#and god knows how loyal these two have been to each other

[rachelchinouriris]

.

[sinner-as-saint]

scary? my god, you're divine

Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 

Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA

Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 

And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 

Gods, you thought, what a day. 

It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 

But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 

“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 

The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 

“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 

But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 

So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 

It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 

By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.

Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 

Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 

You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 

“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 

You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 

That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 

Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 

–

But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–

You froze when you heard it. 

Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 

Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 

A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 

“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 

A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 

You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 

There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 

A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 

“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 

Well, he did have a point there. 

“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 

A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 

Half an hour?! 

“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 

“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 

You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 

Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 

“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 

You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 

— 

“Is Bucky ever home?” 

You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 

You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 

“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 

“How recent?” You asked. 

“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 

Unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 

She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 

She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 

— 

The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 

You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 

“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 

“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 

He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 

“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 

Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 

“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 

Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 

“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 

He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 

You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 

—

“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 

The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 

“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 

They both nodded. 

“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 

One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 

— 

“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 

“Do they?” 

“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 

He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 

You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 

“Not yet.” He said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 

You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 

He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 

“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 

“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 

Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 

You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 

And then he left. 

— 

The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 

The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 

The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 

You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 

The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 

You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 

It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 

Oh, it was perfect. 

The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 

-

Hours went by. 

The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 

The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 

The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 

It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 

By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 

She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 

She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 

At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 

So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 

He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 

So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 

But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 

-

You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.

Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 

Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 

You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 

“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 

You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 

“In your lap.” 

Fair. 

“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 

He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 

You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 

A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 

That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 

He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 

You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 

“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 

You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 

He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 

Just like that? 

“I… okay.” 

You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 

You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 

A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 

You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 

He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 

— 

It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 

And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 

It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 

You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 

Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 

But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 

And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 

You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 

At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 

“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 

You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 

“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 

Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 

– 

There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 

It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 

Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 

Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 

Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 

Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 

Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 

You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 

You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 

-

You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 

Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 

He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 

“You’re home.” You said. 

Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 

You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 

“I was out working,” He said. 

“Maiming and killing?” 

“You know me so well.” 

“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 

“It is.”  

“Were you hurt?” 

“I was.” 

You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 

“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 

You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 

You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  

Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 

He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 

He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 

Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 

“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 

Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 

Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 

“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 

He chuckled. But remained quiet. 

So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 

Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 

Oh. 

Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  

“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 

Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 

Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 

You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 

“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 

He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 

With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 

He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 

“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 

You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 

“Are you just all talk or–,” 

He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 

“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 

You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 

He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 

You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 

He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 

“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 

“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 

His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 

Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 

The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 

“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 

You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 

You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 

He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 

That shut you up really quickly. 

“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 

His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 

“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 

Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 

You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 

He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.” 

You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 

Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 

But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 

“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 

The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.

Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 

And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 

“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 

“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 

“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 

A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 

“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 

His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 

You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 

Fuck… that felt amazing. 

You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 

“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 

All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 

You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 

— 

That night ended up being the first of many. 

Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 

After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 

But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 

On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 

On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 

You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 

The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 

The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 

—

One night, things changed. 

Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 

Tonight started out the same way.  

You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 

It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 

“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 

You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 

He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 

He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 

He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 

You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 

Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 

In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 

“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 

“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 

He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 

You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 

“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 

“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 

“Fine.” 

—

That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 

He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 

And no one knew where he went. 

You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 

By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 

You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 

Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 

You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 

You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 

Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 

“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 

—

The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 

“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 

Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 

The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 

The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 

“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 

No. This cannot be happening. 

You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 

If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 

Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 

You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 

You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 

You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 

One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 

You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 

Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 

The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 

And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 

Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 

Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 

Luckily your father was home. 

You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 

Good thing you’d brought your own. 

The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 

You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 

You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 

Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You repeated, “Where is he?” 

Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 

“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 

He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 

You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 

“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 

He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 

“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 

Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 

You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 

“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 

The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  

You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 

“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 

His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 

You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 

You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 

And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 

There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 

Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 

But you would. 

As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 

Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 

The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 

There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 

Or both. 

You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 

“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 

You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 

“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 

You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 

Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 

You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 

It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 

He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 

They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 

“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 

He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 

“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 

Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 

You turned to face him. “What?” 

He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 

Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 

You did. And only missed twice. 

Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 

As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 

“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 

On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 

“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  

“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 

That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 

“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 

At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 

“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 

You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 

Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 

Then he passed out cold. 

— 

The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 

The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 

Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 

About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 

And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 

Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 

The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 

He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 

You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 

“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 

Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 

You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 

He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 

You nodded. And he did. 

— 

A lot changed after that. 

Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 

Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 

He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 

He became your best friend. 

He also became a lot more… bold. 

—

One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 

Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 

He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 

You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 

“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 

You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 

“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 

You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 

Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 

You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 

And he did. Patiently. 

He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 

He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 

He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 

Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 

You nodded, already breathless. 

“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 

You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 

He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 

You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 

“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 

But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 

He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 

“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 

You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 

Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 

“I want you,” You said. 

Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 

You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 

You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 

“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.

Fuck, he was beautiful. 

“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 

He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 

You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 

“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 

You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 

His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 

“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 

Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 

And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.

The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 

You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 

“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 

You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 

You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 

You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 

Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 

You both laid there in silence for a while. 

Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 

You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 

He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 

“Nope.” 

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 

You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 

He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 

You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 

He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 

“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 

He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 

“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 

You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 

Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 

“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 

“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

[entitled-fangirl]

He would burn the world for her.

Felix Carton x fem!reader

Summary: Felix and the reader don’t appreciate the looks Oliver is giving her. 

Words: 1,689

Warnings: Oliver is his own warning. He’s creepy to the reader. Making out in a bathtub- not super descriptive. Yelling, cursing.

Author's note: May god bless our souls for not only watching Saltburn but also reading fanfics about it :|

Masterlist

.........................................

Y/N was a usual resident at Saltburn. The girlfriend of Felix Catton himself, she often found herself spending her time at his family mansion during holiday. She had a family that loved her, sure. But it couldn’t match up to the things that Saltburn, and Felix, gave her. 

Oliver was one of those things. A seemingly loyal friend to her dear Felix. And she was overjoyed when he agreed to spend the summer at Saltburn with them. 

She sat on a lawn chair near the pool, a bikini adorning her body. She tilts her head slightly to the side, to see her perfect Felix in the pool. A graceful smile shows on her face as she moves back to relax in the chair. She hears the sound of splashing water and soon, a shadow is felt over her body. She moves her sunglasses down her nose to peer over them. Felix stands above her, his body dripping from the pool and a large smirk across his face. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he says. His smirk grows into a grin. He leans his tall body down, his arms reaching out to catch him against her chair. His frame towers over her more than it does when he’s standing. 

She meets him halfway, their lips touching in a gentle kiss. Her hand moves up to the back of his neck, lightly tugging at the hair there. He groans, pushing into her lips a little rougher. 

Farleigh gives a small laugh, “You two are too horny to be out here, right now. Go get a fucking room.”

Y/N pulls apart from him with a slight blush on her cheeks. Felix’s jaw clenches slightly, his head turning in Farleigh’s direction. “Don’t be jealous of what I have and you don’t.” He then leans back down to kiss Y/N as if no comment was ever made.

They made out for a little while, Y/N at Felix’s mercy. Not that he was ever a cruel lover. No, quite the opposite. He was very giving. He was a giving person in general, a quality his girlfriend admired greatly.

They pulled away from each other, Y/N slouching back against the lounger like before, and Felix going back to the pool. Her eyes closed as she heard the splash of his return to the water.

The moment was interrupted yet again, but by Felix’s voice, “Oliver! You getting in?”

Y/N opened her eyes at that to see Oliver’s answer. But Oliver’s eyes were on her. They had been on her. She could see that Felix’s question had broken his train of thought. Oliver shakes his head a bit, blinking. “Oh, uh. Not sure.”

Felix nods his head with a certain look. Y/N had seen it many times. It was a knowing look. He didn’t give two shits if Oliver got in the water, but he did care if the scholarship boy was looking at his girl a little too much. But he took that as an answer and went back to relaxing in the warm water.

But Y/N still felt Oliver’s gaze. It was quite uncomfortable now that she knew it was there. She tried to do anything to relax. She closed her eyes. She watched Felix. None of it would distract from the constant feeling of being watched by Oliver’s piercing eyes.

Hours passed and the family found themselves retiring for the night. Felix lead Y/N by the hand to his room, a routine the entire family was used to at this point. He closed the door behind them before turning around and placing his hands on her waist.

She sighed at the feeling, a relaxing end to the day. The day’s events were still bothering her, but she didn’t wish to bring them to her boyfriend’s attention. After all, Oliver was to stay here for a while, and the last thing she wanted was to cause conflict between the two.

Felix noticed the deep look in her eye. He let out a soft sigh, “How about a warm bath?”

Her eyes met his, “a bath?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day. A warm bath might be nice. I mean we don’t have to-“

“-No. I want to. I do.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of her head before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of the running water is heard soon after.

She sits at the end of his bed, running her hands through her hair to calm herself. It truly did bother her, but what if it’s nothing? She knows that Felix would burn the world for her, but she didn’t know if it was worth the world burning. Not over something so stupid as a stare from one of his friends.

He returned before she had even noticed. He pulled her hands from her hair, placing them on his chest. He pulls her up easily. “C’mon, love.” 

…

She is straddling Felix in the tub, their bodies close. Her hands are in his hair, and his are wandering over her body, admiring every part. Their lips are locked in a passionate kiss that is getting hotter by the minute.

Why was Oliver looking at her? Was he jealous? Perhaps just curious? Did he want her? Did he want Felix? Simply judging? What does the boy want and why? He was beyond impossible to read.

Felix at this point had slowed himself, seeing that she was not reciprocating his movements. His hands now rest on the side of her thighs, keeping her in place. He pulled away softly, his tone quiet and comforting, “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

She is pulled from all of her thoughts quickly, realizing he had caught on. “Nothing, Felix. It’s nothing, really.” She moves forward to catch his lips again.

He lets her for a moment, before his hands gently grab her face, pulling her away. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t try to deflect like this. I know something is bothering you. It has been. Please. Trust me?”

The sound of the water trying to settle is all that is heard in the bathroom at this point. She finally lets out a breath, “It’s not something you can fix. I can handle it.”

He pulls her face into his hands again. “Is it something I’m doing? If it is, I-“

How could she do this to him? He was now doubting himself, and it was all her fault. She felt awful. She had to correct this.

Her hands move to each side of his chest. “No, Felix. It’s not. I promise, it’s not. You’ve done nothing.”

He nods, his jaw clenching slightly as if he knows exactly what’s bothering her at this point. “It’s Oliver, isn’t it?”

Her hand reaches up to his mouth, a finger pushed to his lips. “Shh… he’ll hear us.”

He moved his head back from her hand. “I don’t care,” he says, “If it is Oli, I understand. I noticed it today, too. And it is a big deal to me if it bothers you, angel. It bothered me, but I figured I’d let it go if it was just me noticing. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

He was the sweetest thing she had ever seen in her life. Her eyebrows lifted, “You’d do that for me?”

He smiled, “‘Course. Consider it done.”

She smiled as well, moving her body against his. Her lips connected with his once more.

…

She woke up to the sound of yelling. She sat up in bed quickly. Her hair was a mess, her body in nothing but Felix’s t-shirt and her underwear. Her head cocked to the side as the sound continued. It was coming from Oliver’s bedroom.

It was Felix’s voice.

She never heard Felix raising his voice like this before in her life. It had been raised before, yes. But never like this, and never had it had this horrid tone in it. 

She pushed herself to the end of the bed, standing herself up. She ran towards his voice, opening the bathroom door and running through it to Oliver’s room. She opened that door quickly, her body standing in the doorframe.

This caught both men’s attention. They both turned to her. Oliver’s eyes widen at her attire before a smirk appeared on his face. Felix’s eyes softened as he saw her worried expression.

“Oh, angel. I’m sorry to wake you up,” Felix says, his usual sweet tone returning as if he wasn’t screaming seconds earlier.

Oliver chips in, “Yeah, sorry. Felix and I were just chatting about yo-“

A glare was sent to Oliver from Felix, shutting him up quickly. Felix turned back her her, his eyes comforting again.

“Go back to bed. Breakfast isn’t for another hour,” he said, stepping towards her.

She’s beyond confused at this point. Her hand rests against the doorframe, her eyes moving between the two men. “Is... Is everything alright, Fe?”

Felix sighs, moving towards her again. Now in front of her, his hand moves up to the side of her neck, caressing it gently. “Yeah. We’re fine. Back to bed now.”

Her eyes shift to Oliver again. He stands with a confident appearance. He has a smirk on his face, his eyes focused on her bare legs.

Embarrassed, she nods, moving backwards into the bathroom. “Alright. Good morning then, Felix,” her quiet voice says. She nods to Oliver, “Oli.”

She moves back quickly, but not quick enough, hearing Oliver quip, “Good morning to you, beautiful.” 

Felix head spins back to Oliver, his voice a growl, “Don’t fucking-“

That’s all she heard, for she had went back into Felix’s room, shutting both doors. She rested her head again, letting sleep overtake her as Felix had requested.

…

When breakfast time came, Oliver was nowhere to be found, but Farleigh had blabbed to her later that Oliver had left Saltburn in a rush before breakfast with at least a black eye and a limp in his step.

She twisted the fork in her hand, her eyes focusing across the table at Felix’s bloody knuckles.

He would burn the world for her.

[sugudoe]

᭡ ★ ׁ ׅ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐒 ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ᝰ gojo satoru used to be a lonely child, that was until you started to be there for him — to hear his complains, to run away from the clan for a few hours, and to decorate his hair with flowers. you are his most sacred person, he is your most loved one.

ᡴꪫ a/n: bring me back my man, gege!!! this was inspired by the confirmation he would sneak away from home and this, he would’ve been a mama’s boy. @emilyywhyy. using new tag, masterlist.

ᡴꪫ c/w: child!gojo, teen!gojo \\ child!reader, teen!reader \\ fluff and angst \\ bittersweet ending, but happy. \\ gender neutral!reader \\ 1.3k words.

They say the day Gojo Satoru was born, the balance of the world shifted. Everyone would stare at him with reverence, as if he was a a saint and the gift from the gods, when in fact he was a martyr, born to suffer. For you, though, he was just a boy — just your Satoru.

You had been by his side for a long time, being born in a world where his presence was constant, just a couple months older than you. You father was an experienced teacher for the clan, and your mother their most loyal historian. Both of them had been tasked with helping Gojo to understand his powers and control it, and you, always so curious, stayed by their side. Quietly and cautious, staring at him.

White hair, blue eyes, stoic face and strange ways. Sometimes, too rude, others, too playful. Inside of him there were two personalities in constant crash, one that longed to be just a child and other that was meant to be the strongest.

He envied you for many reasons. You could play with the other children, your tasks seemed less rough than his, and… Oh, he envied how loved you were by your parents. When you would accompany him in one of his classes, arriving in your messy hair and dirty kimono for playing too much, eyes filled with happiness and your parents would beam at you, they lovely child.

Would they have sold you, had you been the strongest of your family? Or would they have fought? How much money, status and power would it take for any good person in this world to be corrupted?

Satoru didn’t want to know the answer to those questions, he likes you and your parents that way — warm hugs and sweet kisses. Never would Satoru trade places with you, for him, you were so pure to deal with what he has been going through.

You were the one to approach him first, finding him hiding between the trees that surrounded the clan’s houses, tears guarded by his hands, and he was betrayed by his trembling shoulders.

“Why are you crying?” You stepped closer very slowly, as if approaching a scared animal.

“I want to go home.” Satoru answers, making your small child mind wander what he meant. Isn’t this the Gojo’s lands? “I want my mommy.”

Oh.

Even naive as you were, you understood right away. You have seen her before, one of the most beautiful woman you have ever met. Quiet, walking around the gardens, her pale skin in contrast with the roses, but everything about her and around seems dull. Maybe it’s the lack of her child that makes her like this. No money in the world could replace it, and she was only a woman in a world controlled by men. Her wishes and demands wouldn’t be heard, never.

“Sometimes, they let us see each other.” You are putting daffodils on Satoru’s hair when he starts talking again. “She pretends she is fine, and tells me how proud she is. Her hugs are longer each time, and the meetings are less as well.”

“And how about your dad?” You ask, when he is the one decorating your hair with trembling fingers.

“He…” Satoru sighs. “He is just there. Tells me to listen to the maesters, to your father. That one day I’ll make everyone proud, and be the strongest.”

“I’m proud of you.” You feel the need to say it, so you do. And maybe, it’s what you had to do, Satoru smiles slightly, before raising to his feet and grabbing you with him. He starts to run in a direction you have never been before. “Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” You do. That moment and every moment forward, you would trust Gojo.

You both arrived in the city after an hour of walking and running, babbling about your favorites everything.

His favorite animal is a dog, but he can’t have one. His favorite food is taiyaki, but he never tasted it. And, his favorite color, he stops to think and stare at you for a while, before going with the one you think looks exactly as your eyes. You tell him yours, and that you both can fix all his curiosities, right now.

With your little purses, coins clicking inside as you run through the streets, buying whatever he needs and has never experienced before, Satoru learns that he doesn’t like taiyaki, rather he finds his favorite being Kikufuku.

Sharing a strawberry ice cream, Gojo halts his movements, and you sense something coming from him — it’s what makes him being called the stronger one, the so long awaited hero. Like gravity has gone away, and the sky is falling on top of you, ready to crush everything.

“They are watching us. Let’s go home.” Had he been alone, that wouldn’t bother him, but you were still innocent, not yet developed your technique.

So, with daffodils still in your heads, you both return home to disapproving looks and a stomach filled with sugar.

Inside the groves, a tradition was born. If the weight of the world became too much to bear, Satoru would find you there. You always knew when he needed you the most, like a calling only you could sense. It burned in your chest until you reached him, and in front of Gojo, you would pick flowers and decorate his wild hair with it, or teach him how to make flower crowns or… rings.

“I wish I could burn this whole place to the ground.” He says once, while admiring the petals on your finger, he proudly made. Anger had been his friend for a while now, when he learned he would go to Jujutsu tech. He was happy and scared, and already missing you. “Except you, of course, and your parents, and my mom and… and this woods. This is ours, right?”

“Yes, ‘Toru. This is ours.” You hold his cold face with your other hand, while smiling calmly. “It will always be ours.” Closing the gap, you rest your head on his. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’m not going away forever. It feels like it, but I’ll be back, every weekend, I promise. And… I could exchange to the Kyoto school.”

“No, Satoru. You need freedom.”

“I need you as well.” He counterparts. “I’ll never be free from the expectations of the world, we could, at least, be stuck together.” He is nearly crying again.

“They won’t accept me, my cursed technique is nothing too special.” You sigh, falling in the grass, and he goes behind.

“I disagree. You will see, they will come begging for you, and you will tell them to go fu…” You raise your hands to his mouth, giggling as if you were seven, and not a nearly fifteen years old girl. “I’ll make them come for you, and if they don’t, I will. I’ll always come to you, and our daffodils.”

And indeed, he does. He comes for you months later, accompanied by two other kids and round sunglasses you’ve never seen before. Gojo Satoru comes for you, to grab your hands, pack your clothes, kiss his mothers cheeks knowing that won’t ever happen again, even if he wants so much.

She tells she is proud of him, his father tell him he is nearly there. Gojo wonders what would be enough to be enough. He tries not to care, inside the car with you, hands interlocked, jokes being shared and daffodils, always them, on both your heads and fingers.

You’re proud of him, and he is nowhere near his freedom, but the responsibilities feel less strong, his sadness less real. You’re here, always will be.

﹙⠀ ᭡ ࣪˖ 🍋.⠀﹚ 20243008⠀─┈ ⭑⠀ ͏͏

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

[dnvrsmedia]

Worth the Fight

Sevika x reader

a/n: no descriptive terms used for reader!

warnings: slight arcane act 2 spoilers READ AT YOUR OWN DIGRESSION, hurt/comfort, domestic!sev, isha & jinx mention!

word count: 2581

Adrenaline thumps with a high pressure through Sevika’s veins. She can feel her heart pumping so hard she wonders how it doesn’t burst through her chest. This is not what she expected when Jinx agreed to breaking into Stillwater. The place isn’t necessarily the most welcoming (even though she is very familiar with the prison) yet, a ten-foot-something killing beast was not on her bingo card. At this point she wonders why she has any expectations when Jinx is involved.

These past few weeks, Sevika has wondered if this is what will finally kill her. If all she ever has been good for has been a soldier. First under Vander, then under Silco, and now? She tries to keep hope, but all she can feel is despair. The dark and looming feeling felt thick in her throat like the gray. Decaying her insides until she asphyxiates on its rot. That is until she comes home to you. All of her doubt leaves her body once she steps foot into your shared space. The smell of your body wash mixed with the candles you always have lit immediately relaxes her. Her shoulders no longer feel like it's holding the weight of Zaun once she’s home. Meeting you has single handedly given her a new wind beneath her wings.

Throughout her time fighting for independence, she quickly realized just how insignificant her life is, or at least that’s what she’s been told. She is always putting her life on the line for the greater good. She stopped fighting so that she could live the life she thinks everyone else deserves. Hell, she doesn’t believe she deserves half of what she is fighting for. Sevika knows she has done some unsavory things in her past. Things she won’t ever forgive herself for doing. Gods, Janna knows she’s been nothing close to a saint. There are things she’s done that haunt her in her dreams, and she thought she has come to terms with this fact. The fact that not all is good in love and war. Not all of the horrors she's experienced and been on the other side of producing were necessary.

She never saw a life for herself post Zaun independence. Ever since she joined the fight, she's only seen herself dying alone in one of three places: in a fight, in the brothel, and at the end of a bottle. So she drank and smoked and gambled and fought her life away, because it's the least she could do. She fights so that the next generation doesn't need to skirmish with each other in the lanes. She fights so that not another kid gets orphaned by the mines or the chembarrons, or shit, even shimmer, but fighting for her own life never even crossed her mind. Who could blame her if that is all she’s known? Her deadbeat father didn’t teach her the value of her worth, that's for sure. So, why would she bat an eye at her reckless lifestyle? Unexpectedly, that all changed. She didn’t see herself as valuable until you came into her life. You and your unabashed love for her. You and the light you bring to every room you step in. You and your confidence in Sevika to come back home to you. If Sevika is one thing she is loyal, and fiercely loyal she is to you. So when her priorities lied loyal to you, she was forced to come to terms she never even dreamed of having. The sole idea of growing old and having a love like in the fairytales made her feel like a young girl again. Yet, this led to turmoil within her head. She now has to break down all of the things she’s barred herself from receiving, all of the chances at a semi-normal life. She now has to realize just how much she does want to live, and that is where her true fears lie.

Sevika didn’t start consciously fighting until you opened her eyes to what love is. She couldn;t deal with the heartbreak she brought you when she came home two weeks late after the blast. She will never forget the sobs of relief you made when she hobbled into your shared space, the horror in your eyes when you noticed her arm missing. No matter how frustrated and full of emotions you were, you never yelled. This is when Sevika knew you were it for her. Many times in her younger years did she disregard the advancements of genuine connections from others. She would meet someone, enjoy their company for a few weeks and then essentially ghost them. Only to return weeks if not months later looking for some fun. This never bode well with her flings; leaving constant screaming matches in her wake left her ears ringing with a headache. So when she essentially did the same to you (under different circumstances) Seviks assumed the same would be with you. Yet, to her surprise you stayed. She never understood how a gentle love found her. She spends her restless nights looking at the silhouette of your face, wondering how and why you chose her. Her whole life has been filled with loss and pain, gentleness is not something she has ever experienced.

“Sevika, take her and go!” Jinx cries as she tosses Isha’s small and frail body into Sevika’s muscular one.

Her eyebrows knit together as her body moves before her brain thinks. She must’ve frozen at the sight of the large beast slaughtering several Enforcers. With no second thought, her body is sprinting as fast as she can. The young girl in her arm (that she has started to grow fond of) lets out a series of cries as she tries to wiggle out of her protective grasp. Her cries drive Sevika to find a way out of the prison. The whimpers of the mute girl bore into her brain as memories of her as a young child resurface. The tears dripping onto her bicep keep her moving.

Sevika is unable to produce words to the young girl. She curses as she knows that the words and emotions were more of your thing. Sevika wants to comfort her and tell her that Jinx will be okay, but even she doesn’t know that for sure.

So, she tries to think of things you would do to keep Isha happy. How your gentle presence allowed for the orphan girl to have a liking to you. She tries to caress her head the way you’ve done when putting her to sleep, but the lack of another arm leaves it more difficult. The best thing she can do is ensure the girl's safety. Sevika shakes her head and digs deep in her bones for extra fuel. Her body aches and has been aching extra hard these past days, but giving up is not an option. So, she thinks of anything but the carnage she just bore witness to and the heaviness of her legs slapping against the harsh concrete. Images of rare late mornings with you start playing in her mind. The sleepy cuddles with you raking your fingers through her hair and caressing her cheek play like a bitter sweet movie. The face you made when she came home with Jinx and Isha follows next. The softness that overcame your features when Isha peaked from behind Jinx’s leg left a feeling in Sevika’s chest that she never felt before. Warmth radiated through her heart like turning on a heater on the first day of winter.These thoughts carried her from topside to your shared home in Zaun.

The heavy footfalls outside of your humble apartment left your blood fall chill. Flashbacks to when Sevika came back from nearly dying left your heart beat pumping triple time. The door flings open to see a disheveled Sevika carrying an almost identical disheveled Isha. Your heart sinks as you piece what most likely had happened.

“Baby?” Your voice cracks as you walk closer to assess damages.

Sevika tries to hold on for you and for Isha, but knows if she speaks, tears will come. So she resorts to grunting. She hands Isha over to you and walks to the bathroom. You gape at her for a moment before springing to action. It isn’t until you feed, bathe, and clothe the young girl until you see Sevika step out of the room. You take that as a sign that she is ready to speak and you carry the young girl to the couch. Isha is knocked out at this point, you assume the combination of her crying and all that just went on really worn her out. You give the girl one last rub on the back and leave her with a kiss to the forehead.

You pass the kitchen to see the plate that you had left for Sevika to have been gone and in the sink ready to be cleaned. A small smile adorns your face as you are grateful for the fact that she was able to eat. You grab two glasses and fill them with water for you to bring to your shared bedroom.

You gently knock on the door before opening to see Sevika staring out the window. You make your way over to her side of the bed and rest the glasses of water on the nightstand. She doesn't even notice your presence until a small ‘clink’ of the glasses takes her out of her trance.

