.  He preferred to be around his teammates because they made him feel warm.  Well, not all of them, but definitely Takeshi.

Takeshi was a wing spiker who always told the team to rely on Y/N more because he was their libero. The libero always stared at him more than normal, but he couldn’t help it; he was so pretty with his brown eyes and bright smile.  Y/N stopped for a second, realizing what he was thinking about blinked his eyes several times.

“Why did you even come talk to me?” He asked, and the black haired boy dragged his hands down his face.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Naoko admitted. “I just thought if I told you and you said you were straight, then it’d save him heartbreak.”

“If I don’t know him, then I definitely won’t date him, so do I know him?” L/N asked, and the other shook his head.

“No, but everyone knows you,” the black haired boy said with a slightly smile. “You do realize that you are friends with nearly everyone in our year whether or not you know it, right?”

Y/N nodded slightly because he did know that but it didn’t mean they really knew him.  Very few people knew about the important things about him, so how could they possibly be in love with him?

“Yeah, but I still don’t know him.  It’ll be pointless if he confesses to me.”

 *****

 Y/N started to shut down after he spoke to Naoko, because he didn’t know where he stood anymore with soulmates and sexuality.  He’d stare at the word on his wrist and wonder if it was a girl or guy going to say it. What if he couldn’t fall in love with his soulmate?  What if he never met his soulmate?  What if he was gay?

He was so trapped in his head that he started to hate soulmates.  Why was he required to fall in love with someone when he could who he wanted to?  People had always frowned upon people loving someone that wasn’t their soulmate.  Y/N had fallen in love with someone who wasn’t his soulmate, his best friend Takeshi.

It was hard to escape the other because they were on the same team, so he just ignored it.  He put everything into volleyball because that’s how he knew how to cope.  Whenever he was emotional, he just used it to his advantage in volleyball.  His coach always praised how his receives were going to beat Nishinoya Yuu from Chidoriyama Junior High, which the h/c libero didn’t think was accurate.

Hinata wanted to be the next tiny giant and practiced constantly for it.  He constantly told Y/N how he wished he had a real team so he could finally practice like he wanted to.  Shouyou had once said he wanted to meet the volleyball player he idolized and that Y/N could do that by meeting Nishinoya (not that Y/N idolized him, he just really wanted to be like him), but the h/c haired boy said the only way he was going to meet the libero was by playing against him.

His relationship with Hinata was unaffected because he wasn’t attached to his volleyball team. Shouyou was completely outside of that world, even when they played together occasionally.  Y/N was grateful to have some sense of what he used to be like and have someone not constantly question if he was okay.

“I want to know what crazy person says to someone that they’ll set for them,” Shouyou said as he and Y/N tossed the volleyball around. “Especially as their first words.”

“We’ve always said that she’ll probably be better at volleyball than you,” Y/N said, and the ginger gasped.

“I’ve never said that!”

Y/N laughed into his hand and Hinata looked genuinely upset.

“Oh, I guess it was just your mom and me that said that.”

The ginger threw the volleyball at his best friend, only for the h/c haired boy to receive it.  Hinata forgot all about the comment, now asking his friend to teach him how to receive.

Although he was doing good in volleyball, he wasn’t close to his teammates like he used to be.  He focused on practice, not anyone else’s problems because he didn’t see a need to.  This was a different him, because he used to be the person who spent so much time trying to figure out what was going on with others because he just wanted to.

Takeshi tried to talk to him about it, because it was concerning to see one of your best friends become something that wasn’t him.  After numerous ‘I’m fine, stop asking’, the ace got the point and stopped asking. The watchful eye made the h/c haired libero angry though because the other didn’t have the right to do that to him; to care.

He handle his anger by taking it out during practice and one day he managed to knock someone down from how aggressively he had received the ball.  No one had known that was possible, but it was apparently something he could do.

“L/N! Go take a breather!” Coach screamed at him, and he nodded as he walked out of the gym.

He found himself standing in front of the bathroom, his forehead against the wall before he turned around a pressed his back against the wall and slid down.  The moment he hit the cold tiled ground; he hid his face between his pulled up knees.  He needed to stop thinking; stop feeling.  Interhigh was coming up fast and he needed to focus on that.

“Hey, you okay?” Takeshi asked, and Y/N didn’t look at the brunette.  He wished he weren’t actually there. “L/N-san, I know you say you’ve been okay, but you’ve really been acting weird recently.”

“It doesn’t matter how I’m acting,” L/N said softly, afraid he’d start to open up. “Why are you even out here?”

“Coach wanted me to come make sure you wouldn’t break anything,” Takeshi said as he fell to sit next to the other. “I didn’t think you would though.”

“Why are you my friend” Y/N asked as he finally looked at the other.  Somehow Takeshi was still unbelievably attractive even though he was drenched in sweat to where it was almost like a hair gel that controlled his unruly curls. “Why did you decide to be my friend?”

“L/N-san, you’re friends with everyone.  You’re fun to be around and you always know how to make people happy.  You know how to make me happy,” the brunette said slowly as he looked over at the other with a soft smile. “That’s why some of us are worried about you.  It’s like you’ve cut all of us out and you’ve gotten so aggressive during practice. None of us know why.”

“Things are just really difficult right now,” Y/N said as he looked down to his feet, internally chanting not to stare at Takeshi for too long. “Just been a lot on my mind.”

“I understand that,” Takeshi said with a laugh. “I’m in love with someone who isn’t my soulmate, but volleyball has been helping me get my mind off of that.”

“Who?” Y/N asked without hesitation, and it felt pathetic to get so excited over hearing that.  Maybe this would be their confession, sure it wasn’t romantic but it would be a confession.  Takeshi blushed as he looked down at his lap.

“Don’t tell anyone, but it’s Tamura-san,” the brunette said softly, and Y/N felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.  Of course, it would be Tamura; Takeshi’s childhood best friend and captain of their team.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” the libero said with a soft smile and the other smiled back at him. “You can head back; I just need a couple more minutes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I promise I’m fine.”

Takeshi left and the h/c haired boy sighed as he leaned back so the back of his head was against the wall. Soulmates wouldn’t hurt him like this. They wouldn’t be in love with someone else and tell him like this because they believed they were only best friends.  Soulmates had to love you back, they always did, and they wouldn’t break your heart like this.

Y/N let himself cry for a couple minutes, because maybe this could be what he needed to get it all out of his system.  He could stop being in love with someone who clearly didn’t love him.  It was going to be okay because he had a soulmate out there waiting for him.

 *****

 After the talk with Takeshi, his feelings did go away but knowing he was gay didn’t.  Y/N decided to just stop thinking about that and put all he had into volleyball, but he accidentally stopped talking to Takeshi like they once had.  It had hurt too much to around someone who broke his heart, but he was nearly through with feeling those things.

They won at Interhigh, beating Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High in the process and Y/N will never forget the look of anger on the King’s face.  The libero had received nearly every serve the setter had done, even if it was aimed to be somewhere the h/c haired boy wasn’t.  Beating Shiratorizawa Academy Junior High was also the highlight, even though he hadn’t been able to beat Ushijima like he had wanted to. Winning put L/N in high spirits, even made him act like himself again for the rest of the day.

“Y/N!” A voice called out and the libero turned to see Hinata running towards him at full speed. “That was so crazy!”

“I didn’t know you came to watch,” Y/N said as he caught his friend in his arms before he could be tackled. “You told me he was an asshole to you in June, so you know I had to really destroy him.”

“Your whole team is so cool! My team wasn’t even really a team,” Hinata said, and Y/N nodded, because he knew.  He knew the ginger had been the only member of the volleyball club until three first years showed up and he forced his two friends that knew nothing about volleyball to join for the game. “So, it’s really cool to see my best friend playing on a real one!”

“Come on, L/N-san, the bus is about to leave,” Sora said, and the h/c haired boy sighed at Hinata’s upset face.

“You’re already leaving me!” He wailed and the libero whacked him upside the head.

“Come over tomorrow. It’s not like you’re incapable of doing that.” He ruffled his best friend’s hair. “I’ll text you later, Shouyou.”

“Okay!  See you tomorrow!”

 *****

 “So, you’re really going to go to nationals?” Hinata asked, and the libero nodded.

“You bet, but I need to figure out what high school I’m going to before that,” Y/N said as he looked over at the other. “Do you know where you’re going to go?”

Hinata was drinking a cup of hot chocolate Y/N’s parents had made for him.  The worn volleyball they always played with was situated in his lap. L/N found it funny that they were both obsessed with volleyball, but Shouyou wanted to always be touching the ball. Hinata looked over at him with the biggest grin Y/N had seen in a while.

“Karasuno obviously! I’m going to be the next tiny giant!” Hinata exclaimed and the h/c boy chuckled at the excitement.

“Shiratorizawa is trying to recruit me, but maybe I’ll go to Karasuno,” he said softly, which made Hinata’s brown eyes light up.  His mother wouldn’t like this decision, because she wanted him to go to the best places because he was outrageously talented and pretty good academically. “My only question is what are you going to do every morning?  Take the train?”

“No, I’m going to bike!” Hinata exclaimed as the volleyball fell to the snow covered grass.  He looked overly excited, as if it were the best idea he’s ever had; it might have been though. “I’ve been getting used to biking everywhere.  That’s how I got here.”

Y/N looked over at his friend as he shook his head with a chuckle.  How was his childhood friend so determined and motivated?  The h/c haired boy had once been like that too, but then he became scared of himself and the world around him.  It was hard to give your absolute all when you’re scared if people will learn who you truly are.

“You amaze me,” he said as he ruffled the ginger’s hair a laugh.

“If you go to Karasuno, then we can finally play volleyball together!” Hinata exclaimed and the libero gave him an awkward smile.

Y/N was scared to join another volleyball team, because what if he felt in love with another team member? His heart had been destroyed last time, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it.  He caught himself looked at his wrist before he really looked at Shouyou, who was grinning as he picked up the volleyball as if it were his prized possession, and Y/N knew he’d do anything to make his best friend happy.

“Yeah.  Yeah, we can.”

 *****

 Going to Karasuno was different than what L/N had been expecting, even though he didn’t really have any expectations going into it.  He knew he’d be on the volleyball team and most likely in the college prep class, but that was about it.  When school was over, Hinata was waiting outside the h/c haired male’s classroom and Y/N really wanted to strangle him.

“I know you don’t know this, but first years typically don’t go to practice for the first week of school,” Y/N said as he was being dragged to the gym.

“I’m just excited, I have to go now!” Hinata exclaimed, and the h/c boy chuckled as he continued to follow the other to the gym.

Karasuno High had a really nice campus, but Y/N would never say it was nicer than his junior high’s campus. He missed that school though; missed his team.  He regretted not doing a proper goodbye with them because he had started to cut off friendships when he realized he started to love Takeshi again.

When Hinata opened the gym doors, there stood Kageyama Tobio in all of his shitty glory.  He had heard Hinata talk about the setter, but L/N also had dealt with the setter before.  He had defeated his team at Spring Interhigh, but the libero destroyed him that November.  The setter focused more on the ginger than he did the libero, which was nice.  The e/c eyed boy needed to breathe because he wanted to absolutely destroy the setter.

“Aren’t you L/N Y/N?” Kageyama asked, and Hinata was outraged that he remembered his best friend’s name but not his.

“Yeah, aren’t you the douche bag whose teammates ditched?” Y/N asked, he looked like he didn’t care but his voice held resentment. “I’d say that’s why your team lost to mine, but we were already kicking your asses before that.”

“You don’t know shit,” Kageyama sneered, and three upperclassmen showed up.  They looked at the three first years before one of them looked at Y/N in amazement.

“Noya is going to freak when he gets back,” the shaved head boy said, and the first year libero looked at him so confused.

“Is that a good thing?”

The attention was turned over to the black haired setter, and he was thankful he wasn’t being put in the spotlight like that again.  He wanted to be seen on the court, not outside of it (although that became mainly a thing in his third year of junior high).  L/N then watched in horror the chaos of Kageyama and Hinata’s rivalry, and then watched as they were kicked out of the gym.

“Well, that was something,” he said, mainly to himself, and Sugawara (the vice-captain) laughed slightly.

“We take teamwork very seriously here,” the captain, Daichi, said, and the first year just nodded slowly.

“My coach in junior high was the same way,” Y/N said before he looked away. “Sometimes we’d get way into our heads and have to be kicked off the court for a bit so we could breathe. You can’t play as a team if you can’t only think about what’s happening on the court.”

After they spoke for a bit, the first year sheepishly asked if he could join practice and the team said it was okay by them.  Y/N decided he liked his new team but the guilt from not saying goodbye to his old one loomed over him the entire practice.

 *****

 L/N woke up in a good mood. He had finally actually slept for the first time in who knows how long and felt good because of it.  Maybe it was because he wasn’t constantly stressing about what anyone finding out if he was gay, because they didn’t know him well enough too and didn’t seem like they really cared to know.

“Y/N!” Hinata called out, and Y/N turned to see his best friend running towards him excitedly.  He also looked like he had been working out, but it was only 8am and the ginger never looked like that after biking.

“Hey, Shouyou,” the libero said as he stopped to wait for the other. “What’s up with you?”

“Sugawara-senpai and Tanaka-senpai let me and Kageyama practice this morning,” the ginger said with stars in his eyes, and the other looked concerned.

“Does Daichi-senpai know about it?”

Hinata shook his head, panic in his eyes at the mention of the volleyball captain.  L/N chuckled at the other before the h/c haired boy caught eyes with a tall blonde boy across the yard.  He looked like he didn’t want to be surrounded by everyone, and Y/N couldn’t blame him.  Even though he was best friends with Hinata, he really didn’t like to befriend people anymore but part of him wanted to befriend the annoyed blonde he had just seen.

“Who are you staring at, Y/N?” Hinata asked as he tugged on the h/c haired boy’s sleeve.

The libero looked over at the energetic boy, blinking a couple times.  It wasn’t that he was disorientated, but because he hadn’t really been paying attention to anyone around him except the blonde boy.

“Some blonde guy,” he said before he bumped shoulders with the other. “Let’s get to class, because you definitely need to use your brain.”

“Hey!  That’s not nice!”

“Shouyou, we’ve been friends for years; I don’t have to be nice to you.”

 *****

 Y/N decided to swing by afternoon practice, just to check it out, when he saw the blonde boy there from earlier there.  Daichi was standing in front of him and there was another student next to the blonde, he had olive toned hair and a nervous composure.  The h/c walked over to the three, an awkward smile on his face, because what if they were other volleyball members.

“Hello, L/N,” Daichi said, and the libero sent him a bright smile.

“Hey, Daichi-senpai.”

The two others looked at him confused, which was understandable.  The h/c haired boy had been confused yesterday when everyone had being introduced.  Although yesterday was a lot to handle.

“Hello, I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi,” the olive toned boy said with a slight smile.

The blonde looked over at him out of the side of his eye, seeming to evaluate him.  Usually the libero would be uncomfortable but being so close to the guy who interested him when he had seen him outside earlier that day trumped the nerves.

“Hello,” he said, not adding anything, which made Y/N do what he always did; say something ridiculous.

“I wish snakes had arms,” Y/N said, and the blonde and olive toned boys frozen, which caused the h/c haired boy to tilt his head before his eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.  I know that’s really weird, but my soulmate is to say hello and I decided to say crazy things so they’ll know.”

“Are you fucking serious?” The blonde asked, and L/N took a step back as he put his hands up as if surrendering.

“Yeah?  I mean hello is a pretty vague thing.”

“My wrist has said ‘I wish snakes had arms’ all these years because of you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened before he looked to the ground and chuckled awkwardly.  How was he supposed to respond to that?  It was technically blondie’s fault for being so basic by saying hello.

“Tsukki, it’s not like he knew what he was going to say,” Yamaguchi said, and the blonde rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

“It’s not my fault that you had to say the most boring thing!  How was I supposed to know who my soulmate was if we were both to say hello or hi?” Y/N screamed, and Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “You haven’t given me an answer.”

“Wow, my soulmate is a little bitch,” Tsukishima said, and that’s when Daichi decided to step in.

“Hey, we don’t talk like that to our teammates here,” the captain said strictly while the two soulmates glared at each other. “Do I need to do what I did to Kageyama and Hinata to you two?”

“I’d quit,” Y/N said, wondering if maybe he could just pretend he had never met the tall blonde. “You said I couldn’t play in the 3-on-3 anyways because I’m a libero, so you can’t punish us that way.”

“Maybe you should quit,” Tsukishima sneered, and someone was suddenly holding the h/c haired boy back. His blood was boiling and all he wanted to do was kick the other down to the ground so he could properly deck him.

“Maybe you should learn that being an asshole isn’t a personality trait,” Y/N sneered back, which made the other’s brown eyes narrow at him.

“I think we can call it a day for the first years,” Daichi said, obviously looking panicked. “We’ll talk tomorrow when everyone is calmed down.”

Tsukishima started to walk away, mumbling something that caused Yamaguchi to give the blonde a shocked look.

“You know we eventually have to fall in love with each other, it’s how soulmates work!” L/N screamed, which stilled both of the other first years.  Tsukishima didn’t turn around, but Yamaguchi turned to look at the h/c haired boy, who was still being held back by Tanaka.

“We’ll see about that,” the blonde said before he started to walk again.

“I wish my first words had been ‘you’re a piece of shit’ instead of the dumb shit I said,” Y/N mumbled, and Sugawara appeared, a hand covering his mouth.

“Your first words were really ‘I wish snakes had arms’?” The vice-captain asked, and the h/c haired boy nodded sadly.  He wished it had been something better than that, but at least it wasn’t hello. “You really will fit in on this team.”

 *****

 Y/N wasn’t included in the three-on-three because he had been practicing with the team and they knew his playing by now.  It also just wasn’t fair for one team to have a libero and the other not to.  He was told to come to the match for it because it showed team unity.

“Y/N, this is going to be so fun!” Hinata exclaimed as they walked to Karasuno High together.  The ginger had stopped at L/N’s house so they could walk there together, also to drop off his bike.

“It’ll be your second game ever, right?” Y/N asked before he took a bite into a pork bun he had brought from home.

He was glad his mother wasn’t there to see him because she’d scold him.  It was considered lazy to eat while you walked down the street, because you didn’t know how to plan your day out, but the h/c haired libero couldn’t find it in him to care.  Hinata had refused to eat one, because he was worried it would make him sick.

“Yeah!” Hinata exclaimed before he suddenly looked nervous. “Oh no, what if I mess up?”

“Everyone messes up, Sho-chan.  I wasn’t a starter until my second year because I messed up receives constantly,” Y/N said with a yawn. “You’ll get to play no matter who wins, so don’t worry.”

“Kageyama won’t get to play setter until his second year and he’s really upset about that,” Hinata said before he pushed his hair down and started doing an impression of the first year setter. “I must do everything volleyball by myself and I don’t need any help. I must always play setter.”

“As much as I hate him, I get where’s he’s coming from.  If I couldn’t be a libero, I’d just quit.  It’s my position, especially because I’ve only learned how to only do that. I’ve never spiked a ball before.”

Hinata’s eyes went wide. Apparently Y/N had never gave the other that information.  He assumed the ginger would figure out that being a libero means you can’t really spike or set a ball, so there wasn’t a need for him to learn those things.  L/N wanted to assume he’d be decent at it since he could jump high, but he didn’t know if his spikes would be any good.

“Spiking is the best!” Hinata yelled, only to be shushed by the other. “It makes me feel so gaah, you know?”

“You mean it makes you feel alive?”

“Yeah, but more!”

The rest of the walk was full of Hinata rambling about how much he loved spiking and how hard receiving was.  It was the first time they had done this since before Y/N moved and it felt good to do it.  Made it feel like no time had passed, even though Y/N was 5’6” now and Hinata was still the same height but with fluffier hair.

“We never talked about the fact that Tsukishima is your soulmate,” Hinata said, and the libero sighed as he looked at the ground.

“We’re not going to. I’m going to ignore the fact as long as possible.”

“You shouldn’t though! You know that can be dangerous!” Hinata exclaimed as he threw his arms around. “Y/N-chan, I know you don’t like that it’s a guy, but it doesn’t stop the fact that if you ignore it then you could get Hanahaki disease or Kirameki disease!”

“Those are unrequited love things, Shouyou,” Y/N said as he rolled his eyes.  “Also, they rarely happen in soulmate cases.  It’s typically when you love someone who isn’t your soulmate. Or if your soulmate loves you and you don’t love them at all.”

“Still!” Hinata yelled before he grabbed at his friend’s arm to stop him. “There’s nothing wrong with being with a guy!  Just make sure you don’t get hurt!”

“So, you don’t care that I apparently like guys?”

Hinata made a confused face and shook his head.

“Why would I care? It’s not like you’re in love with me.”

“Yeah, I do have standards.”

“Hey!” Hinata exclaimed with an annoyed expression and the h/c haired boy laughed. “I think I’m part of the high standards!”

“Shouyou, you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” Y/N said as he tried not to laugh. “Having standards means someone has certain things they want in someone.”

“Explaining it made it worse!” Shouyou yelled as he threw his head back.

Y/N didn’t know why he was so worried about Hinata knowing he was gay.  The ginger was still the same idiotic person that the h/c haired boy had known back in elementary school.  As his laughing died, his smile stayed on his face.  He really was thankful for his best friend.

 *****

 Y/N found himself staring at Tsukishima as the blonde played in the three-on-three.  It was normal to watch people play that you’d never seen before, but he knew he couldn’t stop staring because the other looked good when he played.  L/N was fairly certain he didn’t look all that attractive when he played because he sweated as if he’d never have another day to.

“So, snakes with no arms,” Sugawara said as he went to stand next to the h/c haired libero.  The third year setter loved the first words so much that it was now a weird nickname. “I see you’re staring at Tsukishima, especially after he took off his sweatshirt.”

That was attractive. Seeing the middle blocker getting into the game to the point he had to take his sweatshirt off was enough to get Y/N wanting to get over the entire ‘I hate you’ thing.  Maybe if the blonde kept it up, L/N would be attracted to him enough to want to kiss him.  He couldn’t just tell someone that because that’s weird.  It would be especially weird if it were his upperclassmen who was staring at him way too intensely.  His cheeks started to burn red from the attention and he looked at the floor.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but your staring is a bit too much.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Sugawara looked away from the other, and it seemed like he actually felt bad that he overwhelmed the other.  The libero could tell that the third year probably would go back and not stress him out if he had the chance to.

“It’s okay to look at him though.  He is your soulmate,” Suga said, and the first year looked over at the ash blonde curiously. “No one is going to get mad at you, well except for Tsukishima.  He seems like a real stick in the mud kind of person while you’re peppier and a very subdued version of Hinata.”

Y/N laughed a little as he shook his head. “I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or not.”

“I don’t insult my underclassmen until I’ve known them for at least a month,” the vice-captain said and the first year gave him a weird look.

“I guess that gives me time to do stupid shit and not be bullied for it.”

Sugawara laughed as his hand landed of Y/N’s shoulder.  When he looked at the libero, his eyes held more mischief than the h/c haired boy liked.

“Insulting and bullying are two different things.” The third year looked over and pointed at Tsukishima. “Anyways, you can go back to watching your stick in the mud soulmate block people again.”

Y/N reluctantly did but he also watched Hinata, who would always be overdramatic and over trusting, spike Kageyama’s perfect sets.  The h/c haired boy hoped the setter didn’t end up hurting his best friend by going back to his harsh ways from junior high.  If he did hurt Hinata though, then L/N would have to kill him because no one was allowed to do that to.  The ginger brought light with him everywhere, his name literally meant sunshine, and he had been the one thing in the h/c haired boy’s life that had never changed.

He wanted to see if he could receive those crazy quick attacks.  Wanted to know how much power was behind them and if they’d hurt his arms when it came into contact with them?  How fast would he have to become to know when they’re going to happen and where.

It wasn’t surprising that Kageyama and Hinata’s team won because they had created a new freak quick attack.  This meant Kageyama would get to play as setter if the coach allowed him to and it seemed that Karasuno’s coach/advisor did whatever the third years told him to. He’d get to play as a starter in their practice match against Seijoh because of course, the first year setter’s senpai had some sort of rivalry with him.

“Tell me, Kageyama,” Y/N said and the blue eyed first year glared at the other. “Damn, I was just going to ask why Oikawa seems to be targeting you.”

“I don’t know,” Tobio said as he looked down at the ground and h/c haired boy wasn’t so sure he believed that but didn’t say anything.

“Y/N-chan, did you see my spiking!” Hinata exclaimed and the libero nodded.

“Yeah!  You’re better than I thought you were, but not by much.”

“So mean, Y/N!”

The h/c haired boy saw Tsukishima looking over at him, only for the blonde to look away.  Soulmates were supposed to be curious of each other and try to learn more about one another, but it seemed the middle blocker was going to be difficult.  

“Hey, Tsukishima. You’re really good at blocking,” Y/N said, seeing what would happen, and the blonde rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t ask,” Tsukishima said with a slight glare and the h/c haired boy shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t say it,” he said with a chuckle. “So, get used to it.”

“Annoying brat.”

 *****

 “You’re doing a terrible job at getting Tsukishima to like you,” Suga told Y/N before practice one day and the first year libero gave him a confused look.

“I’m not trying to do anything.  It’s going to take time because he’s obviously incredibly stubborn,” Y/N said with a sigh. “So, it’s not worth rushing.”

“I met my soulmate in junior high.  He goes to a different high school though,” Suga said before he chuckled slightly. “His first words to me were ‘I didn’t know angels existed’ and mine to him was ‘hey, are you going to faint’.  He still calls me angel.”

Y/N smiled at his upperclassmen because that was one of the few slightly cute word exchanges he had heard of.  Most middle schoolers had stupid ones but the libero couldn’t judge anyone by any means due to what he said.

“Why doesn’t he go here?” L/N asked and the ash blonde fetched his phone of his bag.

“He moved to Sendai right before first year of high school but we still talk,” Suga said before he showed the first year a photo of the ash blonde with a brunette with glasses.

“He looks like Haruhi Fujioka from Ouran High School Host Club,” L/N said and the Koushi looked at the photo and smiled.

“I guess you’re right.” He put his phone back in his back and gave the h/c haired boy a look. “You’re incredibly charming, just use it on Tsukishima.  He’ll bully you for the rest of your life because of the words but at least you’ll have each other.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

 *****

 The sight of Kindaichi and Kunimi made Y/N roll his eyes.  Of course, he had to see those two again as if having Kageyama on his team wasn’t bad enough.  The dirty look they gave him as he walked by made him roll his eyes because of course they’d act like that.  It hadn’t been Y/N’s fault Kitagawa lost but their own fault for crumbling as a team.

“We’re not going to lose to you again, L/N,” Kindaichi said and the h/c haired boy looked at him and shrugged.

“Words are just words, where are your actions to prove them?” He asked and it had been the last thing he said to the boy in front of him at Interhigh Finals.  The turnip haired boy had always talked big but never fully showed what he actually had.

“Stop talking to them and come on,” Tsukishima said and the libero rolled his eyes.

“Okay but do you ever wonder if snakes have arms?” Y/N asked a smile on his face and the blonde glared at him.

“You make it so hard to even try to be nice to you,” Kei said as he walked ahead, no longer alongside L/N.

“Awe!” Y/N exclaimed as he covered his heart with his hands, making sure to be extra overdramatic. “You were trying to be nice to me, how cute!”

“L/N, stop harassing Tsukishima!” Daichi called out and Sugawara elbowed him in the side, making the captain let out a small ‘oof’ sound. “Let’s warmup!”

 *****  

The match was going just fine, especially the small competition that Watari and Y/N had going to see who could get the most digs.  The Karasuno first year libero was fairly certain he was the only one aware of this competition but that didn’t matter to him because he wasn’t going to lose. He wanted to destroy Kindaichi every time they went against each other, purely because the other always made the comment he would beat Y/N.

Kageyama and Hinata’s quick attack took the other team by surprise but that was to be expected. Without it, L/N was pretty certain Karasuno wouldn’t have been doing so well.  Seijoh had a team that was recruited, unlike the crow school.  Seijoh had tried to recruit Y/N but his mother had been so fixed on him going to Shiratorizawa to the point she told him to just unfriend Hinata because he wasn’t on Y/N’s level anyways.

When Oikawa Tooru entered the court, the h/c haired libero looked him over and knew the pretty boy would most likely end up being trouble.  He had been on the bench his first year of junior high but he had seen Seijoh’s setter destroying people with his jump serve and there was no telling how deadly it was now.  No telling how badly the libero would want to receive every last one.

Y/N was rotated out with Tsukishima for reasons he didn’t understand but let happen.  When Oikawa started targeting the blonde and Shouyou, he wanted back on the court then because sure the two couldn’t receive for shit but he wanted to be the one trying to receive those serves.

“Do they really not know how to receive?” Y/N asked Sugawara as he flinched at the sight of the two first year struggling. “I thought Hinata was getting better.”

“That’s him being better,” the third year said with a slight chuckle. “I thought you would know how bad Hinata is at volleyball since you came to Karasuno for him.”

Y/N hadn’t really gone to Karasuno entirely for Hinata but because he had someone to lean on, so then he didn’t fall in love with someone on the team.  The fact that Tsukishima was his soulmate fucked up everything. He could’ve just gone to Shiratorizawa and been gay for Ushijima like nearly every other volleyball player and it be acceptable but instead he had to go to Karasuno and meet his fucking soulmate.

“L/N switch out with Tsukishima,” Kiyoko said and the two first years quickly did so.

The blonde looked annoyed and the h/c haired libero couldn’t blame him.  It would be like Y/N trying to spike and block when he’s never done those things, although Tsukishima had learned to receive; just not to the ability he should have.

“Look at who Karasuno’s libero is,” Oikawa said and e/c eyes tracked his every movement.  He was going to give a nasty serve and direct it at Hinata most likely. “Doesn’t mean much at this point.”

The serve was perfect and somehow Y/N got it to go up.  He knew it looked flawless but his arms hurt like hell now.  Hinata scored the last point and the libero smirked as he looked at Kindaichi.  He’d always beat anyone who told him he couldn’t.

“That was a nice receive,” Oikawa said and the libero looked over at the setter before he shrugged.

“Pretty easy one to get so I’m not sure why everyone was struggling,” he lied and he could feel his arms throbbing, knowing that time was luck and he’d have to train to receive the other’s serves next time.

“Why are you with Karasuno? You obviously have more skill than anyone of them.”

How does someone say that you fell in love with someone in middle school who wasn’t your soulmate and realized you were gay, which broke you down and the only person you felt at ease with was your best friend who wanted to play volleyball with you, so you picked the school you never thought you go to?

“I mean I could’ve joined your team or Shiratorizawa but,” he said but he was cut off.

“Are you just going to talk all day?” Tsukishima asked and the other two players had no idea when the blonde had arrived.

“Sorry, seems that it’s time to go.  It was good finally playing against you, Oikawa-san,” the h/c haired first year said before he turned to leave but the brunette grabbed his wrist.

Y/N looked down at his hand and Tsukishima stepped in, detaching the hand from the libero’s wrist. He didn’t speak but it was obvious the words he wanted to say were “don’t you dare” but the third year setter apparently couldn’t tell.

“I know you hate Kageyama, so why are you so okay with playing on the same team as him?” Tooru asked and there a weird sort of desperation in his eyes, as if he had been searching for an answer to the question for longer than he’d let on.

“I don’t think I actually hate him,” Y/N said with a shrug. “Hated how fucking annoying of an opponent he is.”

“Can you please stop talking about the king and go?” Tsukishima asked and he was obviously frustrated.

Your soulmate has to care for you.  You could hate them with all you have and still care about them because that’s how soulmates work.

It was why Y/N knew he didn’t need to work so hard to get Tsukishima to like him because it would happen. His mother had always told him that your soulmate is required to love you, which wasn’t always beautiful. Sometimes you loved a person who was evil and you had no control over it.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you, Oikawa-san,” Y/N said and followed after the blonde middle blocker, who had an irritable expression on his face. “Thank you for getting me out of that.”

The first year middle blocker didn’t respond but Y/N could see the faint red tinge to his ears. What a tsundere.

 *****

 “Are you saying that because I’m short?” A voice asked as Y/N entered the gym to see Hinata next to a dark haired boy with a blonde streak in the front of his hair.  He froze because that couldn’t be him.

“No, you’re good at receives,” Hinata said before he smiled wide. “Also, my best friend is a little taller than me and he’s a libero too!”

“Really?” Noya asked and L/N wanted to leave the gym and pretend he had never been on the volleyball team because meeting the other libero was going to be embarrassing.

“Yeah!” Hinata exclaimed before he noticed the h/c haired first year and pointed at him. “There he is!”

Noya looked at the frozen boy with wide eyes before he grinned so wide it looked like it could hurt. Tanaka, Sugawara, and Daichi were all over to the side, ready to watch this interaction.  The second year had grumbled about the fact he hadn’t been able to play against third year L/N Y/N because he looked like he could kick his ass.

“You are L/N Y/N!” The 5’2” libero screamed as he went over to the other and all Y/N could do was nod. The libero was cuter without a net between them and it made the first year nervous. “I’m Nishinoya Yuu from Chidoriyama Junior High, you may remember me.”

“Of course, I remember you,” Y/N said with an insulted tone in his voice. “You were the best libero I ever went against in junior high.  No one has ever pissed me off more but it made the game exciting.”

“I thought the same about you!” Noya exclaimed with twinkling eyes that made the h/c haired libero swoon slightly. “So, if you’ve gotten better, then I may be fucked.”

Y/N had found the second year libero attractive when he went up against him about two years ago.  He’d never gone against a libero that was obviously as dedicated to the position as he was.  Passion was attractive and the h/c haired boy would admit to that every time and it was probably why it was hard to find Tsukishima attractive because he just never seemed passionate about anything (except that once during the 3-on-3).

“He is definitely better than you,” Tanaka said, obviously just trying to rile up the second year libero. “Just wait until you go up against each other again and he kicks your ass.”

“I’m not that good.” It didn’t seem like the other two heard him and he wasn’t sure what to really say to get their attention. “He’s going to always be better than me.”

Noya looked over with a smirk that made the first year weak in the knees.  He had never found anyone as attractive as the blonde streak second year and would have to say he still had a small crush on him.  He wasn’t a second year in junior high anymore though and now knew who his soulmate was but why did the other still make him feel like he could be in love.

“No need in trying to flatter me when you’re already my favorite.” Noya laughed slightly and Y/N’s heart was beating so fast it hurt. “We will see who the best libero is but just know I’m not going to throw it just because I’m an amazing senpai.”

“I’d never want you to throw it, senpai,” Y/N said and the second year libero turned bright red at the title.  The first year looked at him curiously, unsure as to why he turned so red. “Is everything okay?”

Tanaka’s hearty laugh rang throughout the gym and Noya glared at the shaved head middle spiker. There was obviously something more than L/N knew and he just kept looking at the two curiously because he didn’t understand what he was missing.

“Don’t worry, it’ll make sense later,” Sugawara said as he placed a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, only to make Y/N jumped slightly. “Or it may not and you’ll have to ask me what it means.”

Y/N just nodded as he looked over at the two second years, who were now wrestling, and sighed slightly. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do about Noya because this would result in disaster.  It was already clear to him that he didn’t want to be soulmates with Tsukishima and if he started to fall in love with Noya– well who knows what would happen.  Maybe he needed to quit the team because it was justifiable now because his nightmare would most likely come true.

“Maybe I should quit the team,” Y/N said and the ash blonde third year looked over at him curiously. “I mean Noya is going to be starter and I doubt we will ever need to sub for him, so I’ll just be waiting until my third year to finally play.”

“Are you really admitting defeat?” Noya asked and the h/c haired boy looked over to see the second year have a challenging look in his eye. “The L/N I played against two years ago would have never just said that.  He probably would try his hardest to kick my ass and show me who’s boss, even as a first year.”

He was right because that’s exactly what Y/N had to do to play before his third year in junior high. He surpassed his senior because he wanted to play against Nishinoya and wanted to become good enough to consistently receive the powerful jump serves Oikawa had shown.  L/N had struggled to get better but he did it in a way that surprised his coach as well as the amount of schools that had tried to recruit him for high school.

“Okay, so how do you want me to kick your ass?” Y/N asked as he took a step closer to Noya, who also took a step closer to the first year. “Want me to slam you to the ground?  Or maybe you’d prefer for me to tease you until you’re at my feet.”

The blonde streak boy’s cheeks were burning bright pink and he couldn’t look at the boy in front of him, which cause Y/N to smirk.  This wasn’t his normal self but the competitive side that came out whenever he was challenged, typically during a game.

“You’ve broken him!” Tanaka exclaimed with a laugh and L/N looked the second year libero up and down before rolling his eyes.

“What has L/N done?” Tsukishima asked as he entered the gym and he looked interested in knowing what’s going on.  It was because his soulmate was being spoken about and you’re always curious when your soulmate is being spoken about.  Part of Y/N wished it were more than that.

“He broke Noya!” Tanaka exclaimed, his laughter nonstop as if this were the funniest thing he had gotten to experience in a while.

“Noya challenged him and when L/N gave the same energy back, and well our libero started to malfunction,” Sugawara said and there was a glint of something in the blonde’s eyes.

“Oh really?  Can L/N even beat Noya in a competition?” Tsukishima asked and the h/c haired boy turned around to look the middle blocker in the eyes.

“Do you just want to see me play?” Y/N asked with fake innocence in his voice. “It’s okay if you do because I’ll practice right in front of you.”

Tsukishima didn’t change in any way but the libero wasn’t fully ready to break him.  He was in full on competitive mode, something he hadn’t shown off at the practice match because that one didn’t matter like the real thing would.

“Or do you want me to lose so I’ll go running to you and you can comfort me?” He asked as he tilted his head. “Too bad I’m not going to lose, so you’re just going to have to ask me to run to you.”

Tsukishima looked over the libero and Y/N knew this was a moment of your soulmate has to find interest in you; has to want you.  Suga had said he really needed to charm the blonde but it seemed like he didn’t really have to try so hard.

“Wait, they’re soulmates?” Noya asked and Sugawara nodded as he watched the two first years, unsure if he was able to look away. “But I wanted him to be my soulmate!”

Tsukishima’s eyes shot over to the second year and there was a look that made the libero fidget slightly and quiet down.  The blonde pushed the h/c haired boy’s shoulder gently for him to move as he looked at the blonde streak boy.

“It’s too bad that he already has one, isn’t it?” Tsukishima questioned before he turned back to the first year and rolled his eyes.  He acted as if Y/N had just done what the blonde did, which made the first year libero scoff.

“I’m actually open to changing who my soulmate is.” Y/N’s smirk and how he checked out the middle blocker created just a tinge of pink on the blonde’s ears. “Mine seems to hate me most of the time.”

The tension was already thick but Tsukishima’s silence made it even worse.  Hinata, who had somehow managed to stay quiet throughout all of this, decided to finally speak.  L/N wasn’t sure if he should love his best friend of debate on fighting him.

“Did I ever tell you what my soulmate is going to say to me?”  

Hinata’s eyes were bright and shining, which would make everyone assume that he was just being annoying but he was trying to get the attention off of the situation.  It also helped that he hadn’t shared that since the entire thing of L/N and Tsukishima had happened.  The excuse of it wasn’t every day that teammates ended up being soulmates and it was excited that it had happened.

“No, I don’t think you have,” Suga said as he looked over at the ginger boy, who grinned brightly. “Want to share it?”

“He always wants to share it,” Y/N said with a laugh and he wasn’t sure if they all knew that he and Hinata had been there for their words.

“One day I’m gonna set for you,” Hinata said as he showed his wrist. “It’s exciting that they also love volleyball.  I just don’t know if it’s going to be a girl because isn’t that something a guy would say to you?”

Thankfully, this opened up a whole other debate and L/N turned to leave and maybe even go to the club room and stay there.  Or maybe he’d just leave and never come to another practice because no matter how confident he could act; Noya would beat him.  It wasn’t something that destroyed him to know because it made sense and you can’t go against sense.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tsukishima asked, his long fingers wrapped around the h/c haired boy’s wrist.  If he really wanted to, Y/N could just break out of the hold and continue walking but he didn’t. “Well?”

“To the club room.” His voice is soft, unlike when he was cocky with competitiveness. “You’re free to join if you want.”

The hand let go of his wrist, which made it just fall limp to his side.  He turned around to see Tsukishima looking at him with analytical eyes, which put him on edge.  What would the blonde see that the libero wouldn’t want him to, or just not yet.

The effects of soulmates seemed to only be affecting Tsukishima and Y/N wasn’t sure as to why. There weren’t any feelings of wanting to be closer to the blonde.  There weren’t really even any feelings of attraction.  The middle blocker just existed and happened to be soulmates with him and that was that.

“Sure, why not.”

Yamaguchi said nothing when they walked past him, although it was obvious he wanted to.  He wanted to make a comment about the sudden closeness between the two but it died before he even opened his mouth.  Y/N wondered if the olive haired boy feared the middle blocker because he saw no reason to.

Did he see Tsukishima differently than everyone else?  He didn’t see a real reason as to how he could.  The blonde was just closed off and bitchy and the h/c haired boy had dealt with someone like that on his old team.  He had gotten into a fight with L/N the second week into their first year because the libero just snapped back at any comments.

“So, you want to quit?” Tsukishima asked and the h/c haired boy looked over at him with a shrug. “Well, don’t.”

“Why?” Y/N asked as he tilted his head slightly and the blonde looked away from the other.

“Won’t be the same without you.” His ears were tinged pink. “Also, it shouldn’t matter if someone is better than you if you can obviously get better.”

A smile played on the libero’s lips as he looked the blonde over. “Are you trying to say that you think I’m a good player?  Are you trying to compliment me?”

Tsukishima grumbled slightly as he looked down at the concrete.  He was embarrassed and the h/c haired boy wanted to laugh but all he could do was smile at his soulmate.  Moments like this were when L/N should find the middle blocker attractive because it was a moment where he was actually raw and not calculated like he wanted everyone to see.

“It’s not really a compliment if it’s a fact.”

Y/N stopped walking and stared at the blonde, who stopped in his tracks a couple of strides in front of the other.  People had said that to him before and he never believed them.  Sure, he knew he was a good libero but he wasn’t good enough in his book.  Tsukishima saying it felt different though and the h/c haired first year would end up saying it was just because they were soulmates.

Soulmates always changed everything.

“Do you really mean that?” Y/N asked and his confident façade fell as he looked at the other with wide eyes. “Do you really think I’m good player?”

“Of course I do.” Tsukishima rubbed the back of his neck as he looked anywhere but his soulmate. “Everyone thinks so.  Do you not?”

“Not really.”

Why was he telling the middle blocker this?  They were merely teammates who didn’t actually talk about anything except for plays and when Tsukishima saved him from situations.  He’d just blame soulmates because he didn’t think he’d start to actually want the blonde this fast.

“Why?” Tsukishima asked and he looked like he actually cared and it was too much for L/N.

“Maybe I’ll tell you another time.” He spoke fast. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.  See you later.”

The blonde first year didn’t seem upset by the sudden change in heart and just moved to the side for the other to walk by.  L/N started to run whenever Tsukishima was no longer in sight and ended up at the tennis court.  Maybe he should’ve actually gone to the bathroom instead of receiving weird looks from the boys’ tennis club.  He didn’t care enough to actually to turn back and fell to the ground to lay in the grass as he stared up at the blue sky.

He was scared to fall in love, even with Tsukishima.  He was scared to fall in love with his own soulmate.  How fucked up was that?  Most people eagerly accepted the feelings that came with soulmates but those feelings just made him feel gross.  It felt wrong.  It all just felt wrong.

It didn’t feel wrong like this when he fell in love in junior high.  It didn’t feel wrong to have a crush on Nishinoya.  Why didn’t those feel wrong?  Why did feelings concerning his soulmate feel wrong?

He didn’t like how it felt whenever Tsukishima gently touched his shoulder or small of his back the very few times he had done it.  The feeling lingered until that night when he was in bed and it was all he could feel.  It was all that consumed him to the point where he had to reach into his boxers and imagined it was Tsukishima’s warm hands instead of his own.  After it was over, he felt so disgusting that he couldn’t look the blonde in the face for a couple of days.

Y/N hated how he always leaned in to hear more of what the other first year was saying.  It was a soulmate thing because you always wanted to hear your soulmate whenever they spoke.  He found it annoying and hated the way Tsukishima always turned his body towards him when he spoke.  The way the blonde’s voice was deep and made L/N’s knees weak at times.

He wasn’t attracted to him though because it all felt wrong.  It felt wrong to masturbate while he thought it was someone else.  It felt wrong to be affected by a voice.  It felt wrong to not even find that person attractive, even with everything else attached.  Y/N wanted there to be something that made the blonde attractive but there was no spark there.

Takeshi had been attractive. He had made the h/c haired boy dizzy from his smile and how his eyes shined with excitement whenever he stepped into the gym.  There was also the way he laughed and always leaned into the libero, which made his lightheaded.  It all felt so good compared to whatever he was feeling with Tsukishima.  Why did it feel so different?

 *****

 Tsukishima had grabbed his wrist during practice and pulled him out of the way of a rouge volleyball. Y/N wanted to scream at him to stop touching him because he couldn’t handle it.  The thought of going home and eventually having to touch himself because it was all he could think about wasn’t something he wanted to do.

Instead he pulled away with an awkward smile before he went over to Nishinoya to practice more receives. Noya gave him a playful smile as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked with a laugh.

The second year hadn’t been quiet about his crush on the first year.  He was loud about it to the point Tsukishima glared at him constantly and asked Y/N to change his position to something that wasn’t a libero.  The h/c boy said that Noya would eventually find his soulmate and the crush would go away.  It wasn’t like they were going to fall in love or anything.

“Wasn’t paradise to begin with,” Y/N said as he tossed the ball over to the dark haired boy to start receiving in between each other. “Pretty sure he still hates me a bit but that’s fine.  I’m not really ready to fall in love yet.”

Noya only nodded before he smirked at the other.  L/N always wanted to know what the other was thinking but never asked.  He never asked questions about anything.  Never saw a reason to.

“Do you remember the first words you said to me?” The second year asked and the h/c boy nodded.

“Pretty sure I was going to kick your ass or something.” Y/N received the ball with more force than normal. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” Y/N caught the volleyball and stared at him. “I just find it weird that your soulmate is Tsukishima.  It would make more sense if it were me.”

L/N wouldn’t necessarily agree.  When he wasn’t having a crisis, he was more like Hinata but not to an extreme.  He made more sarcastic remarks, quick comebacks, and genuinely happy the majority of the time.  It was just that now he was using volleyball to avoid thoughts and feelings, just like he did back in junior high.

“Soulmates don’t work out how we want them to or how we feel like they should,” Y/N said, his mother had told him this when he said his was a boy. “We have to accept and let it all happen.”

“Yeah,” Noya said with eyes that showed he was trying to understand. “Let’s make people serve for us.”

Y/N nodded as he threw the ball over into the ball cart and followed his upperclassman.  He wondered what his wrist said because he couldn’t see it through the orange sweatbands that covered both wrists.  Was it embarrassing?  Was he ashamed of it?

“Nishinoya-senpai, what are your words?” Y/N asked and the second year was getting used to being called the honorification, so the bright red face was now just pink blush on his cheeks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Noya said before he tackled Tanaka and the first year watched his upperclassman carefully.

L/N wanted to know why it didn’t matter but he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get an answer.  Maybe it actually didn’t matter.  Tsukishima and him being soulmates only mattered because they were on the same team and everyone had to deal with it.  Hinata’s words only mattered because Y/N had been there to experience whenever the ginger received them.  Sugawara’s words only mattered because he had told them to the first year.

Soulmate words didn’t matter just like soulmates didn’t.  He started to hate soulmates again because everything was supposed to feel magical and perfect instead of whatever he currently felt.  It didn’t make his heart race when he caught Tsukishima staring at him, instead it made him want to vomit.  There weren’t moments where his face felt hot from the blonde. He didn’t yearn to be next to the middle blocker when they were apart.

L/N wasn’t in love with Tsukishima and decided that maybe they weren’t meant to be soulmates.

 *****

 Y/N had never been one to get sick.  He had taken care of Shouyou when his friend got the flu and didn’t get it.  He had never missed a day of school because he was sick. His mother had once said it was like he had a superhuman immune system.  So, when he complained about being nauseated, his parents were slightly concerned.

“Have you been overworking yourself?” His mother asked as she made him some porridge. “I know it’s been stressful for you and handling the soulmate thing as well as not being a starter.”

“It hasn’t been announced yet who the starter is, we find out in two weeks.  Remember golden week?” Y/N asked and his mother nodded. “I’m not going down without a fight, so of course I’m working hard.”

His mother put some of the porridge in front of him and he looked at it as if it would jump out at him. The smell wasn’t great but it also wasn’t bad.  Hinata had always complained about the taste of it, so L/N was surprised when it wasn’t all that bad.  He ate a little of it, his appetite still lacking, and was sent to bed.

Apparently it’s not allowed to practice if you don’t feel well.  It was just another reason as to why the libero decided he would never get sick again.  Sure, no one wanted to be sick but he really wanted to be at practice right now.  He had started to get the hang of a rolling receive and Nishinoya was getting pissed over it.  Y/N had reassured his upperclassman that he wouldn’t scream rolling thunder whenever he did it.

L/N wanted to be better than Noya or at least be proper competition because it was fun to bicker with him.  He enjoyed having the second year as his friend and his crush faded slightly when he got to be around him to the extent he had been.  They’d also be going up against Nekoma, a school he had heard about from some family that lived up in Tokyo as well as the new coach.  Coach Ukai didn’t seem extremely qualified for the position but Y/N didn’t really care as long as he got to play somehow.

When he finally laid down, he felt the need to go to the bathroom.  Hopefully, the porridge was just gross because was going to really refuse to be sick if he actually was.  The race to the toilet was perfectly timed and he threw up not just the porridge but three white flower petals as well.  He didn’t remember eating flowers.  Was he really that sick to where he ate flowers?

He stared at the toilet bowl; the smell terrible but he couldn’t stop staring at those three white flower petals.  Y/N heard his mother coming down the hall and he quickly wiped his mouth off with toilet paper and flushed the toilet.  She looked at him so worried when she opened the door and he tried to reassure her he was okay; the porridge just didn’t sit well in his stomach.

She ordered him to go to bed immediately, even though he didn’t have a fever.  L/N wasn’t tired and all he could think about was when he and Hinata walked to the three-on-three together.  He remembered exactly what Hinata said, word for word.

“Y/N-chan, I know you don’t like that it’s a guy, but it doesn’t stop the fact that if you ignore it then you could get Hanahaki disease or Kirameki disease!”

L/N really thought that those things were myths.  Only ever told to kids to scare them into making sure they love their soulmate. Those three petals said otherwise. He felt stupid now and wondered what he was going to do.

Hinata was right.  You can get Hanahaki disease if don’t fall in love with your soulmate.

 *****

 L/N never had a fever, his appetite was just nearly nonexistent and he ended up getting a cough. He expected to throw up more but it was rare, which went against the symptoms he had seen online.  If his mother was to look through his computer history, then she’d be concerned for his safety.  He mainly looked at academic articles over it because he didn’t want to read fucked up fanfiction about celebrities having it.

A study had been done that if both soulmates didn’t like each other, Hanahaki wouldn’t happen. There was unrequited love when one loved the other but the feelings weren’t reciprocated.  The only way to reverse it was to fall in love with your soulmate, which was shown to be easier than the libero thought it would be. That’s what statistics showed at least.

He was in stage one where only a couple petals appeared but not every time he coughed.  He needed to avoid as many symptoms as possible.  Symptoms for it could be coughing, vomiting, trouble breathing, fever, uncontrollable shaking, loss of appetite, low body temperature, and hallucinations.  Y/N already had coughing, vomiting, and loss of appetite.

The first year was smart in how he planned to try to fall in love with Tsukishima.  He started to sit next to him when he could and asked to walk home with him after practices.  It was just that it wasn’t working the way he wanted it to.  Kei (Tsukishima had told him to call him that) was actually funny when he wasn’t being a complete asshole.

He had even put his headphones on L/N and the libero learned that the middle blocker was into K-pop and J-pop.  The two stopped in the middle of street because the h/c first year couldn’t stop laughing about it.  Y/N looked up some of the groups the blonde had shown him and made vague comments about it during practice.

“Stop flirting,” Sugawara joked with a teasing smile.  He was probably the most excited to see the two finally interacting in a way that wasn’t at each other’s throats.

“I can’t help it, have you seen him?” Y/N said and Kei chucked a ball at him in response, but the libero received it. “You can’t take me by surprise when it comes to volleyball.”

It felt like they were just childhood best friends and L/N had slammed his head into the wall next to the vending machine outside the court.  Things between them had changed so much but he still struggled to form romantic feelings for the blonde.  What was different between Takeshi and Noya compared to Tsukishima?

Takeshi had gotten into his face once.  They were so close and he gripped his shirt as he screamed in L/N’s face to start acting like a libero.  It was his first year and he was still new and clumsy with volleyball but the brunette didn’t care.  Y/N got frustrated and stopped giving it his all but Takeshi didn’t allow it.  Even though they had both been first years, the brunette was the only person to make Y/N get fired up to play.

Then he heard and saw Nishinoya play and it was almost like someone had lit a fire in him.  He was antsy on the side of the court his first year and wanted to go against the other.  Noya was stunning to begin with but his love for volleyball made him even better.  L/N remembered when they had looked at each other through that net and he knew that everything just felt right.

“I hope you’re ready for me to kick your ass,” Y/N said to the other libero during warm-up. Nishinoya gave him a challenging look. “We’ll be going against Shiratorizawa.”

“Only way that’ll happen is if I give up.” Noya took a step closer to the other. “And I don’t do that.”

“Good because neither do I.”

Even though L/N’s team had lost in the end, he felt like he was on cloud 9.  His love for volleyball was at an all-time high.  His team was pissed at him for being so happy but Takeshi made the comment that it was rare to see two good liberos go against each other. It didn’t matter what it was but he felt like he was in love with Noya and volleyball.

Oh.

L/N realized that his crush on the two boys had started because of volleyball.  The crushes grew when his love for volleyball grew.  Their inspiration made him want to be better, love always did that though.  He read about it.

Tsukishima hadn’t inspired him the other boys had.  He showed no passion towards anything, especially not volleyball.  That was why Y/N kept struggling to fall in love with him because there wasn’t an actual connection of a share interest.  Sure, he could sing the lyrics to songs Kei loved but he didn’t love them himself.

There wasn’t a proper way for him to tell Kei that he didn’t love him, when the blonde obviously loved him, and it resulted in Hanahaki.  He couldn’t demand for him to show passion for something he wasn’t passionate about.  It was just that Y/N didn’t want to die.  He wanted to play with Karasuno and go to nationals.  He wanted to be in love with his soulmate.

If he told Tsukishima that, what would the blonde do?

 *****

 L/N had never been more excited for Golden Week because he loved practicing with his team.  He loved practicing with Shouyou and how the ginger was so excited about everything.  The h/c first year loved watching his friend run through the place they would be staying with wide starry eyes.  Even though Hinata had inspired him to play volleyball, he never fell in love with him.  Most likely because he had seen him as a brother for so long before that.

Kei placed his futon next to Y/N, which caused the two to be teased by Sugawara and Tanaka.  Daichi shut them up and sent the two first years an apologetic expression.  The middle blocker seemed more embarrassed than the libero, he moved his futon next to Yamaguchi’s instead.  He didn’t like attention, yet everyone gave it to him, mostly girls.

“Do you not want to sleep next to me?” Y/N asked when no one else was around. “It’s okay if you don’t but ignore them if you do.”