“Baby, what happened?” You take a seat right next to your lover, raking your fingertips up and down her spine. You can feel just how tense her whole body is as she sits rigid like a statue.

A shaky sigh is let out from Sevika as her eye contact remains looking at the darkness outside. The two of you just sit in silence for a bit until Sevika is able to start from the beginning. She lets you know just how terrified she actually felt at that time, she lets you know just how weak she felt without her arm, and she lets you know how you and Isha were the only things keeping her going. She lets you know how you were her north star and how without you, she would have just given up.

“I don’t even know what I am doing anymore, babe.” A stray tear finds its way down her cheek.

“All I ever do is fight and I just don’t know how much more I have in me. I'm tired…I am so tired.” More tears silently flow against your lover's cheek, breaking your heart at the sight. You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears she was too lazy to do herself.

Tiny cracks in your heart open like bullet wounds at her admission of her thoughts. You’ve known this to be true for a long time, yet being the protector that she is, Sevika never opened up to you about it. It is now time for you to put your strong face on and pick her up when she’s low, just like how she’s done for everyone else her entire life. You turn her face to look at yours, your tender hand contrasting her firm jaw. Sevika is reluctant to show you her brokenness, but she is just too tired to care at this point. Her eyes look past yours, darting around the room to find anywhere but your eyes.

“Look at me, honey.” You caress her cheek in hopes to coax her out of her mental prison. Your patience knows no bounds and that makes Sevika feel things she can’t even start to comprehend alone.

Her eyes trail to your own, swimming with emotion. She sees her future in your eyes and it scares her. You give her an encouraging smile and she feels her walls cracking.

“I- You’ve made me realize the things that I wish I could have and it scares me. I had nothing to lose for so long, and now I have so much on the line.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Seeing the way you’ve completely changed my life confuses me. I know I don’t deserve a life that you are making me dream of.” Your eyes go wide at her confession to you.

“I never gave myself the opportunity to even imagine a world where I’m not alone, you know? But that day I came home to you after the explosion…It confused me. You have been the only constant in my life and I guess it just really hit today.” She nuzzles her face into your palm as you kiss the top of her head.

“Baby, you it hurts me to know that you can’t see just how much you deserve.” You lean in so that both of your foreheads are touching. Your eyes never leave her puppy dog grays.

“Because you know I am with you until the end. You are it for me Sev, you hear me? Whatever it takes.” You can barely get out the last of your words before Sevika is kissing you with all of the energy she has left. She may not be the best with her words, but she needs you to understand just exactly how you make her feel.

The kiss deepens as tears shed freely between the pair of you. Your bodies pressing close to one another, trying to engulf each other to become one. It gets to a point where Sevika has to pull away to catch her breath, but she doesn’t let you go too far. She stares at you in silence, taking in every aspect of your being.

“I’m terrified because you make me want those things. Having Isha here and seeing how you take care of her…” Sevika turns her head in slight embarrassment.

A huge smile adorns your face as you try and not scare her from opening up.

“Do you mean?” You whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d jinx (no pun intended) yourself.

Sevika’s face is hot with awkwardness at her vulnerability. She hasn’t spoken these words aloud to anyone, especially yourself.

“I want to keep waking up to you and Isha making breakfast. I want to keep teaching her how to tinker and fix things. I want to come home from work to see you both dancing in the living room. I want to grow old with you, baby. Seeing just how quick all of that could have went away, Gods that fucked me up.” She uses her hand to tug her hair away from her eyes.

“You were the only thing on my mind. I had to keep going for you and Isha.”

And now it is your turn to start crying. Your tears freely fall for the love of your life. The privilege you have had to see Sevika grow into the woman who is sitting in front of you.

“I want all of that with you, are you kidding me? You’re the woman of my dreams babe. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” You laugh teary eyed and smile at the smirk your lover returns.

The two of you share quite giggles as you both crawl into bed. The day is finally settling and Sevika is definitely feeling its effects. You hold her in your arms and try to burn this into your memory forever.

“So…you wanna be Mama Sev, huh?” You tease and laugh at her body going rigid.

Taglist:

@ab2ysw1fe

@queenabrahel

@queenabrahel 

@caicreations

@caicreations

@arevik2345

@munsonsfairy

@moonlightnumbsthepainifeel

@sevikellsss

@whoreshores

@archangeldyke-all

[no-144444]

the grid: wedding shenanigans

Day 14 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Oscar Piastri: driving off into the sunset (literally) 

The entire day was so special, it was a small service with just family and friends where you’d flown everyone out to their beach house. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and you were getting married. You looked stunning in your dress, and everyone cried as you came down the aisle, but no one more than Oscar. He looked at you with all the love and affection in the world and as you finally reached the top of the aisle, pressed a small kiss to your cheek whispering an ‘i love you’ much to the dismay of your officiant. 

The day went on with lunch, some pictures, and finally the dancing, and as the sun set, you grabbed your suitcases and grabbed the keys to his pickup, driving off into the sunset for your honeymoon in the Outback, southern Australia, and then onto New Zealand. 

He glanced over at you as he drove, the setting sun giving you a special glow as you looked at the ring on your finger. He slowly pulled over to the side of the road, wanting to gaze up at the stars that were just beginning to show. You two sat in the back of the pickup with a blanket over the top of you. You cuddled into his side and smiled. 

“How does it feel, Mrs. Piastri?” he whispered, staring up at the stars. 

You beamed. “It feels fucking amazing to be your wife,” you pressed a kiss to the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders. “How does it feel for you?”

He groaned, a bright smile on his face. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted has come true,” he almost cringed at himself, knowing how corny he sounds. 

But you just nodded and smiled, perfectly contempt. 

You two really were made for each other. Oscar stared up at the sky as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, before he started driving again after lying you down in the passenger seat, he thanked his lucky stars for giving him you. 

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Lando Norris: sneaking off in the middle of the party

You felt the adrenaline rush through you as he led you down yet another long corridor. He was giggling the whole way, as were you, his hand held tightly around yours. The day had been wonderful, you’d gotten married in Sibton Park Estate, a beautiful country house with all the charm of a castle. You felt like a princess as you walked down the aisle, smiling brightly at Lando, who shed a tear or two, but mostly smiled and laughed out of nervousness. He had to stop his vows twice because he started laughing, and once because he started crying. Your vows made him bawl, having to give him a few minutes break before continuing. But god, had it been a tiring day. All day you were on your feet, away from your husband talking to guest after guest, seeing him on the dance floor for your first dance, then immediately being pulled away. It was jarring, even Max commented on it, saying. “You two are usually so all over each other, today I’ve barely seen you two interact outside of genuinely saying your vows!”

Safe to say you missed each other. 

Somehow, he pushed a door open that brought you to a drawing room that overlooked the entire outdoor party and you smiled as you watched your friends and family let loose. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your neck. 

“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” he grinned like a schoolboy. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”

You chuckled. “I love you so much,” you sighed. “Today was perfect.”

He nodded. “So perfect. Best day of my life.”

“Not your first win?” 

He pulled his ‘sassy face’, as you called it. “Fuck no. This is the best day of my life, hands down.”

You looked at him sceptically. “I wouldn’t be offended-” “My word, I got to marry the most caring, lovely, kind, smart, incredible, stunning, gorgeous, loyal, gentle, hilarious, most wonderful woman in the world and call her my wife. She’s wearing my ring on her finger, she’s kissing my lips, and she’s sleeping in my bed. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will die on that hill, alright?”

You chuckled. “Alright,” you turned around and kissed him, softer than you did when you’d been pronounced as married. 

“I fucking adore you,” he whispered. 

Perfect moment on a perfect day. 

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Lewis Hamilton: anxiety before the ceremony 

You paced back and forth in your dressing room, internally freaking out. You knew you loved Lewis, more than anything you loved Lewis. Though today was just proving… terrifying. Everyone’s eyes on you, everyone talking to you, everyone trying to be around you. Hellish experience, and it was only 1pm. 

There was a knock at the door. “Baby?” It was Lewis’s voice, and everything felt ok again for a split second, then he started to try and open the door. You flung yourself against it with a thud and he chuckled. “Are we really believing in the superstitions?”

“Yes!” you stressed. “Why are you here?” “Because someone told me my soon-to-be wife is freaking out a little bit.”

You could hear the smile on his lips. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. "It's ok."

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank fuck,” you chuckled feeling the tension in your shoulders lessen. He poked his hand through the cracked door which you took and squeezed.

“Look baby, we’ve got this. Today is scary and nerve wracking, but it’s alright. I’ll be beside you all day, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok.” 

Maybe you could do this. Lewis would be there, standing at the end of that aisle with his regular goofy smile and big heart. Lewis would be standing beside you all day. Lewis loved you. 

“Ok,” you breathed out again. 

“I’ll see you on the altar then?” he smiled. 

“I’ll be the one wearing white,” you smiled. 

All that anxiety was replaced by excitement. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

George Russell: quiet morning after the wedding 

You laid in bed beside him, utterly spent from the day. It started at 9am and went until about 3am, then those 2 extra hours of ‘newly-wedded activities’  made you sleep in until about 12pm. You woke up with George’s arms around you, the sunlight coming in from the gorgeous day outside. The sun was shining in Greece, and you were extremely excited to have George to yourself for 3 whole weeks of good food, good wine, good sex, and him being your husband. 

“Morning,” he groaned, burying his head further into his pillow. “I think Benjy got alcohol poisoning last night.”

“Morning sunshine,” you teased. “Also, I don’t think your brother drank that much last night, but I’ll shoot him a text anyway.”

“We should probably get up,” he huffed, you chuckled. 

“We could,” you nodded, climbing on top of him and pulling his head away from the pillow. “Or, we could just stay here all day and only resurface for water and food?”

He smirked. “Insatiable much?”

“Sorry, I just have a really sexy husband,” you smirked, flashing your ring. He groaned and pulled you in for yet another kiss.

You didn’t leave the bed for a good while. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Alex Albon: nothing goes right

You had planned the most beautiful wedding, you’d spent months refining everything, making sure it would be perfect, mostly because you knew it had to be, or else you’d be judged. Your parents would judge you, your family would judge you, the world would judge you. 

But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t control the weather. You had planned the perfect beach wedding, flew everyone out, spent the last 3 days making sure everyone was comfortable, and when you woke up, you woke up to pissing rain and your caterers cancelling. Being the over-thinker you are, you already had another catering place on speed dial, and you sorted out any other problem that came your way. You moved the weeking to an indoor venue, you dealt with all of your guests' complaints, you listened to the moanings and bitchings of your judgemental mother, all while getting ready for your special day. 

It pissed rain as Alex stood at the end of the aisle, soaking wet in the humid Thai rain, but smiling all the same. That’s when you realised that was all that mattered. You and Alex. 

"You look beautiful," he whispered when you finally reached the end of the aisle.

You smiled. "Beautiful drenched?"

"Beautiful always."

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Daniel Riccardo: his vows  You stood at the top of the altar, the months and months of planning came down to this moment. Daniel, his bright smile, standing there in front of you. Shit, he was beautiful. 

You’d already said your vows, he smiled his way through them while you cried, and now it was his turn. 

He looked down at the little book in his hands and took a long shaky breath. “I love you,” he smiled. “More than anything in this entire world, I love you. I love how deeply and truly you care about things, I love your humour, I love your smile, I love your ability to somehow rail me in,” the crowd laughed at that as you wiped tears from your eyes. “I love the way you always wave at kids passing by, I love the way you support and encourage the people around you, I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh,” he looked up to see you laughing, and somehow, his grin got wider. “Like you’re doing now. I love coming home to you, I love waking up with you beside me, I love my life, because you’re in it. You’ve stayed with me through some of my darkest times, and loved me the same as you do through my brightest. From our first date to our dying day, I’ve loved you, and I’ll continue to love you. I never thought I’d believe in Divine intervention, but something tells me that you were meant to find me in this lifetime, and all the ones before it, and after. You make me better, you challenge me in the best ways, you make me laugh and cry, you make me calm and comfortable. You make me fucking happy. I never knew I’d find someone as incredible and wonderful as you, but trust me when I say I’ll never let you go. You’re my person, baby, and you’re all I need.” 

Did he have to be so perfect? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Charles LeClerc: the engagement  Charles sat in the restaurant, his mind far away from you in front of him. He had to somehow make you want to go down to the beach, somehow make you -

“Charles I know you’re breaking up with me tonight so just get it over with, alright?” You sighed. It had been months of him being distant and awkward. Months of him being absent even when he was right in front of you, months of him being secretive and guarded. You were done.

It sucked because you loved him, but he didn’t love you anymore, at least, that’s what you thought. 

He looked at you horrified. He snapped out of his shock and stared at you. “What?”

“Please just get it over with Charles, I get it you don’t-“

“No! No! You don’t get ‘it’, please just hear me out?” He was clearly causing a scene, but he didn’t seem to care. If it was between not losing you and not making a scene, he was choosing to make a scene every single time. 

“Charles!” You scolded. “Keep your voice down!” 

He nodded. “Just… wait until after dinner, alright? Please?” 

You scoffed. “You seriously care that little about my time? Charles, stop stringing me along! It’s been a year and a half of wasted time now.”

“Wasted?” He questioned. 

“You don’t love me anymore, it’s fine! I get it. Just… let me leave with a piece of my dignity still intact, alright?”

“Please my love, just wait until after dinner,” he asked, checking his watch. 

“Fuck you Charles,” you sighed, getting up to leave.

It was now or never. 

“Marry me!” He exclaimed as the restaurant went quiet. You turned back to face him with a shocked expression. He was down on one knee with the most beautiful ring in a little red box in his hands. 

“Charles…?”

“Please let me speak. I know I have been distant lately, but I just knew I would end up spoiling the surprise. You know how bad I am at lying, especially to you. I’m sorry, my love, please don’t walk out on us like this. I love you. More than anything, I love you. I want to be with you forever.”

You nodded silently, tears flowing as you stood there, shocked. You thought this was a break-up dinner, but really, it was the start of the rest of your lives. 

Did you just do a reverse Elle Woods? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Max Verstappen: family drama at the wedding 

Of course, knowing Jos, you knew there would be drama at the wedding. It was inevitable. Your father hated Jos and your family hated him too. They couldn’t understand why Max’s father could be such a monster to such a sweet man. To be honest, you didn’t understand either. Max was the most caring and gentle man you’d ever known, and you honestly didn’t understand how he’d become the man he was with the absolute asshole of a father he had. 

“I’m sorry,” Max whispered in your ear as you both changed for the ceremony. Jos had started a fight with your dad about walking you down the aisle that  had set the whole ceremony back by about 40 minutes. Max was so embarrassed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You just smiled, ever the understanding saint, in his eyes. “Max, do you think I give a shit about how we get married?”

He nodded. 

“I don’t. It could’ve been in a factory, a pig stye, a fucking metal concert, I don’t care. Tonight, when we go to bed and wake up tomorrow, we will wake up as husband and wife. That’s what I care about. I care that I’m your wife, and you’re my husband. I care about you.” He teared up. “You’re sure?”

“About you?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Max would always have you, you'd always have him. That was the important thing.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[kingkatsuki]

Old man Bakugou (who isn’t even that old, but god I want him)

Warnings: 18+, retired!Pro-Hero Dynamight, Bakugou is 50, reader is like half his age or more or less idc but Bakugou is older.

Bakugou retires at fifty. It’s much younger than a lot of other heroes that have paved the way for him, and yet he’s accomplished so much that it’s time for him to step aside for the future Pros. The ones that still have so much drive and energy, and are ready to conquer their dreams just like he was.

It gives up a place in the top five rankings for another younger, keen Pro-Hero to take his place. But of course Dynamight is still popular, and he’s still got a loyal fan base that continue to adore him even into his retirement.

Bakugou is still recognised when he goes out to restaurants and coffee shops, full of people trying to grab his autograph or share stories of how they grew up with him and watched him reach number one.

And then there’s you— he meets you one night at a bar when he’s nursing a beer, trying to adjust to having a free schedule instead of protecting the city. And he can’t help but notice the way your eyes glisten when you notice him, leaning against the bar beside his stool as you tilt your head inquisitively.

“No way, you’re Dynamight? My mom used to love you.”

And once again Bakugou is reminded of just how old he is, his blond hair now mixed with wisps of silver, the thick stubble that frames his jaw well on its way to being a beard, his muscular chest now curved with soft pudge and blond hairs and his back aches as he sits on the barstool.

“She had the biggest crush on you when she was younger,” You take a seat beside him as you sip at your own drink, “Had posters and figures up of you and everything.”

Bakugou doesn’t know how it happened— or why a pretty young thing like you wants anything to do with him. He’s gotta be twice your age, maybe more— but the casual conversation continues and you’re practically leaning into him now, pretty eyes glazed over as you stare down at his lips.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck an old man,” You tease, but you should be careful what you wish for, “Can you even still get it up?”

Bakugou reckons he should have you over his knee for that comment alone, but that’s all it takes for him to have his beer bottle slamming down onto the bar as he grabs you by the wrist.

Barely ten minutes later Bakugou has your knees pushed up to your chest inside the dingy dive bar bathroom. Your knickers bunched around them to keep your thighs together as he rams his thick, hard cock inside your tight cunt. The ferocity of his thrusts unlike anything you’ve felt before and you’re certain you can feel him in your lungs. Your naive hole squelches around him, your essence leaking out of you and soaking his heavy balls as the only words that leave your lips now are incoherent babbles. Your hands cling to him for some semblance of reality, painted nails leaving crescent-shaped moons in his forearms. Your grip rough enough to break his skin and join the multiude of scars that already marr his body.

Your head knocks against the mirror with each cant of his hips but you could care less. The pleasure surging through your veins has your mind hazy, his hulking body practically folds you in two as he looms over you, burying his cock inside you to the hilt as you feel so full.

You’re positive you look debauched. Your pretty lipstick ruined as it’s smeared across your lips and cheeks, certain you’re drooling down your chin as he fucks you within an inch of your life. It’s nothing like the inept men around your own age you’d been with before. With age comes experience, and you’re certain you see heaven when a calloused thumb slips between your bodies to press against your puffy clit.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” He groans, “This old man’s gonna have you gushin’ all over his cock.”

[asidian]

Alright. It is time. Buckle up.

Why you should be watching Dead Boy Detectives: the targeted-specifically-at my-readers edition.

Meet the leads, our two ghost boys:

Edwin Payne: Fussy, repressed intellectual type from the Edwardian era. Exceedingly gay for his partner and best friend. Tortured in hell for seventy years on a technicality because he was ritually sacrificed as a prank gone wrong. Endearingly awful at people and dealing with emotions or his own wants.

Charles Rowland: Impulsive, people-pleasing wildcard from the 80s. Heart eyes 24/7 at his best friend but has zero self-awareness. Badly abused by his asshole of a father. Beaten to death because he saved a kid from bullies. Endearingly awful at sorting his own emotions or talking about his problems.

Some highlights:

/slaps hood you can fit so much trauma in these two

Both leads get sobbing breakdowns that happen on screen. The actors are incredible at crying

Both leads get much-needed hugs

The absolute devotion between the two of them. The shared history that lives in their dialogue and how they work together like people who have been each other's Most Important Person for literal decades

I mean, I'm talking in-canon Orpheus and Eurydice reference level of devotion here

The protective way Charles puts himself physically between Edwin and damn near every threat in the show

They're just fun together. Their interactions and banter and how they work as a team is a delight

Their shared plot arc literally involves them learning to talk to each other and communicate more so that they can be there for one another about their respective issues

The symbolism. God. They are metaphorically and literally one another's light in the darkness

But what about stuff that isn't the main duo? Just wait, there's more:

This show is unabashedly, unapologetically queer. It's there in the text and the subtext. The whole show lives and breathes it

So many good, complex, well-written female characters. The Bechdel test gets blown straight out of the water in episode one and they never look back. Headstrong amnesiac psychic learning to be a better person! Quirky meta commentary matchmaker! Cynical lesbian butcher! Delightfully sadistic witch! They are all amazing.

[audience voice] But I'm here for the hurt/comfort. How can I whump ghosts? Worry not, my friends. Canon has you covered. Not only are there ways, there are ways that happen on-screen. The hurt/comfort and rescue are also on-screen. Yes, it is amazing

Absolute chaos, really cool supernatural cases and creatures, a surprising amount of humor, charming writing, and a cast that absolutely nails it on the acting and chemistry

There is an extremely suggestive trickster type who is also the king of cats. He's a cat in human form. He hits on Edwin nonstop. Charles gets blisteringly jealous

All of the leads have well-thought-through, fully developed, emotional character arcs. They're all messy and flawed and sometimes lash out in their pain, but at turns can be incredibly supportive and kind and loyal

A character who is a crow who is also a boy, who is tortured by his witch/creator and also is crushing hard on one of the leads

There are so many incredible details in the setting, costume choices, prop decisions, etc. that you only catch after you know what it's laying the groundwork for. The level of care that went into this show is phenomenal

It's only eight episodes. The time investment barrier to entry could not possibly be lower

Anyway, tl;dr, if any of this sounds appealing to you, you should give this show a watch.

Dead Boy Detectives is well worth your time. It's easily my favorite show in years.

[mikashisus]

PARTNERS IN CRIME!

SYNOPSIS: soul eater au with genshin characters part one!!

PAIRING: kinich, venti, yelan, nilou x gn!reader

warnings: slight angst, mentions of death

notes: yall one of my irls finally got me to watch soul eater and it gave me so many ideas. i literally started the show back in june but i got so busy that i just.. never continued watching it.. 😭 until my friend invited me over to watch some episodes LMAO. there’ll be a part two to this cause i have more ideas with more characters teehee. anyw enjoy!!

KINICH

• the two of you became partners on a whim. your last partner had been tragically killed in battle and you were in the market for a new one. though, you were pretty standoffish towards everyone because you were grieving

• kinich was also looking for a partner around the same time and happened upon you after a meeting with lord death. you looked pretty worse for wear and he offered his shoulder for you to cry on. without thinking, he offered to be your new partner, and you agreed

• training together for the first time was a shit show, and your best friend, mualani, sat there laughing her ass off the entire time. you kept yelling at her to go find her meister and leave you and kinich alone so you could focus

• you had even more trouble adapting because kinich’s weapon form was a greatsword and your last weapon had been a gun. it was a huge change that required you to workout and build up muscle in order to properly wield him

• after a month or so, the two of you were able to finally build up your teamwork and trust. you spent a lot of time together in and out of classes to get to know each other better and form a bond. you easily formed an attachment to him, but he was a bit more reluctant due to his introverted personality

• you were shocked at how close you became in such a short period of time. before you knew it, you were taking on missions again and working on your soul resonance

• due to losing your last partner, you now had an irrational fear of losing kinich, which caused a lot of problems in battle. instead of letting him do his duty and protect his meister, you put yourself between him and the enemy and sacrificed your life to protect him. this habit eventually caused a huge fight between the two of you, with kinich sputtering out a confession

• shocked, you were left to mull over everything until you couldn’t take being away from him any longer and went to apologize. he also apologized for raising his voice, and you had a heart to heart talk that left a confession of your own slipping out

• you asked if he could forgive you, and he said he would, but only if you stopped taking the heat and let him actually do his job. reluctantly, you did, because you couldn’t say no to him when you loved him so much

VENTI

• the two of you had been long time partners, or “partners in crime” as he liked to call it. you were childhood friends turned lovers. he was your loyal weapon, and to him, you were his trusted meister

• you got on like oil and water, but you also couldn’t be more similar. opposites attract, after all. everyone always told you that you two were the most compatible weapon and meister ever. also the strongest… literal power couple

• you were able to collect 99 souls and a witch soul in no time together. together, your strength rivaled gods. venti himself was on par with a god, even if his weapon form was only that of a musical instrument

• on weekends, you spent your time training and venti would watch you from the sidelines, simply admiring you. you’d tell him to join you, which would always result in him asking for kisses in return if he did. every time, you’d say yes, because you just couldn’t say no

• whenever someone asked how you two got together, venti would come up with something different on the spot. once, he said that he was majorly attracted to you while watching you fight with another weapon in battle, and afterwards, went up to you asking to be your weapon instead and you dramatically threw away your last partner to become partners with him

• another time, he said that he dropped his uncle’s glass of wine on you while he was drunk and you ended up taking care of him for the night, which led to him professing his undying love for you. safe to say, no one actually knows the true story

• the true story of how you two got together was actually a bit more tragic. he sacrificed himself for you when you were teenagers. during your battle to collect a witch's soul, venti heroically threw himself in front of you to protect you and he was almost killed. in a fit of rage, you completely obliterated the witch and rushed over to your injured best friend. he played the situation off by making a few jokes, though they did nothing to stop your crying. thinking he was going to die, he confessed to you before you fed him the witch’s soul

• when he came to and was all healed up, you returned his sentiments. from then on, your bond grew stronger and served as an example for younger generations

YELAN

• being yelan’s weapon was rough work. you complained that she overworked you during training and you always seemed to have a quip ready on your tongue during battle

• never a dull moment between the two of you, as you were always the reckless type, and she tried her best to reel you in. after years of working together, your bond was exceptionally strong

• she teaches at DWMA, you think it’s hot

• you have an odd job outside of being a weapon. you work part-time as a tailor’s assistant

• you like to make dresses for her and she absolutely adores them, though she never admits it because she hates (not really) seeing that smug look on your face. it’s okay though, she’ll get you back by kissing you and laugh at your stunned expression

• you spend more time arguing with her than actually helping her fight enemies. she hates it, as she just likes to get things over and done with— especially since she’s an assassin

• your personalities are wildly different, but it makes you two all the more compatible

• at the end of the day, you make a great team and you have a bond that could never be severed. you’d sacrifice your life for her no matter what, even though you had full faith and trust in her that she could handle herself

NILOU

• she was more on the timid side than you. when you first met, your explosive personality made her a bit scared of you. it took a bit of time for her to warm up to you and gain the courage to actually say something

• you were the one who took the first step and approached her first. when you did, you accidentally scared her off, which caused you to sulk for a while. you just thought she was pretty and wanted to say so..

• after talking with her friends, dehya and dunyarzad, she went on a mission to find you and apologize for the way she acted. when she did find you, you were overlooking the city and sat in complete silence. she didn’t want to interrupt, but you already knew she was there

• she apologized profusely (after gaining the courage to sit down beside you) and the two of you talked for a long while. right before she was about to go home, she told you she was looking for a partner and would love for you to be hers. that was what set everything in motion, and you pledged to protect her as best you could

• she was tough for someone who looked very shy. she moved with a grace and elegance that entranced you, and you found yourself wanting to learn how to dance as well as she could. she immediately offered to teach you, and most of the time you spent bonding together was through dance lessons

• in turn, you taught her how to wield a sword better. the close proximity was a bit of a distraction for you both (in both dancing and sword training). soon, you found yourself wishing to be by her side like that forever

notes: shoutout to the stellaronhvnters disc for suggesting the last two characters. baizhu was also suggested, but he gives me the ick, so i didn’t include him LOL 😭 i have a discord server! it’s nice and cozy there, feel free to join! <3

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[kombuuuu]

Omg I just saw that u write for atsv!! So I was wondering if u could do one with a female reader x hobie where the readers quite reserved to everyone in public (maybe she’d been a spidey longer so she’s lost more people? Idk why she’d be reserved bc I cannot write for shot lmao) and people think she’s super cold but then they like?? Walk in, and she’s like open and warm with Hobie (it doesn’t matter if she’s loud or not) and they kinda just look at the scene in shock like wtf and Pav is sort of smug bc he knew all along and then it comes out that they’re dating?

It Sounds Nice coming from You.

Hobie Brown x Fem!Spidey Reader

“I totally called it.” “Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

kisses him cause he my bf (-compulsive liar)

People whispered about you. Spider people and the general public alike. Your city spreading gossip, rumours and misinformation to try and figure out who you were, but that was a Spiderwoman affair, every one of them dealt with it.

But having people same as you talk in hushed tones, glancing at you as you walked past. That’s a new kind of feeling.

The Spider Society didn’t exactly favour you, per se. There was nothing inherently wrong with you either, so no reason to get rid of you. But you were just so silent. No one knew a thing about you.

You mostly kept to yourself around base, never really trying too hard to make friends, you were well known enough not to be questioned. A loyal fighter was what you were recognised for, not your personality, your abilities.

There were still some people that managed to creep their way in though, their hearts so full of love, you didn’t know how to refuse them.

So you conceded. You let them in, and begged to any deity that would listen not to take them from you.

—

Hobie knew you as someone who could listen. Who understood him rather than challenged his beliefs. Not that he had any, but that was the point.

Your lack of input made him feel accepted in going on tangents of why he thought the way he did. And you just sat, and listened. A kind heart and an open mind.

Which eventually led to him falling for that kind heart. Tripping over his own feet to please your silent self. To get those small smiles or amused huffs out of you.

The occasional time you spoke to him, under hushed breaths and fond tones. God, he couldn’t take it.

The way your accent forms over each and every word, how your voice was akin to honey malt, sweet and addicting. Only giving him small doses, but he was the only one who got those doses. Only him, and you, and the words you spoke or times you listened.

He knows that people thought you were cold, or unloving. And maybe you were at first, maybe he thought you were. But he figured you out fast. Where you couldn’t talk, you could touch. Brushing your hands over his arm to get his attention. Linking your hand through his and dragging him away from people you don’t want to be near, he would smile down at you and follow along like a lost puppy. How your brows would crease a certain way, or nose would scrunch a little when you found distaste in things. He was a fool for you.

Where you lacked in verbal communication, you strived in every other category. So when some Spider-people decided to come to him, urging him for answers about you.

Telling him that he wasn’t sure you even wanted to be here—, Hobie would shut down the conversation quicker than thought to be possible. Giving a simple “She’s just quiet.”, and ditching the moment the words are out of his mouth.

It’d worked—, for a while. Ignoring the demeaning or conspiratorial comments made about you by spider-people a-kind. But eventually it got the better of him. Having him borderline snarl at the people who would talk shit right in front of his, or your, face.

“She’s silent, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. Peter 48 said she was like that ‘cause she killed her parents, made ‘er real quiet.”

“Jesus christ. Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s a freak.”

“Dude—“ One of the two spiders, the first one, turned to Hobie. Spider-senses ringing. Hobie stated back at them, deadpan and unblinking. “Don’t.”

The younger spider paled, quickly trying to backtrack.

“Hey— Hobie. I— Didn’t mean it. Was just repeating what I heard, ykno—“

“Cut it, mate.”

He squeaked, head tilting down in respect, the other spider following.

“Stop spreading shit rumours like ‘at. It ain’t fun when you’re the subject. ‘S it?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

Hobie walked past them smoothly, brushing shoulders with the kid just to scare him a little more. When he was far enough away, he heard them start to whisper to one another. “Fuck man, that was close. He could tell Miguel, and then we’d be out.”

“Jesus..”

He felt rather accomplished that day.

—

It was days later where you were brought up around him again. He’d been texting you, the upper half of his body hanging from Miguel’s platform, his wicks shifting every time he moved.

Miguel and Lyla were talking amongst themselves, clicking through holograms and sorting things out for potential anomalies.

Jess, Pavitr and Gwen had walked into the room chatting, Pav and Gwen expressing their excitement rather loudly.

He glanced up at them from his phone, you were still typing.

immm gonna b homein ten just be patient >:(

I’m patient 🦑

u werent 2 seconds ago

I don’t subscribe to consistency.

Or this slandering talk

ur consistently lame

also why squid

I’m never lame. Also, he’s cute

hes not real

Don’t do this me

reeeeeal tasty tho

What is wrong with you.

numnnum crunchhhh crrcchhh numnum ( > _ <)

Inhumane.

mmmmmm yummyyyy

He can’t die, he’s immortal

The ‘Texting’ bubble popped up on his screen.

“Hey, Hobie!”

Pavitr was running up to him, looking from his lowered position below the elevated platform.

He slipped further down the platform, slumping slowly as he greeted Pavitr upside down.

“Pav, my guy!”

Pavitr bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wide at his friend.

“What’chu doing up there?”

His eyes darted to Miguel and Lyla, ending their conversation.

Smirking, he whispered to Hobie, “With the grump.”

Hobie snickered, gaining a disapproving look from Jess.

“Textin’ [Name].”

Just then, the next message from you showed.

immortal ??? how consistent of him to live

He grinned, typing back quickly while Pavitr eyed him knowingly.

He’s a squid, he’s more fluid than anything

ihu

terrivle joke

No, you don’t

And it was great

wtvr >:P

Hobie grabbed the ledge of the platform and swung down, landing softly in front of Pavitr and pocketed his phone.

“Glad ya ‘ere. Those two can’t keep it quiet, aye?” He said, pointing back towards Lyla and Miguel.

“They do argue very often.”

“Nah, Lyla don’t argue, mate. Just the hardass.”

Pavitr snorted and Hobie softly punched his stomach in jest, earning one from Pav to the chest, and starting a round of playful punching. Pavitr laughed as Hobie brought him into a headlock, scrunching his fist over the shorter man’s hair and rubbing it in.

They let up when they heard Lyla teasing Miguel for something again, giggling to each other at his expense.

He threw an arm over his fluffy haired friend and leaned his weight on him. Pav smiled up at him once more, brighter now. Before he could speak, Gwen’s voice echoed through the barren room.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.”

Hobie turned his head towards her, dropping himself off Pav and standing up straight again. Smiling at her as she reached him, and went in to hug her briefly. When they disconnected, he spoke again.

“Yeah—, No clue then, mini-punk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Neither big bad has said nothin’ to me yet.”

“Seriously, are we going to skip over that?”

“Maybe they’re waiting until [Name] is here!” Pavitr chimed in.

“What does mini-punk even mean!”

“Not exactly, Pavitr.”

Jess, who now was standing next to Miguel, spoke.

The trio turned to face the two elder spider-people.

“Huh?”

“We wanted to have a discussion with the three of you—.” Miguel put his hands on his hips, authority that Hobie only saw as a challenge emanating from his figure.

“—Away from [Name], she’s already been consulted.”

Hobies eyes narrowed, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something a lot less unfriendly, and a lot more cautious.

Jess caught wind of the younger man’s tense stature and shuffled forward a step, not unwilling to intervene.

“Nothing too bad, just—,” He paused for a moment, the dense light from the reflective floors making the contours of his face pop.

Hobie watched with batted breath, posture only slightly relaxing from the statement. The crease in his brows begging to be drawn, yet his pokerface was something to be beat.

“,—Addressing her.. lack of communication.”

A shiver raked down the brit’s body, physically restraining himself from chewing this man out with a rebuttal.

“Wha’ ‘bout it?”

His gruff voice was a stark indicator of his annoyance.

“Well, ignoring the rumours following her—,”

Hobie, the usually rather sensical man, was getting more agitated by the minute.

“,—We’ve noticed a certain independence that she holds. Something not many others do.”

The punk quirked a brow.

“So?” Gwen was the one to talk now.

“That doesn’t seem very serious, ‘f you ask me.” She laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Something Pavitr seemed a tad scared to do. There was a lot of competition in the air right now, he wasn’t very competitive.

“Exactly, it’s not.”

Jess cut in, seeing how terribly Miguel started this conversation made her cringe.

“It’s not—, but,” She shook her head, hair falling prettily with every move. “,Her ‘independence’, has been more akin to ‘lack of teamwork’. In some cases.”

Gwen started to speak again, her eyebrows furrowed, just as Hobies now were. He was right about brewing with offence.

“So!—,” Jess cut her off before she could begin.

“So there’s no need for her to have distractions anymore. From now on, she will not be going on team missions. Just solo’s.”

“Wha—! You’re cutting her off?!”

“Gwen, it’s not like that.”

“Like hell it isnt! She’s a part of us!”

“Doesn’t this mean she’s going to be in more danger?” Pavitr spoke up, concerned.

“No— well, not unless—,”

“Unless!? You’ve gotta’ be kidding!” Gwen choked out.

“And what does ‘consulted’ mean! Did she agree to this?!—“

They continued to argue, Gwen and Pavitr advocating for your teamwork skills while Miguel and Jess had made up their mind.

“No communication,” He pinched the bridge of his nose “,Fuck off.” Hobie scoffed under his breath, turning to leave and storming out.

The voices of Miguel, Jess and his friends following him through the portal to you.

—

“You agreed to this?”

lIts not like they’re wrong, I just hold you all back.”

He huffed, exasperated. Not only were you putting yourself in danger, you were doing it alone. And letting some guy who has a borderline vendetta against teens be the call for it.

“Now, you know that’s not tr—“

His stern voice was cut off by the frown on your face quivering. A due sign of you nearing to cry.

“Oh, shit— C’mon dollface, c’mere.”

He sat down on your shared bed, scooting against the headboard and bringing you into his lap. A soothing hand ran over your back as you tried to reel in your embarrassment.

“I really didn’t mean to agree.”

Hobie sighed, pushing your head into his neck and watching how the rings adorning his fingers rose goosebumps in their path. “I know, sweet’eart.”

And he did know, the moment that it had been a meeting addressed solely with just Jess and Miguel, he knew that Peter had been excluded for a reason. That Miles had been sent after an anomaly as an unknowing distraction for Peter to chase after. He knew those two intimidated you. And the fear of parental disappointment was something they used on you—, young, sweet you. That only ever got hurt because she didn’t want her problems to hurt others, or herself.

You had opened up to him once. Told him what everyone twisted when they whispered sickening words. A story unlike the rumours crowding your reputation.

How no, you hadn’t killed your parents, or siblings, or whatever messed up thing people claimed of you.

You told him how you hadn’t been bitten yet. How, when your family was killed, you hadn’t had any powers. So you couldn’t save them. And it wasn’t even canon. Nothing could’ve stopped them from dying, but it didn’t have to happen. And that was the guilt that weighed on you. How no matter the hardships your parents put you through, a kid neglected of attention. You still would rather die a million times for them to live once.

And it’s all “would”, and never “can”.

Other spider-people don’t have to live with the fact their parents died for nothing. Was what you said. A messed up thought, no doubt. And one you felt guilty for. But the sole continuer of this sorrow-filled silence. Which has worked well enough to protect you so far, why is Hobie one to break that?

Because you love him, you guess.

His hands slid further down your back, resting on the curve of your waist in his lap.

His breathing soothed yours. The shuddering breaths you had been giving to stop your tears, also stopped.

“You wanna talk about your day instead, luv?”

“Yeah, thank you Hobie.”

“Love when you say my name, Babydoll. So pretty and sweet like that.”

Wrapping your hands around his lithe waist, you hummed. Beginning your recount of the day in the honeyed, reserved tone you’d always held.

—

Around half an hour had passed with Gwen arguing against Miguel before Peter showed up, Moles in tow.

“What’s all this about?” His slippers flopped when he walked and the baby carrier strapped to his chest shifted every time a sleeping MayDay squirmed to get comfortable.

“This—, This asshole!”

“Gwen.” Jess chastised her.

Gwen ignored it, pointing at Miguel accusingly. “—Kicked [Name] off the team!”

“Not kicked.”

“You said she wasn’t going with us anymore.”

Miles looked offended by the prospect. “Why?”

“She’s not kicked, she’s simply better off solo.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault then!”

“Gwendolyne.”

“All of you, stop.”

Peters voice ended the bickering, having learnt since fatherhood exactly how to use said voice. “We are not sending an 18 year old on solo mission against anomalies.”

“Since when did you have a say—“

“Miguel. You’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let that happen. That’s a kid.”

“She’s an adult.”

“When it’s convenient to you.”

Miguel pinched his nose bridge, growling under his breath. Jess spared a glance at him before wincing and backing down from the conversation.

“She doesn’t talk to people.”

“I’m sure she does, just not to you.” Gwen cut in.

“Yeah, her and Hobie talk a lot.” Miles prepped up on his toes. Pavitr smiled and hummed an agreement.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Peter gave him another disapproving look. “Disregarding that. The fact you decided to not consult me on this decision is another reason that it’s not happening.”

“Consult? Like some council, please.” Miguel scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and turning to open a holographic tab.

“Yes, like some council. Someone’s gotta be the brains ‘round here.” The father joked, coddling MayDay as she cooed.

“I’m going to go inform [Name] the retraction of this decision.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oops too late, portals open.”

“Can I come with?” Miles jogged after Peter, hopping quickly through the portal, Peter, Gwen and Pavitr following. Not without Gwen flipping Miguel off as she went. “We’ll sort something out, she can go duos with Hobie.” Jess put a hand on his shoulder, watching as he stared off to where the portal had previously been with a sided expression before sighing.

“Yeah..”

“That went great.” Lyla dragged, popping up on Miguel’s shoulder.

“I’m a second away from shutting you off.”

The AI blew a raspberry at her companion, and disappeared.

—

He had went off on a tangent about some movie he saw, or song he’d heard. Hobie honestly couldn’t remember, he was too focused on you. The way your voice sounded, how open you were being with him when every now and then you would respond to him. The hearts in his eyes were probably from how heavy his own was beating. Staring at you like a sinner to a prophet.

You had moved down from his lap, now curled against his side, head leaning on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest. At some point, the movie you had been watching before Hobie showed up was unpaused, and serving as background noise for his quiet rambling.

Both of you pressed under a blanket to beat the cold, and the darkness outside your window being killed off by the lights strung across your room. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this cozy, this utterly comfortable.

Sparks of colour strung out of nowhere, neither of them really seeing it at first, up until it spat out Miles. He stumbled forward a little and went to greet you before taking on the scene. You and Hobie cuddled up on a bed, blanket wrapped around you both, fire going, people singing. He was exaggerating the last parts, but it felt necessary for something so unexpected.

“Hey—, guys.” The awkward teen managed, before Peter walked through the portal with the other two in tow.

“Woah, no mean to interrupt.”

Peter put his hands up in surrender. Hobie snorted, it wasn’t like you were incapable of affection, It just seems he was the only one who got it.

“I totally called it.”

“Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

He pouted, before giggling and waltzing over to sit next to the both of you. Flopping down on the bed and turning to watch the TV.

“Oh my god, I love this movie!”

“Favourite character?” You inquired. A collective raise of eyebrows was shown throughout the room.

Gwen shuffling over to sit down as well, a baffled look on her face.

“The horse.”

“Pff- Max?” Hobie snorted at Pav. Giving the still rather confused Miles - Peter duo a reassuring smile. And greeting Gwen with a fist bump, she smiled wearily at him before her smirk filled out and she punched his arm in congrats.

Pavitr nodded and laughed, gasping excitedly when the scene on the lake showed up. “Perfect timing.”

You glanced up at Hobie, Miles and Peter finding somewhere to sit as well, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled at you, bringing you in closer while Pavitr sat smug.

The air of confusion slowly dissipated into something accepting, none but Pavitr had really expected you to be so.. Open. But they came to find they didn’t exactly mind it.

—

Everyone had left by now, the knowledge that you didn’t have to go on dangerous missions alone anymore leaving Hobie satisfied and you comforted.

“You doin’ right, babe?”

“Yeah, Hobes.”

You gripped his shirt a tad tighter and yawned, eyes drifting more shut as the minutes ticked down. “Wanna go t’ bed?”

“We’re in bed, dummy.”

He shot you a playful look.

“Don’ ge’ smart with me, young lady.”

You smiled at him before he made the decision to shuffle you both down in bed to get comfortable, switching off the lights by the outlet. He moved back to you, letting his whole body rest near yours, and letting you initiate any contact wanted.

A leg wrapped around his, and your arm still picking the fabric of his shirt.

“Sleep, sweethear’.”

“Mhmmph.”

Hobies breathe lulled you to sleep, white noise against your racing thoughts. He watched you fall, your trust in him to keep you safe was enough to make a man weak. He smiled, looking out your shared window at the city life below.

No crime, no anomaly or misshaped villain could possibly drag him away from you.

—

BAMBAMBAM 🦑‼️

[bokutosbabe]

It's Nice to Have a 'Friend'

( soft launching with the haikyuu boys )

a / n — these are fun to make so i thought i'd do one for my favorite boys. find the blue lock version here !!

content — haikyuu characters x gn! reader, takes place during timeskip, fluff, tried to make it as gn! as possible, but the photos have women, lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — soft launching with the haikyuu boys <3

✿.���. “ sun sinks down, no curfew, ” .｡.✿

has a great following for being 'aesthetic' even though they rarely try. most things they post have photos of things they've done in the week like pictures of their food or them working.

their followers are used to aesthetic photo dumps with 10 photos each that have no rhyme or reason to them, so when they get online and see a post from their favorite account with only 3 photos and the caption

" my love " with the song 'my love mine all mine' by mitski attached? there was immediate reactions, some trying to find out who this mystery person is while others seemed to be happy with just these little snippets of the relationship.

theyluvmeee: OMG?? anyone know who this is??

↳ anon2001: it's a soft launch for a reason. that's like- common sense i fear.

they don't think of themselves as a 'content creator', they just like posting their photos. however, they did like how much strangers on the internet would stand up for them and your relationship.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ AKAASHI KEIJI, ennoshita chikara, ARAN OJIRO, daichi sawamura

has a decent amount of followers, mostly just people they'd known in high school and family, but there were a few hundred people who followed for the cute quotes that they would post before one of their chaotic photo dumps.

their usual feed was filled with the first picture being a quote that really made you think and then the craziest pictures. them face down in a puddle after a night out? yep it's there. pictures of them at a scenic dog park? also there

people began following them for the stark contrast that showed in every post they made, but when they posted something with no quote and it was a soft launch? their fans had immediately blown up the comments.

volleyballfreak: A SOFT LAUNCH? with who? omg.

and they had replied to almost every comment asking just who you were with...

' my lover <3 '

oh he was down bad.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, aone takanobu, SUGAWARA KOSHI, osamu miya, NISHINOYA YUU, kita shinsuke, TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

so so so sooo many followers (that came with being a professional volleyball player you supposed) many people who didn't even enjoy volleyball followed them because of the silly stuff they posted.

their fans watched their stories where they would post memes and such, something that many pros didn't do on the daily...because they had a reputation to upkeep. to be fair, all of their followers never knew them to be the brightest, so nothing they posted caused up a stir.

until they posted photos they took with, what was supposed to be, some mystery person with the caption ' a soft launch on MY minecraft server ? '

and it would have been an AMAZING soft launch...if they didn't tag your PERSONAL ACCOUNT on every. single. picture.

you weren't a pro volleyball player, you weren't an actor, you weren't even a manager, nope! you were just some normal person who lives an everyday normal life.

they had the spirit, just not the execution, but that's why their fans (and you) loved them <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･BOKUTO KOTARO, atsumu miya, HINATA SHOYO, KANJI KOGANEGAWA

didn't get a chance to soft launch you before the paparazzi put out the tabloids of the both of you. the titles always saying something like "STAR VOLLEYBALL PLAYER WITH MYSTERY LOVER??"

the article was posted ten times over on every single social media platform there was, with many people with many different reactions replying to it

MSBYmomma: ur joking. he's literally mine

goofgoob: thank god one person on this team is in a loyal relationship.

the two of you hadn't even gotten the chance to open your own social medias before hundreds of texts invaded both of your phones. only from the people who knew of your relationship and were worried about the both of you.

so what did they do? reposted the photo on their story with two simple emojis...

"👍❤️"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, kageyama tobio, OIKAWA TORU, sakusa kiyoomi

✿.｡. “ twenty questions, we tell the truth. ” .｡.✿

i love soft launches and haikyuu <3

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[honeyhoshi]

raise the stakes pt. 1

summary: you and soonyoung have been in each other’s orbits for years. you’ve watched him go from a grassroots player to receiving the captain’s armband—a sign of trust and acknowledging his loyalty to his team.

but he’s loyal to you too.

this a part of the man of the match universe and set in the 2022-2023 season.

genre: professional footballer (soccer) soonyoung, coach's daughter oc, (sort of) childhood friends to lovers, slight angst, smut

wordcount: 24,969, pt. 2 coming soon

pairing: soonyoung x afab!reader (named cho jiae)

warnings: oral (m & f receiving), spit kink (bec i wrote it), tit fucking, titty obsessed soonyoung, cum play, cum eating, fingering, squirting, brief embarrassment over squirting, brief impact play (soonyoung slaps her ass ONCE), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED IN REAL LIFE), creampie (again, bec i wrote it), soonyoung calls her baby, overwhelmed but HAPPY and SATISFIED tears

author's notes: i wrote this while recalling a lot of my own harrowing experiences with boys growing up and had a lot of embarrassing fun with it. i hope you all fall in love with this soonyoung the way i did.

There’s something to be said about how you’re hiding in your neighbor’s bush right now but you’re not interested in dealing with it at the moment.

You had been pulled from the comfort of your bed by the smiling, panting, hunk of hair known as your dog Ddalgi. He had been startled awake by the film you were watching and despite the ungodly hour, he had demanded to be taken out for a walk. If he had just closed his eyes and fallen back asleep, you wouldn’t be in such a predicament.

On most nights your neighborhood is dead quiet and pretty much abandoned at 1AM, everyone having retreated into the comfort of their homes. But tonight is an exception and the only other person outside makes you swear something unladylike. It’s Soonyoung.

It’s Soonyoung who had moved into the neighborhood three months ago. Soonyoung who you were able to successfully evade for all those weeks. Soonyoung who had just put a pretty lady into a taxi, his wishes of safety and to let him know when she’s made it home audible just as you rounded the corner from the Jang’s.

You try to stay as still and as quiet as you can, willing him to walk back up his stupid driveway and into his house so you and Ddalgi can make a run for it to your dog’s favorite stop just past his property. Had you been alone you’d be successful, but your Golden Retriever's bladder is ready to burst and his whines and antsy tippy tapping toes are enough to sell you out.

Then comes a call of your name, “Is that you?”

There’s no use in hiding now and you make a face before trying to compose yourself, moving behind the bush and sending a tentative wave his way.

“Evening, Hosh!” You wave from your spots.

You curse every god you can name at the top of your head because of course it had to be Soonyoung.

He waves back tentatively and turns his wrist to look at the time on his watch and you can see him furrowing his eyebrows, probably not believing the time.

Ddalgi is having none of it, by the way, and tugs at you impatiently at the sight of someone new. He’s wagging his tail ferrociously as you two make your way to Soonyoung – your dog excitedly, and you begrudging.

All questions fall from Soonyoung’s lips as he greets Ddalgi with open arms allowing your dog to lick at his face. You’ll forever remember this night as your dog getting further with your teenage crush in his two years of life than you have in all twenty eight of yours.

You start cursing gods again.

You will have to admit that the two of them are cute and you wish you could snap a picture of the sweet moment, Soonyoung’s love for animals still ever present. You have to keep the smile down when he looks up to you from where he’s kneeled down to play with Ddalgi.

Once he’s had enough of your dog’s wet, slobbery love, he gets up, dusts off the imaginary dust from his pants and looks to you expectantly. As always, Soonyoung looks fresh and young and bright. You wonder if you should shield your eyes from his natural brilliance. 

Ddalgi busies himself by sniffing at Soonyoung’s bushes, no doubt ready to unleash his bladder, while you kind of sway there in your ratty sweater and sleep shorts. 

“So!” You start, flashing him a cheesy smile.

“Soooo…” Soonyoung replies with a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You’re saved by the bell when you hear the telltale sound of your dog going and you can’t help but make a face, “Sorry about that, he really needed to go.”

Soonyoung himself can’t help when he lets out a laugh and you want to melt.

“It’s no bother, really–”

“Also uh, sorry about uh, you know–”

“Oh!” 

You’re both cutting each other off and when you meet his eyes you both can’t help the genuine laughter that spills out of both your mouths. Ddalgi can’t help it either when he lets out a gleeful bark, wanting to join in on the fun.

When you’ve caught your breath, you can’t help that a smile stays on your face.

“What I was trying to say,” You finally get out, “is uh, sorry for walking in on you and your uhh, ya know, lady friend–”

Soonyoung tries to butt in with a “No, it really–”

You stop him with a hand on his chest and a playful, overexaggerated wink.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell dad you’re still up this late or whatever arcane rule of his you’ve broken,” with a slight tug of his leash, you start to lead Ddalgi towards the direction of your house.

Soonyoung gapes at you and you send him a thumbs up.

As you’re walking away he seems to get a hold of his bearings and yells out, disrupting the calm evening, “It wasn’t like that, I swear!”

You turn to him, walking backwards, “Don’t worry, Hosh! I can keep a secret!”

And keep this secret you will. You’d take it to the grave if you have to. Because it was mortifying.

The mere idea that Soonyoung was going to be caught in a dating scandal had been your personal nightmare for years. Harboring a crush was brutal in and of itself, but harboring a crush on a world-renowned football player who you sort of spent your childhood around and is now a  professional playing under your dad’s guidance is a wholly unique experience that very few would be able to relate to.