“Do you want me to sleep next to you?” Kei asked as he took a drink from his water bottle.  His expression was hard to read but the other knew it was because he was trying to feel out the situation.

He didn’t know if he wanted Tsukishima to sleep next to him.  Part of him honestly didn’t care who slept next to who as long as everyone got to sleep and no one was bitchy in the morning.  His old team had always been so bitchy in the mornings to the point he was told to stop being so cheery.  All he had really done was say good morning during breakfast.

“I want you to be happy,” L/N said and he was sincere. “If it makes you happy to have your futon next to mine, then do so.  I’ll deal with the others if I need to.”

Kei had a small smile on his face, the h/c first year nearly didn’t catch it.  The blonde was pretty when he smiled but the effect would go away all together if he started to smile all the time.  The barely noticeable smile stayed while he put his futon next to his soulmate’s but disappeared when it was no longer the two of them.

L/N smiled at him but there was a sadness to his smile.  He still wasn’t in love with Tsukishima and he was to the point that he so desperately wanted to be.

 *****

 When Hinata ran off without the team, L/N and Sugawara were teamed up somehow.  Tanaka said that Y/N and Tsukishima couldn’t go alone because they would get all lovey dovey.  Tsukishima told them he didn’t want to look for Hinata and L/N said he was going to go look and would join someone if needed.

As he and Suga walked around, he started to feel a little sick to his stomach.  The first year had grown used to this feeling but he was typically at home when it hit him.  He really didn’t want to throw up his breakfast in front of his upperclassman, especially if there would be flower petals in it.  Sometimes you don’t get to decide what you’re going to do.

L/N threw up on the side of the road and would’ve preferred a trash can but there wasn’t one around the two.  Suga looked over at him concerned and the libero could hear him go to talk before he fell silent.

There was a fully formed flower in the midst of the vomit.  A white candytuft, one of the more common Hanahaki flowers.  It meant ‘indifference’ and usually given to those who had tried to ignore their feelings.  He was getting worse and he knew it was because his efforts to fall in love weren’t working.

“How long?” Sugawara asked as he looked at Y/N. “How long has this been going on?”

“About two weeks. I’ve been leaving the gym to cough and the vomiting has happed maybe four times now.  This is the first fully formed flower.”

“I thought you were in love with him,” Suga said and the first year closed his eyes.

“I want to be.” His voice soft and he felt he could cry. “I look at him and I want to be in love with him so bad but he’s not passionate about anything.”

Suga’s upset expression fell into a gentle one.  He didn’t make an effort to move to comfort the other though.

“You’ve only ever been attracted to volleyball players, haven’t you?”

L/N looked up at him with tears running down his face. “Yes.  They make me want to be better.”

“Are you still in love with Nishinoya?” The setter asked and the libero wanted to act like he had never been in love with the second year but they both knew that would be a lie. He had been just as obvious as Noya.

“No, I’m not in love with anyone.” He crouched down and put his face between his knees. “That’s the fucking problem.  I’ve focused so much on trying to love Kei that I don’t even remember what feelings feel like anymore.  How am I supposed to feel?”

“Your heart beats faster whenever you’re around them.  You’re happy whenever they talk to you or you just see them.” Suga crouched down next to the other. “Life feels better when they’re around, even if it’s in mundane ways.”

“Those are all just soulmate things though,” L/N sniffled. “Everyone feels that for their soulmate.”

“What do you feel for Tsukishima?”

“I like being around him. He’s really fun to be around when he’s not as concerned with everything.”

The vice-captain placed a hand on the other’s back and it was comforting.  Koushi’s touch didn’t feel like Kei’s and Y/N was happy about that. He wanted that to only be a Kei thing because he wanted something to only be a Kei thing.

“We’re going to figure something out,” Suga said and L/N started to cry harder because he knew they wouldn’t. “I promise that you’re going to be in love with your stick in the mud soulmate soon.”

“You can’t promise things like that,” L/N cried and Suga’s hand rubbed comforting circles on the other’s back.  “You can’t get my hopes up.”

“Trust me, I always keep my promises.” He took his hand off the other’s back and stood up. “I’ll go find Hinata and we’ll come back around here.  You can have a bit to yourself.”

Y/N nodded as he looked at the flower that stared at him from the grass.  What would Tsukishima think when he learned the h/c boy’s flower meant indifference.  The only way you got that flower was when you actively decided to no longer want your soulmate.  There wasn’t much you could do to make yourself fall in love with someone past what he had done.  Countless articles had said so.

He wanted there to be a universal thing that made soulmates fall in love.  Typically just because they were soulmates did it but there were times this happened.  He wondered if maybe he was aromantic but turns out their soulmates are strictly platonic and they’re matched with someone else who is aromantic.  It also wouldn’t make sense because he had been so in love with Takeshi and Noya.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Someone asked and L/N had moved to sit somewhere that wasn’t the street. Tsukishima stood near him with a confused expression. “You’re not telling me that you got lost looking for Hinata.”

He called Shouyou Hinata whenever he was around L/N because the libero asked him to.  Said it was fine to tease his best friend but he didn’t want to hear the teasing when it was just the two of them.  Y/N had asked this with what Kei assumed to be fond eyes and the blonde couldn’t say no if he even tried.

“I don’t feel too great, so Sugawara went to look for Sho without me,” L/N said and realized he wasn’t lying when he said that.  He still felt nauseated and like he needed to lie down.

“You kind of look like shit,” Kei said before he placed the back of his hand of the h/c forehead. “You’re a little warm but you don’t feel like you have a fever though.”

“I love when you say I look like shit; you really know how to woo a guy.”

Kei smiled at him slightly. “Just for you.”

It was moments like this when Y/N wanted to love him so bad.  Moments where he wanted to reach out and just hold the other’s face between his hands and tell him all the reasons why he loved him.

“Do you love me?”

L/N didn’t mean to ask that. Maybe if he heard it, he’d love the other back.  Maybe he just needed confirmation that he was allowed to love him.

“Of course I do, dumbass.” He took a step away from Y/N. “Why else would I come look for you?”

Because you’re my soulmate. Because you feel like you have to. Because everyone told you to.  Not because you love me.

“Don’t know, thought you wanted to get more exercise in,” L/N teased and Kei rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get back to everyone, I don’t want to hear them go on about how long we were gone.” Tsukishima reached out a hand for the other to get down from the brick ledge better.  It wasn’t even that tall but the gesture made the libero want to cry.

“Maybe they should have reason to tease us.”

Tsukishima ears went red, especially when the libero grabbed his hand.

“Shut up.”

“Aw, don’t be like that Kei,” Y/N pouted but they both knew he was only joking around. “I know you want me to talk always.”

As they walked back to the team, holding hands, Kei realized Y/N never said he loved him back.

 *****

 Tsukishima noticed more than he let people believe.  It wasn’t like he suddenly knew someone just by observing but he could pick up tendencies people had.  Tadashi’s ears turned red whenever he lied, which was rare.  Hinata was livelier when he walked to practice with Y/N.  Kageyama was always in a mood and the blonde started to think it was just the setter’s resting personality.  Then there was Y/N and he couldn’t get a proper read on him.

Y/N always teased Kei when he thought was appropriate.  After heavy moments, there was always something to make the blonde roll his eyes and get out of that atmosphere.  He did it in front of everyone too.  He made SHINee references more than the middle blocker wanted him to but at least no one else on the team knew what he was referring to.  Y/N also called him Tsukki because he said he felt left out that Yamaguchi had a cute nickname for him but the h/c didn’t.

Tsukishima had grumbled and told him to call him whatever (he was then referred to as Optimus Prime) but he loved when the other called him Tsukki.  He loved when Y/N did anything when he was near him because everything felt so easy.  There was the argument that it was always felt that way with soulmates but the blonde refused to believe that.  He wanted it to be special between them.  It felt special to him at least.

L/N never told him that he loved him back though.

It had been eating away at him the couple days and it was finally the day of the Nekoma match.  He was near Y/N, who had clenched fists as he glared at the floor.  The h/c wasn’t made a starter and Noya had even fought with the coach about it.  Said that Y/N could be used in the second set because he was just as good as the second year.

“Hey,” Tsukishima said and the L/N looked up at him with watery eyes. “It’s okay.”

That was the wrong thing to say and he blamed not being able to get a good enough read on the other. He blamed his soulmate for not being transparent with him.

“I understand that this is just some fucking club for you but it’s not for me!” Y/N screamed as he dug a finger into Kei’s sternum. “You don’t understand because you get to play while I don’t.  I could’ve gone to Shiratorizawa and I don’t get to fucking play here.”

Usually, Tsukishima could get angry and throw sharp words at someone who acted like this towards him. He didn’t this time.  He grabbed the other’s hand and just held it as everyone stared at them.  Sugawara held back Noya, which was good because the blonde wouldn’t be as kind to the second year as he was to his soulmate.  The feeling of the Nishinoya being a threat had went away when Y/N decided to start being around the blonde more.  It went away when Kei felt like the other first year finally felt the effects of soulmates like he did.

“You’re right.  I don’t understand and I probably never will.” Tsukishima paused when he noticed the h/c had started to cry. “You can scream and cry and do whatever but everything will still be the same.”

Y/N ripped his hand away before he wiped his eyes.  Normally Tsukishima would find people pathetic for acting like this over some club but the boy in front of him was different.  He was different because he was his soulmate and because he just loved him.

It was obvious though by the way L/N looked away from him and grumbled at the court again that he didn’t love him back.  The realization made it crystal clear on how to read the libero.  Everything the two had ever done together made sense now with how Y/N acted.

He was shy to touch and only allowed hand holding.  Tsukishima had accidentally grabbed onto him one day when he tripped over something and the h/c refused to look at him for days after.  He didn’t let anyone touch him unless it was Hinata but they were basically brothers.  Any time that Kei had initiated something, there was tight smile on the other’s face as if he were being forced to deal with it.

Tsukishima had never walked him home because the other always said it was too far out of the way for him.  Hinata had made comments of Y/N living the closest to Karasuno out of anyone on the team. The blonde had already known that was a lie and he assumed that maybe L/N’s parents were like his mother, who had tried to invite the libero to dinner the first time he had been walked home.

He watched as Y/N stormed out of the gym and Hinata follow after him, and he couldn’t get himself to move. A hand touched his shoulder and it was Sugawara, who looked as if he could see right through the blonde. Maybe he could but Kei did nothing in response to the third year.  He stared straight ahead and tried to figure out what he was going to do with all these feelings.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Suga said and the blonde looked over at him. “You’re allowed to talk to him about it.  I actually encourage you to because he most definitely won’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kei would just be cold hearted again and this wouldn’t bother him then.  He knew though that the next time he saw the first year libero, he’d forget that.  He’d just be happy to be next to him, even if he didn’t show it how most did.  His affection was making a playlist of his favorite songs to show Y/N before he had even thought about letting him actually listen to him.  His affection was keeping an extra hoodie in the club room in case the h/c complained about being cold.  His affection was everything no one actually saw.

“Sure you don’t,” Sugawara said before he lowered his voice to a whisper. “And Y/N definitely doesn’t have a flower collection growing.”

Tsukishima froze in place as his upperclassman walked away.  He didn’t move when Y/N came back with Hinata.  He watched Noya tackle the first year and shower him in compliments.  He couldn’t move because Y/N’s flower collection would be in his lungs and the blonde didn’t know what to do.

 ******

 It was dark outside by the time everyone had returned to Karasuno High School.  The h/c libero was still upset about the starting lineup and everyone knew.  Him yelling at Tsukishima had been one of the lighter things he had done.  There had been a fight with Coach Ukai where he had been threatened to be kicked off the team and Y/N told him to do it.

“There’s no point to volleyball if I can’t be a libero!” Y/N screamed and some of Nekoma stared at the sight.

“You’re still a libero, you’ll just play when rolling thunder kid can’t,” Ukai said and Takeda stood near them with a concerned expression. “It’s not that bad being on the bench.”

“It is though!  I thought you played volleyball.” Y/N threw his hands up in the air. “This is fucking ridiculous because you’re pulling class rank on this when he and I can just switch out when needed!”

“Don’t speak to me like that!” Ukai yelled back and the libero stared him down. “I will kick you off this team.”

“Do it.”

Everyone stared at the two and Hinata later made a comment that he had never seen Y/N so serious. The h/c first year had a look that made everyone uneasy.  It was almost as if he felt nothing and you were being forced to experience it.

“Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now,” Takeda said, finally stepping in. “No one is going to be leaving the team today.”

Y/N had been quiet the entire way home and gave no attention to anyone except for Noya, who he quickly hugged.  When he walked over to Tsukishima, the blonde was surprised about it.  He had assumed that since the other didn’t love him and was in a shit mood that it would make sense for them to not talk.  L/N was more vibrant and vocal when he hadn’t just been threatened to be kicked off the team.

“You’re walking me home, let’s go,” Y/N said and Kei waved bye to Tadashi, who looked as confused as the blonde felt.

It was nice outside, even though the summer heat was nearly upon them, and Y/N didn’t talk like he normally did.  He was silent in a way that made anxiety build up in the blonde’s chest.  He could deal with a pissed off Y/N but he couldn’t deal with Y/N when he was pissed and possibly had Hanahaki.

“It’s so fucking ridiculous that he thinks he’s qualified to be a coach just because he used to play,” Y/N said and the blonde looked down at his soulmate, whose brows were furrowed together. “I just feel so useless to the team now, even after I spent my entire junior high dedicating myself to volleyball.”

He stopped in the road and look at Kei, who turned to look at him.  It was weird to be standing like this.  They never stopped on their walk home unless L/N started laughing so hard he couldn’t walk anymore.

“In junior high, I fell in love with a guy on my team and I used volleyball to try to get rid of those feelings.” Tsukishima just stared at him with no response. “I don’t love him anymore.  I don’t.”

He was struggling to say what the blonde didn’t want to hear.  He hated lying so much and hated being betrayed by those he trusted but he would be okay if Y/N lied to him forever if he didn’t have to hear it come out of his mouth.

“You don’t love me,” Tsukishima said and his voice was cold and the h/c nodded.

“I want to though.  I want to so badly.” Y/N was sincere in his words and Tsukishima didn’t expect for him to lie now, so he knew he wasn’t. “Please show me some kind of passion.”

“What do you mean?” The blonde asked as he tilted his head and leaned more into the other’s space. “Why do I need to show you passion?”

“Because I can’t love you and will die if you don’t!”

Y/N’s expression was blank but somehow his eyes held more pain than Tsukishima wanted to see.  He confirmed that he had Hanahaki in those words and the blonde didn’t know what to say.  Was he supposed to pull some fake passion out of his ass?  He couldn’t do that, even if he wanted to and he did.

“How long?”

“About two weeks.” Y/N looked down at his shoes. “Got my first entire flower the day Hinata got lost. Suga went on without me because I was sick.”

Tsukishima wanted to be angry.  He wanted to feel the need to scream and throw things.  Instead, he felt sad because he wasn’t sure on what there was to do. Explaining why he loved the other wouldn’t make him want him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to break your heart.” L/N’s voice was soft and weak. “I wanted to keep you happy for however long I possibly could.”

Tsukishima watched the other clench his fists before crying.  It was pathetic but it made his heart hurt more than he wanted it to. Y/N let out a wet cough and white flower petals ended up in his hands.  Sure, the blonde was in pain but it was obvious that the other was as well.

“I’ll just fall out of love with you since you can’t fall in love with me.”

He thought it was a good idea.  They could just back to pissing the other off and he could stop caring about how close Nishinoya stood next to the first year.  The way Y/N grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down said otherwise.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Y/N spat out as he glared the middle blocker dead on. “Once you fall in love with your soulmate, you’re in love with them.  You’re forever destined to be in love with me.”

It wasn’t fair that the blonde didn’t get a choice in this.  He deserved to get a choice in if he loved the other or not, especially if L/N had gotten that choice.  It wasn’t fair that he thought the other looked beautiful with wet cheeks and snot dripping from his nose but the other didn’t see him the same.

“Why don’t you love me?” Tsukishima asked and his voice was calm, which differed from the volume in his head.

“You’ve never really shown passion.” Y/N let go of his shirt and pushed him back slightly. “You got into the 3-on-3 but you never showed anything more than that.  Passion is different than not wanting to lose.”

Kei stared at him, surprised he remembered the 3-on-3.  He was surprised the other actually paid attention because he had never made it seem like he remembered the little things Tsukishima did.  He didn’t notice things like the blonde did; he didn’t want him. Kei’s brown eyes focused on the 5’6 libero as his fists clenched.

“I’m passionate about you!” Tsukishima screamed as he pointed at the h/c. “I’m so fucking in love with you that it hurts but you say I’m not passionate about anything.”

Y/N froze and Kei wanted him to do something.  He was angry and he didn’t want to say everything he thought or felt because he didn’t do that kind of thing.  He bottled everything up but he couldn’t do that with the other anymore.

“I text you to make sure you got home because I want to talk to you more, even if we talked the 30 minute walk to my house.  I love when you laugh at my comments and when you try to impersonate a song when you obviously can’t sing for shit.”

L/N kept staring at him like he couldn’t breathe.  I kept staring at him like he didn’t know how not to.  The fact that there were no interjections made the middle blocker continue.

“I’m honest with you and I’m not like that with anyone.  I don’t give two shits if it’s apparently some soulmate bullshit because to me it’s just a you and me thing.  You make me feel safe enough to say what I want to.” He stepped closer to the libero. “You make me fucking happy with your stupid comments and how you try to fix your hair before class even though it looked just fine before you messed it all up to fix.”

L/N’s breath hitched when the blonde took another step closer and the h/c first year finally looked up to where the two were making eye contact now.  Kei waited a moment for the other to say something but he didn’t. Y/N continued to just stare at him as if he still didn’t understand what was going on.

“I actually want to go to volleyball practice because I can see you play.  You’re amazing when you’re not on the court but you change the moment you’re in the gym,” Tsukishima said and he noticed how the other took a step closer to him. “You make me want to be a better player; to be on your level.  If I’m on your level, then I can actually play next to you like you’d want to.”

“Is this really how you feel?” Y/N asked, his eyes cutting through the blonde. “Or are you just saying in hopes that I won’t die.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Tsukishima looked down at the ground. “I also don’t want you to die.”

L/N threw his head back as he laughed.  Kei stopped breathing for a second at the sight and sound.  The 5’6 boy leaned forward into the blonde; his head landed on Kei’s chest as he continued to laugh slightly.  Warmth spread throughout the blonde’s body and he refrained from wrapping his arms around the other.

“I hate you so much,” Y/N said in between small laughs. “You had to get pissed at me for not thinking you’re passionate for it to all finally click.  You had to basically admit that I make you passionate.”

Kei wrapped his arms around the shorter male, who let out a deep sigh.  They had never done this before and now it’s all the middle blocker wanted to do.  He could basically hear their soulmate teacher saying that the effect of soulmates makes everything so much greater than it actually is.

“Can you do something for me?” Y/N asked as he pulled away enough for the blonde to look him in the eye.

“What?”

“Come closer,” Y/N said before he pulled the other down by the first and kissed him quick. “Thank you.”

Kei’s face was bright red and he couldn’t tell if the libero was flustered as well.  He felt like both of them should be flustered and he moved down to the kiss the other again.  It felt better than what he thought it would feel like.  His mother had said the moment she kissed his father, all of those feelings were real and not just dreams.  He felt the same right now, especially when the other looped his arms around his neck to keep him down.

“You’re in the middle of the street!” Sugawara screamed and Y/N pulled away with a laugh. “At least go home.”

“Do you guys always make out when walking home?” Hinata asked as he pulled his bike along and the h/c winked at the ginger, who shrieked.

“Of course, we don’t make out when we walk home,” Kei said and L/N pouted slightly. “He just happened to have jumped me.”

“I would never,” L/N gasped as he placed a hand over his heart. “How dare you accuse me of that?”

“Y/N-chan, I bet I can run down the hill faster than you,” Hinata said, bored of the conversation, as he put his bike down on the sidewalk.

“You’re on shorty!” Y/N exclaimed and the two started running.

“So, how is his flower garden?” Sugawara asked and Tsukishima jumped at the proximity of his upperclassman. “Did you kill it?”

“I think so,” he breathed out and the ash blonde nodded. “Unless he’s lying.”

They watched as Y/N tried to trip Hinata as they started to walk back up the hill.  The two first year boys laughing, mainly L/N, and Hinata would scream a ‘not fair’ every couple of moments.  It was the first time either of them had seen the h/c first year look so at ease in the month and a half of knowing him.

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Sugawara said.

L/N walked up to the blonde, beating Hinata back up to their stuff (even though he had technically lost by tripping the ginger five times), and beamed at him.  His smile felt like sunlight on a cold day and his eyes were fully of warmth, something the 6’2” first year had never noticed before.

“I’m hungry, want to get something to eat?” Y/N asked as he grabbed the other’s hand and Tsukishima’s skin tingled. “It’s on me if you want to be cheap.”

Kei intertwined their fingers and nodded. “You’re totally free to pay for me.”

Y/N groaned and looked over at Sugawara, as if the third year would help him out.  The ash blonde laughed slightly and looked over at Tsukishima.

“I think he wants you to pay,” Sugawara said and Kei looked down at his soulmate, who was pouting at him. “You don’t want to make him sad, do you?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said. “You don’t want to make me said, do you?”

Tsukishima sighed. The way the h/c looked at him was different and it made him want to do whatever the other wanted.  He didn’t have a lot of money to spend but maybe he could spend all of it on his soulmate.  He’d definitely do it if L/N kept looking at him with sparkling eyes and warm smile.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Pork buns!” Hinata exclaimed and Y/N started to laugh.  The ginger was too cute for the libero to handle.

“I was thinking more of sushi,” Y/N said and then he looked at his best friend. “I was also thinking of it more as a date.”

Hinata’s eyes widened as he nodded and the libero laughed a little at him.  He felt like he did before Takeshi and maybe the ginger would realize that.  The decoy turned to the blonde and tried to give him a threatening look.

“If you hurt him, then I’ll have to kill you.”

“Shouyou!” YN exclaimed. “He’d beat you before you could even try.”

The two started to argue over how mean L/N was and e/c eyes met brown eyes, which made Kei look away. Y/N walked over and grabbed the other’s hand that he had dropped when he started arguing and smiled over at Hinata.

“As much as I love you, I really want sushi.”

He also really wanted to kiss Tsukishima some more because it was better than anyone had ever described it to be.  He still felt warm all over and the other’s touch lingered on his skin but it didn’t feel like it used to.  Kei’s hand was warm in his and he wanted to bring it up to his face to kiss.

“Come on, Hinata,” Sugawara said as he wrapped an arm around the ginger’s shoulders. “I’ll buy you some pork buns.”

When the two were gone, Y/N looked up at Tsukishima and grinned at him.  He was going to get sushi for free.  The other first year couldn’t back out of it now because he basically said he’d buy it.

“You ready to go, boyfriend?” L/N asked and brown eyes widened as they looked at him.

“Boyfriend?” Tsukishima asked and it was obvious the title affected him but he was attempting to make it not seem that way.

“Yeah,” Y/N said as he brought the middle blocker’s hand up to his face and leaned his cheek into the palm. “Is that okay?”

Tsukishima’s thumb caressed the skin and love swelled up in his chest.  It had all hit him at once and it was so much more than he had ever felt for Takeshi and Noya, so he felt like he needed to make it happen.  He needed to make sure that they were on the same page because he feared he would continue to have Hanahaki if they weren’t.

The soft and fond smile on the blonde’s face made Y/N lean into the touch.  He wondered if they’d get to be affectionate like this more now. He hoped so.

“Of course, it’s okay, brat.” Tsukishima leaned down and kissed the crown of L/N’s head.  The nickname held so much affection that the libero wanted to laugh.  Only Kei would make an insult a pet name but it was okay. “It’s more than okay, you should know that.”

Y/N knew that but he had wanted to hear it nonetheless and it felt like he could finally breathe again.

Tag List

@chaoswrites​ @joyuyush​ 

[luffles424]

Tips & Teases

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp (with some plot), skating carhop!reader, diner cook!Seokjin, coworkers 2 lovers

☼ Count: 13.1K

☼ Warnings: 18+, teasing, dom!Seokjin, brat!reader, some possessiveness, big dick!Seokjin, manhandling, mirror sex (sort of, it’s actually a window, but it’s still a reflection), semi public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, degradation (lots of use of the word slut), spanking, spitting, assplay, pussy spanking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hair pulling, ass worship, ass eating, orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), squirting, choking, unprotected, creampie, aftercare

☼ Summary: Jimin’s annual Halloween costume party presents you the perfect excuse to tease Seokjin, using the party as an excuse to wear flirty costumes to work to try to provoke a response in the man. Are you really prepared for what happens when he snaps?

☼ a/n: This one got a little bit away from me lmao But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Written for @btsholidaybingo​​​​ to fill the square costume party

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

You glance up at the exclamation, seeing Seokjin leaning against the counter in the pass through, brows furrowed as he takes in your seated form. You hide your smirk by ducking your head to finish tying your skates. It’s not fully the reaction you were hoping for but you’re hoping that’ll change once you stand up and he sees it fully. You thought long and hard on what you were going to wear. You have backups, but you decided to start easy on him. But you were fully prepared to escalate. 

Skates tied, you push yourself up and give a little spin to fully show off your outfit. And to maybe let the already fairly short skirt flair and rise a little higher as you move. You come to a stop facing Seokjin once more, innocent smile tugging your lips as your toe stop presses into the ground to keep you in place. You smooth down the skirt, though the layers of tulle keep it from laying completely flat.  

Seokjin’s eyes drag over your form and you wait with baited breath for his reaction. This was all part of your plan to tease and fluster him. “Again, what the fuck are you wearing?”

You pout. That’s still not what you were expecting, though you think you can just make out the tips of his ears turning red. You put a hand on your hip. “It’s October.”

His head tilts. “Yeah and Halloween isn’t for another two weeks. It doesn’t explain this getup.”

You scoff. “Halloween is all month, first of all. And Jimin’s costume party is coming up and I couldn’t decide on what to wear so I decided to try them out at work first.” You bat your lashes at him, forcing down a smirk. “Does that mean you don’t like it?”

His mouth opens then snaps closed as his cheeks dusted with pink. “There’s no way that Namjoon approved that,” he deflects. Interesting.

You look down at the costume. It’s a fairly generic ‘sexy’ waitress costume. Red with yellow stripes that matches the overall aesthetic of your little drive in diner. The skirt hits above midthigh, puffed out by tulle, so the skirt bounces a little more with each movement along with a small ruffled apron with a pocket that isn’t actually usable. The buttons stop at the right point to give a more than ample display of cleavage. And you’ve paired the whole thing with a set of thigh high socks, leaving only a tantalizing glimpse of your thighs on display. 

You look back up and quirk an eyebrow, smirking. “Joonie was with me when I bought it.”

A ding sounds and you both turn to look at the wall where the board for the all parking spots sits, a light glowing beside the number 12. You swipe one of the order pads and a pen from the counter and move to the door to outside. You give him a wink before nudging the door open with your hip and skating out to the waiting car. 

Seokjin scowls after you and then pulls out his phone, dialing Namjoon’s number. 

Namjoon picks up after a few rings. “Is someone dying or is the building on fire?”

Seokjin frowns, watching as he watches you laugh as you speak with the people in the car. “What?”

“Is someone dying or is the building on fire?”

“I… well no-”

“Then why are you calling me? Jin, it’s my only day off and I know you’re at Omelas right now, so this is clearly a work related call.” Namjoon sighs. He sounds a little tired and Seokjin suddenly worries that he woke him up even though it’s 4 in the afternoon. The manager works far too much for his own good.

“Did you really tell Y/n she could wear a waitress costume to work?”

There’s a pause and then Namjoon chuckles. “Wow she really wore it? Man, her tips are going to be great today.”

Seokjin’s about to respond when he catches sight of you leaning over to speak to another car, back facing him, and the action causes your skirt to rise further up your thighs. He swallows and jerks his gaze away, glaring at the grill and cursing that it’s slow and he has nothing to keep him busy right now. He needs a distraction to keep from just watching you longer. 

Namjoon continues when Seokjin remains silent. “Yes, I said she could wear it. It’s the season and I’m sure it’ll appeal to customers to see them skating in costume and it’ll boost business. Hm, I should probably make up some rules cause I worry what Jimin will wear,” he finishes, seeming to be speaking more to himself. 

“I think it’s dumb.” Seokjin mutters petulantly. Dumb is definitely not how he’d truly describe it. It’s more frustrating, maddening, distracting. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to focus on work when you’re flitting around looking like that. Maybe he can switch future shifts so he doesn’t have to work the same time as you. 

Namjoon snorts. “Noted. Is that all?”

Seokjin mutters a yes and Namjoon hangs up with a warning to call again only if there’s an emergency. His hand drops back to his side in defeat. Namjoon was the only one who could save him and he apparently is more worried about Jimin’s costume than yours. He stares at the grill, he had really hoped that Namjoon would back him up. He’s not ready for this shift. Maybe he can call Taehyung or Yoongi to come cover and he can fake being sick or something.

The door opens and he looks up, deflating slightly when he sees that it’s just Jungkook, who immediately flashes him a sheepish smile.

“You’re late,” he snaps. He knows he’s not really mad at Jungkook. They’re all guilty of being a little late, but he has nowhere else to channel the feelings simmering just under his skin.

Jungkook grins and tosses his bag into the cubby behind the counter along with his boots before moving back around to sit to put his skates on. “I’m not that late. Besides,” he glances out the glass front doors to where a group of guys have sat at one of the picnic tables under the awning. You stand with a hip cocked, giggling at something one of them has said. “Seems like Y/n’s got everything handled right now.”

“Just get to work before I tell Namjoon you were late again.”

Jungkook stands, shit-eating grin firmly in place as he glances out the window pointedly. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t do that.” And before Seokjin can respond, he skates out the door to see who you want him to take.

Seokjin doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this shift. 

The next time that Seokjin works a shift with you, he encounters Jimin first. A very shirtless Jimin who’s back is to him when he enters the building. 

“Jimin, what the fuck?”

Jimin turns and grins, quickly moving around the counter so Seokjin can see the full extent of his costume. Or more accurately, his lack of clothing. Because the only thing on Jimin right now that counts as clothing is the tight pair of black shorts that barely even really cover his thick thighs. The only other things on him are a pair of suspenders, a green tie, and two black x’s that cover his nipples. 

Seokjin blinks. “What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

Jimin adjusts the thick black glasses on his face with a grin. “Class president,” he states proudly. 

Seokjin scoffs. “What fucking class president looks like that?”

Jimin pouts. “Well I was class president. So me.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Does Namjoon know you’re wearing this? There’s no way he allowed this.”

 “We compromised.”

Seokjin lifts a brow, looking over Jimin’s “costume” once more. “Where’s the compromise?”

He points proudly to the pasties. “These are. And I have a jacket for when the sun goes down and it gets colder.” He turns and grabs the two drinks he had been working on and moves towards the door. “Isn’t Y/n’s costume idea great?” he adds before exiting the building. He also very much does not like your costume idea. He can already feel his sanity fraying with just the thought of working another shift with you in that little waitress getup. 

“That’s… not a compromise.” Seokjin says weakly as he turns to put his bag away, knowing that even if Jimin did hear it, he wasn’t going to respond. 

However you happen to enter and catch what he said and you giggle. “You don’t want to know about the rest of the compromise, Jinnie.”

He’s about to respond; say that he can certainly imagine what the compromise was because Jimin has never been shy about telling everyone how he managed to talk Namjoon into very not Namjoon situations. His words die in his throat though when he catches sight of you as you begin to get some drinks. Nothing about last time prepared him for this. Because you’re not wearing the waitress costume tonight. Oh no, apparently that would have been too simple. You have a different costume on. 

You have thigh high socks on, though these are thicker than the other ones you had worn. There’s a lot more thigh on display as well thanks to the short, white athletic shorts you’re wearing, paired with a cropped white jersey emblazoned with ‘Tune Squad.’ And finishing off the look is a pair of tan and white bunny ears perched on your head and what he discovers when you turn to grab something and much to his horror, is the matching fluffy tail settled right on top of the swell of your ass. 

When you turn back, he has to quickly jerk his gaze away from staring at your ass longer. There’s a knowing smirk when his eyes finally meet yours, like you knew what putting the tail on would do.

Seokjin clears his throat. “And what are you supposed to be?”

You gasp in mock horror, hands coming up to rest over your heart like he’s physically hurt you. “You can’t be serious!” When he doesn’t say anything else, you shake your head in disappointment. “Space Jam is a classic and you’re a heathen for not recognizing Lola Bunny. Shame on you,” you tut. You gather your drinks on a tray and move towards the door, pausing as your back presses against the glass to cast Seokjin an appraising look. “Suppose I’ll have to look for a Bugs Bunny then, hm?” 

And with a wink, you’re nudging the door open and skating out to a table full of guys and Seokjin bristles at the way some of them blatantly stare at your ass. His mind belatedly catches on your parting words and he wonders what you meant. Was it directed at him? Did you want him to be your Bugs? He doubts that, he can’t recall a moment of you ever expressing interest in him as anything more than a friend. Maybe you were making a joke about how you needed someone else to help your costume be more recognizable. Though Seokjin knew what your costume was when he saw it. He just didn’t know what else to say without saying something incriminating.

A snicker has his head whipping around to see Taehyung standing over the grill, eyes trained on the food in front of him.

“And what do you find so funny?” Seokjin asks, tugging his apron off the hook on the wall to put on. 

“You,” he answers simply, flipping one of the burgers in front of him.

Seokjin makes a face. “I don’t recall making a joke.”

Taehyung looks up at him with a boxy grin. “Oh, no. Your jokes aren’t funny. But the way her ass made you so stupid that you forgot a movie is hilarious. I know for a fact that you’ve seen it at least once because we’ve watched it together.”

Seokjin feels his cheeks heat. Taehyung’s not wrong. He probably would’ve recognized the costume as Lola a lot faster if he hadn’t been almost immediately faced with your ass stretching the fabric and the way the cottontail perched just above it in a way that could only draw you to stare. He scowls, he can’t let Taehyung know he’s right. They all tease him enough as is, this would just be one more thing to add to the pile. He moves over to the younger man and tugs the spatula from his hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off work now? Go enjoy your freedom.”

Taehyung only takes a few steps away, perching on the stool they keep behind the counter with a smug look. 

Seokjin sighs. “What?”

He gestures to the food before Seokjin. “That’s my food.”

Seokjin blinks for a moment before groaning. He really played himself here. Now he has no choice but to finish Taehyung’s food.

Seokjin’s positive that he’s prepared for the next time he sees you. He knows to expect something different. And honestly, nothing could be worse than those shorts. Jungkook is there first and Seokjin groans when he sees him. 

“She got to you too?” He whines, looking over the younger man. 

At least his shorts are a more acceptable length than Jimin’s were. And he’s wearing an actual shirt. Really the only thing that signifies that he’s wearing a costume is the pair of bunny ears on his head. Actually, Seokjin’s positive that they’re the ones you were wearing for your Lola Bunny costume. Which confirms that you’re going to be wearing something else. But it’s fine. Seokjin can handle it. 

Jungkook grins and glances out to where a table full of giggling girls sits. “I mean, she had a pretty good idea. The tips have been really good lately.”

“Don’t listen to his grumpy ass, Kookie. You make an adorable bun.” You grin, walking through the door. Seokjin’s eyes trail over your frame immediately, greedy to see what you’re wearing, but all you’ve got on is a thigh length trench coat. “He’s just jealous that no one gets to see his costume.”

Jungkook chuckles as he leaves and it takes Seokjin a moment to realize that he should respond. He frowns. “I’m not wearing a costume.”

Your mouth forms an ‘oh’ of exaggerated surprise, hand coming up to your chest. “You’re not?” 

Your gaze slowly drags over his form and Seokjin suddenly feels a little self conscious that he’s just in sweats and a white shirt. It’s not much, but no one really sees him in here so he just went for comfort today. The way your eyes linger where his apron is tied, accentuating his tiny waist before trailing up to where his biceps stretch his sleeves has the tips of his ears coloring red quickly. He wishes he had longer hair so that you couldn’t see them right now. Then your lips quirk up into a teasing grin.

“Could’ve fooled me. You’ve got the perfect Bob Belcher look going on here, Jinnie.”

Seokjin’s face twists. Bob Belcher? Seriously? That’s how you see him. He scowls, looking over your outfit. “And just what are you supposed to be? A flasher?”

You giggle at his statement, pulling something golden from your bag. A moment later, you’re placing it on your head and he realizes that it’s a short, 4 pointed, gold crown with 4 alternating blue and red gems that sits on a headband so that it stays in place. It looks so familiar but he can’t place why. 

You give him a wry smile. “No, of course not. I had to run to the store so I threw a coat on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is your costume that-”

He cuts himself off as you slowly slip your jacket off, head tilted as you watch him closely. Now he realizes why the crown looked familiar. Because it’s Princess Peach’s crown. Because apparently you’ve decided to dress like every fantasy he had when he was young once he discovered the Mario games. 

The dress is much shorter than Peach’s is, your’s sits high on your thighs and dips low to show a generous amount of cleavage. You have thigh high white tights one that only accentuate the sliver of thigh that you have on display much the same way your waitress costume did. But this is somehow worse and Seokjin suddenly very much regrets wearing sweatpants today of all days. At least he’s got the apron on.

He turns back to the grill, but the image of you dressed like that will be burned into his brain forever. He might actually die. 

You giggle and he hears the sound of your skates as you move towards the door. “Just have to find a Mario. We’d be so cute together.” And with that you skate out.

Seokjin’s thrilled that it’s finally the day of the party and that it’s finally Halloween. It means he won’t have to deal with you in your costumes anymore. He honestly doesn’t think he can handle anything else after the Peach costume. Or even seeing the Peach costume again. He has no idea what you’ll be wearing tonight and he is torn on which he wants you to wear. 

Yoongi is manning the grill when Seokjin gets there because it’s a Friday so their shifts overlap for the dinner rush before Seokjin will close down for the night. And he saw Hoseok out taking care of a few customers, but he’s unsure if Hoseok was working the earlier shift or if he took Jimin’s shift so the younger man could set up for the party. He hopes it’s the latter, he worries who would come to replace him if he worked the earlier shift. 

He gives him a nod of acknowledgement before focusing again on the grill as Seokjin gets ready for his shift. He had seriously considered skipping the party later since he’s closing and it means he’d get there late. But it’s Jimin’s party and not only would the younger harass him until he came, he also knows it’ll go late into the evening and so his closing shift won’t affect anything. But the late time does mean that he decided to wear his costume to work, well one of them. He has a second one in his car, a stupid idea just in case you happened to wear Peach again. He knows it’s fairly unlikely, but he supposes that the Mario costume sitting on the car seat is at least a little comforting. Maybe an easy way for him to possibly ask you out. Or just embarrass himself. At least it’ll be at a party and he can drink himself silly when he gets rejected. 

But for now, he’s content with his costume. It at least won’t get a snarky comment from you comparing him to Bob Belcher. Because he actually put a little thought into this costume and he’s pretty proud that he managed to pull together such a good Geralt costume. His hair currently being bleach blond also helped give him the idea. The wig for proper accuracy and sword are in his car, they seemed a little impractical to work in, but the rest of the costume was pretty comfortable. The higher waisted pants are different but he thinks they’re pretty flattering and form fitting and the shirt is just billowy enough to give the illusion that he’s a little buffer than he really is. 

The most telling part of the costume is the wolf head medallion hung around his neck. Which he hopes people recognize for what it is and don’t just think he’s wearing some fancy, period style clothes. Plus wearing it now meant that he didn’t have to change either at work while trying to close or show up to the party and change there. And he’s incredibly thankful that Jungkook, nerd that he is, not only had a sword for him to borrow, but actually had a replica specifically of Geralt’s sword. 

Seokjin tugs his apron from the rack, back to the door when he hears it open. He hears Yoongi let out a low whistle. 

“I don’t know who’s attention you’re trying to catch, but consider it caught.” 

Seokjin turns, curious as to who and what Yoongi is talking about and he feels his breath catch in his throat. Because apparently fate is cruel and has decided that you of course would pick up Jimin’s shift and would be the one who closes with him. He licks his lips as his gaze slowly trails over you. 

He doesn’t even know what to take in first. Your black dress is low cut and short, your legs covered in lacy floral tights. But the most distracting part is the glittering body cage that sits over your dress. It cages your breasts in and accentuates them even more than the dress, extended up your chest to form a collar around your throat. Thinner strips cover your shoulders and upper arms, forming a parody of sleeves. The strands curve around your hips, the ends coming together to form a point that just touches the hem of the dress. 

A medallion hangs at your throat, the circular bronze marked with a starburst. You grin at Yoongi as you slip a lace mask on that sits delicately over your eyes. He realizes that you’re dressed as Yennifer. God and not just any outfit, a much skimpier version of the outfit from the orgy scene of all scenes. How is he supposed to survive this shift now?

There’s no way that you knew what he was wearing. This just has to be all a weird coincidence. A very very weird coincidence that has rendered him completely speechless. You glance at him with the ghost of a smile on your lips as you take a seat to swap your ankle boots out for your skates. He gets another brief glance before you’re skating out to join Hoseok outside.

“You’ve got it bad, dude.”

Seokjin jerks at the words, tearing his gaze from your ass to glare at Yoongi. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi gives him a flat look. “Come on, everyone can see your massive crush on her.” Seokjin shoots a worried glance to where you stand talking to a car and Yoongi gives a chuckle and shake of his head. “Okay, maybe everyone but her. But dude, come on. How long are you going to pine for? Just go for it already.”

“But-”

“There is no but here dude. It wouldn’t make work awkward and it’s very clearly not one-sided. Just ask her.” 

Seokjin huffs. He wants to believe Yoongi, he really does. But he worries that you only flirt with him to see his ears turn red and to tease him. You flirt with the others too and it’s hard to tell if you are just flirty in a friendly way or if you truly want more. And he’d hate to make you uncomfortable at work by making a move on you. He turns and chooses instead to ignore Yoongi for the remainder of their shared shift. It’ll get busy anyway so it’s not like he’ll have to try too hard to avoid any further conversation on the topic of you. Something Seokjin would very much like to keep out of his mind given if he thinks about you for too long, it’s going to go straight to your outfit and he doesn’t really need to pop another boner at work while trying to cook. 

Seokjin gets through almost his entire shift with his sanity intact. There’s 30 minutes until close and there’s only one table here. They seem interested in only getting some drinks, so Seokjin takes the opportunity to slip his apron off and begins cleaning up and getting some of the closing duties out of the way so that he can get out of here sooner and go get very drunk at Jimin’s party and try to pretend that he didn’t nearly see your ass tonight when you bent over in front of him earlier. There was a flash of skin from beneath your skirt and Seokjin had to go spend a few minutes in the freezer. When he came out you looked far too amused.

Seokjin glances out the window, realizing that you haven’t been back inside for a little while and worrying that maybe something happened. But all he sees is you chatting with a table of guys. He’s about to get back to cleaning when one of the guys reaches out to run his fingers down your arm. There’s a coy smile on your face and Seokjin clenches his jaw. He glances at the clock. 5 minutes. 

He debates just kicking them out now. It’s not like Namjoon would fire him for it. He doubts they would even bother complaining beyond making a fuss before they leave. But then your hand comes up to touch his shoulder, just for a moment, and Seokjin’s resolve snaps. He snatches their receipt from the counter where you left it and stalks out of the building. 

You glance up at the sound of the door, smiling a little when you see Seokjin exiting. You and the group of guys startle slightly when he slams his hand onto the table, revealing the bill when he pulls away. 

“We’re closed,” he snarls, grabbing you and directing you back inside. 

You stumble slightly, skates leaving you slightly off balance for the sudden movement but you manage to steady yourself by grabbing Seokjin’s bicep with your free hand and allow him to pull you along inside. He leaves you at the counter as he stomps to the back, muttering something under his breath. You look back outside, seeing the guys exchanging confused looks but they place some money on the table and shuffle off, likely not wanting to see what else Seokjin does when he gets angry. 

You squirm slightly, you’ve never seen him so angry, it’s incredibly hot. Especially with him dressed as Geralt tonight. You wait patiently, watching as the outside lights are shut off and then most of the inside ones as well, casting the kitchen in a faint blue glow from the auxiliary lights that remain on no matter what. 

A moment later Seokjin returns, face set in a harsh look of displeasure. You fight down a grin at pushing him far enough to finally get a reaction. He pauses in front of you, glancing behind you briefly, likely to check that the men have actually left. There’s a soft hum from him that makes your lips twitch up in a small smile and when he catches sight of it, his eyes darken. 

“Something amusing to you, sweetheart?” His cold tone sends a shiver down your spine. 

You blink up at him with faux innocence. “Nothing at all, Jinnie.”

His gaze trails slowly over your face and then he’s reaching and removing the delicate lace mask from your face and tossing it to the counter behind you. 

“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he murmurs. He leans forward and your breath catches in your throat, thinking he’s going to kiss you, but he bypasses your mouth, lips brushing your ear as he continues to speak. “I think you did this on purpose and you find it very amusing.”

Your body tingles at his tone, at the way he laces a threat into the seemingly innocuous words. He leans back and you only get a second to admire his smirk before he’s spinning you around and pushing your upper half down against the counter. It takes you a second to get your feet under you with the skates hindering you slightly, but you manage to get yourself stabilized and balanced on your toe stops. 

You plant your hands on the counter to keep stable and glance over your shoulder, only to have your face roughly turned forward once more towards the window. It’s dark out and you know it would be hard to see into the dim windows from the street, but if anyone happens to walk closer, they’d be able to see everything. The thought sends a thrill through you. A hand lands on your ass, cushioned by your dress, but the sudden impact still draws a gasp from your lips. 

“I think,” Jin pauses, fingers trailing lightly across the curve of your ass, “that you have planned all of this with just me in mind, hm?” You don’t know whether he actually wants you to respond or not, but he continues before you can voice anything. “I think someone has been a very bad girl,” the hand on your ass stops and his fingers dig into the flesh harshly. “And that someone needs to be punished,” he finishes with a hiss. 

His hand lands another smack on your ass, a little harder this time, and you feel the slight sting heat your skin. You feel your panties dampen and you squirm as well as you can given the way you have to hold your feet still lest you slip. His hands grope at your cheeks before they slide down enough for him to hook his thumbs under the fabric and he tugs the hem of your dress up and over your ass. 

The hands pause then tighten around the fabric of your dress and you hear him swear under his breath at the sight of your ass clad in black lacy panties, ones that closely resemble your mask, and framed by the lace garter straps of your tights. 

“Fuck… You really did plan this all out…” His hand leaves you again before coming down with a resounding smack, no longer padded by your dress and your thin panties do little to cushion the blow. A moan slips from your lips and Seokjin lets out a dark chuckle. “Oh, are you enjoying your punishment? Well, we’ll just have to fix that, hm?”

He spanks you again, harder this time and you whimper. He hums in approval, hand smoothing over the smarting skin for a moment before he spanks the other cheek just as hard. Your toes curl in your skates at the pleasure-pain that shoots through you. 

Seokjin tsks. “Hm, this just won’t do.” He mutters, seemingly more to himself because you have no idea what he could be thinking until his hand grabs the back of your panties, gathering a fistful of the fabric. It elastic pulls tight across your hips, digging into the skin to the point of discomfort. You whine, trying to push your hips up to relieve the sting but Seokjin just moves with, keeping his grip tight. Then he’s pulling harder, the elastic digging painfully into your skin followed by the sound of seams ripping. A final tug and the fabric tears completely, leaving your ass and pussy bear to Seokjin’s gaze. 

A shudder ripples through you at the display. You can’t believe he just ripped your panties off. You can’t believe how much the action turns you on too. 

A pleased noise rumbles in his chest as the scrap of lace is slipped into his pocket. “That’s much better.”

His hands are back on your ass, no barrier to keep you from feeling the warmth from his palms and the slightly roughened fingertips as they skim across your skin. You push into the touch, greedy for more of the soothing strokes. He chuckles, fingers slipping beneath the garter straps. He tugs them away from your skin before releasing them to let them snap against your skin. 

“Seokjin-” you start, only to be quickly cut off by a sharp smack. 

“Bad girls don’t get to speak unless spoken too, slut.”

You swallow, pussy clenching at his tone. Of all the things you imagined, you never quite imagined something like this. His hand smooths across your skin for a moment before delivering another spank. 

“How many more do you think you deserve, slut?” he muses, hand remaining where it landed with his last smack. 

“I-”

Another smack. “That was rhetorical. I don’t actually take the opinions of sluts.” His hand rubs at your warmed skin for a moment in thought. “I think 20 sounds fair. For all your little stunts with those costumes. For flirting with other guys where I can see. For teasing.” He pauses for a moment and when he speaks again, the harsh edge is gone. “Green means continue, yellow for slow down, and red I stop. Okay?”

It takes you a second to realize what he’s said and then you’re quickly nodding, excitement mounting at what could possibly be to come.

“I need words, princess,” he murmurs, voice softer than it has been since he brought you inside and it makes you melt a little. 

“Yes, I understand.”

“That’s the first time you’ve been good all night, sweetheart.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it makes you clench at the mean implications that come with such a simple statement. “But now let’s see if you can keep your good girl streak going while you get punished.” Both hands leave you and you want to turn around and look at him, see what he’s doing, but you feel it will only prompt further punishment. “I want you to count. And if you miss one, then we start all over again, got it?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking, trying your best to keep from squirming. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl now,” he coos.

And then his hand is coming down on your ass, softer than his previous smacks and the gentleness makes you gasp. He pauses and waits and you belatedly let a 'one' slip from your lips. He hums in approval and delivers a smack to the other cheek, still just as soft and you murmur a quiet 'two.'

You squirm. You'd expected more harsh hits and the contrast has you aching for him to go a little rougher with you. He smacks again and again. Every slap of his palm against you only adds to the growing pleasurable sting that radiates across the whole surface of your ass.

He stops when he gets to ten, hands rubbing over the warm flesh. "Color?"

"Green, so green," you whine, pushing your ass back into his hands.

He chuckles. "You're so eager for your punishment that I'm starting to think that it might not be a very good punishment." His hand comes down, much harder than any previous spank and you cry out. "Ah, there we go."

Seokjin sounds so indifferent when he speaks, like he's not even bothered by your bare ass and the noises that slip from you with every connection. You wish you could see his face, see if there is any reaction he has. You want to see the indifference as he’s faced with your bare, dripping pussy and spank warmed ass. The next four spanks are just as harsh and tears gather, threatening to fall. It's so pleasurably painful that you can feel yourself dripping down your thighs. He gives you another small reprieve, hands ghosting along your smarting skin as you pant against the counter.

"Hm, there we go, that’s much better. Color?"

You squeeze your eyes closed, taking a moment to try to gather your foggy thoughts. You feel a few tears drip down your cheeks. "G-green."

His fingers dig into your ass then and you whine as you try to squirm away from the sudden flare of pain. Seokjin just chuckles again and digs his fingers in more. He pulls your cheeks apart and you gasp at being suddenly far more exposed. You clench at the burst of cool air across your asshole and pussy, and Seokjin just holds you like that for a long taunting moment. And then he surprises you further by spitting, the glob of spit hitting just above your asshole and beginning to slide down your crack.

You shudder, a moan slipping from your lips as Seokjin halts the spit from sliding too far by pressing his thumb to your hole. You feel yourself go boneless at the pressure. He hums in delight at the way you relax at only a little prodding.

"Oh? Do you like something in your ass too? My, what a naughty girl," he teases, mocking edge making you whine and press further against his thumb.

His thumb circles, pressing lightly against the tight ring of muscle, slowly spreading his saliva around. He plays with your hole, massaging it for a few moments before he's pulling away. He spanks you again and you tense up at the sudden flip from soft rubbing back to the harsh slaps.

"Didn't think I forgot about the rest of your punishment, did you?"

You quickly shake your head. You actually had forgotten that he said twenty and that you still have five left. But you can't let him know how distracted you had been by him playing with your ass. That you forgot you were being punished. That didn’t seem like it would go over well with him. Tears gather in your eyes as his hand lands again, breath punched from you as the pain builds with each swat of his hand.

Your throat feels rough when you finally croak out, 'twenty.'

His hands completely leave you and you tremble against the counter, struggling to keep yourself upright with your legs nearly boneless. You feel warm and floaty all over. 

"Fuck, you look so good like that." You preen at the praise but he’s quick to laugh. And the mocking, mean edge of it has you whining. "You're absolutely dripping. Did you even learn anything from your punishment? Or did you just enjoy it?"

You jolt when his fingers brush against your tender ass before they trail down to your pussy, running the length of your slit and gathering some of your wetness on his fingertips. His fingers leave you once more and a second later you hear him suck his fingers clean.

He groans. "Fuck, I wasn't planning on doing this as part of your punishment but you taste far too good to not give myself a little treat. It is Halloween after all." You can hear the growing smirk when he continues. "Oh, I have a much better idea now anyway."

His fingers trace your pussy lips and you shift, mindlessly trying to get them where you want them. They pull away and Seokjin delivers a quick smack to your pussy, jolting your body at the sudden burst of pain across your sensitive cunt and forcing a surprised yelp from your lips.

"Behave."

You pout, though you assume he can't see it. That is until you glance up at the storefront and see your reflections in the window and the predatory way that Seokjin stares at you. His grin is feral when you make eye contact, like he's been waiting for you to finally look up and realize that he can see your face as well. He keeps staring at you as his fingers slip through your folds again before he lets one slide inside you.

You moan at the intrusion, but it's not enough. You want more already, body warmed from the teasing and spanking already. He’s barely touched your pussy and you’re already so desperate for him. You clench around his finger, hips pushing back to try to get him deeper. He removes his hand again to land another smack to your pussy, dangerously close to your clit. You moan.

"Fuck, you're so dirty. You like getting your slutty pussy spanked just as much as your little ass?"

You nod, desperate to get more of something, anything he's willing to give you. Simply hoping that by agreeing will get you something. Seokjin spanks your pussy again, this time directly over your clit and you cry out, legs nearly giving out beneath you as the pleasure-pain sensation alights your nerves. His finger circles your entrance slowly before slipping inside once again.

"Seokjin please..."

He drags his finger out slowly before thrusting it back in just as slowly, letting you feel every inch of the digit. "What is it? Please what? If you're going to beg, you're going to beg like a proper slut and use. Your. Words." He punctuates the last three words a harsh thrust of his finger after each one, leaving it buried once he's done speaking.

"Please... Wan-" Your voice breaks as his finger presses searchingly against your walls, finding your g-spot quickly and rubbing against the bundle. The action robs you of all thought, losing track of what you had been saying.

"Yes?" He questions mockingly, like he's not distracting you and making it hard for you to form a coherent thought. "Please what?"

You groan, head dropping forward to press your forehead against the cool countertop. The slight chill that seeps through your sweaty skin grounds you a bit. Enough to string together some words. "Want... Wanna cum, please let me cum..."

Seokjin presses more firmly against your spot and your whole body trembles at the wave of pleasure that washes through you, pushing you closer to orgasm.

"Oh? Do you think you deserve that?"

You nod quickly, squeaking when Seokjin removes his finger to slap your pussy again, the only reminder you get to speak. "Yes, yes... Was good and counted the whole time."

He hums thoughtfully. "I suppose you did. So you want to cum, slut?"

You squirm as his fingers tease alone your folds. It’s maddeningly light, nowhere near enough to push you over the edge. "Yes, please, wanna cum, Seokjin..."

His answering hum should send up red flags but he slips two fingers into your pussy, rubbing immediately across your g-spot with each thrust of his hand and you sink immediately into the pleasure it sends through you. You writhe and his free hand comes up to press against your back, pinning you more securely to the counter. It just makes you writhe more, push the boundaries and feel him press you just a little harder into the unmoving counter. 