Your history with Soonyoung started when you were twelve and realized with utmost alarm that boys can be cute. 

You had grown up with an older brother and just that experience alone made you think that boys sucked. But having spent a good chunk of your after-school schedule at the HYBE training facilities meant you were always surrounded by rowdy football players (who smelled and were loud and annoying).

Soonyoung was all of those things, of course. 

But he was also cute.

The realization was quite unwelcome because you liked turning your nose up at the gaggle of teenage boys who barrelled their way into your dad’s office after training, asking for photos and autographs, going on about a new play they wanted to try, and if he’d let them play forward for the next scrimmage.

Such was the life of the head coach for an Under-18 league team.

But none were as consistent as Soonyoung had been. He was in that office after every single practice; hounding your dad about how he had played, and if your dad saw how he improved, and if your dad could teach him that move from the 2005 cup final.

At first it had baffled you. Soonyoung didn’t even play under your dad's guidance. He was just as old as you were and wouldn't be part of your dad's team for another three or so years. One day you gave him a real good look and your eyes hone in on the gloves he had under his arm.

He was a goal keeper.

Playing keeper wasn't a particularly flashy position for most kids—the glamor of scoring goals was usually at the top of most's heads. Kids who were put in front of the goal usually groaned and kicked the dirt at the little ball possession they'd get, and of course, not being able to score any goals.

Even you had preferred to play, during your brief football career, what you then considered a more active position of right back.

But Soonyoung wore his keeper’s gloves like a badge of honor and looked at your dad like the second coming of Christ. Which made sense as your dad had been one of the most prolific goal keepers in the Korean league. You don’t fault Soonyoung for looking up to your dad like a hero, he was yours as well.

While most of the players leave you be to work on whatever homework you brought to kill time, Soonyoung always bade you goodbye after his little consultation session, always a little rushed and mumbling how he might miss his train back home.

Admittedly now it seems a little bare minimum but you were twelve and no other boy really paid you any mind. Soonyoung’s bright eye smile and sweaty face had been tattooed in your brain since then and you looked forward to his rushed, sweaty, and sweet goodbye almost every day.

All of this comes to mind as you faceplant onto your bed and leave Ddalgi to his own devices. Your convoluted past with Soonyoung swims before your eyes like a movie montage and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut at your mistakes, lapses, and missed chances. You survived eight years of his professional career without the worry of a WAG coming into the picture but all of that may be at an end at 2AM on a random Sunday.

Sleep had evaded you in the early hours of the morning and what little sleep you did get was subpar.

There’s a frown on your face when you jog down the stairs, opting to join your dad in the dining room for breakfast.             

“Good morning, sweet peach. There’s strawberries and croissants on the table,” your dad greets, briefly looking up from the game of Candy Crush on his iPad. 

Your squinted eyes finally focus on what’s in front of you and you perk up.

“Ooh my favorite!” You press a kiss to his cheek and observe the simple breakfast spread before you.

There’s an open box of strawberries you recognize from the weekend market you visited a few weeks ago. They always run out before you’re able to wipe the sleep from your eyes to try them again.

“Where’s Ddalgi?” You say, staring at a wall, still a bit dazed as you reach for and bite into a strawberry.

“He’s outside with Soonyoung,” You stop chewing.

“Oh,” you start. Now you’re waking up, “So I guess the strawberries and the croissants are—“

“Yup, Soonyoung’s brought them over.” The way your dad says this all so casually makes you want to scream. He hasn’t even looked up from his game. 

You’re still bleary-eyed, but you slide open the side door and find Soonyoung and your Golden Retriever on the patio. They turn their heads to you at the same time, both happily munching on something.

“Kwon, what are you feeding my dog?” Your heart is racing, your mind suddenly going to the possibility of Ddalgi having eaten something he isn’t allowed.

“Strawberries!” Soonyoung gleefully exclaims, raising one in the air, “I found out that they were quite good for them! Whitens their teeth and they have a really healthy enzyme or something.”

“That’s cannibalism,” you frown as Ddalgi sniffles at Soonyoung’s hand, asking to eat another of his namesake. 

“But look, he likes them so much,” You can’t help but roll your eyes as you watch Ddalgi charm yet another guest.

You make soft cooing noises at your dog, but he refuses to separate himself from Soonyoung, who is happily plucking the leaves off of the strawberries, popping them into his mouth, and offering them to Ddalgi.

You frown again. Your dog wasn’t there when you woke up, meaning you were deprived of your routinary 30 minutes of giving him sleepy kisses and cuddling before mustering enough strength to get out of bed.

You sigh and drop yourself onto a sunchair, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra.

“What are you doing here Soonyoung?”

He’s trying to avoid your eyes, pretending to squint at the distance, “I was just in the neighborhood and decided to drop off some breakfast.”

“You live like 10 houses down, you’re always in the neighborhood.”

“They’re big houses,” He says in all seriousness, finally meeting your eye.

You try to hold it in, but the second he breaks out in laughter, you can’t help but join in. 

When he catches his breath he says, “I just wanted to make up for last night.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to say that what you saw… wasn’t what you saw,” he explains poorly.

You nod playfully, putting on a faux smirk, “What I saw doesn’t matter,” You say, “Your business is your business.”

The reality is that you want to make it your business. 

Sleep had come with much difficulty the night prior, your heart reminding your head of all the silly interactions you’d had with Soonyoung growing up. You tossed and turned, thinking of how you could have used them to your advantage. To maybe charm him all those years ago. Maybe then you would have been the pretty thing on his arm during team dinners or wearing his jersey during games.

“Why were you even out that late?” Soonyoung questions, knocking you out of your reverie.

“Woke Ddalgi up while watching a movie,” you explain.

“New one for The Log?”

The Log was the unofficial horror film log you had started on your Instagram a few years back. You didn’t think anyone really paid any attention to that but some of your film buff girlfriends.

“You keep up with The Log?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

“Hell yeah,” He says, eyes lighting up, “I don’t have the time to always watch the movies but I like to know what they’re about. Vernon made us watch that one where they made that girl play Hide and Seek, at the last team dinner.”

“Ready Or Not,” you say, providing him with the title. 

“Yeah, that one!”

“It’s a pretty good one. Good choice.” You nod in acknowledgement at his teammate’s superb film taste. 

“So do you and Ddalgi always do that?” Soonyoung asks, circling back to the previous topic.

“What, 2AM walks? Yup.”

Soonyoung gapes at you then looks to Ddalgi as if he’d understand Soonyoung’s disbelief.

“Yeah! All the time, even!” You begin to explain, “He always has to go out once he’s woken up. It doesn’t even matter what time it is.”

You can hear your dad calling for him from inside the house, catching your attention.

“You should text me,” Soonyoung says all of a sudden.

“What?” You’re genuinely taken aback. You don’t even have his number.

“If you two are going for a walk,” He says earnestly, looking you dead in the eyes, “You should text me.”

You’re stunned speechless. Before you even muster up enough courage to say something, he stands up, gives Ddalgi a pat on the head, and goes inside. 

You’re too much of a coward to do anything. Too afraid to go inside, knowing he’s in there talking with your dad. You wait until you hear him bid your dad goodbye before you and Ddalgi go back inside to eat the strawberries.

Upstairs there’s an unread message on your phone waiting to give you the surprise of your life.

Unknown Sender Today 3:49AM

Hey, I'm sorry about earlier!!! It really wasn't what you think bec That was my cousin 😩

Pls the thought of people thinking the two of us are dating makes me sickkkk

R u there

One day you’re going to get told off for just walking about the HYBE Training Center as you pleased but that day will not be today. The perks of having pretty much grown up in this building meant that you almost knew it inside out and upside down. The promotion from “A Coach’s Daughter” to “The Manager's Daughter” is a big one and one you never really thought of taking full advantage of. 

As you grew a bit older you found your own interests and opted for after school extracurriculars, taking the train home with your friends, and soon, time spent walking through these halls in your school uniform dwindled down to zero.

It makes what you’re doing now a little awkward.

While you weren’t skulking around like a creep, this was far from what it used to be. You’ve completely run out of your childish charm that made being a menace around the center cute. Now you were just Mr. Cho’s temporary stay at home daughter, much too old to be bringing her old man lunch.

You remember walking next to your father, acting self important and snooty, thinking you were far better than the silly boys who spent hours kicking a ball around a pitch only to net one or two goals a game, and celebrating those goals as if they were playing in the San Siro in Italy. You were all just in Gangnam. Of course this was all to veil the poorly hidden enthusiasm you yourself had for the game. And the players. A player.

Soonyoung.

It isn’t uncommon for players to start of their careers in bottom or midrank teams, make a name for themselves, then get transferred to teams in the upper rungs. Several of the Diamonds’ players had such histories. 

But not Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung had grown up in these halls probably more than you did. You don’t know when exactly he joined the Diamonds but he’s one of the few players on the first team that’s been here since his grass roots days. Aside from his dedication to the sport, he was without a question, dedicated to the Diamonds.

You suppose some twenty or so years have led to this.

You’re standing in front of a wall-sized photo of this year’s squad. Soonyoung is standing proudly at the center with his arms folded over his chest and the Captain’s armband wrapped around his bicep. After the shock and upset that wracked the city upon Seungcheol’s retirement and subsequent abdication from the post of captain, Soonyoung had a heavy burden on his shoulders to get the Diamonds back in action.

It was impressive what he’s done in three years.

“You never texted me ba–”

“Oh my fucking GOD!”

You were a second away from caressing poster Soonyoung’s face on the wall when the voice of the real Soonyoung knocked you out of your reverie. You can’t see your face but you know you’re beet red and frazzled when you turn to look at Soonyoung who has a jolly smile on his face, eyes forming crescents.

He’s dressed in training gear, a simplified version of the home kit with the number 1 on the middle of the shirt. He’s slightly flushed from what may be exertion from the session, hands free of the gloves he’s usually wearing.

“You can’t just do that!” You cry, a hand on your chest to ease your rapid heartbeat.

“Sorry, peaches,” He says, the nickname making your ears perk up.

“Please, not that tiredass nickname.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Peaches was a family nickname that originated from way back when you were born with no hair on your head but peach fuzz. Your dad had a particular affinity for it and had used it up until now. Everyone else from his close friends to co-workers had taken to the nickname as well and it had become your unofficial Diamonds title.

Now even his players were calling you Peaches.

“It’s a cute name,” Soonyoung says.

“My dad has a penchant for nicknames, truly,” You begin, “Peaches for me, Hoshi for you.”

Hoshi, Soonyoung’s nickname, had been a moniker bestowed upon him by your father some time in the 2010s. Tiger’s gaze, it had meant. An apt description for how Soonyoung’s eyes sharpen when he’s on the pitch. 

He’s become known for it, how he shifts from Soonyoung to Hoshi when the whistle blows, signaling the start of a match. You’ve fallen down a TikTok rabbit hole of these Soonyoung to Hoshi transformation compilations one too many times before. Not that that’s anyone’s business but your own.

“What’re you doing here? Haven’t seen you around here in ages,” Soonyoung says, scratching the back of his head and ruffling his hair. It’s longer than you remember it being, like he hasn’t cut it since the end of the last season.

It looks good.

You hold up the paperbag in your hand, “Wanted to surprise my dad with some lunch, but uh, I haven’t done this in a while, so I kind of forgot to check his schedule before heading over.”

Soonyoung nods in understanding.

“He’s skipping the start of morning practice for a meeting of some sort with Seungcheol. He should be back in maybe twenty for the second half,” Soonyoung explains, ”We’re starting back in a while. You should come watch while you wait.”

Watching training sessions had been a weekend pastime. Getting through morning sessions on Saturdays meant lunch out, heading to the mall, or your favorite, seeing a matinee show afterwards. You’d spent hours sitting around the pitch dedicated for the under-18 team’s coaching staff with a book in your hands (a mere prop, really), secretly eyeing the cute older boys and, when the fates would permit, the under-15 team playing on the adjacent pitch.

You can picture it in your mind’s eye – Soonyoung and Wonwoo, the two members of the Diamond’s current team who were in the same batch of grassroots players, shoving each other as they walked from the dugout to their team’s pitch. They’d offer a polite nod to your father and his staff, and a small wave to you. The memory makes you smile slightly as you nod at Soonyoung and let him lead you to the main pitch.

Throughout the years, the constant exposure to one another led you to befriend the players that stuck around. It was surface level, but the familiarity is welcome as you really take in how long its been since you’ve involved yourself with the Diamonds on a personal level. Despite the teenage angst and the mostly made up agony from those years, you hold them all in your silly little heart dearly.

You suppose its only fair that things have changed since then. When Soonyoung leads you to the main pitch, it’s far bigger than the ones he and Wonwoo used to play on, back when you’d eye them doing drills and blushing when they’d pull their shirts up to clear their eyes of sweat. Now Soonyoung strides onto the pitch with confidence that comes with years of experience and success under his belt. It looks good on him. It looks right, even.

When you turn to the spectator seats you find yourself met with familiar faces. You can't help the excitement that courses through you as pigtails and pink ribbons run towards you.

“Seunghee-ya!” You squeal as a little girl launches herself into your arms.

Seungcheol, your father’s assistant manager and an ex-captain of the Diamonds, had blessed the team with their own little princess four years ago. In no time she had taken to the attention of her uncles and their respective partners like a fish to water. She’s what you imagine you were like at four years old and stomping around the pitch in pink cleats and a mini version of the home kit on.

She peppers your face with kisses and you press a big one to her cheek in response and you carry her on your hip. You turn to Soonyoung and find him grinning at the exchange between the two of you.

You can’t help but blush before saying, “Sorry, its just been so long since I’ve gotten to babysit her.”

The smile on Soonyoung’s face just grows, “Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s cute. You both are.”

The flush on your cheeks feels downright painful now as you try to pretend you didn’t hear anything Soonyoung had said and instead head towards where Seunghee’s mom is seated with a few other spectators. Soonyoung just follows behind you, not saying a word.

You go up to Seunghee’s mom, Sunhee, and pass her daughter along as you exchange hellos and how are yous. When you meet her eye, she raises a well manicured eyebrow at you then quickly flicks her eyes over at Soonyoung before eyeing you again.

You make a face as if asking her to drop it, but a smile threatens her lips and you cut her off before she says something that might embarrass you further.

“I was going to bring my dad some lunch, but he wasn’t in his office and I kind of just ended up wandering around. Hoshi found me is all,” You explain.

“Sure.” Is Sunhee’s only acknowledgement before sitting back down with her daughter.

“You’ll be okay hanging out here, right?” Soonyoung says, gesturing to the seats in front of you.

“Yup, I’ll be fine. I’ve been sitting at the WAG bench forever,” You joke, before realizing how it sounded and quickly correcting yourself, “I mean, because of my mom! Like, you know, WAG for over twenty five years, and all of that haha! Not that I’ve ever been a WAG? Like imagine that, haha! I wish!”

You want to scream.

Soonyoung just nods and you bite the smile threatening your lips as sit yourself down next to Sunhee.

“That was like watching a car crash, I couldn’t look awa–”

“Stooop,” You whine, dropping your head onto her shoulder as Soonyoung walks away. 

You had been sitting at the WAG bench for ages. Just like little Seunghee is right now, you had accompanied your mother to many of your dad’s training sessions and matches, both when he was an active player and then later on when he became a part of the coaching staff. It’s only really hitting you now that you were sitting at the WAG bench with no real purpose.

Sunhee and her daughter were her for Seungcheol, and up a few rows you spotted Bang Ahreum sitting in her boyfriend’s lap, giggling. If it were the weekend, and not a random Thursday, you’re sure a few more ladies would fill the seats.

“You’d make a really cute WAG,” Sunhee says with a giggle, “Soonyoung would agree.”

You can’t help the small smile of appreciation at Sunhee’s words, indulging at the little fantasy, but turning towards the slight commotion coming from the players on the pitch as they greet the newcomers of Seungcheol and your father.

You send a big wave towards your dad, catching his attention and seeing him wave and smile back and he walks to you. You fix the little snacks you’d put together in your paperbag and pull one out to hand over to Sunhee with a little wink before standing and dusting off your jeans. You greet your dad with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. He leaves training in Seungcheol’s capable hands, wanting to enjoy the surprise of having you back at HYBE like the old days. 

The players all wave and bid you two goodbye when a loud, “BYE PEACHES!” comes from the chorus of Jun, Woozi, and Wonwoo by the goal at the far end of the pitch. You turn with a laugh and wave goodbye and catch Soonyoung’s eye from behind his teammates.

He sends a small wave and smile before he makes a phone with his gloved hand and brings it up to his ear, quirking his eyebrow, as if in challenge.

You shake your head and offer a little nod, hoping he sees from where he’s watching you.

“What was that about?” Your dad asks with a laugh as well.

You aren’t sure and tell him just as much.

If there was ever a time you thought your dad must’ve been clued in in your debilitating crush on Soonyoung, it was when you were sixteen and in need of a date. Being sent to a stuffy all girls school meant you had to deal with all the annoying ceremonials and traditions like classes spent on ladylike dancing and good manners in front of boys.

That was all to be put into practical use in your 10th year, where those in your year were allowed to take part in a charity dinner. It was really just some lame version of American dances that your school had pirated and you had dreaded since entering high school. While it was really a family and friends thing, people really mostly paid attention to two things: what you wore and who your date was.

Most students played it safe by bringing their parents and wearing their mom’s jewelry, but it was the perfect opportunity for the upper grades to bring their boyfriends and show off to everyone that they were so cool and mature. You want to say you’re unaffected, but upon hearing that most of your friends were brining people other than their dads, you were starting to sweat.

Despite having been around boys your whole life thanks to your dad’s work, it wasn’t like that ever took fruit in any way, shape, or form. At sixteen you had never had anyone show any interest in you aside from asking about your dad or if they could somehow get into the club through your connections.

Your dad had likely warned away any interested guys or set a rule of ‘hands off my daughter!’ from an early age. It wasn’t until recently did you find out that your suspicions were somewhat true and the team had a long standing rule that family was off limits, all thanks to Jeonghan’s girlfriend cluing you in.

In addition to that, after you’d started putting more time into your extra curriculars and found hobbies you could be passionate about. Your interest in meeting boys and finding romantic connections simply just didn’t register. At this age even Soonyoung was just sitting at the corner of your mind, your crush only making itself known if your dad mentions him in passing.

With the charity dinner coming closer and closer, you were running out of time to look for someone to take you. Your brother and any of his friends were out of the picture, all off to college and too busy to take you to what he’d deem a silly little dance. You had no cousins your age that lived around the area, so that was out of the picture. And unlike your friends, you had zero to no male friends to ring in a favor to.

The realization had dawned over you slowly and torturously–were you so undesirable that no boy would look your way if not for the man you called your dad? Was the only time you could interact with the male species through your after school drama club? It was all so mortifying.

You had explained as such to your mother as you faceplanted onto your parents’ bed, dumping onto her the woes of being a teenager and the troubles of girlhood that you were merely at the cusp of.

“You can ask your dad if he has any players who can take you,” She had suggested offhandedly.

You’d already considered that weeks prior. You knew that some of his players were already making names for themselves in the juvenile leagues and Under-18 National Team. Surely bringing one of those players would have you as the Belle of the Ball. But you quickly shut that down because the only way that would happen was if you asked your dad. That in itself was an embarrassing enough idea that you want to die just thinking about it.

With your mother bringing it up again, you can’t help but partially entertain the idea. If she brought it up, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

During dinner that evening the topic of the Charity Dinner is brought up in the middle of one of your dad’s training stories. He was going on about how close he had gotten with this crop of Under-18s, watching them grow since he became part of the club’s training staff after his retirement from professional playing.

Soonyoung in particular was growing up to be quite the goal keeper.

You tried to keep your eyes down and trained to your quickly cooling Samgyetang, avoiding either of your parents’ eyes but it was to no avail as your mom joyfully mentioned the school activity. You didn’t need a mirror to know how red your ears had gotten.

“Do you think Soonyoung would mind taking her to the Charity dinner?”

You wanted to drown yourself in the soup when you brother laughed and your dad had coughed.

“You’re thinking of asking the starting Keeper of the U-18 National Team to take this loser to her pseudo-prom?” Your brother mocked.

You sent him a scathing look as your mother said his name as a warning, “It’d be a good idea! Soonyoung’s a really good boy.”

“I–uh, I’ll check with him,” Your dad had said and that was that.

The days that followed that were torturous but you were hopeful. You couldn’t help yourself when you had daydreamed about what kind of night the Charity Dinner would be with Soonyoung on your arm, and you were unable to stop yourself from gushing to your friends about the possibility of a teenage celebrity coming as your date.

Your date.

Your date.

You were over the moon with the realization that your crush was going to be escorting you to this event and that it could possibly a kicking off point for you two to get closer and maybe become something more.

papa 💛 Today 1:28PM

were you able to asksoonyoung?

I’ll ask him later.

That Monday you had texted your dad.

Training was every day except Fridays and weekends, so you had known they’d see each other.

Not wanting to sound too eager, you had dropped the subject and thought that you’d allow your dad to his task.

On Tuesday, you had heard nothing.

On Wednesday, you were going out of your mind in anticipation. More and more people were talking about the dinner and your big talk about your date had started to taste ashen in your mouth.

After school you couldn’t help yourself as you sent a “Did you ask Soonyoung yet? What did he say?” off to your dad’s number, unable to focus as you mess up the lines in a monologue you knew by heart just last week.

After rehearsals you had felt your heart lodge itself in your throat at you took in the words on your phone, trying to keep the pressure building in your temples at bay.

papa 💛 Today 2:04PM

did u ask soonyoung yet? what did he say?

I am your dad, not one of your friends. You still need to talk to me with respect.

Soonyoung has a prior commitment on that day and can’t attend the dinner.

You felt hot tears well at your eyes as you blinked rapidly to shoo them away and wiped at your face to avoid any questions from your peers.

It didn’t help that your dad had picked you up that day, the car ride tense and completely awkward for both of you, you’re sure. You had grasped at straws to make sure the topic of the dinner or of Soonyoung did not come up, your usual How did training go? out of the question. Instead you had lied about how good rehearsals had gone and how happy your moderator was with your performance.

Once you got home you had skipped dinner and cried in the shower while Taylor Swift blared from your iPod Touch.

Drama really was the perfect club for you.

With Soonyoung unavailable, you had decided to go stag—which was a perfectly acceptable decision. Still, you felt the sting of rejection as it burned deep in your heart. Your dress was gray, a perfect match for the heavy raincloud that hung over your head, you thought. And though it swayed and flounced perfectly when you twirled, you couldn’t help the dissatisfaction painted on your face.

When you had dragged yourself down the stairs, you were already bemoaning how you didn’t want to take any photos, but was surprised to see your dad standing at the foot of the stairs, fixing his cufflinks while your mom adjusted his tie. A gray that matched your dress perfectly. You took his arm proudly and smiled for all the photos your mom directed your brother to take.

That night your dad drove to your school in his flashiest car, made a jaw dropping donation, and pretended like he could dance. On his suggestion, you had left the dinner earlier and stopped by a Lotteria instead. You rested your chin on his shoulder while he ordered your usuals and you ate and laughed before heading home.

That night he had pressed a long kiss to your forehead before sending you off to bed.

Mustering enough courage to finally text Soonyoung takes about a week. 

His number is saved as a conservative Kwon Soonyoung (Diamonds) as if he was a business associate you didn't want to get mixed up with your regular contacts. You stare at the conversation window for longer than than deemed normal, though. You haven’t been this nervous to message a boy since you were a freshman in university, that by the time you actually send the message, Ddlagi is whining and anxious to get going.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 2:04PM

would u happen to be awake ?

Soonyoung’s swift reply almost gives you whiplash because you hadn’t expected it to come so soon, or for it to come at all.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 11:04PM

would u happen to be awake ?

You bet I am

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you find that you're far from what you deem as “Soonyoung worthy.” But when your phone pings with another message, you find that you don’t have the luxury of time. 

It also wouldn’t make any sense if Soonyoung ever caught you outside and your “just woke up like this” couture was inconsistent. Right. Baggy hoodie and pajama shorts will definitely have to do.

                                                                                                                                                   You’re kind of at a loss when you read the message as you clip on Ddlagi’s leash and put on a pair of outdoor shoes. Soonyoung becoming your neighbor in the year of our Lord 2023 was not something you considered, and definitely not something you thought would ever lead to tandem dog walking.

But when you open your door, it kind of takes your breath away when you see him, soft and barefaced in his own ratty hoodie and sweats combo, smiling at you from behind the garden gate. This image of him almost rewrites the last ten or so years of his semi-absence in your life, offering a chance to relive some teenage fantasies you’d set aside as impossibilities.

“Hi,” comes your small, hesitant whisper of a greeting when you’re standing face to face.

“Hi,” he replies simply, a hint of hesitation as well, but he’s smiling, still.

Ddalgi is a bundle of excitement when he sees the newest addition to your night walk and tugs at your arm impatiently, wanting to shower Soonyoung with kisses, the gate between them be damned. It makes Soonyong let out that little laugh that makes you want to die and the small smile he gives you spreads on his face wider at Ddalgi’s joy.

Your delay in texting him had come from the fear of not having anything to talk about. Despite all the years together you weren’t always actually together. You worried that the initial connection of being in your dad’s office or within the halls of HYBE has withered away any possible topic for you to broach without it being forced or awkward.

God, you always hated the talking stage. And while that’s obviously not what this is (you think), you don’t want to mess up at least being friends with Soonyoung. And you should have known that would be enough to break the tension with Soonyoung. Conversation comes easily between the two of you with him as a natural people person and you as a natural yapper.

“You managed to catch the game today?” He starts.

“I managed to catch it in my free time,” You answer coyly.

Partially true. Being in between jobs meant nearly every minute of the day was ‘free time.’

“And?” He goads.

“And what?”

“What’d you think!”

“That late game save was insane,” It seems like you’re laying it on thick but the way Soonyoung preens makes it worth it.

“Nah, it was nothi—“

“But!” You interject.

Soonyoung gives you an incredulous look, “BUT?”

“But you challenged it too late,” you start, “You could have definitely gone for the tackle while he was a ways away from the goal.”

“No way, Kang would’ve made that shot!” He argues back, he’s amused by your argument but doesn’t believe you.

“He wouldn’t have!” You laugh at how badly he isn’t taking your criticism. “Kang is a right foot kicker, he was coming at you from the far left, the angle was all wrong for him!”