His thumbs slips forward on the next thrust to brush against your clit. Your belly tightens with every thrust and stroke of his fingers, orgasm rapidly approaching.

“You’re tightening around me so much. Is my little slut close?”

Your nod jerkily, hips twitching as you rock against his fingers. “S-so close…”

Seokjin stops with one last harsh thrust, switching instead to rubbing incessantly at your g-spot while his thumb circles your clit. “Then be a good fucking slut and cum,” he growls. 

He grabs your hair, tugging your head up so that you're forced to stare at his reflection once more. The look on his face makes you shudder and your pussy clenches around his fingers. Your mouth drops open at the feral look in his eyes and the way he seems wholly consumed by watching your every twitch and reaction. One more twist of his fingers has you crying out his name, toes curling in your skates as he pushes you over the edge. His hand releases your hair, a look of warning keeps you from letting your head drop, and his hand comes down in another spank against your ass and you jolt at the added sensation as your orgasm floods your body.

His fingers work you through your orgasm, slowing only marginally as you shake beneath him. You whine when overstimulation starts to take over but you make no moves to stop his movements. The extra sensitivity only adds to the pleasure that still licks away at your veins.

"Wow, too much and you're not even gonna stop me? Fuck, you really are a dirty, needy little slut."

You whine again, pushing your hips back onto his fingers, drawing an amused huff from him. He thumbs your clit roughly, causing your knees to nearly give out, before he's removing his fingers entirely and you pout at the sudden empty feeling you're left with. His hand slips back into your hair, tightening and pulling your head further back so your chest lifts slightly from the counter and you gasp as your attention is pulled back to his reflection. He smirks at you for a moment and then he's releasing you once more. You collapse against the counter, struggling slightly to keep your footing. 

You're suddenly very much regretting the fact that you have to wear skates at work because it's proving to be very dangerous. You wish you could stop and take them off, but you’re certain that Seokjin wants them on for the fact that it keeps you nearly immboile against the counter. You can’t deny that for the struggle to remain upright aside, being forced to stay like this because of your footwear is just another layer to the arousal that has yet to leave you. 

Seokjin's body blankets your's for a moment as he leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll give you exactly what you need."

You have no time to question him because he's straightening once more and then his reflection disappears entirely as he drops to his knees behind you. Your throat feels dry as you wait for him to touch you again but the seconds stretch and he does nothing. You squirm, imagining what he must be seeing from his new position behind you, your pussy spread and dripping, hole twitching with the last vestiges of your orgasm. The way your thighs quiver as you force yourself to remain upright.

Embarrassment heats you at being stared at but the moment your legs start to close to attempt to hide yourself, Seokjin's hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread for his gaze to consume. He hums in appreciation, thumbs brushing your folds as he pulls your lips apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt. His breath ghosts across the sodden skin and you think that he's going to finally put his mouth on you but he surprises you when he lips brush gently against your ass.

"S-seokjin?"

He ignores you, peppering kisses across both cheeks, tongue slipping out occasionally to lave across areas made more sensitive by his spanking. He releases your pussy, hands sliding further up to cup your ass, massaging the flesh while his lips move across. It's nothing short of worship and you find yourself quickly getting lost in the attention.

By all means, it shouldn't be as hot as it is. He's barely even doing anything. Just kneading the flesh softly as his lips and tongue ghost across your skin. But every touch sends a spark of electricity up your spine. You wish you could see him, how he must look on his knees, the look on his face. Whether his brow is pinched in concentration like it does when he’s working or if it's relaxed as he takes his time with you.

The first pass of his lips over your asshole draws a soft sigh from you and you can feel the smile that tugs at his lips with his next kiss to your cheeks. He takes his time, only putting the lightest of touches to your hole as he showers attention across your ass. Your mind feels foggy, equal parts on edge for his next move and lulled into complacency by his gentle movements. You trust him to give you what you need, even if you don’t know what it is yet. 

His tongue darts out, circling the tightened ring of muscle with more pressure than he's used before and it causes your entire body to shake. He drifts away again and a whimper slips from your lips at the loss. He moves back to your hole quicker this time, each pass and circle of his tongue coming closer together as he goes.

His fingers dig into your ass, drawing a hiss from you at the flare of pain, and he pulls your cheeks apart. He stops there for a moment and you feel your hole clench at the focused attention.

Seokjin chuckles. "Needy little slut," he coos and then he spits directly onto your hole again.

You moan, feeling as it slowly slides down your ass until it meets your pussy and gets lost in the mess of your slick. He blows cool air where he spat and goosebumps break out across your skin. He blows again and then his mouth is closing over your hole, the sudden warmth has you crying out. Seokjin just hums, tongue tracing your hole.

You shift and Seokjin tightens his grip on your ass, keeping you still and you clench at the casual display of power. He keeps the pressure of his tongue light, enough for you to feel it but keeping you aching for more. And god do you ache for more, his teasing keeps the fire in your belly at just a simmer and you want to be consumed. Your previous orgasm is proving to be nowhere near enough as your clit throbs with need. Seokjin continues his slow pace despite your weak attempts to get him to do something.

He pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over you as he speaks. "If you need something slut, you know how to ask."

And then he dives back in, tongue continuing it's tortuously slow path around your hole. You open your mouth to speak, but Seokjin's tongue dips just inside your hole and you groan at the sudden change. He alternates between slow sweeps of his tongue around your rim and wiggling his tongue just a little deeper into you. The stretch isn't enough to hurt, not with how relaxed his previous attention has left you, and you find yourself wishing that there was just the slightest bit more stretch.

Seokjin's words come back to you and you swallow as you try to articulate your needs to him. "S-seokjin... Need more, please..."

He hums but makes no move to do anything about your whining. He's methodical and it's almost worse than the spanking in how torturous it is.

"Please... Fuck, Seokjin, please, please, please..."

Your begging seems to be what he was waiting for because one of his hands slides from your ass to trace along your slit. You moan at the contact, not expecting him to go for your pussy but you let out a happy noise as a pleasurable shiver runs through you. His fingers find your clit and he runs his fingers around it for a brief second before he’s pinching the sensitive bud. 

You cry out, thighs trying to close instinctively, but Seokjin’s body prevents you from moving them closer than an inch. You feel his smirk against your ass as he pinches again. You whimper, the pain sending sparks of pleasure through your body. He switches to circling your clit, soothing the painful throb he created and it lulls you into a false sense of security for when he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can into your ass. 

You choke on a moan as he thrusts his tongue in again, pairing it with another, slightly more gentle, pinch to your clit. You press your face to the counter, struggling to catch your breath amongst the assault of sensations that Seokjin lavishes upon you. But your attempts are nearly useless as he constantly changes what he’s doing, giving you no time to get used to anything and managing to surprise you with every single twist of his fingers and every thrust and curl of his tongue. 

While you struggle to keep yourself upright, you can feel your orgasm steadily building from the constant attention of his mouth and the abuse to your clit. It’s only a matter of time before you cum again. But you know you can’t, not without his okay, although the thoughts that flit through your mind of possible punishments for cumming without permission are incredibly enticing. That can wait for another day. 

“G-gonna… Gonna cum, can I cum? Please, Seokjin… p-please let me cum…” you babble, feeling that knot inside you continuing to tighten and you can only try to stop it for so long. 

He pulls away, teeth nipping at the underside of your ass while his fingers continue to play with your clit. His mouth drifts a little lower and his teeth dig into the meat of your thigh. 

“Please!” you shudder, the added pain pushing you much faster towards your end.

His tongue traces soothingly over where he just bit, but he remains maddeningly silent. You blink away tears, though you’re not sure if they’re from the pain, frustration, or pleasure. 

“Please…” you whimper. 

He shifts to the other cheek, biting down again and you’re so close to cumming now. His tongue soothes the spot once more and you feel your body tensing with the first inklings of orgasm.  

But just as you reach the edge, nearly toppling over into the pleasure, Seokjin is pulling his hands and mouth away from your body, stopping your orgasm in its tracks. 

You let out a sob, a pitiful, whiny ‘no’ slipping from your lips as a few tears slide down your cheeks as your orgasm slowly slips through your fingers. 

“I don’t recall saying you could cum.” His hand comes down on your ass, right on top of where he bit. 

“I a-asked… Please, I was good.”

“You asked, but I didn’t say yes, slut.” His hand swats at your pussy next and you nearly cum from the action with how on edge you are. 

Seokjin seems to notice if his dark snicker is anything to go by. “Oh? You liked that? Seems you liked it a lot, you made such a mess of my fingers.” He slaps your pussy again and it jolts you closer to orgasm again. “Think you could cum just from me spanking your slutty little pussy? Fuck, I want to try. Do you want that, dirty girl?”

You nod without thinking. You’d do just about anything if it means you get to cum. And the sting only makes the pleasure feel all the better. “Please…”

You hear him shuffle for a moment, the sound of fabric rustling, before he’s nipping at your ass again, leaving teasing stings until his tongue can swirl around your asshole once more. His hand slaps your pussy the same time that his tongue slips back into your tight hole. You gasp and he starts alternating thrusts of his tongue with smacks to your clit.

Your body feels wound tight, every sensation that Seokjin showers on you sending you so much closer to the edge. It feels like you and Seokjin have been doing this for years with how well he seems to be able to read your body. You cry out as Seokjin pinches your clit once more, thighs quivering with the effort it takes to keep you standing.

Seokjin's tongue slips from your hole, but he remains close, lips brushing the sensitive furl as he speaks. "Come on, slut. We both know you can cum from this. Be good and let go for me."

His tongue circles your hole slowly and then it's slipping back in and he picks up a fast pace of fucking you with his tongue, interspersed with slaps and pinches to your clit, seemingly using no method and keeping you on your toes in guessing what will come next. Your high crests from the mixture of pleasure and pain and you cum with a sob, pussy clenching around nothing. Seokjin's fingers press to your clit as the first ripples of your orgasm rush through you and he skillfully draws your orgasm out for as long as possible. Your body feels electrified, pushed into overstimulation but your breath has been completely robbed from you with how good everything feels too, at the way Seokjin so easily manipulates your body to his every whim.

Slowly, he pulls his mouth and fingers from you, sitting back on his heels. You pant against the counter, hot air blowing back into your sweaty face but you're too exhausted to care. You kind of just want to slide off the counter and lay down on the floor, even though it's the kitchen floor and is probably gross. Seokjin pats your ass and it somehow feels condescending and you feel your pussy give a weak twitch.

"Enjoying yourself, slut?" All you can muster is a pitiful whine, which draws a snicker from him. "I certainly hope you are, because we're far from over."

You whine again. You honestly don't know if you could take more. Your body has never been so worked over without actually being fucked too. You don't even know what else he could do short of fucking you finally. Which had been the goal of this whole game to begin with, but he's far surpassed your expectations. Maybe you should push his buttons more often if it results in being so utterly ruined. You definitely know that no one else will ever be able to make you feel as good as he has. Seokjin's hands rub soothingly at your thighs and the action is so grounding that you feel a little dizzy.

"Color, sweetheart?" His voice is soft and gentle, so different from the mean tone that's been coloring it until now.

It takes you a moment to be able to speak, but you manage to get out a raspy 'green.'

"Need any water or a break?"

You think about it for a moment. You could take a break. Maybe take your skates off. But you really don't want to either. There's something about not being able to move that makes it even better, makes you feel powerless even though Seokjin has plainly handed you all the power here. You just want more. 

You shake your head. "I'm good."

His hands massage at your thighs for a few more moments before his fingers dig harshly into the newly relaxed muscle. You gasp and he gives a chuckle. "What a good little slut you're being now."

"Yes... 'm good."

Seokjin chuckles darkly. "That remains to be seen. You haven't even gotten my cock yet and you can barely even speak properly anymore. Not so cocky now, huh?"

He gives your ass a quick swat, it's far more teasing than meant to cause you any pain. His hands slide up your thighs until they just meet your ass and then his thumbs are pulling your soaking folds apart with a groan. Mirroring his earlier actions, he blows cool air across your pussy and you shudder at the way it feels against your heated cunt. His tongue lightly traces your folds and he lets out a contented noise like he’s tasting the most exquisite dish he’s ever eaten. 

Then he’s licking a wide stripe up your slit and you cry out, pussy so sensitive after two orgasms already. Seokjin eats you out like a starving man, tongue working over every inch of your pussy, mapping every spot that makes you twitch and moan. You writhe, or at least you try your best with Seokjin’s hands holding your ass and keeping your lower half mostly immobile. 

Seokjin pulls back with a smack of his lips. “For such a little devil, you certainly taste like heaven.” He snickers before diving back in. 

His plump lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking lightly at the nub before he sucks. Fire simmers in your veins and you’re surprised at how quickly your orgasm builds again when he’s barely done anything just yet. He suckles lightly, pleasure surging through you. Releasing your clit with a pop, his tongue drags agonizingly slowly up to circle your entrance. He’s methodical, tracing around your hole with just the right amount of pressure before dipping back down to mouth at your clit and then back again. 

You feel yourself dripping, Seokjin noisily lapping up all that you have to give him. Seokjin’s fingers massage up to your ass, digging in and sending a spark of pleasure through you from the sting his grip brings. A hand abandons your ass, finger joining his mouth on your cunt. They work in tandem, fingers toying with your clit while he licks into your pussy. Then they switch, two fingers slipping deep inside you as his lips wrap around you clit once more. 

Time slips away from you, your mind hazy and body on edge as Seokjin plays with your pussy to his heart’s content. His tongue presses at your hole with a little more force and then his teeth graze the sensitive skin and you moan. You feel his smile when he presses his lips against you next and then his tongue is sliding into you. You moan as his fingers pinch at your clit at the same time. 

Heat pools in your belly as he starts fucking his tongue into you and you babble as you feel your orgasm rising as his fingers circle your clit, begging to cum again. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass with his free hand which you assume is meant to be his form of permission since he seems to not want to remove his mouth from your cunt. His fingers move faster and you teeter on the edge. You’re so close. So close that it’s driving you delirious with pleasure. But you just can’t quite get there, missing something that you can’t even fathom let alone ask for. 

Seokjin, ever perspective, seems to know exactly what you need as he slips a finger in with his tongue, pressing down on your g-spot and making you cry out. The insistent pressure combined with the fingers on your clit and tongue still thrusting into sends you over the edge. Bliss floods your body and you feel yourself gush around Seokjin’s tongue and fingers. He drinks up what he can before he’s pulling his mouth away with a curse. 

“Fuck, what a messy fucking slut. You made such a mess squirting, you little whore. I just cleaned these floors. I should make you lick them clean.” You clench around his fingers at his words and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Fuck you like that? Of course you would, you wouldn’t be my dirty little slut otherwise.”

His fingers continue their ministrations and you whine that it’s too much. Seokjin pays you no mind, slipping another finger into you. 

“Come on, slut. I know you can cum again.”

You shake your head. “C-can’t… not… No more…” You squirm, trying your best to get away from the relentless pressure against your clit and g-spot. 

His fingers slow for a moment. “Color?”

You swallow. It hurts, but not necessarily in a bad way. It doesn’t feel like it’d be too much to go on. You’ve never been pushed so far and there’s a thrill that runs through you when you think about discovering what exactly your body can take, even more excited that Seokjin is the one to test the bounds and that he makes sure to check in, to remind you that the safe words are there if it’s too much. You trust him to listen if you need to slow down. But you don’t want to, not right now.

You can feel your wetness literally dripping down your thighs and seeping into your tights makes you feel warm all over, overcome with a need to see how soaked they could get. “G-green, please…”

Seokjin hums, fingers picking their pace back up. “There’s my good little slut. Come on, cum for me like a good little whore.”

His mouth latches onto you again and you shudder, body still worked up from your squirting orgasm that it takes so little effort for Seokjin to push you over the edge again. Your mouth drops open on a soundless scream, pussy convulsing as you gush around his fingers, wetness dripping down his hand and to the floor. You whimper and Seokjin carefully slips his fingers from you. He laps gently at your folds, just enough to send tingles of pleasure up your spin.

He pulls away with a groan. “I could eat you out all night.”

You’re torn between imagining the idea and fearing for your poor pussy if he were to actually do that. He stands and you lift your head enough to look at his reflection when it comes back into view. Your breath catches in your throat when your gaze is met with his bare chest. You have no idea when he had stripped his shirt off and you mourn the fact that you didn’t get to see and appreciate the sight more. He shifts slightly and his chin and chest glistens and you feel your body heat with embarrassment when you realize that you were the cause of that. He meets your gaze and winks.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, slut?”

You whine. You honestly don’t know how much more you can handle, but at the same time, you absolutely have to have him inside you. “Please, Seokjin, please… want it.”

His hands give your ass a quick squeeze before they’re leaving you and you can see him focusing on his pants. You curse your current position and the fact that it keeps you from being able to see his cock in all its glory. You know it’s got to be beautiful. It’d be criminal if it wasn’t. 

He smacks your ass with his cock, leaving a smear of precum across the skin. God, how long has he been hard for? How did he hold out for this long? You squirm and he chuckles. 

“Beg a little more, slut.”

You wiggle your ass, pouting. “Please, Seokjinnie… Please, I want it. Want your cock, wanted it for so long… Please I-”

Seokjin cuts your begging off as he roughly thrusts into you. You cry out, hands scrambling for purchase against the counter as his cock stretches you out all at once. He’s huge, so much bigger than you ever dared imagine. Long and girthy and so perfect to fill every inch of your pussy. You’re honestly not sure how he fits, you feel full to bursting with him buried to the hilt in your cunt. You wished you’d gotten to take your time with it, had him stuff it down your throat. The thought makes saliva pool in your mouth. You’re definitely going to repay the favor and worship his cock when you get the chance.

He swears. “Fuck… your cunt…”

His fingers dig into your hips as he holds himself still for a moment. Then he’s pulling out until just the tip remains before slamming back it, jolting you forward against the counter. Seokjin starts a fast pace, immediately overwhelming you and giving you almost no time to adjust to him. 

His grip tightens on your hips, enough to feel like it’ll be a bruise by morning. “Think you can cum again for me, slut? Cum on my cock for me, baby?”

You whine and shake your head. “N-no… please, can’t…”

Seokjin slams into you, draping himself over you and letting a hand snake around your throat. He waits, giving you a chance to say no to this and when he receives no denial, he squeezes lightly. You gasp and he squeezes a little tighter. You feel lightheaded and if it wasn’t for Seokjin’s body pinning you to the counter, you’d probably slide to the floor. Keeping his grip on your throat, he grinds into you, savoring the way your pussy clenches around him.

He loosens his hold slightly and meets your gaze in the window. “You’re going to cum for me again. And your pretty little cunt is gonna milk every drop of cum I have to give you. How does that sound, baby? Want me to fill your slutty little cunt up?”

As much as you don’t want to, you honestly have no idea if your body is even capable of having another orgasm, you want to find out. And the thought of Seokjin fucking you full on top of it has you nodding to his words almost instantly. “Yes, please… Seokjin, please, fill me up…”

His hand tightens again and he gives you a pleased smirk. “You’re so well behaved now. Hard to believe how much of a naughty little brat you’ve been lately.” 

He switches from grinding to thrusting again, though his position over you means that his thrusts are shorter but no less rough. His other hand slides around to your front, fingers brushing your clit. You clench around him and receive a low moan from him as his grip on your throat loosens again. His fingers circle your clit and you can feel your orgasm quickly creeping up on you. You briefly wonder if it’s possible to die from too many orgasms. But then Seokjin nips at your neck, drawing your focus back to the way his cock drags along your walls and the filth he’s murmuring into your skin as his fingers work faster. 

It washes over you and you cum with a cry of his name, pussy convulsing around his cock. You feel his breath puff against your skin as his forehead presses to your shoulder. His hand falls away from your clit, planting itself once more on your hip as his thrusts pick up speed now that he’s chasing his own end. 

Seokjin’s hips stutter to a stop as he cums with a groan pressed to your skin. His cock twitches inside you as he empties himself in your pussy, filling you up. You sink against the counter, praactically purring in contentment at the flood of warmth that he releases within you. He pants against your skin for a long moment and you let your exhaustion slowly wash over you. You’d give anything for a bed right now and to never have to move again. 

Seokjin pushes himself up and then slowly slips out of you. You whine at the loss and you get a soft chuckle. His hands rub soothingly at your back before they come to rest on your waist. He gives you a squeeze.

“I’m gonna help you stand and get you sitting on the counter, okay?”

You groan. “Don’t wanna…”

Seokjin huffs a soft laugh. “I don’t care. I need to make sure you’re okay and we need to get your skates off.”

He starts moving you, though you know you aren’t much help with how jelly-like your limbs feel. He finally gets you seated on the counter and it takes all your remaining strength to stay sitting upright. You blink hazy eyes at Seokjin; he’s tucked himself back into his pants but they still remain undone, giving you the faintest glimpse of his cock. You pout, you’d wanted to see it. 

His hands cup your cheeks, directing your gaze to his eyes and you blink slowly at him. He gives you a soft smile. “There you are.” His thumbs stroke gently across your cheeks, wiping away the last bits of your tears. “Can you stay sitting up for me? I’m going to get you some water, okay?”

You nod, frowning when his hands leave your face. You want him to keep touching. He turns, grabbing a cup and quickly filling it with water. He hands it to you, helping you when it almost slips through your lax grip. He makes you drink half before he lets you set the cup down. He leans down and makes quick work of your skates, tugging them from your feet. You sigh in relief, feet flexing at finally being free from their confinements and a surprised noise leaves your lips when you feel his thumbs dig into the soles of your feet. He rubs each foot and you nearly fall asleep from the relaxation that slowly spreads through your system.  

Seokjin stands, his hands coming back up to cup your face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you croak out, lips pursing at how wrecked your voice comes out.

You can see Seokjin fight down a prideful grin as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. It’s silent for a few moments before he’s gasping and you give him a questioning look. He tuts, though you don’t know if it’s directed at you or himself.

“All that and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

You giggle, he does all that and is worried about the fact that he didn’t kiss you at all. He tilts your head up, soft smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You blink at him for a moment, not expecting him to follow through with fixing that. But when he leans in, you let your eyes slip shut. The kiss is sweet and chaste, the complete opposite of everything that just happened. It lasts for just a moment and you ache to have more of the feel of his plush lips pressed against yours. 

He grins as he pulls away and then busies himself with finding your shoes and your bag, helping you into them. He presses a kiss to your forehead and presses the water back into your grip with the instruction to finish it. He slips his shirt back on, tucking it back into his pants and then he’s darting out the door. Which confuses and alarms you for a split second before you realize that he’s grabbing that money that then men had left on the table. 

He’s quick to cash the ticket out, slipping the hefty tip they left you into your purse before taking the drawer back to the office. He’s gone for a few minutes and you sip slowly at the water while you wait. Now that you’re alone, you wonder what all of that meant. If it was just a culmination of sexual tension and frustration or if there was something more there. Hoseok and Jimin have regularly pushed you to tell Seokjin how you feel. But you’ve always kept that hidden, not wanting to make work suddenly weird when this job and your coworkers are the best you’ve ever had.

And the costumes hadn’t gotten Seokjin to ask you out or offer to be the other half of the pair costumes despite the hints you tried dropping. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in that and just wanted a quick fuck. But some of his actions disprove that. Maybe he was just as nervous as you to ask. 

He reappears, pressing another kiss to your forehead as he takes the empty glass from you and sets it aside. 

“Think you can stand now?”

You shake your legs out experimentally. You certainly seem to have a little more control over them. “I can try.”

That draws an amused snort from him and he helps you down from the counter, hands not leaving you until he’s sure that you’re safe to stand on your own. You adjust your dress, pulling it back down and wincing slightly as the slightly rough material drags over your ass. Your bare ass. You glance around the floor. 

“Hey, where are my underwear?”

Seokjin’s back is to you as he wipes down the part of the counter you were just sitting on. “Oh, they’re completely ruined.” He glances at you over his shoulder with a smirk. “And mine now.”

You squirm, feeling some of his cum drip from your abused cunt. Well at least you’re just going home. You can make it that far. Not that they would’ve been much use to you ripped anyway. Maybe you should make him buy you a new pair. That request might come after the feelings talk though. 

Once he’s done, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Ready to go?”

You hum and nod. You are seriously ready to sleep for a day. You’re glad that you don’t work tomorrow. You don’t think Seokjin does either. Maybe you can entice him to stay the night and you could cook him breakfast before the two of you talk. 

Seokjin leads you out of the building, locking the door as you go, and guides you towards his car. Your’s is at home, though you’re not sure if Seokjin already knew that or is just directing you towards his car because he doesn’t trust you to drive right now. To be fair, you don’t think you could actually drive if you had to. You’re glad that you’d been planning to drink at the party and so you were just going to either catch a ride, stay at Jimin’s, or get an Uber so that your car isn’t left in the lot overnight. 

Once settled, he starts the car and pulls out of the lot. You frown watching him turn. 

“Seokjin, I live the other way.”

“I know.”

“And you live the other way.”

He smirks. “I know.”

You swallow. “Where are we going?”

“Well, it’s a shame for you to get all dressed up for a party and to not even go to show it off.”

“I can’t go to a party like this!” You only briefly caught sight of your full reflection but you know how fucked out you look. He can’t seriously be taking you to the party right now. 

Seokjin’s hand lands on your thigh. “You had no problem going to work like that.”

You whine and squirm, immediately squeezing your legs together when you feel another dribble of cum slip from you. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Seokjin just hums, driving the rest of the short distance to Jimin’s house in silence. You try your best to fix yourself up in the mirror so you don’t look completely ruined. It’s only slightly effective. You wish you had Yennifer’s powers, then you could just magic your way home. Would serve Seokjin right. 

He parks and helps you out of the car before reaching into the back for a wig and a sword. He adjusts both items and you look him over appraisingly. 

“At least you’ve got Geralt’s brutish personality down.” You tease. 

Seokjin takes your hand and presses a kiss to it before using it to lead you to the house. “I’d like to think I’m far more charming than him.”

You giggle. “That remains to be seen.”

The party is in full swing when you enter and it takes the both of you a few moments to find your friends. When you do, they all are quick to take in your appearance and the way Seokjin’s hand is wrapped around yours. Jimin crows victoriously, slapping Taehyung on the back.

“I told you! You owe me!”

You bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. You just wanted to go home and cuddle. Seokjin’s lips brush your ear.

“If you promise to stay a while, we can get revenge on him and go fuck in his bed.”

[rogeriswater]

Don’t Leave Me Now

xviii

This work contains fictionalized versions of real events and people. Most details won’t be accurate to real life.

tags for this chapter: p.o.v changes, mentions of abuse, neglectful billy, supportive ronnie

~m.r~

Ronnie insisted on getting the six of us to do a photoshoot. She had only ever taken candids while she was with us, but she had never done a professional photoshoot with us. Ronnie and I were obviously first to arrive at the location where it was to take place. She needed to set up and everything. I sat on a low wall as I watched her.

"Is it true you and Sandy are moving out?" I asked. I had overheard them talking about it this morning and that was all I was thinking about. Turns out Sandy had found a place at a decent price they could afford. The house was all ready for them to move into.

"Yes, pup, we are" Ronnie said. "As much as we love staying with you, it's about time we had our own place"

"I know, it's just I've gotten used to you to being around and it's gonna feel lonely at home"

Ronnie walked over to me and grabbed my hands. "I'll still be fairly close by. You can come over whenever you want"

"I know" I tried not to, but I started to cry. This was like when Ronnie was leaving for America all over again.

"Please don't cry, pup" She cooed to me. She cupped my face and wiped away my tears. "How about when we're done, you and me go for something to eat, maybe do some shopping? You know, sister time"

I smiled. "Okay"

She grasped both of my hands and pulled me off of the wall and she began spinning us around. The two of us spun faster and faster until the world was a blur around us. We came to an abrupt stop, letting the dizziness over take us and we fell to the grass. The two of us started laughing.

"What's got you two laughing like lunatics?" Roger asked when he approached us. He stood over us, his feet at our heads. "And why are you on the grass?"

I smiled up at him. I reached my hand out for him. He looked at it cautiously, before taking it. Once his hand was grasping mine, I pulled him down so that he was on the grass with us. He landed right next to me. Ronnie and I laughed even harder. Roger propped himself up on his hands and looked at us. "Well that was rude, wasn't it?" He said, trying not to laugh himself.

Ronnie managed to calm herself down and she stood up, brushing off any dirt from her clothes. "I suppose I better set up before the other boys get here" And off she went to her bag of equipment that was laying close by.

I didn't bother getting up. I continued to lay on the grass, resting my hands on my stomach, staring up at the sky. Roger remained in his sitting position as he stared at me. "What is it, Roger?" I asked him.

"Nothing" He told me. "It's just hard not to stare at your beautiful face" I blushed when he said that. I couldn't help it. He could be really sweet with his words when he wanted to, but, he probably also says the same things to Judy. The thought made me frown a bit. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" I muttered. "Oh? Just thinking of how lovely it is today. We couldn't have picked a better day to do this"

Roger raised an eyebrow, and I knew that he probably didn't quite believe me but he went along with it anyway. "Yes, it is a lovely day, isn't it?"

~r.f~

When the rest of the boys arrived, we got the photoshoot underway. They were very clearly having fun. Well, five of them were. It felt like Syd wasn't so present in the moment. With every photo I took, he was looking off into the distance, seeming so lost. It was quite sad really.

And don't get me started on the arguing between Roger and David that transpired. They kept arguing about who got to stand next to Maggie. Both Rick and Nick found it absolutely amusing. I eventually became quite annoyed by it. Luckily, they were both able to compromise and have Maggie situated between them at all times. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that the Pink Floyd guitarist and bassist both had a thing for my sister.

It soon came to be lunch time and it was a good thing I made the decision to pack a picnic basket. We all found a nice shady spot near a tree to feast on our picnic. At some point, both Roger and Maggie got up and left, saying something about having a smoke.

"David" I said, grabbing the handsome guitarist's attention. He was on the same level of pretty that my sister was. "Do you have a girlfriend? Or do you fancy my sister a little?"

"Oh" David blushed a little, and then looked down. "I wouldn't say I fancy her. I mean, she's gorgeous but—"

"Don't fancy her?" Nick scoffed. "You were fighting Roger on who got to stand next to her!"

"Alright, maybe I fancy her a little bit" David confessed. "But she's a married woman. What chance do I have?"

"Even if she wasn't married, you'd have to worry about Roger" Rick added. "He's been getting quite protective over her lately"

"Protective is putting it lightly" Nick said.

"Guys, they're just close friends with deep personal things in common" I made clear with them all. "Of course, Roger is gonna see a close friend in her and want to make sure that she's alright. Wait, how long have those two been gone?"

Syd piped up quietly. "They left for a smoke about fifteen minutes ago"

I know my sister and I know it only takes her about five to get through a cigarette. "I think I'm gonna go look for them" I declared. I stood up and set off in the direction they went earlier. I kept on walking until I heard two familiar voices when I approached a building.

"Roger, we really should get back" There was Maggie. "They're probably wondering why we're taking so long"

"I'd rather keep on kissing you, darling" And there was Roger. Wait, kissing? I didn't even think before I turned the corner. I gasped at the sight I saw. Roger had my sister pinned up against the wall with his lips against hers and her fingers tangled in his hair.

Maggie had glanced in my direction. Her eyes widened and she quickly pushed Roger off of her. He seemed confused at first as to why she did so, but he looked at me and all was made clear to him. Roger kept his stare on me, but Maggie was looking down at the ground, clearly ashamed with herself.

I really just saw what I saw, didn't I? I mean, Maggie did mention to me that they had kissed once before. But, I thought it had only been that one time. I should have seen it coming though. The way Roger looks at Maggie, and the way she's always smiling when she's around him. And I'm not gonna act like I've been internally encouraging them.

That in mind, I never thought Maggie would actually have an affair. She was so devoted to Billy, or at least I thought she was. But, I couldn't blame her. He's been acting like a real ass lately. Either he's being an attentive husband to her, or he's just flat out ignoring or yelling at her. I don't know what's gotten into Billy, but he wasn't the same man the Maggie married those years ago.

"Darling, why don't you get back to the others" He instructed Maggie. "I want to have a private word with your sister" Without saying a word, Maggie nodded and left. That left Roger and I alone. "Ronnie, I can explain—" He started but I cut him off.

"Do you care about her?" I asked him. My protective older sister instincts were kicking in. "I need to know. Do you actually care about Maggie? Or are you just going to fuck her and be done with it?"

Roger blinked, obviously a bit taken back with my assertiveness. "Ronnie, I can promise you, I wouldn't do that to your sister. I care for her, deeply"

"Do you love her?" I asked. I awaited his answer. He opened his mouth, but no answer came out. A deep red came across his cheeks and he looked down. "You do, don't you?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. His eyes said it all. "Honestly, I think I have since the moment I met her. No one understands me the way she does. Not even Judy"

"You know she's never gonna divorce him, right?" I know that's not what Roger probably wants to hear, but it was the truth and he deserved to know that.

Roger nodded. "I know, and I've accepted that"

"And what about Judy?"

"Maggie wants me to stay with her so that's what I'm going to do" Wow, that was kind of cold. Deciding to stay with a woman only because your lover wants you to. It made me feel bad for Judy. Roger looked at me with pleading eyes. "You're the only one who knows about us, so you've got to promise not to say anything, alright?"

"I promise" I said.

Roger smiled and touched my arm. "Thank you"

"But Roger, you do one thing to hurt my sister, I will rip your balls off, you understand?" I sternly warned him.

Roger smirked at me. "Did you give that same warning to Billy?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Of course, I did"

...

We took some more photos well into the late afternoon. The boys were kind enough to help me pack up all my equipment when we were done. After that, they said their goodbyes for the day and made their way home. Well, all except for Maggie and Roger. The two of them approached me holding hands. "Ronnie," Maggie started. "I know we agreed on having our sister time afterwards but could Roger join us?"

"Oh" I was looking forward to just the two of us spending time together. "I suppose that would be fine"

"Ronnie, if you don't want me to—" I cut Roger off.

"No, no. If that'll make my sister happy, then it's fine with me" I told him. Was I disappointed? Yes. I wanted to spend this time one-on-one with my sister. But, if being with Roger made my sister happy, then I was more than happy to play the third wheel. I just hoped this wouldn't become a permanent thing. I would like to have my sister to myself again at some point.

...

We found a small and quiet little place to eat. We sat at a table near the back. I was on one side while Maggie and Roger sat across from me. I stared at them as I watched them whisper to each other. Maggie was running her fingers along Roger's arm. He was watching her with a complete look of adoration in his eyes. Not even Billy looked at her like that.

"So, how long has this been going on?" I asked.

"Since November" Maggie answered. That would mean they got together when they resumed their US tour, which just ended up getting cancelled again.

"And how serious is it?"

"It's just for us to keep each other company while we're on tour" I glanced at Roger. He seemed sad with her answer. Clearly, whatever this was between them, it meant something deeper to him. And to Maggie, I think she was just starved of attention.

Roger excused himself to go use the loo, leaving Maggie and I alone. I propped my elbow up on the table and rested my chin in my palm. I watched as she took a sip of her tea. "Ronnie, you don't think I'm a bad person, do you?" She asked me.

"Why would I think you're a bad person?"

"Because I'm having an affair"

"Maggie, you're an adult and I can't tell you what to do" I reached over placing my hand over hers. "If you enjoy being with Roger, then I can't stop that" I pulled my hand away. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind. I tapped my finger against my cup. "But if you do fall in love with Roger, you should leave Billy"

Maggie's eyes widened, as if I had just spoken blasphemy. "I'm not ever leaving him, Ronnie. You know this"

"Pup, physically cheating on a person is one thing. Emotionally cheating is a whole other" I tried to explain to her. "If you fall in love with Roger, it wouldn't be fair to either of them"

Maggie stared at a spot on the table. "Well, I only see Roger as a close friend so we won't have to worry about that"

I smirked as I sipped my tea. "Last time I checked, friends don't fuck each other"

"We haven't actually fucked yet" She admitted to me. A smile and a blush came to her face. "But he does have a big—"

She stopped herself when Roger returned. He placed his hand on her shoulder. Maggie smiled up at him, and he leaned in to kiss her. I averted my eyes and looked out the window while I smiled to myself. I had to admit, they did make a very cute couple.

"Roger, not in front of Ronnie" Maggie giggled. Huh, it's been a while since I've heard her laugh like that.

"I'm sorry, darling" Roger called her. "I just can't help myself" He sat back down. His arm draped around her and he played with her hair. "Do you know how tempting it is to kiss her on stage?" That made Maggie blush harder than I had ever seen. Roger smiled at her and then he turned to me. "So, Ronnie, how long have you been a photographer?"

"For about five years now" I answered. "That's actually why I moved to New York and that's where I met Sandy" And that time was spent with Roger asking me questions, getting to know me. I mean, he was probably going to be my future brother-in-law someday. It was only right that we got to know each other better.

~m.r~

Ronnie seemed pretty okay with the idea that Roger and I were together. And I knew she wouldn't tell anyone. There were still secrets I told her ten years ago that she's kept. The three of us walked down the street. We came to a little shop and Ronnie said she wanted to pop inside. Roger and I followed her inside. We looked around together.

"Darling, there's something I've been thinking about" Roger told me.

"And what would that be?" I asked.

"I want you to meet my mum"

"Really?" He's talked about his mum quite a bit, mentioning how overprotective she is. "What's bringing this on?"

Roger shrugged. "I just think she'd like you. She's never really approved of any girl I've been with"

"Does she like Judy?"

"Not really. My mum keeps saying that she's no good for me, and that she'll only end up breaking my heart one day by cheating on me"

"And what would make me so different?" I wasn't focused on Roger right now. My focus was on a little bauble I was inspecting. But, I could feel him standing right behind me. The heat from his body radiated onto mine. He touched my shoulders.

"Because you're the most incredible girl in the world" I could feel his nose burying into my hair. "And I'm lucky that you're mine"

That sent my stomach into flips. "But, Roger, I'm not yours...."

He gently squeezed my shoulders and sighed. "I know" He sounded so sad when he said that. I turned around so I was facing him. I cupped his face and stroked his cheek. "Maggie, I need to tell you something"

"Tell me, sweetheart" I encouraged softly.

"I lo—" He didn't get the chance to finish as we were interrupted by an employee. She asked us if we needed help with anything, but we politely declined.

She walked away and I looked at Roger again. "You were saying?"

Roger's jaw clenched. "It doesn't matter"

Ronnie walked over to us with her bag of purchases. "We ready to go then?" She asked the both of us. Roger and I both agreed, and we left the store and made our way home.

~r.w~

I walked with the girls all the way up to their flat. Ronnie went inside first, leaving me standing alone with . "Do you want to come in?" Maggie asked.

I wanted to, but at the same time, it didn't seem like a good idea. If Billy was home, I'm sure he would murder me for coming home with his wife. "I don't think I should"

"Billy isn't home tonight" She tried enticing me. Her hands went to my chest. "I want you to come inside" I sensed the hidden meaning behind her words.

"Yeah?" I smirked and placed my hands on her waist. "I'll come inside if you want me to"

She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. Sandy was sitting at the table. She saw us and smiled. "Roger! How nice to see you again!" She greeted me.

I smiled and waved at her. "Hi Sandy"

Ronnie peeked her head out from the kitchen. "Roger's staying for a bit, yeah?"

"He is" Maggie said. She leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear. "Go wait in my bedroom, yeah?" Wait, she wants me in her bedroom? Did she have certain plans for us tonight?

So, I went to and waited for Maggie in her bedroom like she told me to. It was quite empty looking, save for the mattress on the floor, a desk and some boxes. I knew that I probably shouldn't, but I decided to snoop around in the boxes. I walked over to them and reached inside the first one. There were some law books inside. I gave them a quick flip through. I'm still impressed that she wanted to be a lawyer. If this whole music thing doesn't work out, I hope she returns to law school.

I opened up another box. The first item I grabbed was a framed picture. It was a young Maggie and Billy, both of them wearing ceremonial graduation robes. But they weren't at a school in this picture. They were in front of a registry office. This must have been their wedding. Maggie was smiling in the picture, but she also seemed sad. I put the picture back into the box. Another box caught my interest. Or rather, the writing on the box. Dad's things.

I debated whether I should open this box up or not. These were things that were obviously very personal to Maggie. But I ignored the voice that was telling me to keep it closed. It was exactly what I expected to find. It was a lot of war memorabilia that belonged to her father. Sitting on top of everything was an envelope. I grabbed it and turned it around to see who it was addressed to. To my dear daughter, Margaret From, daddy

Oh. This was a letter from her dad. And she never opened it. She probably could never bring herself to do it. And I could understand that. "Roger, are you..." When I heard her, I turned around and looked at her. Her eyes fell to the letter in my hand and she frowned.

I started feeling guilt for snooping. "Sunshine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay" She said. She walked over to me and took the letter from my hand. "Haven't opened this letter for twenty five years. There have been times I tried. But, I can't..." She stared blankly at the letter. A saw a tear splash onto the envelope, leaving a sad stain behind. "Why do I miss him so much when I barely knew him?"

"I understand what's it like" I told her.

"Ronnie got to have two years with him, but she doesn't want to talk about him, and Lee, he didn't know him at all. My dad died the day he was born"

 "Wait, you said that your father left the day your brother was born"

"Well, he did. When you die, you leave this world. You leave your family behind" I saw the tears leaving her eyes. "He left me behind. I'd see all those little girls holding their fathers hand. I'd see them getting piggyback rides. All the father-daughter dances I never got to attend. Did you think fucking Steve would go with me!? No! Instead, I got a stepdad who would rather punch me, push me and throw bottles at my head!"

Wait, she was abused by her stepfather? She never mentioned that to me. "And mother saw my bruises! She saw all the cuts and the blood! But you know what she did? She just turned a blind fucking eye! My mother never cared! Do you know how many times I ran away from home? At least twenty. It was my cry of attention to my mother. Sure, whenever I came home, she be worrying over me, but then Steve would hurt me again and she wouldn't do anything to stop it!"

That was the big difference between my mother and hers. My mother was already fretting over every little thing with me, and she never approved of any of the girls I brought home. Hell, she still doesn't even like Judy and I've been with her for quite sometime. But for Maggie, not only was her father gone, but it was like her mother was too.

"I could've coped without having my father, Roger, if only my mother had been my mother. I know you complain about how your mother was suffocating and overprotective of you, but I would have loved to have a mother like that. I don't even have a mother figure in my mother-in-law. She fucking detests me" Maggie started shaking and soon she collapsed, but I caught her in time before she could hit the floor. I set us both down so that we were sitting on the mattress. "I'm sorry. I sound pathetic right now"

"You are not pathetic, sunshine" I told her. "You're just someone who's had a traumatic childhood. You've never had someone to help you through it before. You've never..." I hesitated before I said the next thing that came out of my mouth. "You've never been properly loved before"

She wiped a tear from her cheek. "But Billy loves me"

"Is someone who pushes you into marriage when you're not ready someone who really loves you?" 

"How did you—"

"Your sister told me" I pushed her hair out of her pretty face and the cupped it. "He may be your husband, but he doesn't understand you. Not in the way I do"

"Roger" She spoke my name softly.

"I want to show you what it's like to truly be loved, sunshine" I leaned in and kissed her. Our lips moved together in perfect harmony. We fell back on the bed. I got on top of her. She gripped at my shirt and pulled at it. I knew what she wanted. I broke the kiss to sit up and pulled my shirt over my head.

"Now yours, darling" She sat up and let me remove her dress. I got on top of her again and continued to kiss her. Her legs wrapped around my waist and her hands clawed at my back. I grabbed at her tit and massaged it. She moaned against my mouth, and I took the opportunity to slip my tongue inside.

Next thing we knew, the door opened and we heard Sandy's voice. "Maggie, have you seen—" I quickly got off of Maggie. She reached for her dress and covered herself with it. Sandy stared at us in shock, mouth hanging open. "Never mind then" She managed to speak before leaving us in peace.

"We've been caught twice today" Maggie said, seeming very calm about the situation.

"Yeah" I nodded. We both stayed quiet for a moment, before the two of us started laughing about it. She pressed her forehead against against my shoulder. "I think I should be heading home"

"But I want you to stay" Maggie argued, pressing a soft kiss to my bicep.

Christ, I really wanted to stay with her too. But, I didn't know when her husband would be home. And Judy was no doubt fretting over my whereabouts right now. "Believe me, I want to stay with you" I stood up, grabbing my shirt and putting it back on. "But I should be getting home to Judy. She's probably going crazy right now"

"Oh" I could hear her disappointment.

"I tell you what though, sunshine. We'll be going on tour soon" I reached for Maggie's hands. I helped pull her up to her feet. I then wrapped my arms around her, closing the space between us. "No girlfriends or husbands. Hotel to hotel. You and I will have our own room. We'll make love after every show"

She smiled, biting her lip and looking up at me. "That'll be nice" Her palm pressed against my stomach and her hand moved downwards. I moaned a little when she grasped at my erection. "Were you really gonna let me send you home when your cock is this hard?"

"You gonna take care of it for me then, darling?" She was already reaching into my pants and pulling my cock out. She wasted no time with giving me a handjob.

~m.r~

After I had made sure Roger was satisfied, I reluctantly had to let him leave. I walked him to the door, aware that both Ronnie and Sandy were watching us. We said our goodbyes and kissed. When Roger was out the door, I turned, smiled and leaned against the door.

"Look how happy she is, Sandy" Ronnie gushed to her girlfriend.

Sandy was smiling as well. She didn't seem to be upset, considering she caught us just about ready to fuck. "I can't believe it! You and Roger"

I blushed, hiding my face. "Stop it, you two!" I went over to sit on the couch, and the both of them joined me, sitting on either side of me.

"Are you in love with him?" Sandy suddenly asked me.

I sighed. "No, my heart still completely belongs to Billy. There is something though"

"What is it?" Ronnie asked me.

"Roger wants me to meet his mother" I still didn't know what to make of that fact.

"You know, when a guy wants to introduce you to his mother, it means that he sees a future with you" Ronnie explained.

"But I don't have a future with Roger" I assured her, or was it more me assuring myself? "At least not in the way you're thinking of. I don't see whatever it is between us lasting more than a year"

Ronnie frowned. "Roger might not see it that way"

Was my sister implying that Roger loved me? I mean, I know he cared for me, but loved me? He couldn't possibly. Besides, he still loves Judy, even if he doesn't say it or show it often. "Look, if you're saying that Roger loves me, he doesn't okay?"

Ronnie sighed, running her hands through her blonde hair. "Maggie, there is something you have to know. Roger, he lo—"

She never got the chance to finish as Billy came through the door. I thought he was supposed to be spending the night at his friends. I got off the couch and went to give him a kiss. He turned his head so that I kissed his cheek instead of his lips. That confused me a little but I let it slide. "How was your night?" I asked him. "Did you and the boys have fun?"

Billy nodded. "I always have fun with my boys. How did the photoshoot go today?"

Ronnie answered. "Her and the boys looked very wonderful today and I got some really good photos"

Billy nodded and then he looked at me again. "I ran into Roger as I was coming out of the building" He brought up causing me to roll my eyes. "What was he doing here?"

"He walked us home so we invited him up for a cup of tea" Billy's lips pursed and he stared at me, as if he didn't believe me. I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down. As I did, a foreign fragrance filled my nostrils. It was a rosey smell. I put my nose near Billy's neck and inhaled. "Why do you smell like perfume?"

"Oh, we invited some of the girls from the office" He told me. Well, at least he was being honest with me. "Alice kept trying to talk to me all night" I was all too familiar with Alice. She was one of the secretary's at Billy's office and I know she had a little crush on him. I've met her a couple times. "It's probably from her"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I see"

Billy smiled and cupped my cheek. "You know, maybe you should give perfume a try? I don't want to say you've been a little bland lately but..."

My eyes widened when I heard him say that. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying. You've been the same old for eleven years. It wouldn't hurt to make yourself more attractive" Billy said it like it was the most normal thing a husband could say to his wife. He pat my cheek before walking towards our bedroom.

I stood there, still trying to process what he had just said to me. Did he really just imply I wasn't attractive anymore? I wiped away the tear that streaked down my face. I felt hands touch both of my my arms. "You know, maybe Billy is right" I sniffled. "I could be a little more attractive"

"Oh no, honey" Sandy shook her head. "You are as beautiful as Aphrodite herself. Billy is just blind"

Ronnie looked at the bedroom door and scoffed. "What the hell is Billy's problem lately?"

I know I was sneaking around with Roger, but that didn't mean I wanted Billy to leave me. Was I doing something wrong that was pushing him away from me? Why wasn't I attractive to him anymore? I suppose if Billy wanted me to try wearing some perfume, it wouldn't hurt. The rosey stuff Alice wears smells good.

"I'm going to bed" I said sadly, now dreading to be in the same bed as my own husband. Sleeping in the same bed where I nearly made love to another man. Billy was already fast asleep. I got dressed into my nightgown. When I crawled into bed, I wrapped my arms around Billy and kissed his shoulder, but he pushed me away.

"Not tonight, Maggie" He murmured. "I'm too tired"

I turned around so that I was facing the wall across the room. More tears crept out of my eyes. Did this mean Billy even still wanted to renew our vows? Maybe once we do that, everything will go back to the way it was between us. Maybe if we have a child, it'll bring us closer together.

But, then again, maybe Roger was right. I did need to know what it was like to be truly loved. Because I was starting to doubt if maybe my own husband truly did love me for all these years. Did he marry me because he loves me? Or was I just a prize that he wanted to claim? If my own husband wasn't going to love me, then Roger would. 

[ohheyitsokay]

safe

part 9 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 2.3k

warnings: none, lots of kissing 

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you discover how truly committed you are to a man you’ve only been on one real date with.

notes: just a head’s up, next week will be the last chapter of this series! I’ll give a proper thank-you then, but I also have a couple (at least three) one-shots in the universe because I... want to. hope that’s okay!

<<

When you were younger and you attended the baseball games under the summer heat with James, you spent more time watching the people in the crowd than the players. Vague knowledge of the rules and even your grandfather’s enthusiasm weren’t nearly enough to keep you interested during the long stretches of advertisements. Now, the moments when Santi was getting strike after strike were exhilarating instead of boring and you grinned with pride, like it was personal each time the ball found it’s home in Frankie’s glove.

This season had been a whirlwind as you began to appreciate the game because of the players, and you didn’t think you had any more room for excitement.

That was, until Francisco’s mother decided she wanted to attend with you and James.

The sweet catcher hadn’t even had time to apologize and offer an alternative before your grandfather stepped in, and the rest was history. You didn’t mind, of course you didn’t, how could you? It was strange, spending time with her so early in the relationship but it made you happy that she was so excited about you. The two of them hung on your elbows, and you laughed at how awkward it made walking through the narrow gap to your seats.

From somewhere in her bag, she produced an entire tupperware of homemade pan dulce, sugar filling the grooves on the bottom, and you settled in. You were fairly sure that wasn’t allowed but you were helpless against her sweet, determined face so it only made sense security would be too.

It wasn’t work, talking to her, she felt like an auntie or a friend’s friend – someone you half already knew, and who certainly knew you. She filled the silence with stories and questions and only heard the first half of your answer before excitedly pointing at her son and his friends on the field. It felt like you were at a kids baseball game, how she clicked her tongue and freely gave them advice as if they could hear her.

At some point, Will stole second base and her and James began a conversation around you. She called them niños and matched your grandfather in her personalized affection for them. You wondered if you should feel guilty for your lingering eyes on the son of the woman next to you, but she half encouraged it, telling you he got his legs from his padre.

When the opposing team was up a point, she muttered pobrecitos and grabbed your hand and prayed for Benny’s next hit.

You caught pieces of Frankie, in her. Or more accurately, you realized what parts of her he had grown into, and learned about his younger self from her eyes and her tone and her smile. Your poor grandfather was probably exhausted but you drank it in.

“Francisco was saving all his money from his work for the neighbors – his team was taking him to watch a game at this very stadium!” Without even looking she handed you a pastry, shaking sugar onto your lap until you took it. “But then his escuela collected donations for the orphanage. I told him, you know? I told him if he gave all his money I couldn’t help him, he wouldn’t get anything from the stadium.”

Her eyes were warm in yours and she squeezed your arm, trying to communicate her pride. “Mi frijol gave it all! And he did not even complain, not even once!” You smiled at her, trying to answer however you could that you understood. Maybe not completely but you saw how much he cared about other people, how hard he tried.

Around the eighth inning, she quieted, smiling gratefully when you produced an extra water bottle. Her hand was soft and maternal as it rubbed your shoulder, a foreign but pleasant feeling.

“His hermana tests him all the time,” she murmured, and you nodded cautiously. When she resolutely added, “You give him strength, hija,” you almost cried right there in the stands.

You settled for covering her hand with yours and squeezing back.

When they won, no one cheered louder, no one was prouder, but you and James gave it your best shot.

-

“So,” Frankie looked at you, his big brown eyes full of questions. Alone, you couldn’t resist him, much more when the rest of them matched his gaze.

You were all at Tom’s rental, unexpectedly. He didn’t tell anyone, but he had burst into Molly’s office, only to find it empty. It had bothered him, and when he was bothered, he took extra effort to pretend that he was not. The new opportunity to spend post-game evenings with decks of cards and childish snacks had already become the highlight to his friends, so he figured he could do that. Just a little bigger, a little better. And it’s not like any of you had enough information to say no.

The elders had long since gone home, and now they all wanted to know what secrets his mother had spilled about them.

You laughed at their faces, feeling a little devious with the power. Before giving anything up, you stuck your tongue out at Santi and meandered to the kitchen, feeling them watch you as your filled your champagne flute with apple juice.

“She didn’t say anything,” you said with exaggerated elegance, lounging against an unnecessary column.

The act broke when you had to dodge a pillow.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your free hand in surrender. You looked at your catcher with a wink before grinning almost maliciously at Santiago. “She told me she had to bring Santi socks twice last season, and one time she saw Benny eat a hot dog off the ground.”

They erupted in teasing and you waited for it to quiet a moment before you added, “And she shared that Tom,” you drew out his name for extra emphasis, “Goes to the same hairdresser as her, and she once threatened to dye Will’s pants pink for calling her ma’am one too many times.” The men were howling with laughter like they hadn’t since college, shoving each other and half tackling one another, shouting their defenses and stories alike.

When Frankie extracted himself he found you curled on the armrest of the couch, watching with amusement. His hair was messed up and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “What did she say about me?” he asked under the noise and he settled next to you, trying to be confidant as he wrapped his arm around you shoulders.

He liked that he could feel your shrug.

“That you’re practically perfect in every way,” you relaxed into him and it felt so natural he could hardly imagine it wasn’t always like this.

-

Francisco was spending his day off with his family, doing some projects around the home, but so it surprised you when your phone rang.

It surprised you even more that it was Benny, inviting you to lunch. Just to talk, I’m not being weird, he said, backpedaling when you teased him about being a little late to ask you on a date. Is that okay? He seemed just a little bit nervous, which made you laugh. Of course, you were more than happy to.

The longer you knew him, the more you understood why they all treated him like a little brother.

He was already at the restaurant – Thai food, his choice – as friendly and kind as the first time you had met him. Unlike then, you weren't even a little bit nervous sitting across from him, despite the glares of the women at an adjacent talking the two of you were still new friends, so it wasn’t quite effortless, by the made up for it with his genuine enthusiasm.

If he had something on his mind, he didn’t get to it right away, the first half of your lunch hour spent talking about you. For how loud his personality seemed sometimes, he was well spike and well mannered, and curious about almost everything. You checked the time, before finally asking if everything was okay with him, and the shortstop ran his fingers through his hair, looking past away.

His foot tapped on the rug, and you used your chopsticks to push your remaining food into a small mound in the middle of your plate.