“What! How can you do that?” He accuses.

“Do what?”

“Say exactly what coach did,” Soonyoung says as you two walk past the Jang’s and the bush you so unceremoniously hid behind that night.

“No way,” You say in slight disbelief, “But that just means I’m right!”

“I–” Soonyoung starts, “That’s not the point!”

“Sure it wasn’t, Captain,” You smirk and let Ddalgi drag you over to the patch of grass by Soonyoung’s own gated property.

“You should come see the game in person next time you’re free,” He suggests, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets and avoiding your eyes.

His eyes look a little pink from the cold.

“I don’t know…” Just as it was with the training center, you haven’t really been as present at the Gangnam stadium as you did when you were much younger.

“Oh come on, you used to go all the time when your dad was first made manager!”

You blush at that. You try not to read into it, but there’s a little bit of a rush that comes over you at the idea of Soonyoung taking notice of you back then, even if it was some 8 years ago and you were probably a completely different person.

“I don’t know…” You say, not wanting to commit to anything, “It’s just been so long and I’m worried it’ll feel a bit awkward just popping up like I did back at HYBE.”

“No way! You’ve been Diamonds family since like, conception!” He argues.

You give him a pointed look.

“Sunhee and Seunghee come a lot, Ahreum tries to make it to just about every game too,” Soonyoung lists down faces you’re familiar with, “And I mean, you can’t beat the home crowd.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face then, “That’s very true, Captain. You drive a hard bargain.”

He smirks as if to say well, what can I say!

Then he says, eyes trained to the sky, “If it means anything, I’d want you to be there too.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah?” You ask and he finally looks back.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll come to the next home game.”

You’re standing by the path that leads straight to Soonyoung’s garden gate and you tut at Ddalgi to head back towards your house as he’s relieved himself while you were conversing with Soonyoung.

“I guess this is where we say goodnight?” You say, walking backward.

“What, no way,” Soonyoung says, following you, “I’ll walk you home.”

“Soonyoung, we’re literally at your house,” You deadpan.

“Yeah, so what?” He waves it off and jogs next to you and following your stride, “I want to walk you home.”

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 10:42PM

Meet you at your gate

This text becomes Soonyoung’s go-to on nights and early mornings when he joins you and Ddalgi for short walks around the neighborhood. Even with the football season on going and your job hunting taking up both of your daytime schedules, you’ve found these walks to be the most sought after moments of your day.

Having these twenty or so minutes with Soonyoung almost everyday feels like some kind of silly dream come true. His presence feels less like something out of the ordinary, and you feel yourself beginning to feel less like you’re fumbling for something everytime you and your dog step out to meet him.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 9:36PM

No walk tonight?

had his monthly checkups today he's out like a light sorry 😔

Nah its cool You still down for a walk though?

bet

Without Ddalgi there to serve as the focal point of your walk, you’re left with little choice but to put all your attention on him. And for someone who's been doing that for most of their pre-teen years, as a twenty eight year old it serves as quite the struggle. Despite your newfound confidence in spending time with him here and there, somehow the air feels a little different this evening.

Soonyoung is set to take off for international duty in a few days and you’re loathe to admit that you’re a little sad that this little growing habit of late night walks was taking a little bit of a break. You’re lost in your thoughts when Soonyoung, expectedly, breaks the silence.

“I’m happy we’re becoming good friends,” He says.

A little goofy smile comes onto your face. You know it’s a little silly looking because you can feel the corners of your lips twitching as you keep your cool.

“We are friends, Soonyoung,” You say, “Unless, I’ve been reading things wrong these past like, fifteen years.”

“No, I mean real friends,” He insists with a bright smile, “Like friends who do stuff together and talk about their interests and stuff.”

He’s right. You’ve always just been in each other’s peripheries, but up until recently, you had never really had any real conversations or interactions with each other.

“We were around each other so much growing up,” He reminisces, “I remember you were always doing homework in your dad’s office or like, reading a book on the pitch. How you could focus, I have no idea. We were so fucking loud.”

You flush at the belated attention. Back then you had done your best to seem aloof and above it all, but the idea that Soonyoung had somehow still seen you is a lot to take in so many years later.

“I guess when you put it like that,” You start, “It is nice being friends with you after all these years.”

Friends is just the start of what you want with Soonyoung. But at this point you feel like it would be a disservice and dishonest to seek something more from him. You can’t imagine what his life must be like, if Soonyoung from sixteen years ago would have ever thought this would be his reality. So you ask him as much.

“Is it hard?”

“What is?” He clarifies.

“Making friends?”

He gives you a funny look, as if he’s not quite sure what you’re getting at.

“I mean as you, you know? Captain of the Cheongdam Diamonds, part of the World Cup team last year, and like, just being a professional player and all of that.” 

Soonyoung hums for a bit, considering his answer, “I guess it’s easy for Hoshi.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him a confused look.

“Every season we get new members on the squad and as captain, I become friends with them. Meeting new people at events or work engagements, I’m able to build good bonds and stuff like that. But I think that’s Hoshi who's good at it.”

“And Soonyoung?” You suggest.

“I think Soonyoung is a little shy,” He laughs, blowing at his hands to keep them warm. You feel your fingers twitch at your sides, wondering what his hands would feel like clasped between your own, your breath warming them up.

“Sometimes I’m still a little shocked and like, astounded that this is my life,” The two of you have gotten to his house now and he takes a moment to take the property in.

Just as many of the other houses and properties in the neighborhood, its quite a house. More modern than those on your street due to how newly developed it is. It’s definitely something he should be proud of. As the daughter of an ex-professional player, you’re aware of the economic benefits that come with the job.

And Soonyoung is very good at his job.

“Did you always know you’d make it?” You prod, joining him in marveling at his home of just four months.

He lets out a bark of a laugh, “I think I ran towards this dream like I had no other choice. I think I would have rather died than be anything other than me now.”

You turn to look at him and smile, “Well if anyone deserves it, it's you.”

“Oh come on, now you’re just laying it on thick.” He says.

“No way!” You argue, “I’ve seen every step you’ve taken to get here, Captain. You deserve it.”

“Don’t remind me, you’ve seen me through just about every goddamn phase I’ve ever been through,” He whines, rubbing at his face in embarrassment, “My academy days were brutal. Fucking Wonwoo cruised through that shit so smooth.”

You can’t help but laugh at the memory of the two of them. While Wonwoo wasn’t as permanent a fixture in your father’s office as Soonyoung was, you still saw him quite often, with him and Soonyoung stuck at the hip for years.

The left-back had always been tall and lean even as a pre-teen with black hair swooping across his forehead in what was a then-fashionable mop. There were always girls giggling in the stands talking and gushing about Wonwoo. Then you remember Soonyoung who stood next to him with his braces and choppy mullet and soft round cheeks and you can’t help but smile fondly at the days gone by.

“I think you did fine on your own.”

Soonyoung shakes his head as if there was no way you’d understand his boyhood woes, “Still, I think twelve year old me would piss himself if he ever found out we’d made it pro, we live in this house, we’re friends with you.”

Your ears perk up at that but you bite the smile threatening your lips, “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Oh come on, don’t make me say it,” He says, cheeks tinged pink.

“No! You already said it so I might as well come out with it!” You laugh.

He gapes at you for a second before shutting his mouth, shutting his eyes in embarrassment, then turning to look at you again.

“Okay, for a lot of the guys in my crop of players back then, you were kind of like the first girl we ever knew and wanted to impress, you know? It didn’t help that your dad was an actual living legend.” He says, the flush on his face seemingly contagious as you feel a warmth in your face as well.

“Shut up, now you’re just gassing me up.”

“Now you can’t take the heat?” He laughs as you two continue walking, your heart at ease as you walk past his house and not back towards your own, your walk far from over.

“Well they can all rest easy, I’m not much to fight over now,” You say lightly.

“Why not?” Soonyoung says, almost dead serious.

The atmosphere around you feels a little heavier now and you feel as though you must have said the wrong thing. You want to smack your head for feeling a bit too comfortable around Soonyoung to let the thing in the back of your mind rear its ugly head. 

You always knew your self deprecation was going to kick you in the ass one day.

“It’s nothing!” You panic, “I’m just saying, I’m nothing to write home about, is all!”

“Why would you say that?” Soonyoung says, genuinely confused.

“I–it’s nothing, Soonyoung,” You fight to get out, “Can we drop it?”

Soonyoung only nods and allows you the comfort of a change in topic. He talks about their upcoming match against Croatia; how he wishes one day he’ll be able to captain at the national level, talking about how well his nickname matches the white Tiger logo of the National team.

You’re thankful he doesn’t bring anything up for the rest of the walk, but it should come as no surprise when he walks you to your gate he speaks up on it.

“If it's worth anything, I think there’s something to write home about. Tons. Paragraphs, even.” He says it lightly, jokingly even.

The smile on his face is so radiant that it tickles that little spot in your heart that triggers a smile of your own.

“Goodnight, Soonyoung.”

“Sweet dreams!” He shouts as he walks backwards, heading to his own house, as if not wanting to turn away from you until he sees you smile.

Unknown Sender Today 8:19AM

hi hi since the boys are out on international duty u wanna lunch w sunhee n meeee oh!!! this is ahreum btw 🩷 i amsked gyu to ask soonie oppa for ur number but ur meanie bf wouldnt give it to me

so i asked coach cho hihi hope u dont mind!!

save my num pls!!! 🩷🩰🫧

WE 🩷 WAGS @KFAWAGs • may 8 New photo of #BANGAHREUM from the Fred Jewelry event! #KimMingyu #K9M #CDFC

ahreum (omg) 🩷🩰🫧 Today 8:19AM

save my num pls!!! 🩷🩰🫧

ahreum hi! uhhh idk how to say this but soonyoung and i arent dating

girl what

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Ahreum says, her pretty eyelashes fluttering as she blinks at you in disbelief.

“Ahreum,” Sunhee warns as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“But the lovestagrams!” She cries out.

You don’t know what to tell her that won’t disappoint her. It’s 3PM on a Friday and you’ve spent about three hours convincing two extremely well known WAGs that you are not in fact dating Kwon Soonyoung.

Unfortunately.

Grabbing lunch with Sunhee and Ahreum is more intimidating in theory than practice. While worlds apart in their daily lives, they were probably the two most publicized WAGs of their respective generations. 

Back when Seungcheol had been front and center for the Diamonds, Sunhee had been a permanent fixture at games. She was the WAG for ages with how long she and Seungcheol have been together. She was basically like a cool, funny older sister to you and much of the current squad.

Ahreum on the other hand was an enigma of her own. It should come as no surprise that the Diamonds’ flashiest player would have a girlfriend that matched him in renown. Mingyu’s girlfriend may stand at just five feet tall, but she commanded the room easily with her light presence and sometimes overly excitable energy. 

Must come with the job of being a top female K-Pop idol.

It should come as no shock that after your brief exchange over text, Ahreum had insisted you change into a cute little springtime dress and took a cab to a lunch spot in Garosu-gil within the hour. She had dragged you away from the maître d’ the second you arrived to sit you down in front of her and Sunhee. She’s been trying to pull out every single sordid detail of your debilitating childhood crush on the Diamonds’ captain and keeper all afternoon. 

“They aren’t lovestagrams,” You try to argue, “They’re just regular, you know, posts!”

“But they matched!” She cries out, “I was so close to turning on notifications for both of you in case you updated while I was at practice or something!”

“I guess it just happened. We went to some nice places, that's all.” You wished there was something there, but Soonyoung has had a wealth of opportunities if he was interested in you. He’s had them since you were like, twelve.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Sunhee offers, “I saw you two at training a few weeks back. There was something there.”

“Something! Something is good,” Ahreum nods, excitedly, “I can definitely work with something!”

“Noooo,” You whine, “No working on anything!”

Ahreum flashes you an overly exaggerated frown, “Why not. You two are so cute.”

You aren’t blind to what's been happening. How you once distantly existed to Soonyoung and how rapidly that had grown into this budding friendship. And while it was fun (and at times lovely) to fantasize about what it would be like if it grew into something more, Soonyoung’s admittance that this friendship is something he appreciated keeps you grounded.

“He just doesn't like me like that,” You say, trying not to sound defeated.

“This doesn’t make sense with my fantasy.”

“I’m perfectly okay with how we are right now,” Lie. “It took years for me to befriend him like this, so I really appreciate it for what it is.” Truth.

“Years? What!” Now it was Sunhee who was shocked.

“What do you mean what!”

“Have you and Soonyoung seriously been, you know, skirting around each other for years?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “We weren’t skirting around each other, Sunhee.”

She gives you a dead serious look.

“It just–it just never happened!” You blurt out, “I had a silly little teenage crush on him and was too socially inept to do anything about it.”

Speaking it out into the world feels pathetic but it’s also been a while since you were able to let it out. You consider keeping your cards to your chest, but when you look at Sunhee and Ahreum who are both lovely and just want to chitchat, you think it shouldn’t hurt to lend your stupid teen years to today’s gossip session.

So you tell them about your disastrous attempt to have Soonyoung escort you to your Year 10 Charity Dinner and find yourself being able to smile at how melodramatic you were about it. They listen with rapt attention, coo at your antics, and can’t help the visceral melting when you retell your dad’s knight in shining armor moment.

“That shouldn’t have kept you away from Soons for so long!” Sunhee considers.

 “It didn’t! Not really,” You start, “I think I kind of just had to wake up a bit after that.”

And wake up you did.

After the Charity Dinner you realized you could never show your face back at the HYBE training center, or at least in front of Soonyoung’s squad. There was no way you could sit on the pitch and be perceived by him as Coach Cho’s daughter who couldn’t get a date and had to pull strings with her dad to get one. And all things considered, even with the nepo baby connections you still showed up with your dad on your arm.

“If I’m not mistaken, Soonyoung started playing for my dad that year,” You reminisce, “I was just too embarrassed to be in front of him, you know?”

“Soonie must have hated that,” Ahreum pouts, picking at the croissant on her plate.

You doubt it, really.

“I think,” You start, “I think I never considered being friends with Soonyoung because I was so fixated on like, liking him, even if it was probably just a silly crush, you know?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t silly. We all have crushes! It’s a teen girl thing!” Sunhee comforts.

It is a teen girl thing, you agree. But when you look at the two women in front of you, you can’t help but marvel at how they probably cruised through their teen girl crushes. Ahreum had probably just turned twenty when she and Mingyu got together while Sunhee was literally married to her teen crush, having been Seungcheol’s childhood love, their love story a favorite among Diamonds fans.

“Well, silly or not, I was sure he didn’t like me back then,” You laugh at the bitterness of years gone by suddenly making itself known, “He showed up at my school’s charity dinner the following year.”

If his rejection of your invite was the final nail on the coffin, showing up with someone else the following year buried you six feet under.

In your 11th year, you and your friends had all decided to go stag and be each other’s dates, buying matching flowers to pin to your hair and making a whole day out of getting ready together. It was such an exciting way to look at an event that was so bittersweet to you, the unnecessary burn of humiliation still there whenever you thought about the previous year’s failed attempt to get a date.

The joy lasted for maybe three hours. After all the formalities of a fancy dinner and a charity auction for the parents in attendance, the event turns into a run of the mill dance with a subpar DJ and a makeshift dance floor. You’d skipped this part the year prior and dancing like a crazy person screaming the lyrics to Best Coast’s Boyfriend to your friends was something you were looking forward to.

You don’t get to do either because first of all, you put too much trust in the DJ to play anything other than A Thousand Years and Enchanted. Second would be that, in the midst of all the people in attendance, a face you never thought you’d see in your school gym is suddenly right in front of yours.

Soonyoung was standing there in an ill fitting blue suit and his hair haphazardly gelled down and he was your every silly daydream come to life.

You remember opening your mouth to say something to him, maybe a greeting, a question on why he was there, but you quickly shut it when his attention is pulled away by an upperclassman you weren’t familiar with.

When your gazes break, the silence that seemingly engulfed you disappears and you remember where you are and the implications of Soonyoung being there.

Boys were prohibited from campus except on select days you could count on one hand. He had to be there with someone. And that someone wasn’t you.

Your hands had grown clammy at the realization and you scramble to get your bearings. When you turn around to run off to the bathroom to maybe cry in frustration, you find yourself face to face with a boy who offers you his hand and a friendly smile.

Your poor self esteem had taken such a beating from that mere shared look with Soonyoung that this hand in front of you had felt like such a kindness. So you graciously took his hand as the opening beats of Boyfriend had come on the shitty gym speakers.

kwon soonyoung (diamonds) Today 11:37PM

Heard you had lunch out with the girls

??? howd u know

Ahreum posted on her burner

SHE HAS A BURNER??? whatd she post :(( UR SUCH A GOSSIP!!

Me??? For all I know you talked shit about me with Ahreum and Sunhee all afternoon

what happens at girl lunch stays at girl lunch

That just about confirms it! You guys were talking about me!

all bad things i promise

And here i was buying your and ddlagi gifts

oh my god soonyoung u shouldnt have

Nah its cool I just saw something and picked it up

well thank u ddalgi and i eagerly await your arrival

Is this your way of saying you miss me?

i said no such thing also!! what doin

Just got back to my room from dinner Feels weird not to go on a walk right now

well rest assured ddlagi has gone on an ill timed walk already he's down

You should take his lead then Sweet dreams, peaches

goodnight soonyoung 🤍

Mingyu’s surprise birthday party was being held at this swanky private speakeasy that was a favorite of the Diamonds’ striker according to Ahreum.

Initially you had felt discomfort when you arrived. You had come down the stairs and was immediately greeted by the smiling face of Ha Yves. You didn’t know who would be considered as party guests for people as popular and famous as Ahreum and Mingyu, but you shouldn’t have been surprised if they were all celebrities or A-Listers.

The room was filled with the members of AM♡RE still scuttling around, adding finishing touches to the long table in the middle of the room. Despite the burning feeling of being out of place, you couldn’t help the smile that had spread on your face watching these celebrities put on a surprise for a friend’s birthday.

You suddenly feel unprepared for the evening, your usual extroverted flourish having diminished quite a bit lately. 

The group is quick to greet you with a squeal of “Unnie!” and Choi Yena, who you’re familiar with, gives you a quick squeeze of a hug. The warm welcome eases your mind, introductions are given and you tell them you’re at their disposal with the decorating.

You quickly learn that this evening is a private affair of friends and family as more of Mingyu’s friends arrive, players from other teams that you’re familiar with, Ahreum’s brother being one of them. The implication of you being a part of that classification makes the pleasant feeling in your stomach grow, and the weight of imposition lifts from your shoulders.

You’re standing on a chair and holding up a gold foil balloon, helping Yves decide on the best placement when a bellowing “AMOOOOOOREEEE” cuts through the music playing through the speakers.

You bite your lip to stop the smile attempting to split your face in two.

Yves abandons you to go on and play the good leader and greets the members of the squad who were able to come, giving fist bumps and quick high fives. After the typical niceties, Soonyoung catches your eye, and laughs.

“What’re you doing all the way up there, Peaches?” He walks up to you, eyeing you from head to toe, and sending warmth throughout your body following the same path, “If you fall from there, you’ll be out for the rest of the season.”

The smile wins this round. You roll your eyes as he offers you a hand to help you down.

You pray your hand isn’t sweaty as you take his hand in yours, trying to step down as gracefully as you can without flashing the whole room. Your skirt much too short for standing on chairs even with the stockings you (thankfully) decided on last minute. You steady yourself with a quick grip on Soonyoung’s shoulder with your other hand.

Once you’re safely on the ground you flash him a thankful smile as you let go of his hand and shoulder.

“You good?” He asks, voice now a little quieter, only for you to hear.

You offer him a small nod, “Yeah, all good now. Better now.”

The rest of the night goes according to, if not better than, planned. Mingyu had jogged down the stairs with Ahreum and played the part of shocked boyfriend perfectly, beaming at her as she pulled the string of a party popper. He planted the biggest kiss onto her awaiting lips as you and the rest of the guests hooted at their PDA.

Mingyu flipped everyone off mid-kiss, of course.

You found yourself seated shoulder to shoulder with Soonyoung on your left and Vernon to your right, while Wonwoo sat in front of you. You’d spent the majority of the evening discussing films with the two of them while Soonyoung remarked about ones he’d yet to see, saying, “We should add that to our list.”

The list being an ever growing shared note on the Notes app on both your phones with a working list of movies you think he needs to watch.

“Dude, just get a Letterboxd account,” Vernon suggests.

“I said that too!” You laugh.

“Haha, okay laugh all you guys want,” Soonyoung says, attempting to stand up for himself, “But I just figured that shared note thing out and that works just fine for us, thank you!”

You elbow him playfully and he sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

“I’m getting another Coke, Wons you want one?” Soonyoung asks as he downs the last of his soda.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll get another later.”

He turns to you, “Another daiquiri, passenger princess?”

You flush as he pretty much announces to everyone who was paying attention that you were coming home with him. Well, technically just riding his car to his house then walking on foot to yours as has become your routine from nights out.

“No, I think I’m good for tonight.” The realization that you were going to be seated next to him on the way home quickly sobers you up. There was no way you could get sloshed now.

He nods in understanding as he undrapes his arm from around the back of your chair and gets up.

Vernon has been pulled into a conversation by the other end of the table and you find yourself sitting in comfortable silence with Wonwoo.

Soonyoung’s best friend has become a more familiar presence in your life just as much as Soonyoung himself. It’s nice, you think, getting to know the quieter half of this duo you’ve known for so long.

You learned that Wonwoo’s not really all that quiet when Soonyoung is there to prod and pick on him, and that Soonyoung is so much more easily humbled with the keeper of all his secrets present.

“You two look like a couple,” Wonwoo says after a while.

You gawk at him, unable to think of a quick enough retort.

“Just say, ‘thank you, Wonwoo’”” He says with an easy laugh, quoting himself from a few days ago.

Now you scowl, “Take that back, Wonwoo!”

“Why? It’s the truth!” He argues, “I don’t think either of you notice how close you two always are.”

“We are not!”

“You can’t tell because you’re too busy ogling my best friend. I can because you guys keep asking me to come hang out with you two so it seems like you’re not out on a date!” There’s a smile on his face and while he’s accusatory, Wonwoo seems to get some joy out of pointing out your glaringly obvious crush on Soonyoung.

“You’re delusional,” you attempt to argue and Wonwoo can only sputter at you.

“Takes one to know one?” He retaliates. 

Before you can stick your tongue out at him, pulling a card from Soonyoung’s repertoire of moves, the far end of the table starts to sing Happy Birthday.

Soonyoung is precariously carrying a two tier birthday cake and a beer pint filled to the brim with ice and Coke as he yells out the words to Happy Birthday. He’s beaming as he presents the cake to Mingyu and Ahreum urges Mingyu to make a wish.

He closes his eyes quickly, makes quick work of blowing out all the candles and giving Ahreum a kiss on the cheek.

Soonyoung cheers the loudest again and almost drops the cake as he sets it down on the table. His antics makes the rest of the guests laugh but next to him Yves, playfully whacks him on the shoulder and chastises him with a litany you can’t hear from where you’re seated.

Soonyoung bats his eyes at her and pouts cutely, no doubt attempting to ease her annoyance. You feel the blood draining from cheeks as the green monster of jealousy creeps up behind you and you avert your eyes from the scene. 

When you turn back to your drink, now more water than strawberry daiquiri, you catch the look on Wonwoo’s face.

There’s a devious little smirk on his silly little cat boy face and you want to slap it off of him.

“Quit it, Jeon.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Cho.”

“I mean that look on your face,” You say with an index finger wagging in front of his glasses, “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t have a look on my face,” He laughs as he sips on his glass of Coke.

“Yes, you do! It's a sneaky little face,” you pout, “Don’t you have your own love life to worry about?”

His smirk grows into a full on grin, his teeth on full display, “First of all, no I don’t. And second, so you admit it? You’re in love with Soonyoung.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears. You don’t dare to say anything out loud for fear of who might hear because you don’t know what to say.

“Wonwoo I—“

“You know, you don’t have to worry about that,” he says, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Not with Soonyoung. Never with Soonyoung.”

Not long after everyone had their fill of the cake Ahreum lovingly baked for the occasion, people started splitting off into their own little groups around the bar to talk or have more drinks. Still, you were seated next to Soonyoung, but this time making a conscious effort to keep a comfortable distance between you two. His arm may still be draped around your chair, but this time you rested your crossed arms on the table in front of you, trying your best to stay focused on the story Heejin was telling.

You almost jolt in shock at the warm hand that rests on your knee and the breath at your ear when Soonyoung whispers, “Let’s go ahead?”

When you turn to him and try not to flinch at the close proximity between the two of you.

“You look like you’re about to nod off,” he chuckles.

Humming and nodding in agreement with him, Soonyoung clears his throat and announces, “You guys keep going but we’re headed out.”

There’s a chorus of disappointed “awws” that follow as the two of you stand and Soonyoung helps you into the coat you brought for the cold. When you turn to wave goodbye to everyone still at the party, you see Wonwoo giving you a shit eating grin and you fail to stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him one last time that night.

“D’you have fun tonight?” Soonyoung asks, eyes flicking over to you for a second before turning back to the road before you.

“Hhm, yeah. I’m glad I went,” You say, “I almost bailed for a second.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You consider for a moment if you should tell Soonyoung about your afternoon before the party.  But you worry that maybe trauma dumping on him after having had such a good evening with his friends and teammates would sour the day. So you keep your mouth shut and try to wrack your brain for an acceptable reason to turn down an invite.

“I bombed at practice today,” He says out of nowhere but lightly, with a bit of a chuckle, and you know that a corner of his lip is upturned.

The focus you put in trying not to turn your head and watch him drive is commendable. You try your utmost best not just keep your eyes on him as he does the most mundane of things.

“Got into trouble for it, your dad yelled at me and all. Said I wasn’t focused.” He clicks his tongue, shakes his head and continues telling you about his day. “It didn’t get better of course, ‘cause I started overthinking it and I got worse. But you know what?”

“What?” You ask, finally looking over at him as he pulls to a stop at a busy intersection.

The red glow of the traffic light streams in through the car’s windshield despite the heavy tint and washes Soonyoung in a moody glow, only cut by the flashing lights of the LED billboards that are so commonplace in Gangnam.