“I’m paying, by the way,” you looked up, back into his eyes, your own eyebrows drawing together to shake your head.

“I owe you,” he defended himself before you could voice your dissent, and when he added, “for looking out for me,” you softened.

“Relationships aren’t transactional, Benjamin.” It was a gentle scold, true, but relenting.

Broad shoulders shrugged.

“Think of it as a thank you,” he said, and you let him talk. For all that his brother and the guys worried over him, he wasn’t as young and naïve as they thought of him. His eyes and ears were sharp and it’s not like he hadn’t heard the stories, seen what they were protecting him from.

“You help us look after each other,” it was almost like he rehearsed it, and his blue eyes confirmed he had been meaning to say this to you for awhile.

“And you look after me.” That nervousness from before came back, and you wondered if he still hadn’t quite gotten to the part he was meaning to say. Ben launched into a story in between flagging down the waiter and you let him pay, but even when the receipt came, he didn’t stand.

The story stuttered to a halt and you rested your chin in your palm.

“Will and Frankie have been talking about Tom – saying he’s been off.” It was abrupt, and you waited. He was restless, his habit of changing the topic becoming even more prominent. Both of you knew what he meant.

It was messy, hard, existing with them.

“Would you… will you stay?”

There was a burst of warmth in your chest, a wave of affection as if he confessed outright how much you mattered to them.

You stood, smiling and offering your hand, as if he needed help standing.

“Yeah, Ben, what are friends for?”

He looked so relieved that you hugged him. Although, you suspected he would’ve hugged you regardless, if you had given him a moment.

-

After work you had a voicemail and a text from your… from Francisco, and you drove over to his place. Walking up the stairs in the cooling evening air felt strange, like it was humming with potential.

He greeted you with slow kisses, his rough hands wandering your skin and clothes like he was still grasping that you were real. If you could’ve thought, you might’ve wondered why he called you over or looked around his apartment but it didn’t matter because all you could think of what him. The gentle scrape of the hairs on his face over your cheek, your neck, the needy pull of his fingers as he curled his fists into your outer layer.

His mouth, moving in ways you’d thought you’d never quite felt before, leaving you breathless.

It didn’t escalate, neither of you pushing for more, but when he finally moved away, he was pulling you onto the couch and under his arm.

“Hi,” he said, looking flushed and happy, despite the flash of anxiety in his eyes.

“Hi,” you figured you mirrored him, and you let out a rough cough of laughter.

Francisco joined, and your head found a rest on his shoulder, cheek squishing from the closeness. The tips of his fingers wandered over your skin, and it felt like a habit years in the making, to catch up with him about his day, his family. A stretch of silence followed, and your realized he was tired.

“I should probably make you dinner or something,” he whispered, almost to himself, dark eyebrows drawing together. Suddenly you felt shy, aching because you should’ve brought something, should cook or… he was the one who had a long day, but this was his home.

You had memorized the feeling of his hairs on your waist, and yet you didn’t know if he would be okay with you cooking in his home. Actually, you didn’t even know anything about his home.

Looking around, you compromised.

“I’m good, Frankie, I had a big lunch,” taking in the simple furniture and quickly cleaned surfaces, you didn’t notice his head tilt, shoulders rising slightly with tension until you looked back at him. The sweet man had realized he hadn’t heard about that part of your day yet but he didn’t want to pry.

“Benny got me thai food,” you offered, which only increased his distress. Your hand slipped into his as you explained.

“I think he’s just scared I’m not going to stick around,” you sighed, hoping he felt like that was as unlike as you did.

Against your head, you felt him nod, but he didn’t say anything for a moment.

“He’s right, though,” his voice seemed higher, as shy as you’d been a moment ago. “Things with us, with me are… a lot.”

As he always did, he was asking you more than you said, and you wanted to honor it so you though, really thought about what you were getting yourself into.

“Frankie, you told me you wanted me to be a part of your life,” you kissed the corner of his mouth, which pulled as he smiled hopefully. “I want that too, if you’ll be part of mine.”

A little rougher than they’d been before his hands tugged you into him, a solid kiss. No questions were buried in the touch, and it made you feel like you were floating.

Long moments later, you laughed a little, too warm to feel shy.

“Does this make me your novia?”

You weren't sure if the color on his cheeks was warming because of embarrassment that you caught the word in his mother’s talk, or because he hadn’t actually asked yet.

“Yeah,” a final kiss, on your forehead sealed the deal.

And when you moved away, it was to explore his kitchen for something to cook for the both of you.

<<

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

niños: boys

padre: father

pobrecitos: poor babies

escuela: school

mi frijol: my bean

hermana: sister

>>

hija: daughter

novia: girlfriend

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

edit: take 3 having tumblr save the taglist on this thing

[chibimyumi]

Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible????  Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^

[welllpthisishappening]

It all kind of happens in slow motion.

One second, Emma hears the crack of the bat and the requisite roar of the crowd, and the next her eyes have widened to a size most scientists would likely advise against. Because, standing at home plate, that same home plate multiple baseball players are sprinting toward, is her kid. More or less waiting to be run over. That is, of course, until Killian Jones.

———

Word Count: 4.1K Rating: Flufffy fluff fluff of the fluffiest variety AN: Writing has been something of a legitimate challenge for me in the last few weeks, but earlier this week @ohmightydevviepuu sent a link to this tweet, tagged me, and said what I basically took as an unspoken prompt. Like, you’re going to send me video of a bat boy getting scooped up at home by a player in the middle of the game and then think I won’t write about it? Not possible. Even with the aforementioned writing challenges. Nothing stands a chance against my love of baseball. Here’s hoping the Yankees turn it around in the second half. Neither Aaron Judge or I deserve the season we’ve had so far.

———

Biologically speaking, Emma Swan is perfectly aware that the current positioning of her heart is more or less impossible. 

Stuck somewhere between the back of her throat and the pit of her stomach, it makes her all too aware of the now-empty chasm in her chest, stretching out toward her arms and threatening the structural integrity of her lungs, neither of which appear all that intent on working properly. Oxygen is a luxury not currently afforded to her capillaries. Instead, nerves mix with anxiety and the telltale flush of adrenaline that probably also makes her look relatively crazy because her pupils are definitely dilated and she does not know nearly enough about science to be making any of these claims. 

Whatever, really. 

It feels like that ooze from that movie. FernGully, Emma thinks. With the fairies. She thinks they were fairies. She’s not entirely certain they were fairies. 

And the ooze was definitely oil, obviously. There was a message involved in that movie. Not one that she appreciated when she was seven and Tim Curry’s animated-oil voice sort of freaked her out. But, like, she gets it now. The environment, and everything. With or without fairies. With Robin Williams, though. 

She’s positive about that, at least. 

Robin Williams was definitely in that movie. 

Less positive about the ability of her heart to actually split itself in half, as it seems wont to do at the moment. So, as to make it easier when it inevitably soars out of her mouth and falls onto the scuffed-up clubhouse floor beneath her feet. Naturally, this will happen simultaneously. For maximum effect. 

Much like the fireworks currently exploding over the left-field bleachers. 

She’s not sure if fireworks do explode, actually. That seems dangerous. Likely to lead to injuries and sounds that don’t resemble the  oohs and ahhs a ballpark generally inspires. Explode probably isn’t the right word. Maybe something more like…detonate. 

No, that’s worse. Way worse. She’s got to learn more words. Find a thesaurus or a dictionary or—a fireworks expert would be ideal, honestly.

Someone who could give her a detailed description of the inner-workings of a Yankee Stadium pyrotechnics display on a Tuesday in July, enough words that Emma’s mind would still for a few moments, allowing her to catch her breath and reestablish a consistent heart rate, and both of those problems could also likely be solved by sitting down, but the chair to her left looks a little wobbly, and her legs appear to have minds of their own because science is rather quickly becoming a lie and—

“Is he alright?” She spins. Nearly falls over. Her knees are also awfully wobbly, that’s why. 

Despite all of that, and the overall circumference of her pupils, the voice doesn’t retreat. Doesn’t even flinch. Shows absolutely no signs of imminent stumbling. And that’s probably because the voice is a man, one who is in possession of world-class instinctual reactions, and his hair is still damp from his post-game shower and it absolutely makes her something of an atrocious mother to acknowledge that last thing as quickly as she does. 

His shirt sleeves are noticeably sticking to his biceps, so that helps too. 

Opening her mouth, Emma is going to say words that are both vaguely intelligent and passably accurate, absolving this Major League Baseball player of any of the guilt he so obviously feels. Which is just patently stupid, really. None of this was his fault. None of it was anyone’s fault, really. 

Except maybe the idiot who left his bat at that particular angle across home plate, but Emma’s an adrenaline expert these days and walk-offs are understandably exciting. First walk-offs more so. 

She’s happy for Scarlet, really. 

They won the game. 

Everything is fine. Great, even. She nearly jumps twenty-six feet in the air at the next boom of fireworks. 

The pinch between the Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows gets—

Pinchier. 

The little roll of skin draws Emma’s attention, effectively robbing her of the ability to respond like an almost-sane person, but she’s also still trying to rationalize why she can remember the words to several FernGully songs while also being unable to recall what flavor PopTart she had for breakfast earlier this week and she figures watching her kid nearly get run over by professional athletes approximately forty-two minutes before gives her a fairly reasonable excuse. 

For opening and closing her mouth no less than eight consecutive times. 

Like a goddamn fish. There were no fish in FernGully. Least not so far as she remembers. 

It’s entirely possible she squeaks on attempt number five. 

The Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows do not move. It’s equal parts frustrating and incredible to behold. 

“I should probably thank you, right?” Emma asks, not quite regretting the words immediately, but it’s awfully close. That gets her some movement. Of the eyebrow variety. One eyebrow, specifically. Arching up, it somehow still manages to pull her attention directly toward eyes that should be the star of their own marketing campaign. Not quite Yankee blue, but distractingly blue, and it takes everything in her not to huff as dramatically as she wants to. Once the athletic trainer is done with Henry, Emma is going to make him examine her lungs. Rationality rules the day. 

Major League Baseball player shakes his head. It’s dumb to call him that. She knows his name. Knows at least some of his history. Is still staring obnoxiously at his freakishly attractive face. 

Freakishly is kind of mean, too. As far as descriptions go. 

“Unnecessary,” he says, an undercurrent of worry still clear in the letters. Ducking his head, he takes a cautious step forward, almost as if he’s wary of what Emma will do, and she supposes that’s fair. What with the impressive vertical she’s in possession of these days. “Anyone would do that.” “I’m not sure they could, actually.”

At some point in this otherwise shitty experience of a night, Emma is vaguely confident something will go the way she wants it to. Aside from winning. She’s glad they won. Seriously. 

“No?” “No,” she echoes, and it’s not like she can feel him. A few feet of space separates them, so whatever heat appears to be wafting off the Major League Baseball player in front of her, with his damp hair, and stupid, stupid, stupid eyes is as impossible as any of the various impossibilities currently taking place within her person. 

And yet. 

He sticks his hand out. 

It’s disarmingly earnest. 

“Killian Jones,” he says, confidence replacing the nerves, and Emma begins to see why there are so many stories. And Twitter threads. Regarding his face and the potential for that face to date a variety of other attractive faces across at least four of the five boroughs. Somehow Emma doesn’t think Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, is schlepping out to Staten Island for a date. 

Nor does she believe that Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has ever once let the word schlep pass through his conscious mind. 

She takes his hand. 

It is—

Surprisingly warm. And...not quite soft, that’d be impossible with the job he performs almost nightly. But the calluses on the pads of his fingers aren’t as rough as Emma expects, which also suggests she’s managed to ponder the overall texture of Killian Jones’s fingers in the last twelve point six seconds, and that’s not entirely true. What is true is that Ruby thinks Killian Jones is real good-looking and has determined that the phrase quite a catch is the pinnacle of humor, so, sure, Emma has possibly considered the possibility of paths crossing and intersecting, and her hand looks minuscule wrapped up in his. So, that’s something to think about later. 

Their arms move. Bob up and down as society dictates they should, and he’s smiling at her, and she’s trying not to look like a serial killer, straining to hear the voices behind the door, and it does not work. 

“Why do you think people are so consistently fascinated by fireworks?” If he’s surprised by her absolutely inane question, he doesn’t show it. That’s points. For what, Emma hasn’t totally decided yet, but it’s something, and it’s probably good, and they’re going to play that clip on loop for weeks. Longer, probably. 

Every goddamn day if the Yankees make the postseason. 

When the Yankees make the postseason. 

Her dad wouldn’t appreciate the buffer. Leaves room for loss, and that is not the Nolan way. Not when there are championships to win, and this was supposed to be the best possible time. Smack dab in the middle of the season, with the All-Star break looming, Henry would get to suit up as batboy for one game that didn’t mean much and wouldn’t draw too strong of a spotlight, no murmurs about nepotism by internet trolls who couldn’t possibly define the word with any sort of accuracy, but also like to shout about canceling and culture with an almost alarming sense of self-righteousness, so, of course, the whole thing was now blowing up in their face. 

Much like the goddamn fireworks. 

It wasn’t Will Scarlet’s fault. 

Wasn’t Henry’s fault, either. 

His job was to get the bats out of the field of play. Doing it while the field of play was still active was a mistake any kid could have made. Just so happens that it’s Emma’s kid, and the grandkid of the Yankees’ hitting coach, and that means something to the New York media and the New York fans, and if Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman with an arm that can make cross-field throws with ease, wasn’t also so quick-thinking and sure-footed, scooping Henry up as he crossed home plate and avoiding the ensuing swarm of players at home plate, all intent on celebrating Will Scarlet’s first-ever career walk-off, Emma can only imagine what would have happened. 

Trampled. Stepped on. Broken bones. Concussions. 

They’re checking Henry for a concussion now. He absolutely does not have a concussion. He was laughing while he was carried off the field. Like he hit the walk-off. 

Front office is absolutely petrified she’s going to sue them. 

The thought hadn’t even once crossed Emma’s mind. Plus, she’s sort of busy. Holding Killian Jones’s hand. His stupid, warm hand. 

“Bright colors,” he says, responding to a question Emma’s nearly forgotten about. Jumping is more challenging when his fingers tighten ever so slightly. “Flash, boom. Taps into baser instincts, I think.” “You think people’s base instinct is to enjoy explosions.” “Phrasing that as a statement makes me think you don’t agree with me.” “You didn’t want me to thank you,” Emma points out.

“Well, no,” he says, and the precise way his eyes drop does something specific to all of her instincts. Leaves her flush with a heat that reminds her of Fourth of July sparklers rather than any sort of massive explosion, and that’s not bad, per se, although it’s admittedly a little surprising. As is the slight uptick of precisely one side of his mouth. It takes her a moment to realize he’s smirking at her. And another for her subconscious to admit that it’s working as intended. Her shoulders drop half an inch. While Emma pulls her hand back to her side. “Thanking me suggests I did anything to warrant the thanks.” “Big words.” “For a dumb athlete, you mean.” “That wasn’t a question, either.” “No,” Killian repeats, “it wasn’t.” “I’d really like to thank you. I—Dad told him when to come out of the dugout, so he definitely knew the rules, but I think he was super worried about you tripping over the bat.”

The smirk becomes a full-blown smile. Which is no less than forty-seven thousand times more powerful. Equivalent to staring directly into a solar eclipse or gazing upon the dark side of the moon, and Emma should at least do some research before coming up with these internal examples. Basic Google searches would provide her with the necessary information. 

“That’s more or less what he told me, yeah.” Emma’s nose creases. “Talked your ear off after your daring rescue, huh?” “Keep complimenting me like this, and my ego won’t know what to do with it.”

She hopes she’s not blushing as much as it feels like she is. The state of Killian’s eyebrows and the precise curl of his lips make that seem unlikely. “Your reflexes are unparalleled.” “Something about big bucks and why I get paid them.” “Oh,” Emma laughs, unable to stop herself, and she doesn’t remember deciding to stop pacing, only that her knees appreciate it once she has, “you think you’re real funny, don’t you?” “I think I’m moderately funny, not the hero you’re suggesting I am—” “Oh, I never used the word hero.” “—And you never actually told me your name.”

“Because you don’t know who I am.” It’s not a question, either. Neither one of them mention that. 

“I do,” Killian concedes, “Henry was also fairly quick to mention exactly who he was and where his mother was sitting.” Emma’s nose is going to freeze in this position. “But I gave you my name, which makes it only fair that we’re all square and whatnot.” “Whatnot, huh?” “Yup.” He pops his lips on the letter. Which is also unfair. In, like, the grand scheme of the world. The black ooze that is not actually oil when used in this particular metaphor recedes. Leaves Emma with a chest cavity that is partially full of butterfly wings and the growing sense of anticipation that isn’t quite as nerve-wracking as it should be. Like she’s about to step into the batter’s box with two outs and runners in scoring position. She’s totally going to hit against the shift. Fluttering her fingers at her side, Emma doesn’t lift her hand. It doesn’t matter. 

Killian’s eyes drop. To the movement. And her. And part of her shies away from that because part of her has spent a lifetime tucked into a shadow that didn’t belong to her and doesn’t belong to Henry, but now there’s some joke about Peter Pan to be made because they live in an internet-age and Killian Jones has a very good face. So. Viral video, enter stage right. Starring Henry Swan, Killian Jones, and the inevitably uneven pitter-patter of Emma’s traitorous heart. 

“Emma Swan.” “I think you should sit down.”

“Why is that, exactly?” “I’m worried about your legs.”

Whatever noise she makes can’t quite be classified as a scoff. It hurts her throat too much. And it’s not a laugh, either. Even as the butterflies threaten to rise up in mutiny of Emma’s more rational feelings, and she gets the distinct impression that Killian is reading her mind. Trying very hard, at least. 

“Sounds like a line.” “Might be a line,” he admits, which draws another wholly inhuman sound out of Emma’s barely-functioning lungs. 

“Did he kick you on the lift?” Killian hums. “You’d kick too if you were just hauled off your feet, so I understand the reaction. What I’m more worried about is the inevitable bruise on my foot from the bat landing there.” “Ah shit, really?” “I’ve had worse.” “But not in 4K video that people will play on loop for the rest of the news cycle. If not longer.” Narrowing his eyes, Killian doesn’t immediately respond. Mind reading requires a modicum of focus, Emma assumes. Instead, he rests a hand on her shoulder, directing her toward the chair and ignoring the soft crack her left knee as it bends. “That’s what you’re worried about.” “Stop sounding so confident.” “I can only sound how I am, Swan.” “Oh, I’m not sure we’ve reached nickname status yet,” she mumbles, pushing down the soft rush of metaphorical insects doing their beset to soar out of her barely-parted lips. “But, yeah, I—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was totally terrified in the moment.”

“Understandable. Grown men barrelling down the third-base line at your kid are a lot to take in.” She snorts. It’s not cute. Not dignified. Killian smirks. “Should you be concerned that the Scarlet was making such solid headway behind you? Are you exceedingly slow?” “I am league average.” “How fast can you get out of the box to first?” “I’ve never timed it.” “Liar, liar.” “Please don’t make a crack about my pants,” Killian says, “I won’t be able to cope.”

“Oh God, you think you’re charming, too.” “I’ve had no complaints.” “To your face, at least.”

Throwing his head back, the laugh that erupts out of him is not of volcano proportions. Of which there was also one in FernGully if Emma’s memory is to be trusted.  An arm circles his middle, stretching muscle and ensuring that Emma notices just how corded that same muscle is, the slight bend of his wrist leaving her off-kilter. When he meets her gaze, she swears his eyes are brighter. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” Killian concedes, “no one has flat out told me I was lacking charm to my face.” “This thanking you thing is going great.” “And I continue to not need thanks. Why are you worried about the video getting out there? Filmed in 4K like you suggest, at least we’ll all look great. Sharp pixels and whatnot.” “What do you know about pixels?” “You basically heard the extent just now.”

She’s getting better at laughing. The ooze has almost all but disappeared, Emma twirling a strand of hair around fingers that are intent on moving, and it’s an old habit. One Killian’s gaze catches on. Immediately. Quickly. Seriously, Emma needs a thesaurus. “Baseball’s always been my dad,” she says. “And that’s—well, we’ve lived this game, me and my mom, weekend series and West Coast swings, waiting up for him to get home because the flight got delayed, but Henry’s just a kid, getting thrown into this world because of his last name and who his family is? That sucks. Nothing was supposed to happen tonight.” “Nothing did happen.” “Because of you.” “I’d like to believe Scarlet, ridiculously fast as he might be, would not run over a small child,” Killian says. “And, uh, for the record and all that, I got a bad jump off first because I didn’t know if they were going to catch it in left. No one wants to get caught on the base paths.” “Yeah, that’d be embarrassing.”

He must hear the hitch in her voice because the next thing Emma realizes, her fingers are twisted back up in Killian’s, and she’s warm and falling and flying, and it’s good and weird, and the door swings open. 

They both jump.

So, that’s something. 

Rushing out quickly enough that he nearly trips over his own feet, Henry’s head leads the way and finds Emma’s stomach, a tangle of limbs, and overly-excited words, all of which rival the now-finished fireworks display in volume. 

It takes Henry about five and a half run-on sentences to notice Killian standing there. 

His eyes widen. His mouth drops. Killian grins. Emma tries very hard not to die. It only sort of works. 

She blames the faulty body parts she’s in possession of. 

“Killian,” Henry exclaims, clamoring back to his feet and nearly falling again in the process. Hands that belong to both Emma and Killian dart out, steadying Henry while their eyes meet over the top of his head. Killian winks. He tries. It’s more like a blink than anything. “Hi, hi! You did so good tonight! And we won, and I got to go on the field and—and, it was so,” Henry heaves a deep breath, “we were so good.”

Collective pronouns do something to Emma’s entire state of being. 

Flips it on an axis she hadn’t been aware previously existed until it almost feels as if this was the path they’d been directing themselves toward from the start. Her eyes flit toward Killian. Who is already watching her. 

“We did,” he nods, “maybe next time, though, you wait one extra second to grab Scarlet’s bat, ok?” Seeing her own nose scrunch reflected back on her kid is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to Emma. The vibrating phone in her back pocket, might be. 

It’s one-hundred percent, Ruby. 

“That’s what grandpa said too,” Henry grumbles, digging a toe of the cleats Emma’s mother bought him last week into the ground, “but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Definitely dying, then. A systematic shut down of all necessary internal organs. It’s not as bad as Emma would have expected. 

Neither one of Killian’s knees crack when he bends. That seems heavy-handed. 

“And I don’t want you to fall either,” he says, “so we agree, right here, right now, not to let the other one fall, huh?” Emma holds her breath. Ignores the pinch in her lungs and the clearly unstable nature of both her mind and her heart, digging her nails into her palms. To ensure she isn’t tempted to haul Henry back toward her. Or push that one strand of hair away from Killian’s forehead. 

Henry nods. “Deal.”

They hook their pinkies together. 

It’s adorable and as endearingly charming as everything else Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has done since he walked into that hallway. Less so when her dad emerges from the office, the athletic trainer on his heels to not-so-quietly inform Killian that he can’t just blow off post-game like that, and the second wink is as bad as the first. 

She does her very best to memorize the movement. 

And the joy on Henry’s face the next morning when a box arrives on their doorstep, a genuine, game-worn Killian Jones jersey inside. She doesn’t notice the note at first, tucked between the cardboard and the tissue paper someone must have bought for him. He can’t have bought that tissue paper himself. He just—it’s unfathomable. 

Emma knows he bought the tissue paper himself. 

As clearly as she knows that those numbers in that particular order will lead to Killian Jones answering his phone and that her voice likely won’t shake when she replies to the question written in surprisingly loopy script. Which is why, Emma will argue, she does reply. In the affirmative. To several questions over the course of the remaining season, and they don’t star in any more viral videos, but there are a few pictures once they clinch the division. 

Drops of champagne cling to the tips of Emma’s eyelashes and the ends of Killian’s hair, hands on her waist that blaze a quick path up her back and around her middle, and she has to tilt her head up to get the right angles. Of lips. While they kiss in the middle of the clubhouse, the hat someone forced onto Emma’s head falling and it’s impossible to hear over the sound of celebratory fireworks, but she can somehow still hear Henry’s laugh ringing out from the general area near Scarlet’s locker, and his jersey collection is growing at an impressive rate. 

No one can withstand the overall cuteness of him. 

Emma included. Emma, especially. 

Sometimes she worries she’s so happy she’ll burst, unable to contain the sort of emotion her body is still acclimating itself to. But then she realizes just how dumb that is and happiness cannot possibly be quantified, and her head is buzzing enough from champagne that she nearly misses Killian when he says, “people love the bright spots, Swan.” It’s not the most romantic thing he’s told her. Doesn’t crack the top five, quite frankly. She swoons all the same. With her kid laughing and her team winning and that’s about all the sentiment she’s willing to acknowledge before her tongue is in Killian’s mouth. He groans. She grins. 

And he’d been right about the video. It wasn’t the embarrassment Emma worried it could be. Was mostly relegated to the corners of the internet set aside for formerly popular content as soon as the season ended, spoken about only in fond recollection as the other seasons went on and the wins kept coming and all three of them stand on a parade float with the World Series trophy a few dozen feet away, several Novembers after that first game. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, then. 

And yet Emma never entirely forgets. What the video meant and what it did and she’s not remotely surprised when it finds its way back to the forefront of the sports zeitgeist on a Wednesday in July. Most mentions come with similar taglines and messages. Something about feeling our age and wanna feel old because that bot boy, David Nolan’s grandson, Killian Jones’s stepson, he’s getting drafted now. 

Got drafted, technically. 

Third round, video of the soon-to-be third baseman for the San Diego Padres makes the internet circuits and garners plenty of interest. It’s not the most exciting video, though. Henry just hugs his family. Who hug tightly back. 

What is more exciting is the box that arrives on Emma and Killian’s doorstep. With a note that eventually earns a frame next to the last one and a wholly official, game-worn jersey that has a noticeable streak of dirt across the left sleeve. From sliding head-first into home plate.  

[felidaefighter]

Our Metaphorical Get-Along Sweater

In which Wilbur thinks of Ranboo as an arch-nemesis while Ranboo is just There Vibing and also, Phil has adopted Ranboo, making for two very different siblings and a very interesting relationship

[Fluff, comedy, work in progress; every chapter will swap POV]

Chapter One: Brother To A Stranger

     Phil is usually a fairly reclusive person, and yet Wilbur finds himself parting from the fifth hug just this morning. “I’m just… so happy you’re home,” Phil says with a warm and loving smile, and Wilbur knows it to mean I’m so happy you’re alive again. “I’m glad to be home,” Wilbur affirms, and then adds, softly, “I missed you.” Phil immediately responds in kind. Wilbur may be an adult, but after thirteen years in hell and darkness, he thinks he’s earned a little bit of that “living at home with your dad” sort of life. He had showered the night before, for a very very long time, enjoying the feeling of rain that didn’t burn-- as much as that memory was more of Ghostbur’s than his. Phil hadn’t minded, though, so it was fine. He had changed his bandage and washed his clothes, and woke up just a little before the sunrise, sitting on the balcony to watch it. He and Phil had then shared a quiet morning. It was nice. Peaceful.

     “Ah, here comes Ranboo!” Phil said, as a passing glance out the window alerted him to the hybrid’s presence, and Wilbur groaned internally and really hoped he didn’t make a face. Ranboo was okay, Wilbur supposed. He was fine. He just also happened to oppose everything Wilbur stood for and everything Wilbur believed, and his adopted little brother and said brother’s best friend seemed to think he hung the stars in the sky, for some reason, and liked him better than they liked Wilbur. Which, fair. Wilbur hadn’t exactly made himself the nicest person before his death-- and he supposed during, for a time. So that at least was understandable. Ranboo was fine as a person, really. Wilbur just didn’t like him all that much.