“It ended,” He says as he turns to you as well, the red light offering him a respite, “Training ended and I got in my car and drove over to that speakeasy. I celebrated my teammate’s birthday, had a bunch of laughs with my friends, and now I’m driving you home.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll go back to training and try again. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll talk to your dad again and ask for his help. And when that ends, I’ll come home and I’ll probably ask you if you want to go for a walk.”

He ends all of that with a big, bright, beautiful smile that makes your lower lip wobble. Soonyoung is so wonderful and your heart feels so vulnerable. You’re worried that you might end up going off on a litany about how your school girl crush from nearly sixteen years ago had awoken from its dormant slumber on a chilly evening in March, and was wreaking havoc in your heart and brain as it fed on every right and perfect thing Soonyoung had said to you since then.

But you keep it in. 

Instead you let out a shudder of a breath and tell Soonyoung about your day.

“I feel like I’m running out of time,” You start, “Which is stupid because I’m like, twenty eight and probably not dying soon, and I know you probably won’t get it because you’ve had a career since you were like, nineteen, and that’s why I don’t think I wanted to get into it with you but also because I don’t want you to think about how pathetic I am.”

Saying all of that in one breath almost has you panting, but more than anything, it’s that worry you’ve been trying to bury in your chest all these weeks, pretending you were above it all, that’s been weighing you down.

“You know how I’ve been trying to get a new job right?”

He makes a sound of agreement, not wanting to cut you off while you were clearly in the middle of a tirade.

“Well, I feel like I’ve been floundering, you know? I put in all these applications and I do the interviews, and I do great because I know I can turn it on when I have to but it’s just such a fucking drag!” 

You know you’re whining but you’ve already started and everything is coming out like a tidal wave from your mouth.

“I’ve been at this for months and today I got an email that sounds really promising but I still haven’t really gotten hired and I feel like I’m going around in circles with these companies, trying to convince them I’m the shit but it’s not like I really care all that much about them, really.”

“I just don’t want to keep wasting my time doing nothing and being no one.”

Silence. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Then I kind of got into it with my dad this afternoon,” You finally let out, “I was… I was planning to come see you at practice today. And he kind of, I don’t know… He kind of told me I couldn’t be there. That it was private practice today and that none of the girls were going to be there either and that… that maybe I was overstaying my welcome when I had no affiliation with the Diamonds.”

Soonyoung’s gripping the steering wheel firmer, from what you can tell and you want to ease his mind, but your own was aflame with the indignation you had felt that afternoon.

“I thought about skipping on Ahreum’s invite because well, I didn’t know who would be there, but I knew Ahreum and I kind of know Mingyu, and I knew that place was going to be chock full of beautiful, famous, successful people, and I just didn’t know if I could handle that after everything, you know?”

You don’t realize that you’ve made it all the way home throughout your tiny meltdown and Soonyoung has been idling in front of your family’s garden gate for a minute or two.

“Then?” Soonyoung prompts.

“What do you mean?” You’re confused.

“Then what happened?” He clarifies.

“What do you mean ‘then what happened?’ Soonyoung you were there,” You point out with an arched brow. You’re a little peeved.

“Just play along, Peaches. Don’t be a soil sport,” He encourages.

“Fine. Then I got dressed and went straight to Mingyu’s party. I helped set up, and then you guys arrived, and we had dinner and drinks, and talked about movies, and… we got in your car, and we talked, and now you’re dropping me off at home.”

“I think our days turned out pretty okay in the end,” Soonyoung says with a gentle smile.

Oh.

Oh.

soonyoung 🥅 Today 1:47PM

ddalgi misses you ig :/ come back from jeju fasterrrrr

Yes maam! And I'll make sure we win too Don't want to upset Ddalgi with a poor showing

of course he'd be so upset

This weeks feels like its going by sooooo slowly Will you be at the gala?

hate to say it but ya

I'll see you then :)

The gala Soonyoung had mentioned was the Gangnam District Arts Gala. The exclusive gala was to be televised live and the guestlist was filled with brand execs, celebrity performers, and A-List socialites. 

The press release was that they were pledging obscenely large donations to uplift the arts and encourage the young, creative minds of students in schools with underdeveloped arts programs. It was a fairly new development and was something that you felt was just an excuse for rich people to dress up, drink, and bask in each other’s wealth.

Initially the idea of an entire sports team and their managers and staff being a part of such an event was uncommon. You understood if a handful of the first team was present, personalities that were instantly affiliated with big name brands like Mingyu, Minghao, Jeonghan, and even at times, Soonyoung. All the connections with the Diamonds instantly made sense when you found out the brains behind the operation.

The whole thing was planned under the watchful eye of Choi Seoah, Seungcheol’s business-mogul younger sister and Jeonghan’s girlfriend. 

If you paid more attention to local entertainment news you’d be more aware of how Seoah wanted this gala to be a “family affair” and having her childhood team and Gangnam representatives, the Cheongdam Diamonds, to not only attend but also co-host the event was her goal.

You hated it as soon as you heard about it, only to somehow be roped into it last minute.

All of that led to you sitting next to your dad at the dinner table, waiting for the team to arrive from their red carpet appearance. As your dad’s (begrudging) plus one, you were free from being in front of the public eye, with the coaching staff opting to come through a different entrance. But with the first team being the event’s hosts, they were considered one of the highlights of the evening.

There was a commotion as soon as they stepped inside the venue, and rightfully so. You knew these events were always somehow about the fashion, and even you weren’t exempted from the frills and frivolities of looking good for an evening. But nothing could have prepared you for how Soonyoung would be dressed this evening.

If there was ever an expert at having their breath being taken away at the sight of Soonyoung, you would certainly be a credible candidate. Soonyoung was dressed in smart pinstripe pants and a blazer speckled with sparkling gems, but the focal point of his look had been the sheer black tank top he was wearing underneath. You had felt your throat go dry and the hairs on your arms raise when he came through the doors and the team was led to their seats.

You spend much of the night willing Soonyoung to look your way, but with him being the captain of the team meant to be the figureheads of the event, he’s got his hands full speaking to other honored guests and VIPs wanting to get a chance to meet him. 

There’s a pit in your stomach where jealousy collects and starts to overflow everytime a beautiful, statuesque woman comes close to him, whispers in his ear for him to hear her better, and laughs at his jokes. You know they’re funny, and whatever joke it is, you’re sure you’ve heard it before and laughed harder.

The silliness of your mindset looms over your head like an angry cloud and you can’t help as it sours your mood even when Ahreum’s girl group comes on to perform their latest song. When it ends she forgoes sitting back with her group and you catch her slipping away with Mingyu as you had excused yourself to go to the lady’s room.

Your neck feels stiff from having to crane it to get a decent view of Soonyoung’s table the whole night but being outside of the main venue gives you a second to breathe and for you to ease your mind. When you spot a line leading out of the closest bathroom, you decide it and opt to look around the intricately designed foyer. You empty your mind as you run your gloved finger along the edge of a gilded art frame, glistening under the flickering light of a nearby decorative candle.

“I told you I’d find you,” comes a voice from behind you that spooks you so bad, you tip the decoration you were toying with off the edge of the table.

His years of practice honing his reflexes kick in and Soonyoung’s able to catch the frame before it crashes to the ground. He places it back on the table carefully, no one the wiser about its almost demise.

“What did I say about coming up behind me like that, Soonyoung!” You chastise raising a hand to slap him playfully on the chest. You stop short when your eyes catch his outfit once again and how you could see his skin so clearly even through the opaque black fabric.

Soonyoung catches your hand mid air and brings it to his lips, pressing them lightly against the silky fabric of your gloves and looks down at you, “You clean up good, peaches.”

Your skin burns so hot you feel sweat start to dot the back of your neck and you tear your hand away from him. You pretend to be unaffected, giving him a playful roll of your eyes, “You haven’t even seen the half of it yet, Kwon.”

The two of you have found yourselves in a quieter hallway, away from prying eyes and smartphones with a million megapixel cameras. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen each other and the weight of the albeit short time away from each other lifts from your mind.

“Have you been good?”

“Mmhhm,” You hum, “Better now.”

As much as you wish you could whisk him away from the party forever, you know you have to give him back to his teammates. To your surprise, Soonyoung pulls up a chair from a vacant table next to theirs and situates it right next to where he sits down.

You gawk at him for a second, unsure if you could fuck up the seating arrangement at a whim, but before he says anything, a tall elegant woman situates herself on Jeonghan’s lap and drapes a slender arm around his shoulders.

“Seoah, this is Mr. Cho’s daughter,” Jeonghan says and you straighten up with a start, offering your name and hand for his girlfriend to shake.

“Finally, we meet properly!” She says with a tinkling laugh, “Hannie’s told me all about you and Soonie. Come, sit!”

Upon her insistence you situate yourself on the chair Soonyoung had pulled up just as Ahreum and Mingyu arrive at the table, panting, and Ahreum having changed out of her performance costume into a pretty pale pink dress, her hair flowing down her back in pretty waves.

When she notices you seated at the table, she lets go of Mingyu’s hand to run over to you with a hug and a squeal of “Unnie, you’re here!”

Had Seungcheol and Sunhee been in attendance, there’s no doubt they would be seated at this table with the rest of you, and it comes to you belatedly that you were seated at the WAG table. Weeks earlier and you might have been uncomfortable at that fact, displeased with being out of place, but the longer you think about it, the more you wished that it could be the norm for you.

You’d been toying with the idea in your mind for a few days now, that maybe, just maybe, you did want to be a WAG. Maybe what’s been going on between you and Soonyoung wasn’t just a friendship that was long delayed. 

Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to indulge in the prospect of Soonyoung reciprocating your feelings, and that this long standing crush was no longer unreciprocated.

The conversation between you and the rest of the table’s occupants was light and fun and with Seoah calling for more champagne every so often, you felt the tension at your shoulders melt away. Even when your father had dropped by, asking if you’d be riding back home with him, you smiled at him brightly, saying you’d find your own ride back.

You don’t miss the nod and salute Soonyoung gives him from beside you.

When you let out an unintentional yawn, the alcohol making your eyelids droop slightly, Soonyoung pushes back the sleeve of his blazer to check the time.

“We can head out if you want,” He says, “I’m sure Ddlagi’s waiting for us.”

Your heart soars at his words. You nod at him and stand as he holds his hand out to pull you up.

“Alright, that’s a wrap for the two of us,” He says, tugging off his blazer jacket, “I’ll see you guys on Monday. Ahreum, Seoah, lovely as always.”

Alarm bells are ringing and sirens are blaring in your head as Soonyoung’s bare arms come into view and you can see how the muscles of his back and stomach move beneath his skin as he waves and motions for you to follow him.

Soonyoung goes up behind you, steadying you in your heels, and places his blazer over your bare shoulders—the heat from his clothing warming you up in a split second. Ahreum’s giggle from behind you catches your attention and you manage to see her wink from the corner of your eye.

“Bye, everyone!” You greet, “Thanks for letting me crash your table.”

“Any time, lovely!” Seoah says with a flippant wave of her hand, “I’ll try to make it to lunch with you girls next time, please be there!”

“Have fun, unnie!” Ahreum calls out and you don’t know whether to smile or curse her as you and Soonyoung walk away.

“I like sitting with the WAGs,” You say kind of mindlessly as you stare out of the window, watching as Gangnam passes you and Soonyoung by.

“Yeah?” He says, encouraging you to go on.

“Yup,” You say with a pop, “It feels like I’m part of a sisterhood or something when I’m with them.”

“Yeah, they all got really close in no time, especially when Tiny came into the picture,” Soonyoung recalls, “Seoah and Sunhee are pretty much sisters now, so it was exciting for them to have someone new join in.”

“I hope they’ll welcome me as warmly,” You blurt out.

Fuck. Idiot.

There’s a beat of silence and you feel yourself floundering as if you were underwater. 

“What do you mean?” Soonyoung asks, cutting into the silence.

You keep your eyes trained out of the window, willing him to let it the fuck go, but you know he won’t.

He’s about to turn to your street and you consider for a split second if it’d be feasible for you to jump out of his Maserati right this very second and hide under your sheets. Soonyoung does you a kindness by not saying anything until he pulls up in front of your house, saving you the awkwardness of having to walk home with him from his house like you usually do.

You try to quickly unbuckle your seatbelt but the second you turn your head to look for the button to press, Soonyoung gently takes your chin in between his fingers and brings your face closer to his.

In this position there’s no way for you to escape his gaze and under it you feel like you’re on fire.

“I’ll ask again,” Soonyoung starts in a whisper, as if he spoke any louder that bubble that surrounded you would pop and shatter this very moment, “What did you mean?”

This close and you can take him in, really look at him, smell him, breathe him.

“I mean,” you say slowly, gathering all the nerves you can muster, “That I want to sit on the WAG bench and cheer your name during games. I want to wear your jersey and have you dedicate saves for me.”

You gulp as you feel yourself grow in conviction, “I want to hold your trophies with you at the end of the season and bad mouth refs who give out shitty calls when you have to deal with a penalty. I want it all, Soonyoung. I want it with you.”

There it was, laid out in front of him, plain as day and no way to misinterpret. Your silly teenage fantasies had followed you into adulthood and had grown into real life yearning, hoping that the boy you had watched grow up into the most wonderful man would just take you out of your misery and say yes, that he too had felt the same tugging at his heart when he was around you. 

Soonyoung’s silence was killing you as the seconds felt like hours but when his fingers twitched beneath your chin, your heart gave off a thunderous thump, and he pulled you in closer, and your eyes slipped shut.

You let out a breath through parted lips and you feel the warmth of Soonyoung’s own shaky exhale on your lower lip. Just as you feel his lip press against your own–

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

In a flash your eyes fly open and you pull yourself away from him. Soonyoung is shellshocked at the speed at which you put distance between the two of you and how you scramble to successfully free yourself from his presence.

“Wait–wait a second, listen to me!” He tries to say, but everything sounds like a garbled mess to you.

You feel like you’re underwater again, your nose flaring as you try to get as much air into your lungs. You can feel your lips turning downwards and the telltale wobble of your lower lip. The heat and sting from behind your eyes tell you that you’re seconds away from falling apart.

How stupid. How stupid to think that after all this time he would see you as anything other than his coach’s daughter. His coach’s stupid, pathetic daughter who couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t achieve anything even after all this time.

When you free yourself from the mess of the seatbelts and you’re able to wrangle the door of his car open, you stomp out, nearly tripping over yourself in your stupid heels. Soonyoung gets out as well and tries to call out to you without causing a scene.

You’re about to open the gate to your house when you realize you’re still wearing his blazer. You’ve grown comfortable in it and the warmth of him, and it's agony as you rip it off, turn around and throw it in his face.

“Go fuck yourself, Soonyoung.”

You expect your anger and grief to fuel a tirade but you find yourself moving so slowly and so cautiously around your own home. You had guided the front door shut so that only the clicking of the locks and the springs in the knob disturbed the silence. You pressed your back against the door and held your breath as you watched the shadows move on the walls as Soonyoung pulled out of your family’s driveway. 

Only when you were doused in darkness could you slowly exhale.

You feel so much smaller than you are as you tiptoe up the stairs, clutching your heels to your chest, and lifting the skirt of your dress. You had felt so beautiful tonight, only to come home feeling more rotten and ugly than you ever have in your life.

When you close your bedroom door behind you, you turn to the Golden Retriever curled up by your pillows and you sniffle. Then the first tear drops when you think of how you’re supposed to let Ddlagi know that Soonyoung won’t be coming over anymore. You bury your face into Ddalgi’s coat and allow the sobs to wrack your body.

You had always thought it would be beneath you to cry over a boy. 

Feeling disappointment, anger, or sadness you would understand, it would only be normal to do so. But you felt like your body was caving in on you, the embarrassment of his rejection, the idea that you had misread all the queues, that you were deluded this whole time, thinking that maybe after all these, you would finally be worth a second thought to Soonyoung.

While the thought of losing him as a lover hurt you, the idea that you may lose him as a friend forever after what you had done has you shedding more tears. You took bits and pieces of every walk you’d been on, every movie you watched, the dinners you ate, and hid them away in your heart because you had longed for Soonyoung for so long, that all these moments were truly treasured.

But you’re also angry.

You’re angry because you know there must have been something. Sunhee had seen it that day when you came to practice, Ahreum had thought you were a couple just from photos, and Wonwoo, Wonwoo had reassured you that with Soonyoung you hadn’t a thing to worry about.

Have you all misunderstood? It couldn’t have all been in your head. Some part of it must have been true, and maybe still is. 

Your anger sets you into motion. Despite having been the one to walk away in anger, you feel like maybe you were entitled to an explanation. If you were going to cut Soonyoung off from your life from here on out, you wanted to do it on your own terms.

In the shower, you worry that you were speedrunning through the stages of grief. From how immensely you felt for Soonyoung and for just how long you’ve been carrying a torch for him. For the chance that he’d look your way and think of you as someone more than just your father’s daughter who had watched him from where she sat doing her homework.

You want to yell at him. You want to curse him and shove him and tell him how much you felt for him. Maybe that way he would understand how much he hurt you.

You dress quickly and haphazardly, not caring how you look, because you’ve let him see you look worse in the past weeks, grown so comfortable in his presence to truly be yourself around him. All your past actions feel like double edged swords. On one hand you were elated, so taken with how things had panned out before this evening and on the other, you felt the dread of regret, of sharing so much of yourself, and so willingly, to someone who could walk away without a second thought.

As you rush down the stairs you childishly you wonder if your father could kick him off the team for breaking your heart.

You make a conscious effort to close up after yourself quietly, guiding the door shut gently, just as you had earlier that evening. When you turn around, your heart falls to your stomach at the sight before you.

Soonyoung stands in front of your gate looking just as he did that first night he walked with you and Ddalgi. Soft, barefaced, and dressed in a ratty hoodie and sweats, you find your false bravado whittling away in his presence. His ability to render you speechless felt so unfair but you can’t help but acquiesce to it as you always do.

You loved him like this, just him, the him you had grown so used to and so comfortable around, and so in love with.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

And that’s why you don’t stop him when he unlatches the gate and walks up towards you. You don’t stop him when he goes to stand right in front of you, towering over you and bowing his head to be closer to you. You don’t stop him when he takes your face into his hands, tilting it ever so slightly so your eyes are locked. You don’t stop him when he uses his thumb to wipe away at a stray tear that betrays the strong front you wanted to put on.

You don’t stop him when he says, “I’m sorry for what I did. And I’m sorry if this is selfish, but I’ll never forgive myself if you think I don’t want you, that you don’t fill my every fucking waking moment, that I could let you walk away like you did.”

Your chin is trembling with the effort of keeping yourself together but a ragged sob escapes your mouth as you try to make sense of what Soonyoung’s saying.

Your chin is trembling with the effort of keeping yourself together but a ragged sob escapes your mouth as you try to make sense of what Soonyoung’s saying.

The hard look of determination on his face softens at your reaction and he shushes you, tries to ease your thundering heart but how can you when he says, “I have wanted you for so long. How could you not have known?” and finally presses his lips to yours.

Soonyoung was fifteen when he got the shock of his life

He was in the middle of a scrimmage game against the other members of his squad when he caught Coach Cho Woonjae coming down from the second pitch. His hands were already sweating in his gloves but he felt flames lick at his feet, willing himself to move quicker, react faster, anything to catch the attention of the living legend that was walking his way.

They wrapped up the game with his team managing a 1-0 win, extending his scrimmage clean sheet record. He made a show of cheering his team on, clapping them on the back and showering them in praises.

Wonwoo had raised a skeptical brow at him, clearly having noticed his odd behavior.

“You’re scaring me,” Wonwoo commented as he rubbed the sweat from his eyes.

“Fuck off,” Soonyoung laughed, “Coach Cho is watching.”

Soonyoung was eager for their coach to wrap up their training, he had wanted to go up to his idol so badly, to ask him if he saw how he played, if he had improved in any way, or if he had any wisdom to impart from one goalkeeper to another.

It turned out that Soonyoung didn’t have to do anything at all. Once the final team huddle had dispersed, Coach Cho had come over to Soonyoung himself, clapping him on the back and greeting him with a “Good job today, Kwon.”

Soonyoung tried his best not to sputter, gave him a curt bow of his head and said, “Thank you so much, Coach. I learned from the best. I meant from you! Because, you know, you’re the best.”

I’m a fucking idiot, Soonyoung thought to himself.

Coach Cho could only laugh at his blunder and offered him a thanks, son, so at the very least Soonyoung could take pride in having been funny. But when his laughter died down, he had affixed Soonyoung with a look that had been, at that time, unreadable.

Then, with no preamble, Coach Cho asked him if he could take his daughter to a school dance.

When he stumbled into the locker room, the rest of his teammates were already undressing, pulling out toiletries from their lockers and a fresh change of clothes. Soonyoung was still shell shocked when he sat down next to Wonwoo, body moving on autopilot as he dodged gangly elbows and stray towels being tossed around.

“What’d Coach Cho say to you?” Wonwoo asked in a hushed voice.

“He asked me if I could take Jiae to a dance. I-if I could be her date.”

Wonwoo’s jaw had dropped comically, not having expected that.

“Well?” He had urged.

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean well?”

“Well what did you say, dumbass?” He asked with a flick to Soonyoung’s to ear.

“I–” Soonyoung had trouble voicing it out, because now that he was repeating it, it sounded even more stupid than when he had blurted it out to Coach Cho, “I said I couldn’t.”

“What?!” Wonwoo had yelled, pulling the attention of some of the players sitting by them.

“I can’t go that day,” Soonyoung had tried to reason out, but the more he thought about it, the more he regretted saying no so quickly. 

“What could you possibly be doing that is somehow more important than taking Coach Cho’s daughter to a dance?”

Soonyoung drops his head into his hands, groaning out an answer.

“What was that?” Wonwoo taunted.

“I said, I’m getting my braces out.”

Word of Coach Cho’s request had spread amongst the Under-18 and Under-15 team like wildfire and Soonyoung had never felt so embarrassed in his life. Not because it was embarrassing to have been asked, but because he had said no. 

But for many of those he had called teammates, it had become a running joke that maybe they too would be tapped to take you to this school dance, and it made Soonyoung’s blood boil at how crass the thoughts of some of his teammates were.

“I still can’t believe you said no,” Youngho had said to Soonyoung when he had dropped his backpack onto the bench in front of his locker. 

Soonyoung’s shoulders were heavy with the fatigue from his commute from school and this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. He wanted to run a few laps, do a few drills, then pummel whoever his team was playing against during the scrimmage to the ground.

His teammate’s thoughts and comments were far from what he wanted to deal with that day.

Wonwoo had given him a warning look, to just ignore it and move on, and against his usual instinct, Soonyoung followed his best friend’s advice.

“Dude, imagine if you had said yes and like, impressed her or whatever.” Youngho had started up again, “You’d probably make it all the way to the first team on Cho’s good graces alone.”

But there was only so much that Soonyoung could stomach.

“Anyway, I’m sure Cho’ll ask someone else after practice tonight,” Youngho continued, “She must really want to fuck a footballer or something.”

He doesn’t think he’d ever moved so fast in his life, but within seconds Soonyoung had Youngho up against a locker, his body hit the metal and alerted everyone in the room that a fight was about to break out. 

Soonyoung had no intention of actually hurting anyone, it wasn’t in his nature, but his blood had boiled at how something so innocent as an invite to a dance was suddenly being used to dirty your name without you even knowing.

“You’re disgusting,” Soonyoung had said through gritted teeth, “Even if that was the case, I’m sure she wouldn’t stoop as low as you.”

Even as one of the tallest players on the team, that day Youngho looked small under the fire of Soonyoung’s rage.

Shortly after the confrontation in the lockers and both Soonyoung and Youngho’s one week suspension from training, any talk of dances and daughters had died down just as all topics of locker room discussion did. 

But it lived in Soonyoung’s brain incessantly.

From the moment Coach Cho had asked him, he had rewinded back to every single memory of you he could recall. Soonyoung had considered you a permanent fixture at the HYBE training center. He could recall that very first time he came into Coach Cho’s office after training, and you were seated by the coffee table with your nose in something or another. 

Back then you had been so intimidating and snooty that he never dared to talk to you even as he waited for his turn to talk to your dad.

As he grew more comfortable in his place at the training center, no longer gobsmacked at every shiny trophy or starstruck at every first team player that passed him in the hallways, you had started to look more warm towards him too. He was proud to have gotten a smile at the very least, when he would wave to you goodbye.

The years that followed were spent relentlessly chasing his dream, spending every minute that he could to prove his mettle at his sport, and that left him with very little time for anything else.

It wasn’t that Soonyoung never had anyone catch his eye, he just never really did anything about it. Well, that and no one had ever expressed any interest in him. He tries not to focus on that, despite how he enjoys the spoils of the wars waged between the girls vying for Wonwoo’s affections. He never longed for that kind of attention.

But when he received it from you, despite how it was through that awkward conversation of an invite from your father, he considered it, even if it was just for a smidge of a second.

The smidge of a second grew into minutes, then hours, then days. When Soonyoung found himself wondering why you hadn’t visited the training center in weeks, he started to worry.

“What if she thinks I don’t like her?” Soonyoung said to Wonwoo.

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo asked as he strapped his shin guards on.

“Jiae,” Soonyoung whispered, “What if she thinks I don’t like her.”

Wonwoo could only snort, “You bet she thinks you don’t like her, you said no to her dad.”

Soonyoung groaned as he hit himself in the face with his gloves.

“Why does it matter,” Wonwoo pushed, “You like her?”

Soonyoung could only blush.

“Soonyoung, please don’t tell me you have a crush on your idol’s daughter?” 

The silence was deafening.

Soonyoung keeps his crush on you like a dirty secret.

It was probably the world’s worst kept dirty secret, but nevertheless, Soonyoung persisted. 

After having blown the chance to take you to a school dance with the blessing of your father, he had been hoping to get the chance to make it up to you. He just wanted to know, did you like him like that? Why hadn’t anyone else on the squad gotten asked to take you to the dance but him? Why him?

Your presence at the training center had gone from few and far in between to once in a blue moon. And as much as Soonyoung hated to say it, it made him sad. He doesn’t want to assume that it was because of him, but just not being able to see you at all for weeks and eventually months at a time was a departure from what he was so used to.

Sometimes he went into Coach Cho’s office just in the hopes that he'd see you seated by the coffee table, reading a book, and he could just wave hi.

After about a year of your scarce training visits, Soonyoung realizes he may have underestimated his crush on you. While there was little he could actually do in between school, training, and hagwon, that didn’t stop him from silly little daydreams and fantasies of seeing you in the stands at one of their official league matches.

That year Soonyoung and Wonwoo had officially joined the U-18 team that Coach Cho personally handled and it was the start of the most grueling period of football growth of Soonyoung’s life. With a defensive expert leading the team, there were suddenly more eyes on him, greater expectations, and the added pressure of playing in front of his hero almost every single day.

There were many nights that Soonyoung thought training would end on a much lighter note if you were watching.

The first time Soonyoung saw you in months was on a random Wednesday evening when he was on clean up duty. He was trailing behind the rest of the guys, wheeling the cart of training balls to the correct storage rooms when he saw you leaning against the wall by your father’s office.

He doesn’t know if you had seen him, but he ducked into the storage room regardless, self conscious of how he looked post-training with grass stains on his white kit and his hair stuck haphazardly to his face.

From where he was hiding he simply appreciated seeing you in the flesh again after so long. He tried to make a mental tally of things that may have changed since he last saw you, maybe your hair was a little longer, or your lips were colored a different shade by a new lip gloss. Soonyong didn’t know, he was always bad at those things, all he knew at that time was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and that he had missed you.

Wonwoo thought it was a horrible idea. And in hindsight, he was right—but hindsight was always 20/20 and Soonyoung believed back then that Wonwoo was almost laughably blind. So, being Soonyoung, he had ignored his best friend’s wise words and jumped head straight into his plan.

The plan being to surprise you and woo you at your school dance. Soonyoung had thanked his lucky stars when his cousin had mentioned it off hand that she was going to dress shopping for a school event that was coming up. Soonyoung usually tuned this kind of talk out when he spent weekends with his extended family, but the mention of a school dance had perked up his ears and suddenly he was begging on his hands and knees for his cousin to take him as her designated plus one.

Very rarely did Soonyoung use his placement in the Cheongdam Diamonds’ U-18 team as leverage, but even his cousin couldn’t deny how impressive it would look to take him to the dance.

What he didn’t expect was having to fend off everyone that assumed he was dating his snooty older cousin.

He didn’t expect coming face to face with you before he was ready to sweep you off of your feet.

He didn’t expect that you’d turn your back at him instantly, and take another boy’s hand in your own.

He didn’t expect how badly it would hurt to have been rejected without even getting to say a word.

He tried. He tried to keep away, to be satisfied having that brief teenage crush on you. He had fallen into bed with the most beautiful models and some of the most promising rising actresses, but found himself going home thinking about that seventeen year old girl who had turned away from him and danced with another boy.

Soonyoung supposes, after a while, that maybe he doesn’t deserve you. He was a far cry from what your father was at his age and having been raised in the game, the lifestyle that he now had, it was possible that you would be far from impressed. 

On particularly bad nights, Soonyoung thinks of the worst: that maybe you despised him and what he stood for as a professional athlete. Maybe you had sworn to absolutely never be with an athlete, that they were all good for nothing playboys and tricksters. On those nights Soonyoung tried to think of the positive: You’d probably never date any of his teammates.

The spark that set off a wildfire in his heart that night he came across you and Ddalgi had been warming his body for weeks. He’s never felt as weightless in his life as when he had managed to place himself in your life after so many years. He tried to stay satisfied, happy to be your friend and to stay by your side in any way, shape, or form you preferred.

But it was so difficult.

Every time he got close to you, he could feel the way his heart thumped louder, faster, telling him that you were here, just out of reach, but if he just put out his hand and took your own, then maybe you could calm it, satisfy it.

But Soonyoung’s made nearly a million and one mistakes when it came to you. And this evening was the worst. Despite his best efforts, he almost always seemed to fuck it up with you, and he couldn’t believe he had managed to hurt you to the point of tears.

He’d spend every second, minute, hour of every day making it up to you if he could, to lavish you in words that would put your mind at ease, make your heart race, and set your skin aflame.

Soonyoung’s made nearly a million and one mistakes when it came to you, but pressing his lips to your throat, and holding you down onto his bed to hear you sigh out his name, would not be one of them.

This evening felt like a dream, Soonyoung thought. In his rational mind there was no way any of it could have happened outside of his imagination. From the second he had pressed his lips to yours, he thought that he was on borrowed time, that just as easily as he had gotten you, you could slip away, change your mind, turn him away.

But when you had pulled away from him and your eyes had met for the first time since the revelation that there were so many years of yearning between you both, your gaze had set his blood aflame.

There was no other way about it. He had to have you.

It was a bold move to take your hand, something he had been longing to do for ages, and tug you towards the direction of his own house. It seemed awfully presumptuous but the way you gripped onto his arm, wrapping your fingers around his bicep and nodded in agreement was all the confirmation he needed.

While your first kiss was wistful, misty, and so long delayed, Soonyoung had made sure that the following kiss was the exact opposite. The second he had closed the door behind the two of you, he had pressed you against it, held the back of your head, tilted it backward just slightly and kissed you breathless. When you had groaned into the kiss, Soonyoung had taken the opportunity to lick into your mouth, his tongue a welcome intrusion in your own. Soonyoung’s head was spinning as he let out a breathy moan of his own.

You tasted of toothpaste and smelled of coconut conditioner, your hair still slightly damp and cold from your recent shower and Soonyoung wanted to be wrapped in it, in all of you.

At the very back of Soonyoung’s brain he wondered if he was being too eager, if it was so fucking uncool for him to want you so badly. But this evening was no longer about rationality. It was about finally giving in, it was finally time for you to both let out the breaths you’d been holding in for far too long.

Soonyoung wanted you to know that he was here and he would be here for as long as you wanted him. If that meant until next week, two years from now, forever, or even if just for tonight, he would gladly accept it.

“More, Soonyoung,” You had whispered in between small, softer kisses, and stuck out your lower lip in a pout. He couldn’t resist you.

He had playfully bit on the fullness of your lip, licked at it with his tongue, then brought it into his mouth to suck. He watched as your eyelids fluttered shut and you wrapped your arms around his head, elbows hooked over his shoulders. It was easy work for him to lift you up by your thighs and carry you up the stairs.

You asked for more so more you would get. Every kiss that followed felt bruising, when Soonyoung felt that you were short of breath, he’d pull away just to press his lips to your pulse instead, and when that wasn’t enough, he licked a hot strip onto your pulse and pressed the softest of bites, eliciting a broken moan from your lips.

He wanted to be everywhere, touch everything, hear every desperate gasp, swallow every hungry groan.

Hungry. That’s what you were.

And that’s what he’s always been.

The heat coursing through his body is almost too much for him to take, so Soonyoung quickly pulls away from you with a displeased sigh. He grabs at the bottom of his hoodie to pull it up and over his head before diving back in to press his lips to yours. He refuses to have his mouth parted from yours for too long now that he finally knows what you taste like. 

His fingers itch to feel your skin and while your thighs had been soft, smooth, and pliant in his hands when he carried you up to his room, he needed more. He needed to know how your skin would feel pressed against his own, how your thighs would feel wrapped around his waist.

You must want the same thing because you follow his lead and pull your own hoodie up and off.

In the locker rooms, there are plenty of mindless and stupid questions thrown about. It wasn’t too long ago that the conversation of “ass or tits” was brought up. It was met with loud jeering and playfully scandalized hooting.

Soonyoung had very cheekily said, “Her heart” and was met with boos and fuck yous from his teammates. If you asked him again today, he’d finally have a proper answer.

“You’re not in a bra,” Soonyoung says in a whisper, eyes zoning onto your chest.

“I’m undressing for you, Soonyoung. That’s kind of the point.”

“I-i-yeah, I get that but. That whole time? You weren’t in a bra?”

“Well, yeah,” you start leaning back on your elbows, “I was planning on going to bed straight after yelling at you, but… well, here we are.”

His mind goes back to all those weeks prior to tonight when he had greeted you at your front gate and you were wearing this exact same outfit.

When his eyes meet yours it seems you’ve come to the same realization as him.

“Do you like them, Soonyoung?” You ask, one hand coming to grasp at the fullness of your left breast and barely fitting in your palm, and the other hand traces your right nipple with a finger slowly; teasing.

“Fuck yes,” He says, unable to hold it in, “Were you walking around me these last few weeks without a bra on? Tits just out of my reach?”

The fake coy look on your face makes him so painfully hard but he tries to play it cool, “Yes, captain. Won’t you like to give them a touch?”

He shakes his head no, and you’re almost confused until he says, “Let me have a taste of you, baby.”

Baby.

Soonyoung’s pulling all these moves he’s been too terrified to try, despite all the times he’s been openly flirtatious and he’s tried to push the boundaries between friendship and that something more.

But he’s always wanted to try and call you baby.

He doesn’t see what your reaction is like because just as he says it, he leans down to lick a broad stripe onto your breast and captures your right nipple between his teeth, the tip of his tongue playing with the stiffening bud.

The sigh you let out fills his head and it’s then that Soonyoung decides that he wants to draw every possible sound of pleasure he can from your mouth. Soonyoung knows he’s loud, mouthy, and just short of talkative in bed, but he wants to know how loud you can get, if he can have you screaming his name too.

He’s determined to make every second from here on out as pleasurable as he can but he’s been painfully hard since he had you pressed up against his front door. In an attempt to get you as riled up as he can, he switches his hand and mouth, making sure to lavish both of your breasts in licks and kisses, litter them with small nips and love bites, fit them in his hands almost painfully, so the memory of his hands on you sticks. 

Soonyoung could spend hours praising your chest, but your litany of his name, growing breathless by the second, and the way you’re undulating your hips, trying your best to get some kind of relief finally pulls him away from where he’s be stuck in his own heady cloud of lust.

“Soonyoung, I want to make you feel good,” is what you say when he pulls away from your chest with an obscene pop, moving to press kisses on the valley between your breasts.

You almost make his brain go offline when you grab him by the long, scruffy locks of hair by his nape to lock eyes with him.

You are a vision.

The heady look in your eyes and the way you bite on your plush lower lip is just so much to Soonyoung. Its enough of a distraction that he lets you maneuver him any which way you want and he settles comfortably on his back and against the plush pillows at the head of his bed.

You stand on your knees between his legs and make quick work of untying the drawstrings of his sweats and his hands instantly fly down to yours to help you pull them off along with his underwear. He kicks them to the floor unceremoniously and you push his shoulder back lightly to have him fall back to his pillows. 

“Oh fuck!” is all he can comprehend to say when you drag your tongue from his balls to the tip of his cock, swiping at the precum that’s started to leak from his slit. Without giving him a second to recover from your initial onslaught, you sink your mouth onto his cock, holding his hip down with a firm hand to support yourself as you give way in your throat for him to slip all the way in.

Soonyoung tries to keep himself from slipping into his baser instincts, to cant his hips upward and have your nose press against his abdomen, fucking himself into your mouth. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding through his nose just as you groan around him, eyes slipping shut, and your throat clenching around the head of his cock.

Your mouth was so fucking warm and wet and your throat so tight he wonders if he’ll make it out alive from this blowjob to fuck your pussy.

You pull off him with a slight gag and a cough, but you deal with it like champ and slip your mouth over him again, this time your mouth in a perfect ‘O’ to suck on him quickly, your head bobbing and your spit spilling onto the sides of your lips and down the length of him.

The sounds are filthy and the gasp that you let out when you pull off of him to sit up slightly straighter could make a lesser man cum untouched.

Your fingers are wrapped around him by his base, staving off his impending orgasm, when you decide to blow Soonyoung’s mind again. You press your puckered lips against the side of his cock, dragging them from top to bottom repeatedly. 

When you’ve gotten him sufficiently wet with your spit, you suck on the tip of him again, collecting his precum only to pull off slightly. You lock eyes with him, part your lips, and let your tongue loll out to let a filthy mix of his precum and your spit dribble out of your mouth and onto his cock.

“You’re fucking insane,” Soonyoung breathes out with an upturned mouth.

You pump his cock once, twice, before saying, “We’re just getting started, Captain.”

He can only groan happily and let his head fall to his pillows. He’s going to have to unpack how that title coming from your mouth has him close to orgasming.

Soonyoung keeps getting surprised by the little tricks you’re pulling from thin air, but this definitely takes the top spot.

Once you’ve deemed him sufficiently wet, lubricated by your spit and his precum, you start to crawl back up his body while pressing kisses onto the prominent veins on his lower stomach. In no time he can feel himself pressing against your chest, and it becomes clear what you’re about to do.

“You’re going to let me fuck your tits?”

The smirk that spreads across your lips has him shaking his head in amusement, “You seemed to be quite taken by them.”

You were a fucking dream come true.

If Soonyoung is only ever going to have you tonight, he needs to make the most out of it. He takes the reins and switches your positions smoothly so you’re on your back in the middle of his humongous bed. He cages your body between his legs and lets his cock settle between your breasts.

You move your hands down to grasp at the sides of each breast when Soonyoung swats one away and takes another into his, pressing your fingers to his lips for a quick kiss then says, “Hands off, baby.”

He grasps a breast in each hand and squeezes, plays with each nipple with his thumbs before pressing them together to create a tight, wet heat to fuck into. Your skin is so soft and pliant as he continues to push his cock between your tits that it's starting to mess with his head.

As much as people want to put him onto a pedestal for his footballing accolades and successes, at the end of the day he’s just a guy who’s finally in bed with the girl he’s had a crush on for ages. The fucked out look on your face just from pleasuring him with your mouth and tits has him biting his tongue to keep from cumming.

Each thrust of his hips has Soonyoung closer and closer to the edge. He wants to make this last as long as he can but it never crossed his mind how you’d be able to play him like an instrument, know which strings to pluck, chords to play, to pull the most pleasure from him.

“Fuck, I want to cum on your tits,” He breathes out with a laugh. He’s done a lot of growing up, but Soonyoung feels like a teenager as he confesses this to you, “You’ll let me cum on your tits right, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out with a dumb nod of your head, “Cum on my tits, Soonyoung. Make them yours, yeah?”

Soonyoung’s always liked to fuck messy. Plenty sweat, spit, squirt, and cum is par the course when he fucked, but that was mostly for his enjoyment. When you agree to let him spill over you, to cast the assumption of ownership of your body, Soonyoung thinks you’re made for him.

After one, two, three thrusts between your breasts, Soonyoung pulls back, and grasps his cock to jerk himself off to completion, hot spurts of his sticky white cum falling onto your breasts.

You must truly be made for him because as he tries to catch his breath, kneeling over you still and pumping his cock to get hard again, you trace your fingers over your chest to collect his cum. You catch his eye as you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth and suck them clean.

You groan around two fingers and Soonyoung lets out a dark chuckle as you stick out your tongue to show him how you’ve swallowed his spend. He does the same, swiping his fingers through the mess on your tits and shoving three fingers into your awaiting mouth. Your tongue presses against them and you go to suck each one, your tongue dancing between them, not letting a single drop of him go to waste.

He can’t help it, he has to kiss you.

And Soonyoung is a master kisser.

Each time he pressed his mouth to yours, you felt your head go blurry around the edges and every thought that isn’t him simply fades away. The taste of him was addicting and the slip of his tongue against yours had you gushing despite his hands holding you by the back of the head innocently. But you didn’t want innocent, you wanted desperate, you wanted depraved, you wanted disgusting, if he would give it to you.

It doesn’t take long for him to move down your body, paying copious amounts of attention to your sensitive nipples and marked up tits, and eventually pulling down your sleep shorts.

If it was anyone else, it would be embarrassing how wet you’d gotten, but this is Soonyoung. This is Soonyoung who you’d wanted for so long, Soonyoung who had felt the same and just as strongly, Soonyoung whose touch could set you ablaze and whose one word could give you release.

You want him to know. You want him to see and taste just how riled up he’s gotten you, that maybe from this day forward, only he could press his mouth between your thighs, only his tongue could press into your hole, only his lips could wrap around your clit to make you cry out for God.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” He breathed, pressing kisses to the mound of your pubic bone, “I knew you’d taste so good.”

Just his praise has you keening, eyes slipping shut as you feel him spread your legs. He uses his fingers to part your folds and that action is enough to have you clenching around nothing, wanting so badly to be filled, with his tongue, fingers, cock, anything just as long as he could grant you some relief.

“Soonyoung, please,” You manage to whisper.

“Please what?” comes his voice, it’s almost playful, and maybe you want to kick him, but it’s so fucking hot you can feel how badly it gets to you, a sudden wave of arousal making itself known as it starts to trickle out of you.

You let out a frustrated groan, canting your hips upward uselessly as Soonyoung uses his strength to keep you in position. He moves to spread you even further with one leg hoisted over his shoulder and the other pressed flat against the bed. There was no hiding in this position, you were displayed for him, ready and open for whatever it was he wanted to do to you.

“Here’s what I’ll do,” He says, placing kisses onto your knee, moving down to your thigh slowly, “I want to taste this delicious pussy some more, get you all nice and wet, hmm? Then I want to fuck you open with my fingers.”

You nod stupidly as he speaks and you think that you may just agree to anything he says, happy to take anything he wants to give you.

“Will one be enough?” He teases, running one finger along one of your lower lips.

You open your eyes to communicate what your mouth can’t, rendered speechless by his tone of voice alone.

“No? How about two then?” Another finger joins the onslaught in framing your hole but his touch is feather-light and offers no relief whatsoever.

“Soonyoung,” is the only thing you can get out and it comes out as more of a whine. 

“Fine, seems like my girl can take three then? How greedy.”

You bite your lip and nod before saying, “I can take four, Soonyoung. You’ll give me four, right?”

There’s a mean glint in his eye as he says, “You’re perfect.”

Soonyoung eats pussy like he kisses. It’s messy and it’s deep and you’ve never had it this good. He fucks his tongue into your hole with no hesitation, licking deep and lapping at your folds like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever tasted. When he pulls away it’s only so he can move to sucking on your clit. After having teased you with his fingers earlier, it’s like he’s decided fuck that and just thought to ruin you with as much pleasure as he could pull from your body.

Moans and whimpers pour out of your mouth freely. The knowledge that there are no nosey neighbors to disturb means you can be as loud as you want. You want Soonyoung to know how well he’s pleasuring you, that he can pull these ragged breaths and pleasured sighs from you so easily just because it’s him.

When you feel the prod of two fingers at your entrance you bite your lip but a scream breaks through when you feel a third finger push into you as well. Soonyoung had gotten you so wet and prepared for him with his mouth and his tongue that you welcomed the stretch. It was incredible how each of his touches could make you feel this good.

With his fingers inside of you pumping steadily, he peppered your thighs with kisses, moving upwards towards your clit. He flattens his tongue against it and shakes his head to heighten the sensation. On instinct you want to shut your legs closed but he still has you spread open for him and the position has you twitching as you feel yourself about to cum.

“You’ll give me everything, won’t you?” He says, finally pulling away from your clit, “I want to see how hard you can cum.”

Soonyoung sits back onto his knees so he can watch when he pushes four of his fingers into you. Four fingers is a tight fit but you take it like a champ, enjoying how he stretches you open. You watch him watching you and the look of determination and the way his chest heaves has you impossibly turned on. You never thought you’d be in this position, but he is every lonely night fantasy come to life and more.

He is everything.

You enjoy how his arms look, one wrapped around your thigh to hold you open and the other flexing as he pushes his fingers into you repeatedly, gaining speed as the seconds pass. You clench around his fingers as the heat envelopes you and you feel the pressure slowly take over.

“Soonyoung,” You start as a warning, “Soonyoung, I’m gonna–I’m gonna cum!”

He says nothing but instead hastens his actions, plunging his fingers even deeper, hooking his fingers just right to press into that spot inside you that’ll have you exploding in no time.

Your own fingers scramble on his bedsheets, looking for something to keep you anchored as your hips start to buck and you can feel yourself dripping around his fingers inside you.

“Soonyoung, please please, I’m serious. I can’t hold it in,” You cry out.

“I know baby,” He says with a smirk, “Give it to me. I want it.”

It’s like he flipped a switch inside of you and in the same moment he demands you to come, that thread in your stomach snaps and you gush all over his hand and forearm. Tears slip from your eyes in relief but also shame at the mess you made of yourself, his arm, and the bed.

He pulls his fingers out of you gently and you jerk in his hold, the sensitivity starting from your cunt and spreading to your arms and legs. You let Soonyoung rearrange you on his bed but the heat simmering beneath your skin continues to fuel your lust-addled brain. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Soonyoung says, pressing kisses onto your stomach, onto your left breast, then the right, and taking your nipple between his teeth with a gentle tug, “I’ve never had anyone cum as beautiful as you.”

You hate the idea of Soonyoung being with someone that isn’t you. It’s stupid and immature but his confession earlier sets you at ease. Just as you had been with others with the assumption that being with Soonyoung was a far and unreachable dream, he too might feel the same pang of jealousy.

That jealousy rears its ugly head even now. But this time you can do something about it.

You confirm your suspicions about how much he enjoys when you thread your fingers into his hair, so you tug at his locks to bring his mouth to yours. When he licks into your mouth you think that you can taste yourself on his lips and you can’t help but press your lips to his even more.

“That was so fucking embarrassing, Soonyoung,” You sigh out when you manage to get your breathing somewhat back to normal.

Soonyoung refuses to part from you, lips sucking a bruise high on your neck, a love bite that you know will be hard to hide.

“Don’t fucking say that again,” He says between licks, sucks, and kisses, “I want to make all your orgasms that insane. Hottest woman I’ve ever been with, I’ll ever be with.”

You want to roll your eyes at him. It’s an exaggeration if not an outright bold faced lie. But you can’t help but think about it as well. You doubt anyone will ever come close to how Soonyoung has made you feel in the last few hours. The rage, the sadness, the confusion, the joy, the elation, and the euphoria–all of that had stemmed from how much you’ve longed and loved him. You fear you will never feel as strongly for anyone ever again.

You want him so much.

You want him so much that despite how sensitive you still feel, you had to have more of him.

So you push him onto his back and straddle his hips. Your center is still wet, stretched out so nicely by his fingers, and when you lower yourself to glide over his cock, you can feel how he’s recovered, already hard. 

He sits up to catch your lips in a heated kiss, riling you both up as you cover him with your wetness, “I have condoms in the drawer,” He whispers when he pulls away from you by just a fraction.

“Don’t be stupid,” You say as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t fuck you if I wasn’t clean.”

“And I know you’d be off the squad if you didn’t pass your monthlies,” You continue, now gripping him by the base of his cock.

“And I’m on the pill,” You say with a slight falter in your bravado as the head of his cock catches at your entrance, “So don’t you want to fuck me raw?”

You should have known not to challenge Soonyoung because there was never a challenge he stood down from. He pushes into you at the same time you begin to sink down on him and it causes him to slip all the way in, his cock filling you completely and the stretch leaving you speechless.

The feeling of his cock driving into you at once has the hair all over your body standing and you feel the electric shock of pleasure racing up your spine to the very top of your head.

The noise you let out is nearly demonic.

Despite the position, there’s no mistaking who is calling the shots. Just his first thrust into you had your brain turning into mush, so when Soonyoung continued to fuck up into the heat of your cunt, you had grown useless on top of him. There was no way to decipher the nonsense you were spewing, just that they were surely words of praise for how thoroughly Soonyoung was fucking you.

It should have come as no surprise that fucking a footballer meant that your stamina would be put to the test. But still, you’re wholly unprepared for how long and how hard Soonyoung could go when it came to fucking. When you had fallen into his arms, unable to hold yourself up as he fucked into you from below, he had pushed you onto your back to fuck you while he had both of your legs over one shoulder.

By then he could match you with how he could hardly keep himself shut, groaning out praises about how tight you were around him with your legs pressed together.

“On your hands and knees, baby,” He instructs as he pulls out and lets your legs fall to the bed, you don’t miss how breathless he’s beginning to sound and you revel in how wreaked you’ve gotten him as well.

You quickly position yourself as he has requested but take it further by pressing your chest onto the bed, arching your back and folding your arms behind you. In a brief moment of tenderness, Soonyoung takes one of your hands in his and intertwines your fingers.

Of course he matches it with filth when he spanks your backside then grabs the meat of your buttcheek to spread you open for him, “Look at this wrecked pussy.”

You preen under his attention and smile even if he can’t see your face in this position.

He collects the wetness of your pussy to lubricate himself before pushing into you and you swear the world stops spinning for a minute. Soonyoung was big, long enough to curve into you nicely, and his girth enough to have you gritting your teeth at the initial thrust into you.

But the position he had you in let him into you so much deeper, you swear you can feel him up to your throat, and you know you’re clenching around him with a vice grip. He felt so perfect inside of you that you could only wish he felt as good.

“You’re so deep, Soonyoung,” You say shakily, as he stills you with a hand on your hip.

“Fuck your pussy’s perfect,” He says as he presses even deeper, “Look at you stretched out for me. Making space for me inside of you. No one else can fuck you like this.”

No one can. No one will.

He slips out of you slightly just to press back in harshly with a jolt of his hips and soon he begins an almost punishing pace. He cock presses into the spot inside you incessantly and the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto the meat of ass is the perfect mix of pain and pleasure that has you gasping out his name in a sinful litany as you cum, unintentionally tightening around him.

The groan he lets out tells you he’s close to coming and when his thrusts start to grow sloppy he pulls out of you suddenly, to wrap a fist around his cock, pulling at himself to cum onto your backside. You know from his first orgasm that Soonyoung can cum a lot and when he spills all over you again now, it lands everywhere, some of it dripping into your hole, still gaping and clenching around nothing when he had pulled out of you.

You whine, a frown making itself present on your face as you turn to face him.

“I thought you were going to cum inside me,” You say, squirming at the cum quickly cooling on your ass and the few drops that had made it inside you keeping you sticky between your thighs. 

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” is all Soonyoung can say as he moves to sit up against the headboard and his pillows.

Your eyes follow his hand that’s wrapped around his still hard cock and you push it aside to take over, wanting him back in your mouth. You lay in front of him for a while, letting your tongue lap at him, and leisurely bobbing your head to get him fully hard and wet again.

In no time Soonyoung pulls you up to lay on his chest and slips back inside of you.

You sigh as your body grows boneless against him and he does all the work, hips undulating and pushing his cock into you just right so that you see stars and you gasp into each sloppy kiss. There is not even a millimeter between you two and if someone asked, you’d want to stay this way forever.

Even without the pleasure of fucking, you wished to never part from Soonyoung again.

The realization is jarring at this very moment but you let yourself ride the wave as it makes your orgasm so overwhelming tears fall from your eyes.

When Soonyoung sees the tear stains he moves his lips to kiss them away and whispers words of reassurance before he himself groans, spilling into you and finally filling you with his cum.