     Ranboo knocked on the door and, of course, just like that Phil let him in. “Oh, hey Wilbur.” Ranboo said, apparently a little surprised. Again. Understandable. He’d only been there a day. “Hello, Ranboo,” Wilbur replied, voice even because he was being polite, he really was trying he swore, he wouldn’t let Phil be disappointed and he wanted to give Ranboo a chance-- or at least try to. “It’s good you’re both here, actually,” Phil said, with a look of sudden remembrance, “I wanted to introduce you.” Wilbur shot Phil a very confused look. Wasn’t it clear that they’d already met based on the way they greeted one another? “We’ve met,” Wilbur told Phil, and thankfully for now confusion overrode every other feeling he might have.

     Phil sighed and Wilbur’s confusion grew even more as Ranboo, apparently, knew more of what was going on than Wilbur did as the hybrid’s eyes revealed a look of sudden understanding. “Yes, but you’ve not been introduced properly.” Phil actually walked over to Ranboo’s side. Phil put a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and Ranboo stared nervously at the floor. “Ahh how do I say this, how do I say this,” Phil muttered under his breath, and Wilbur was too incredulous to be impatient. “Right. Wil, a lot has happened since you were away and, well. This is Ranboo, my adopted son. That makes him your younger brother. Ranboo, this is Wilbur, your older brother. I really really hope you two are gonna get along,” Phil said, blunt-forcing the news with a nervous little cackle at the end. Wait. What.

     “What?” Wilbur asked aloud, bewildered, because there was no way he had heard that right. There was no way that even Phil had fallen for whatever sort of bewitchment Ranboo seemed to be capable of. But Phil was making that awkward grinning face that Wilbur knew meant he was being presented with the harsh truth, and Ranboo coughed awkwardly. “Yeah uh. Phil… adopted me a little after I moved in here. Don’t worry, it-- it doesn’t really change the living situation or anything, I still have my own house--” he gestured, the house very much inside the fence border of Phil and Technoblade-- “So I think it’ll be fine. Right, Phil?” He finished, glancing at Phil, who had started sorting his chests.

     Phil sighed again, settling himself. “Yes,” he agreed, “It’ll be fiiine. Ranboo’s hardly ever here anyway, usually out with Tubbo or gone mining,” Phil said, attempting reassurance. Wilbur took a moment to compose himself, shoving all of his current feelings into an overstuffed closet like a kid trying to hide a mess from their parent. Which worked well as a metaphor, considering the situation at hand. “Yeah,” Wilbur said carefully, “It should be just fine. I suppose you’re both right, between having a different house--” that was literally right next to theirs-- “And being gone a fair amount of time, I don’t think that’ll change anything up too much.” It absolutely, completely would. “Thank you for letting me know, Phil. Honestly I can think of at least ten different ways I could’ve found out and all of them are worse, so.” That part was true at least. All things considered, this was the best way to find out. But why did it have to have happened in the first place?!?

     “Mhm. Exactly, exactly,” Ranboo agreed, and at least Wilbur could take solace in the fact that he felt just as awkward about this whole situation as Wilbur and apparently Phil too did. Wilbur was always grateful for his father, but never-- and he did think he meant never-- had he been as grateful as he was now, as Phil broke the silence. “So, Ranboo, was there a reason you stopped by?” Ranboo lit up. “Oh right! Yeah, I was wondering if you had any golden carrots I could borrow? The farmers give you and Techno better deals-- I can repay you the emeralds as soon as I get back, too, since I have plenty.” Phil chuckled fondly as he opened a cabinet and handed some of the golden carrots to Ranboo. “Nah mate, there’s no need to do that. It’s fine, we have plenty.” Ranboo took the carrots with a soft thank you.

     Wilbur leaned back against the wall, content to listen and not participate for the moment, eyes narrowed and trying to gauge the situation and their interactions. Ranboo was nothing like him-- the polar opposite of him-- and yet, it was undeniable that these were the interactions of a father and son. “Sooo, adventuring or mining this time? I doubt you’re low on anything.” Ranboo perked up, clearly excited about whatever upcoming deeds he had planned. “Adventuring! I’ll probably be away for about a week, actually. I really really want to find an enchanted golden apple. I know I teeeechnically already have one, but it’s good to be prepared-- besides, I don’t think Tubbo has one, and he probably needs it more than I do.” Ranboo grimaced. “He’s a lot more accident-prone than I am.” Phil cackled. “That’s so true. Alright. Well, be safe, give the crows a holler if you need anything, good luck!”

     Phil patted Ranboo twice on the shoulder, and Ranboo headed out the door, calling “Bye Phil! Bye Wilbur!” as he left, Wilbur giving a short wave in return. The door closed. Theoretically, the morning could go back to being peaceful and nice. Only theoretically. Wilbur turned to Phil, baffled and, quite frankly, feeling like a whiny child. “You what?” He repeated, satisfied that Ranboo was out of earshot and maybe now he and Phil could properly talk about it. Phil just waved his hand dismissively. “Aghk, it’s fine. He was in a bad place, Wil, I took him in ‘cuz he had nowhere to go.” Phil smirked, allowing himself a brief cackle. “And not just because we blew the place where his old house was up. Anyway! I started looking after him a bit, we had a chat, and I officially adopted him. It’s fine, Wil, he’s way younger than you and I doubt you two are even gonna wind up interacting that much. Your first day here and he’s already gone for a week! You’ll be fine.” Wilbur wanted to huff and grumble and pout, but Phil, as always, was right.

     “But--” Wilbur started anyways, and was met with “No buts!” and a shoosh from Phil. Phil sighed, and came up to Wilbur, gently squeezing his shoulder. He spoke more softly this time. “It’ll be okay, Wil. I love you, nothing changes that. No matter what, you’re always my son. I’ve told you that.” Wilbur hated to admit it, but this soothed him deeply, and he relaxed into his father’s care. “Alright, Phil. I trust you. If you really think this… this Ranboo guy is alright, I’ll give him a chance. I mean, I promised Tommy I’d give him a chance, ‘cuz apparently he and Tubbo think he hung the stars in the sky or something--” Wilbur caught himself starting at bitterness, corrected his tone-- “But I meant it then and I mean it now. For you, Phil.” And how could he be upset with Phil, when that promise brought a warm smile to his face? “Thank you, Wilbur. That’s all I can ask.” Wilbur sighed, world-weary. It was going to be a long rest of forever.

-----

     Phil had gone downstairs to fix up the massive arena that he and Technoblade used for sparring. Wilbur would likely go help him later, if Phil wanted help, but for now he was glad for the solitude; something he was almost certain that he and his father had in common. Solitude wasn’t great, after far too many years sat in it, but because of that it was what he was used to-- anything more would likely be too overwhelming. Just the knowledge that he had a choice, though, and could wander or feel different temperatures or go to Phil, who would always always be there, was enough to ease his mind. And he needed both-- the solitude and peace of mind-- to try and figure out what in the world just happened.

     Wilbur supposed it made sense, in a way. He had been gone a very long time, after all, and Phil always had a bit of a soft spot that he had to find some outlet for, much in the same way that most normal people had to find an outlet for all their violent spots. What he couldn’t wrap his head around, was why Ranboo? Wilbur toyed with a yo-yo he had snagged from Phil (more accurately, that Phil just had lying around), grateful for the endless stimuli this wonderful world had to offer. There was clearly more to the story than what was immediately available, and it irritated Wilbur that he didn’t know. God knows he’d never be able to get a straight answer out of Tommy. Phil’s explanation would be brutally short and lacking any sort of detail-- Wilbur had always been the better storyteller of the family. His best bet was probably Ranboo himself, and that guy had memory problems! Wilbur figured he’d wind up needing to piece most of the story together himself, but that was fine. He wouldn’t mind a puzzle.

     Still, thinking it over with the few details he had been given, about Ranboo himself at least, Wilbur couldn’t really conceptualize it. And he definitely wasn’t any sort of jealous. Phil had never exactly been the mercy type, so he definitely wouldn’t have taken Ranboo in out of pity or guilt. The more he thought about it, the more baffled he was, and the more he concluded that maybe Ranboo did have some sort of supernatural bewitching powers. If his hybrid nature let him do enderman things, there had to be a possibility that his other half let him do bewitching things, right? Wilbur found himself tangled in his thoughts and, somehow, his yo-yo. With pleading, befuddled eyes, Wilbur looked directly at a crow on the windowsill, holding back soft, confused laughter. “Phil, I appear to have gotten myself tangled in a yo-yo. ...Help.” The crow, very helpfully, swooped down into the basement to inform Phil.

     Upon entering, Phil burst into laughter immediately, a sound that Wilbur had dearly missed but oh my god now was not the time. “Aw, mate, how did you even manage this?” Phil said, attempting to untangle Wilbur but having to pull away every few seconds for another bout of full-body laughter. “I Don’t Know,” Wilbur admitted, as Phil continued losing it, “I guess it’s just been a really long time since I played with a yo-yo, Phil.” Phil turned Wilbur this way and that, trying to figure out how it all looped together, muttering to himself breathlessly between laughs as he did so. “Oh you got the-- how did you manage to-- under your--?” A hoard of raucous crows joined them in the chaos. “--Ahhh, Wil!” Phil exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat and stepping back, letting out one big cackle; Wilbur chuckled a little too.

     Phil gave up and helped Wilbur shimmy out of his predicament instead, handing him the very sad, very knotted yo-yo for Wilbur to untangle on his own. “Try that first next time, but I’ll be up to help if you somehow manage even worse next time,” Phil said with a melodious, contented sigh, heading back down to the basement. “I will, I promise,” Wilbur said, soft smile on his face. Well, that was unintentional. But it had been nice, actually. More than anything, Phil deserved to be happy. Even if that meant having two sons, one of whom was the biggest, wimpiest pushover and yes-man Wilbur had ever seen. Wilbur groaned out loud. Seriously, Ranboo? Maybe age had finally made Phil senile. Wilbur and Ranboo couldn’t be more different-- how had they managed to both get the same dad? So maybe he was a little jealous. Whatever. Well, Wilbur thought with a decisive sniff, he’d still been there first, and he was older. He was definitely going to use that at every opportunity.

     Even knowing he had a few days to think about it, Wilbur realized pretty quickly that as far as a final conclusion went, that was about as far as he was going to get on any given day . No sense mulling it over until his head looked like the yo-yo string; he’d be fine, and it wouldn’t change things too much between him and Phil-- that at least had always been a given. He and Ranboo, though? Wilbur hadn’t thought his feelings on the hybrid could be any more conflicted than they already were, but apparently he now had a second sibling to deal with, and he hadn’t even chosen this one. It was going to be… strange. Very, very strange. But hey! Such is life! Full of surprises! Wilbur sat on the porch rail, watching all the uniquely patterned snowflakes, and slowly untangled his yo-yo string.

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Epilogue

Summary: Happily ever after...

Warnings: Language, smut, fluff.  WC-3,860

A/N: Well, this was tough to write! I’ve been thinking so much about Pretty Girl and Flip these past few months that I couldn’t decide the best way to end this! Uhg, the emotions I have. Thank you for enjoying this story, I love you all! 

“Can I ask you a question, Flip?”

Flip glanced up from his paperwork to find (Y/N) coming toward him. She pulled an empty seat up next to his desk and took a seat, smiling. She had a couple of the oatmeal cookies she’d baked that morning and passed one to Flip, who took it gratefully. The bullpen was fairly quiet as it was late afternoon, and many of the detectives had either left for the day or were out on an assignment.

“Of course, darling.”

He watched as she crossed her legs, considering her words. She looked especially beautiful with her hair styled differently; he’d noticed she wore it down more often lately. He’d made one comment about liking her long hair and this was the result, it seemed. He wasn’t complaining, though he did find her distracting every time he saw her.

“I was thinking about that morning you showed up at my place and said you wanted to start driving me to work, remember?” He grinned in response, sliding his chair a little closer to hers, their knees touching.

“How could I forget?” Brushing his hand over her thigh, he winked down at her.

With a small laugh, she hit his hand away, “Come now, detective, we’re professionals,” She mock whispered, her eyes bright with laughter. “I was just wondering, what made you want to? I mean, I know you liked me, but you were determined to make it a routine, I could tell. Why?” (Y/N) tilted her head curiously as Flip thought over the question.

It wasn’t hard to remember the deeper reasoning he had gone through overnight when he'd made the decision.

He wanted to be the one to take care of her.

“I wanted,” He paused, glancing around at the now empty room, “You were always running around, taking care of everyone and smiling through it all, no matter what. Of course, I wanted to spend more time with you, outside of the office, and it was a good excuse. But moreover, it was the best way I could think to help you, make sure you were alright.” He shrugged, hoping his explanation made sense.

(Y/N) was giving him her best smile. She hopped to her feet, Flip straightened in his seat and welcomed her into his arms as she stepped between his legs. “Oh detective, you know I love you?” She sighed, hugging his head into her chest, her fingers carding through his hair gently.

Flip knew, but it was always so good to hear her say it.

+

Flip was hurrying around the CSPD’s large conference room, ensuring that all decorations, gifts and food looked perfect, even though he had no eye for this sort of thing whatsoever. He was feeling warm in his plaid shirt, so he quickly walked to the window and opened it to allow a breeze in. He was glad it was a sunny day, the light from outside brightening to wood-panelled room considerably, and casting a pleasant autumn glow within.  

Donna was arranging the cupcakes carefully, a smile on her face as she hummed and tweaked the position of one cupcake, though Flip didn’t see the difference it made. Which, he supposed, was exactly why he asked for her help in the first place. Ron was finishing moving the chairs to positions along the wall, and the room was beginning to fill with the rest of their colleagues, who were thankfully arriving on time and chatting amicably with one another, occasionally greeting Flip.

(Y/N) was going to arrive with Jimmy in about ten more minutes. His partner had graciously offered to pick her up due to Flip being required to come in early for an important meeting. Or at least, that was the story they told her, and she seemed to believe it. Really, he’d been working tirelessly with Ron and Donna to get the surprise party set up.

Glancing around the room one last time, Flip nodded to himself that everything looked perfect, stomping toward the door and turning to face the room. “Alright, everyone, stay here and stay quiet,” He called out as everyone fell silent, “Ron is on door duty here, so he’ll let you know when we’re coming back down the hall.” With that, he turned the lights off and exited the conference room, closing the door behind him.

His stomach was in twisted, anxious knots, but he was excited as well. When, a few weeks ago, (Y/N) had told Flip during one of their late-night baths that she couldn’t believe it had been nearly a year since she’d started at the station, he had made a plan. With the help of Donna, Ron and Jimmy, they were throwing her a surprise party in honour of the anniversary. At least, that was the story he’d told his friends.  

Sensing his nerves, Ron clapped Flip on the shoulder, “She’s going to love it, brother.”

With a curt nod and a brief smile at his friend, Flip made his way to the front desk to wait for Jimmy and (Y/N) to arrive. He was pleased to find the lobby quiet.

As he walked, he thought over the last year of his life and how much had changed. He remembered arriving at work that first day back, meeting her for the first time and making a fool of himself. Nearly knocking her onto her ass in his rush to apologize to her, wanting to fix her first impression of him. He’d never been affected by another person so wholly and suddenly before, as though she had a pull over him from the moment their eyes first connected.

He thought of the day that he slammed that rude man onto the counter in front of her. How he’d gone home that day and had to hurriedly relieve the pressure that had been building within over the weeks, as their friendship grew. The weeks of driving her to and from work in the torturously small cab of his truck as her scent seemed to spiral around him, the weeks of small touches, coy smiles, easy, flowing conversation. The guilt he'd felt after hitting that breaking point, and the realization throughout the following sleepless night. That he loved her, entirely and irrevocably.

That had been terrifying. Exhilarating.

He was pretty sure he’d go to his grave being able to remember every single detail of their first kiss.

That stormy night that she’d called him to help her, and he’d driven to her house so quickly he hadn’t had time to fully consider what could happen between them. The walls broke down so low in her dark, cold house, he didn't consider what it could lead to. And he was glad, grateful every day he hadn’t been sleeping well and her call had come in the middle of the night-it allowed his overthinking brain to simply fail him; his heart winning out. The moment they came together felt a lifetime in the making, as though every single action and moment in his entire life was meant to lead him into her arms, tangled together on the floor of her living room as they kept warm by the fire. It had been beautiful, perfection.

And now, they’d been living together for several months, and life was so, so good. They fell into an easy routine instantly once Flip had moved in, the days blending in a happy haze of domesticity. He felt whole for the first time in his life.

Flip had finally convinced her to take lessons with him at the gun range, even. Though he was inwardly regretting that because he’d discovered she was a better shot than him. Several of their colleagues had been at the range the day she proved that and quickly spread the word at work that the secretary had a better score than even the Sarge. When they gave her the nickname ‘Ace’, he had watched her dazzling smile light up the room and decided he was just fine with being second to her. And a little proud of his girl, as well.  

Flip perked up as (Y/N) and Jimmy came into his view, making their way to the front door. He stood straight, grinning as her eyes found his and a smile broke across her beautiful face. “Morning, pretty girl.” He said, swooping down and pecking her on the cheek as she approached, before passing her a coffee and her notepad.

“You know, Flip, Jimmy is much more talkative than you in the morning, I think I’d be alright with him giving me a ride every day.” She smirked at Flip, thanking him for the coffee and taking a sip, appearing completely at ease and unsuspecting. He hoped.

His eyes found Jimmy’s. The bastard was grinning. “You’ve been telling her embarrassing stories about me?”

Jimmy nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Of course.”

“You told her about the donut shop?”

“Naturally.”

With a groan, Flip wiped his hand down his face, (Y/N) giggling away at his embarrassment. “I’ll tell you my version, which is probably more accurate than Jimmy’s, after this meeting, darling.”

He gestured toward the conference room and they fell in step with him, Jimmy casually hanging back slightly. As they walked, Flip realized that she was wearing his favourite blue dress, the one she wore the first time he’d met her. She didn’t wear it as often nowadays, but clearly felt it made sense for the occasion, even though Flip technically wasn’t there on her first day of work.

Ron crossed the hall ahead and nodded to them, “Morning!” He cheered, before stepping into the room, no doubt signalling everyone inside to prepare. As they came to the door, Flip did two things; first, he grabbed her coffee out of her hands, wanting to avoid her sloshing it all over her outfit, and second he hit the lights on.

As everyone came into view, the room erupted, “SURPRISE!” Cheering and noisemakers paired with the decorations and the crowded room had (Y/N)‘s hands shooting to her face as she gasped in surprise. Flip beamed down at her, urging her further into the room.

“Oh!” When her hands lowered, Flip was delighted to see her bright smile, her eyes glistening slightly. Before she could look to him, she was swept into hug after hug, everyone wanting their turn to congratulate her on the anniversary and proclaim Flip as the organizer of the festivities. As she was moved around from each person, Flip stayed close. His hand pressed to her lower back both as a comfort to her, and a way to distract himself.

The Chief called for silence after a short while, standing next to the table that held all the food. Everyone turned to look at him expectantly. (Y/N) quickly stepped into Flip’s side, an arm snaking around his waist and squeezing him in a silent thank you as she grinned up at him. The knots in his stomach tightened, but he returned her smile with his own, hoping she couldn’t sense his unease at the moment.

“Thank you, everyone, for making it here today to help us celebrate (Y/N)‘s first year anniversary with us!” The Chief called, pausing for brief applause before continuing, “I don’t need to say it, but I’m going to anyway-(Y/N), you make this place a hell of a lot better to work in. You brought poor Donna’s blood pressure down,” Everyone laughed as Donna gave two thumbs up in confirmation, “You’ve organized this place and made it feel warm for not only the public but for each of us. You’re hard work and dedication have been mentioned to me time and time again. By colleagues, members of the public, and even the council! And, of course, you made us all put on a few extra pounds with your impeccable baking. Although we did have to outsource for today’s celebration, we do hope you’ll forgive us!”

As everyone clapped and cheered, Flip glanced down at (Y/N) and gave her a guilty grin, knowing full well she was going to confess to everyone. Giggling, she pointed at the beautifully decorated cupcakes behind the Chief, “No need to worry, Chief, I actually baked those.”

Ron looked around at her in surprise as everyone watched, “What? You baked fifty cupcakes? For your own surprise party?”

She shrugged, “Flip said that the Sarge asked for me to bake them, for a big meeting with the Mayor and council that I’m guessing isn’t happening. I didn’t question it.”

Ron turned to Flip, voicing the question on everyone’s minds, “Why did you make her bake-?”

Flip roared with laughter, “Are you kidding? This whole party would have been a waste if (Y/N) came in here and found out we got the desserts from anyone other than her,” Flip glanced down at (Y/N) to find her nodding heartily in agreement, “I think she had more fun baking last night than she will eating them today.” Again, she was bobbing her head, her cute grin widening.

At that, everyone burst into laughter, applauding (Y/N) for the hard work. With the knowledge that the desserts had been baked by their talented secretary, they all queued up and Donna passed them out. When everyone had either a drink or treat in hand and they refocused on (Y/N), she smiled shyly around, her hands still empty as Flip had asked Donna not to serve her until after he’d made his speech.

“Listen, thank you all so much. I love working here with all of you and I truly couldn’t be more grateful that you all took time out of your days to celebrate here with me,” She looked up at Flip, her eyes warm and happy, “And who knew this man was such a romantic, planning out a whole surprise party for me and giving me a night of busy baking! How lucky am I?”

Though Flip was sure everyone had laughed, his ears had started ringing the moment she had finished speaking and he couldn’t hear properly. His throat was thick, dry and he was sure he was sweating. Sensing the time had arrived, Flip glued his eyes to hers and swallowed.

(Y/N) followed Flip’s movements as he took a step away from her, his hand moving to his pocket while he slowly lowered himself down on one knee. Her eyes snapped up to Flip’s, mouth falling open as he pulled out the ring from his back pocket. The room went silent around them, so silent he could hear his heart beating furiously in his chest.

“Pretty girl,” His voice was low, because even though everyone would hear, the words were just for her, “You and I, we took our time at the start. But I’d never deny having loved you since that first time we met, and every day I’ve loved you more and more,” He held the ring a little higher, though her gaze-now was so intense he could almost hear her thoughts-never left his, “Today isn’t just about celebrating you working here. It’s about celebrating you and how lucky we all are, how fucking lucky I am to know you, to get to love you and have you love me back. I want to marry you and spend every day of the rest of our lives as your husband if you’ll have me.”

Silence. It stretched for a beat, and Flip didn’t know what exactly to expect, but a sense of calm came over him because he knew the look she was giving him; he could hear all the words she wouldn’t say out loud in front of their friends and colleagues, could see her answer on her face as though it were written in bold red pen. The silence was thick because no one else understood her the way Flip did. She was suddenly in his arms, tears streaming down her face as she cried out, “Of course I’ll marry you, detective!” And that silence lifted around them as everyone watching let out a breath.

But Flip hadn’t even needed to hear her say it. He already knew.

+

“Mrs. Zimmerman.”

(Y/N)’s eyes opened and met Flip’s as he stood over her. She was relaxing in the bath, the bubbles still fresh, covering his view of her curves. He’d worked a double that day and would have, really should have, bet that she would be waiting for him in there. Bathing together was one of their favourite ways to end the days.  

“You know, we’re engaged, detective. I don’t think you can call me that yet.” She replied smoothly, sitting up and bracing her elbows on the edge of the tub, smiling up at him. Flip dropped down to his knees and captured her lips with his in a brief kiss.

“Mrs. Zimmerman, pretty girl, (Y/N),” He punctuated each name with a kiss, and she giggled in response. “I’ll call you whatever you want if you let me join you.” He growled, and she giggled in response. Scooting forward to allow him room to sit, her eyes watched him as he stripped and climbed in behind her.

They lay together in the bath for a while in comfortable silence. (Y/N) traced lazy patterns along his upper leg, her head lolling against his chest. When Flip’s mind began to wander to more intimate thoughts, the evidence pressed into (Y/N)’s back and captured her attention.  

“Detective,” She murmured, sitting forward and turning in the water so that she could straddle Flip’s lap. He helped her, huffing out a breath when she settled down and his erection pressed between them. “I’ve been thinking about the wedding, and I agree with you. A backyard wedding next May, it sounds perfect.” She kissed along his jaw, her hands on his chest, which was rising and falling quickly in anticipation.

“Darling, you sure?” He cupped her face in his large hands and pulled back somewhat to look her in the eyes. She smiled, nodded in response, and Flip straightened in excitement. “Does this mean you want to go ahead with the offer on the Lower Gold Camp Road house?”

“I may have already called Edmund back and gave him the go-ahead.” (Y/N) replied, her smile brightening as Flip let out a whoop. “He hasn’t called back yet, not sure if the Riley’s accepted the offer.”

Overwhelmed, Flip gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, “They loved the cookies you brought, there’s no way they could say no.” He reassured her, feeling confident that the old Riley couple had adored them and would accept their offer. The house had been a lucky find, as it was right next to Bear Creek Regional Park in Old Colorado City. It had a huge back yard, expansive kitchen and the master bath had a giant stand-alone bathtub that could fit them just as well as the one they were currently soaking in.  

(Y/N) reached down between their bodies, her hand gripping Flip’s erection, pulling a thick moan from his throat. “Probably won’t hurt to celebrate early, in that case, right?” And before he could respond, she raised herself over him and slowly sunk down, taking his length inch by inch as they both groaned. Flip’s eyes rolled back.

“Fuck,” He breathed, as her tight warmth clenched around him, so familiar and blissful. His hands dropped to her hips, where he gripped hard enough to leave bruises and helped lift and drop (Y/N) onto him. Their sounds; moans and wet slaps and curses echoed around the tiled bathroom as she bounced eagerly. Flip slid one hand up her back, pressing her body closer so that he could lean down and capture a pointed bud in his mouth, licking and sucking to pull more whines, more sighs of his name from her lips. “That’s it, pretty girl, bounce on my cock, you take me so fucking well sweetheart.” Her moans increased, the pleasure building quickly for them both as they moved together.

They came at the same time, riding over the crest of pleasure as they clung to one another in the bathtub and water sloshed over the sides, soaking the floor. It took a few minutes to come down from the high, (Y/N) collapsed onto Flip’s chest with her legs bent somewhat awkwardly on either side of his thick thighs. They relaxed, working to catch their breath before moving.

Part of Flip could have happily topped up the water in the tub and remained soaking for another hour, but the shrill sound of the phone ringing pulled them both back to reality before he could suggest it. (Y/N) hopped up on shaky legs to race into the bedroom and answer the call.

Her recovery after sex always reminded him of their age gap; there was no way he’d have gotten up that quickly after such a mind-blowing orgasm. He chuckled to himself, pulling the plug to let out the water, the sound of it draining loud enough to block him from hearing who might be on the phone. He quickly dried himself off and grabbed (Y/N) a towel before walking into the bedroom and catching her gaze, his head tilted curiously.

Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, and distractingly her body glistened with water. She thanked whoever was on the line as he draped her towel around her shoulders, and then she set the phone back down. “It was Edmund.” Her voice was low, even. Unreadable.

Flip stepped back, “And?” His eyes examined her face, excitement bubbling within.

“And,” Her grin gave her away, but Flip let her have the moment, “They accepted our offer!”

With a roar of joy, Flip lifted (Y/N) into his arms and spun them around. She laughed loudly, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her towel fell, forgotten on the floor as they celebrated the news of the success of buying their first home together.

Flip laid (Y/N) down on their bed and climbed over her, his hands tracing along every inch of her body. He kissed and licked every part of her until she was writhing beneath him with need. And as their bodies came together, he thought of how this beautiful woman had come into his life. How she had altered it so completely. As he moved, drawing out the best of her sounds, he remembered their first time together and he was in awe that it still felt just as amazing, just as perfect and all-encompassing and right.

He’d never thought he deserved to be so happy, that he could make another person feel the same way about him. And yet as he made love to (Y/N) again, in celebration of the home they would get married, have children and grow old together in, he realized it wasn’t that he deserved her. No, it was about spending every single day together like it was their first and last day on earth, it was about making every moment count that they were lucky enough to have with one another because they were soulmates.  

“Pretty girl,” Flip breathed out her name between their moans and gasps, “I love you.”

“Oh detective, you know I love you too.”

And he did know.

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