You can’t contain the fullness in your heart as Soonyoung lays you on your back, and drapes himself over you. You wrap a leg around his waist, not wanting him to pull away just yet.

Then he smiles.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” You whisper, afraid that saying this now would shatter the moment. But you have to tell him again. Remind him that this cannot just be for one night.

“You have me, you have me, you have me,” He says. 

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you and it'd mean the world to get a reblog or to hear your thoughts on my first fic long fic on here!

[obliviouscxnt]

Nightmare Azriel x Reader

a/n: oh my god, I’m actually so shocked by the feedback from the last fic. It gave me the serotonin and motivation to write a part two :o I'm probably going to make this into a series, I have many ideas!! Maybe some smut if I'm feeling brave... thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! :))

can be read as a standalone, but without some context from pt.1 things might become confusing

synopsis: your need to help gets you into trouble

Warnings: strong(?) hints of sexual activities, minor angst, minor violence, fluff

pt. 1 | pt.3

 

In the corner of his eye, he can see you picking at your fingers. Your sharp nails do unnecessary damage to your fragile hands. 

He knew you were worried for Feyre, ever since she’d been taken to the spring court you’d been on edge. 

It went beyond a loyal subject worrying about her High Lady. You fretted for Feyre like you would Amren, or Rhys, or Mor, or Cassian.

Though it was endearing in a way, Azriel didn’t like the way that worry manifested. The way you unknowingly damaged yourself. Your bottom lip was split open from gnawing on it, the skin on your fingers was peeled back and inflamed, and dark circles found their place under your eyes from sleepless nights. Unable to really rest when your friend was in the jaws of the spring beast. 

His shadows reach for you, demanding to be with you. 

He let a few of them loose, watching as they traveled to you instantly. One settled at your hands, weaving between each of your fingers and curling around your wrist. Another rested on your shoulder, brushing your face. The others couldn’t decide where to settle, traveling over your body frantically as they tried to comfort you. 

The shadowsinger was about to pull them back, but as soon as they felt his pull they settled in whichever place they could. Nuzzling against you. Desperate to stay with you, comfort you. 

Azriel found it amusing, and so utterly relatable. 

He forces his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which was more than a struggle.

It was an impossible task, staring at building diagrams and reading reports from his spies, when the most magnificent woman he’d ever known sat not three feet from him. 

Then he felt your eyes on him, and he knew there was no point even trying. He wouldn’t be able to focus. 

He meets your gaze and arches a perfect brow. 

You wanted to ask him something. That much was obvious. But you hesitated, you didn’t know if he would say yes. 

“What is it?” 

You glanced down at your hands, then up at him, then back down at your hands. “May I go see Rhys?” Your voice is small as you ask.  

When you heard the shadowsinger sigh you knew what the answer would be. 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair as he watched you.

You had been asking that a lot recently, and at first he allowed it. He saw no harm in you sitting with his brother, helping him when he needed help, listening when he checked in on Feyre through their bond. He knew his brother didn’t mind, he understood your anxiety and shared it with you tenfold. But Rhysand had a lot to deal with, so for that reason, Azriel shook his head. 

“Rhys is very busy.” He starts, extending an open hand toward you. Smile tugging at his lips when you walk around the desk and place your hand in his. “Feyre is strong, she can handle herself.” He assures you as he pulls you to stand between his legs, letting his hands soothe your body. Letting his shadows join him.

But he can tell by how tense you were that his assurance wasn’t helping. 

His fingers thread through your hair. “You want to help Feyre, is that it?” His thumb brushed over your jaw as you nod. “Why don’t you pay her sisters a visit? I’m sure that would ease some of her stress, to know that you’re there for them like you were for her.” 

He watched some light enter your eyes and almost smiled in victory. You were so enthralled with the idea, you tried to run out of his office to visit them right at that moment. He caught you, pulling you back against him until you sat in his lap. “Tomorrow.” He breathed. 

You leaned into him, coaxed by his hands. Sighing as his mouth plants wet kisses down your neck, shivering when you feel his tongue come out to lick over your pulse.

Azriel let himself get lost in you. In feeling you against him. In bathing in your scent. 

He doesn’t let himself second guess his suggestion, even though there was a very reasonable voice in his head that was kicking him. A voice that berated him for being so foolish. That screamed to just let you see Rhys. That begged to keep you far, far away from Nesta Acheron.

But that voice is drowned out by his need for you. 

He groans when you turn around in his lap, straddling him, shimmering black dress riding up your thighs. His hands immediately find purchase on them, squeezing. While yours tangle in his hair.

You pant, lips parted as your eyes run over him. Stopping at his lips, his eyes, his mouth, his neck, the hands that squeezed your thighs when you looked at them. You were mesmerized by him. 

You needed him. Gods, you needed him.

He kissed you like a starved beast. You moaned when his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, eliciting a hum from him. His hands slid up to your hips so he could grind you against him, hiking your dress up with them. 

You feel him harden beneath you.

“What do you want?” He asks against your lips, kissing them again, then kissing along your jaw, and then kissing back down your neck. Latching on to the spot that had your hands gripping his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. 

“I…” You try, but words won’t form, only sounds. 

He parts with your neck to lean his head against yours. Looking in your eyes. Pulling back a bit when you move to kiss him. Hands now holding your hips still against him, torturing you with the feeling of him pressed against you.

 Your eyes plead with him, your sharp nails almost digging into his scalp as you lost yourself, and he can’t stop the smirk of pure satisfaction from spreading across his face. “Tell me what you want.”

You shudder when you feel him twitch underneath you. “Please.” His hands squeeze your hips. “Please. Use me.” 

The groan that left his mouth had to be the most sinful thing you’d ever heard.  

*****

Anxiety chews on your mind, spits it out, and chews it back up again. You wring your shaking hands. 

Before you was the door that separated you from the Acheron sisters. 

You knew of them, knew what they were like from what Feyre had told you. And now that you were thinking about it, you didn’t want to help them. Not for their sake. 

But for Feyre… You’d started coming to terms with the fact that you’d do just about anything for her. 

However, that didn’t stop your heart from beating so fast you were afraid it would fail.

Azriel’s hands rest on your upper arms and he leans down to your ear. “Breathe.” You absentmindedly lean into him, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. His breath fanning across your cheek.

“If you can’t handle this we’ll go back.” He says, making it very obvious that he wouldn’t mind curling back up in bed with you. You exhale a shaky breath as his hand slowly slides over your breast, your nipple hardens under the silky fabric of your dress and he traces it with his finger. You were seriously debating it. 

But your need to help in some way, to do something useful wins. 

“I can handle it.” You say, sounding not at all sure of yourself. 

But he listens, moving his hands to rest back on your arms. Thumbs drawing calm circles. 

You give yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning your head back against his chest. Feeling your stomach flip when his lips press against your head.

When you were finally ready he opened the door for you. You took one more futile deep breath, all the air in the world wouldn’t be able to tame your emotions, then walked in with a friendly smile plastered on your face. 

You immediately wished you’d accepted his offer to go back to bed when the harsh eyes of the oldest Acheron sister settled on you. There was no mistaking who was who. 

“What are you?” 

Her words were like a physical blow. Her voice, colder than ice. You step back bumping into Azriel’s chest.  

He rests a hand on your shoulder as if to say, we can still go back. But you’d made your choice, you were here to offer your help. If they didn’t want it, then fine, but you would still offer it.

“A friend,” You manage to say. Her cruel gaze felt like a physical weight on your being. So scrutinizing, so full of hate. It’d been a while since someone cast eyes like that your way. Azriel had been careful to make sure of that. “Of Feyre’s.” 

Her stare narrows on you. Drinking you in. You watch her gaze snag on your pointed teeth. You close your mouth. Whatever you were about to say dying in your throat. 

“Some friend.” 

Azriel glared at Nesta, the warning clear on his face. Say no more. He puts a hand on your lower back, guiding you to where the other sister sat, on a chair in front of a window. 

The weight of Nesta's stare never left you.

But when you see Elaine, all of it ceases to matter.

All thoughts left your brain. Not unlike how you got sometimes with Azriel—when all the pleasure became too much—but also completely different. It wasn’t Azriel guiding you now. 

It was what lived inside you, the writhing magic that was always thrumming under your skin. 

Your brain doesn’t register how the girl looks, hollow; as if someone scooped all the life out of her. Your brain doesn’t register a thing except the irresistible pull. 

You could feel it, or her, calling to you. Beckoning you closer. 

You couldn’t refuse. 

When your mind came back to your body, you stood directly in front of Elaine. Your palm cupping her face. 

Then you felt something awful slither into your head. It slipped through the crevices of your mental barriers and crawled into a dark corner of your mind. Hiding from you, even though you could feel it watching.

Nausea overcame you. You snatch your hand back like she burned you. Shuffling back toward Azriel who looked at you with concern.

Then Elaine's eyes closed. Nesta rushed to her sister as she went unconscious. Almost falling out of her chair. The older Acheron managed to catch her in time with help from Azriel’s shadows. 

You turned to Azriel. “I want to go.” Your words barely a whisper.

His eyes widen when he sees the fear on your face. The horror. His shadows encompass you, providing your body with a cover, a shield. 

“What did you do?!” Nesta shouted through pants of fatigue, having just lugged her sister to bed. You gripped Azriel’s shirt and he held you close to him as he led you out. Away from the screaming woman. “What did you do to my sister?!” 

***** 

“What happened?” 

You swallowed at your High Lord, glancing at Azriel. For what? You didn’t know. Help? Comfort maybe? Whatever it may be you didn’t receive it. All you got was a nod in Rhysand’s direction. 

So you turn back, struggling to find your words under his serious gaze. Not harsh, but very, very serious. “I don’t know. She looked so tired… I just—It felt like she was calling to me.” Trying not to think about that thing you could still feel hiding. Still, feel looking at you with eyes you couldn’t see.

He waved for you to continue. 

“She’s fine.” You say, and somehow find yourself completely sure of those words. Though you had watched her pass out with your own eyes. Knew it was your doing. 

“How do you know that? This is different. Even Azriel said he’s never seen you do something like that before.” You look down at your hands, picking at the already torn skin. 

You don’t dare look up when you feel Rhys rise from his seat. Feel him walk around his desk until he’s in front of you. It's when he speaks that you feel the need to meet his stare.

He holds a hand over your head. “May I?” 

Azriel steps forward. Looking as if he were about to protest. Rhys shoots him a look that makes him stop. 

Rhys needed to know what happened, to make sure you didn't harm his mate's sister. The bond took control of his instincts. Your word wouldn't suffice.

You’d never deny your High Lord a request. Never deny any of your friends a request. You never had before, Azriel always had to step in and do it for you. 

So when you stiffly shook your head no, well, to say they were shocked would be an understatement.

Your whole body was tense as if just the act of refusing took everything out of you. Required every bone, every muscle, and every bit of air in your body.

But you couldn’t risk that thing infecting Rhys. Not when you didn’t know what it was. Not when you could feel its hungry stare. 

You held your breath until Rhysand’s hand dropped to his side.

Your felt physically ill. The weight of what you just did settling on you. You stiffly turned to Azriel.

“I want to go.” You said for the second time that day. 

Azriel’s brows dipped as he looked at you, worry covering his features. His shadows were restless, flicking with agitation as they too struggled to see you so bothered. 

He glances at Rhys but the High Lord gives him a look of sympathy. “I need to speak with you.” 

The shadowsinger’s jaw clenched. Wanting nothing more than to refuse, to point out the state you were in even though it was as clear as day. 

But he couldn’t say no to his brother, not after all he’d done for them. 

He walks you to the office door, turning you to face him before you can leave. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your head. His words were nothing but breath against your ear. A whisper for only you to hear. “Go to bed. I’ll join you soon.” But you didn't walk away, looking unsure, nervous. “Go.” 

Your only consolation, as you left, were the shadows that parted with him and linked with you. 

Once you were far enough down the hall the High Lord spoke. “What was she thinking?” He paced in front of his desk. “She knows her magic is dangerous… did she even read those books Helion sent?” He swallowed as he remembered the limited information those three books had, the only books that made any mention of dreamwalkers. 

“Of course, she read them, you asked her too.” Azriel said, bite in his tone. Making Rhys sigh and stop his pacing. The High Lord sends an apologetic look to his brother as he sits on the front of his desk. “She wasn’t thinking,” Azriel says after a few moments of silence. 

Rhys raised a brow, silently telling him to elaborate. 

The shadowsinger leans back, remembering that look on your face. A look he’d seen many times, but never in a public setting, and you never moved on your own.  “She was in a trance.”

“Elaine could’ve done something to her.” Rhys thinks aloud, making Azriel straighten. 

Did she curse you? They still had no idea what gifts the cauldron bestowed upon the Acheron sisters. The last thing he wanted was for you to be on the receiving end of those gifts. 

Both Illyrian men sat in worry. 

“I’m sorry, I suggested she visit them. I thought maybe she’d click with them like she did Feyre.” Azriel says, running a hand down his face. 

Rhys shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I know she wants to help. And not everyone can be as charming as Feyre.” At that, the brothers shared a strained smile. 

“How is she?” 

Rhys let out a deep breath as he picked imaginary lint off his clothes. “Alive.” 

Azriel couldn’t imagine how he’d act if you were in enemy territory, the thought making him tense, body itching to be near you. He’d die before he’d let that happen. 

“She’ll be home soon.” Azriel offers Rhys the words of comfort, even though they wouldn't do much.

Before Rhys could reply shadows scurried under the door rushing to Azriel.

The shadowsinger’s face went pale at their whispers. He shot up from his seat. “[name].” 

Then a loud bang was heard followed by a scream of bloody murder. 

The two males were rushing out of the room and running through the halls of the house within a split second. Somewhere along the way Cassian had joined them, shirtless and sweaty. Having rushed out of the training room the moment he heard the bang.

More bangs sound, but none as loud as the first one. And no more screams follow.  

Azriel found himself wishing for you to scream. If you were screaming you were breathing. 

He burst through the door of your shared chambers, almost knocking it down. He didn't stop to stare at the sight before him like his brothers did. There was no time to pause, not when you were being shoved into the tub by Hybern soldiers, their jagged nails gashing your beautiful skin. Their faces were unnatural and barely formed. Some were faceless, just flat skin and dark empty holes where their eyes and mouths should've been. 

Stood behind you was the disfigured form of the King of Hybern himself. His body was reconstructed by the nightmare, making his fae features more monstrous. More fitting for his character.

The evil king's smile stretched from ear to ear as you thrashed under the cold water. 

Azriel shoved his way through, ripping you from their arms and dragging you out of the tub. But the soldiers didn’t stop. Still reaching for you with their long slender fingers. 

Tears flowed from your closed eyes, your body twitching and shaking as you were tortured both in your mind and outside it. 

“Rhys!” Azriel shouted springing the High Lord into action. He rushed over, dodging the grabbing arms before setting both hands on either side of your head and forcing you to wake. 

Your eyes snapped open, gulping in as much air as possible. The figures dissipated into thin air. Like a flame being snuffed out. 

You squirmed away from the hands of your High Lord. Pushing against the firm body you adored so much.

You grabbed Azriel, holding him tight. So tight he wouldn’t be able to leave you again. Too afraid to worry about your bare body and the fact that both Cassian and Rhysand could see. Too afraid to notice the other person who stood at the doorway with wide eyes. Too afraid to do anything but hold him.

“Shhh. I’m here now. I’m here.” He held you tighter as your body shook with silent sobs. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

You know what happened now. What that thing was. Gripping Azriel tighter as the knowledge weighed on your brain. 

You tensed when he lifted your shivering body into the outstretched towel Cassian held. Azriel pulls you close to him when you recoil away from his brother's gentle touch.

Cassian watched Azriel wrap the towel around you. Heart heavy as you clung to his brother. A look of pure dread etched on your face, accompanied by a stream of never-ending tears. 

 You’re vaguely aware of Rhys rummaging through your drawers in the background. Vaguely aware of Azriel lifting you once more. Cradling you against him as he carried you to the bed. 

He took the medical supplies from Rhys and then asked his brothers to leave. They hesitantly obliged, taking the shocked Nesta Acheron with them and closing the slightly damaged door.

He lays you down on the bed, backing up a bit to open the first aid kit but you lurch for him. Arms tightening around his neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wishing he never had to say such words to you. “I’m right here with you.” Feeling his chest split in half when you reluctantly let him go. Bottom lip quivering. 

His hands are softer than usual as they patch you up. Frown deepening at every single scratch, and bruise he saw. His fingers brush over an already forming bruise on your waist. Bile rose in his throat as the image of those horrid hands grabbing and piercing your smooth skin filled his mind.

“I took it from her.” 

Your broken confession drew his attention away from the bruise and to your scared eyes. He felt helpless as he stared into them, he should've never left you. He cradled your face, thumbing away your tears only for more to take their place. He brushed those away too. 

“That nightmare. I took it from her.” 

next→

[trappolia]

WHEN YOU WAKE UP NEXT TO HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT ── sunday x reader, 740

you think sunday loves you.

it was not a marriage to be protested against, certainly; your standing in the family's hierarchy is not as high as your husband's, and what influence you have is due to your close connections to the siblings since early childhood, in the days where their mother still took strolls with them and neither sibling had yet to learn how to spread their wings and ascend— but you are loyal to the family and the endless dream of penacony, so there is no complaint.

they think sunday loves you as well.

it is odd. sunday is not so stoic, simply formal and polite to the point of unsettling, but they have never seen him smile at anyone the way he does to you. there is softness, they think, that can be found here — a piece of the harmony intertwined with their true order. such thing as, well, damning as love should be treaded upon with caution, but you have never shown anything but the utmost loyalty and faith to what you believe is their cause, and so they allow sunday this one weakness apart from his sister.

but no matter what anyone else — or even what you or sunday — may think, the truth is far, far more complicated.

but that thing called truth is a fickle thing, and the foundation of your marriage is laid out upon white lies of little children strolling around gardens and nursing the poor birds with their broken wings and their yearning for flight. there are secrets between the two of you far more intimate than even genuine lovers wouldn’t share, and you find that there is an unspoken intimacy in the silence of it all— your choice to wilfully turn a blind eye to your husband’s transgressions, to feed into his ideas of order and harmony that have been twisted somewhere along the makings of the man he is today, and his own to believe that you love his sister the same way he loves her.

it still creeps up on you, however, for the gods you know have never been merciful, even to one as devout and obedient as you. a thick, cloying thing that gathers in a lump at your throat— makes you sit up in bed and hold your head in your hands.

love indeed has no place in space of your marriage; a foreign concept, a mere distraction and a dangerous weakness. did sunday’s smile, his unusual soft demeanor, when it comes to you, hold the essence of love? perhaps it did— some sort of fondness from the childhood you three had shared together, but you knew very well that sunday would dispose of you if it were for the sake of his sister— and you would do the same to him.

three is a crowd, as they all say.

and for you and sunday, robin has always been the center of your marriage— he as a brother to a sister, and you as something you have long since lost the right to call yourself. in this tapestry of white lies and pretty facades, what remains as the golden truth is that you and sunday love robin above all else— even each other.

still.

in the quiet of the night, there is a call of your name. you turn, heart stuttering when your gaze unfocuses for one vital moment, and sunday’s hair appears lighter, the blue of night reflected in his eyes— and then the moment passes, and there is your husband again, grey-haired and golden-eyed.

“did you dream?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep.

your heart aches as you stare at him. you love him, you do— but not enough. it will never be enough.

“yes,” you whisper, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “but i’m awake now.”

sunday makes a groggy sound, his facade down in this bed that the two of you share out of courtesy alone. your marriage has never been consummated, but sometimes, at night, you can tell yourself that you love him when he holds you in your bouts of nightmarish terror or cold shivers. and when he pulls you to him with a whisper of “sleep now. the hour is still late”, you close your eyes and let yourself dream of hair like slivers of moonlight and blue like a dying evening—

you escape into your dreams once more, to the life you could have had.

© trappolia 2024

[beescake]

PLEASE PLEASE MEGADUMP THE ARASOL!!! PLEAAASEE MR BEESCAKE I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU

HFHGHD GLADLY aaa i’ve been adding notes to it here and there for months but just hesitant to post it bcs im 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂

also this is just my own takeaway of the events, it doesn’t necessarily comply to the Ultimate Truth of Canon-Alignment or represent the actual facts of what hussie intended! v sentimental smh but hopefully its still interesting to read

i love when characters inform each other by proximity, it's one of my fave things to see in media :') it feels even more significant when two characters deliberately choose to stick together, so that when one operates, you can tell the other is similarly aligned in associative solidarity.

sollux is a keystone of this trope — whoever he aligns with is a wordless statement, a nod of approval. this stood out to me bcs the main four humans were alr friends by default, but once you reach hivebent you realize the trolls can actively choose who they want to hang out with.

and as we all know, after assessing every troll's biases/loyalties, sollux is the only one who maintains his selective preference for innately Good 👍 people.

aradia is such a beautiful character honestly, she evokes such incredible feelings in me. she might not have been consistently written with care but the best parts of her character are truly stunning. i think it's easy to remember sollux as the self-sacrificing one bc he's so open about it (and his friends frequently react to his Moments) but when you compare him to aradia, it's always struck me

how much more. raw it is

to be so alone as an agent of time, having to orchestrate immeasurably harrowing events nobody understands or gives a fuck about

with your role painted in the story as one who must tend to the needs of the narrative, responsible to match every next note

because when you're given the capabilities, it becomes your duty to carry it out.

it becomes expected of you to keep experimenting and arranging the machinations to work for everyone, dusting off hundreds of necessary failures to keep going

and having to be so unwavering in your drive knowing miserably that there's no one who can help you but yourself.

or alternatively: to make things fun! so other people won't think twice about letting you go off on your own.

sure she's had some very good buds, notably thanks to Team Charge v Team Scourge antics.

and yet, at the end of the day, the one friend that kept choosing her time and time again was the friend with the highest standards.

i can see why people like to define arasol as moirails/matesprits but surprisingly i find the nondescript, unlabeled aspect of their relationship more straightforward to understand.

there's no shortage of people who would accommodate sollux. most of the surviving trolls are his oldest friends bcs he’d chosen them well. his transparency with his feelings had built him strong friendships that won’t falter or break, regardless of how much of a dick he can be. they’ve already seen and accepted him at his worst, and they still like him for who he is.

contrast that with aradia, who'd been so approachable, friendly and reliable in her exchanges it was super fun to talk to her. but the moment she became depressed, all her connections broke down.

her friends became hesitant to interact with her (until she became god tier, “happy” and amicable again) because her gloom and resignation didn’t serve them. she dealt with it alone.

there’s def something of note here abt the disparity between the way male & female characters are written+perceived in homestuck (esp parallel arasol with davejade) but i won’t go into that lmaoo

with this in mind i like to think of sollux as a gift to her, a loyal companion given to complement and commend her resolve. she's capable of doing so much alone but hussie took the time to build her and sollux's relationship as one of a unit; a set.

the ambiguity of their status does complicate things, but i do believe it makes sense with their characters. aradia's relationship with romance is a rocky one, the dubious stringalong equius had with her is a pointed reminder that her feelings of attraction are ultimately controlled by the author writing her.

unlike the other trolls who can openly address and own up to their crushes, aradia had romantic emotions forced upon her (especially when hussie implies 'she kissed equius back on her own volition'). and it seems like her character is so intrinsically neutral abt attraction that even when forced by the almighty powers above, she's unable to retain it wholly.

however, looking back to pre-game when she could actually "choose" her own feelings, she did have a crush on sollux.

their soft spots for each other were so obvious to the point where other people could see it.

taunting aside, when vriska comments on their unit as bf/gf it actually informs the audience that arasol's relationship is romantic in nature despite not aligning with the quadrant system.

even while dead, aradia could still describe her care for sollux, expressing that she would like to see him happy. if they had more time to explore their relationship on alternia, it's possible they could've settled in a quadrant once they grew older.

but going back to the lack of labels, their dynamic was affected once more when aradia became god tier.

to me, her ascension was both the perfect culmination and possible closure of her character. it's the light at the end of her journey toiling through countless of timelines where she had to actively assess and participate. that's why it's cool to see her being silly and having fun giving guidance, passively exploring and watching other people do their parts.

and yet the joy of her freedom makes it hard to explore further introspection. if we take her by her word, she'd already come to terms with the hurt she's been through and forgiven those involved.

i can't help feeling attuned to how impersonal and detached it can be, to devote and meld your identity so completely with your designated position as Maid of Time until you've become hard for your old friends (and even some readers!) to personally connect to.

idk post-canon but i assume there’s some degree of similarity to be bridged here with aradia's god tier and how the hs2 humans' Ultimate forms was described as a consolidation of all their possibilities. since aradia's classpect is inherently of service to Time, going god-tier may have elevated her beyond personhood with the "game construct" possessing her entirely. sollux doesn't realize the extent of it bcs he's still mortal, but a part of him may have subconsciously understood this.

i think there is a core aspect to aradia that was lost to the dehumanizing glory of god tier — a core aspect that may have contained an element of why sollux enjoyed talking to her in the first place.

to him, aradia hadn't just been a nice girl, she was a cool girl. despite not having much in common, he's still willing to chill next to her so she's not alone while she does what needs to get done.

back on alternia, they held a mutual and equal-level regard for each other that could've definitely settled into something permanent. but now, he's placed himself in a position where he can be kept around or left behind at will. the parameters of the relationship are largely in aradia's court, so any label she suggests to identify their relationship with he's likely to accept.

but that's why it's so difficult to label it. because god tier aradia may not necessarily Want quadrants or relationship labels. rather than the initial romantic attachment, their commitment to each other had evolved into one fundamentally of companionship.

no label? ok fine. no matter what, he still thinks she's a good soul worth latching on to. the best, actually. aradia > everyone else.

even if it gets stilted at times. there's an unexpected struggle to connect when sollux's go-to default for talking points is his feelings about things, and aradia may not want to talk about emotions all the time.

not to mention god tier aradia became an observer, especially of chaos. but sollux's avoidance of involvement comes partially from his innate pressure to get involved if something goes wrong. and he can't always tell when something goes wrong, because aradia doesn't mind if things go wrong anymore.

it's a non-negotiable preference that causes them to take the occasional time apart, a new boundary that wouldn't have existed before the game and aradia's god tier.

but just like how his friends tolerated his moods, sollux accepts aradia as she is. with no quadrants, their connection doesn't break down because there's no implicit romantic expectations to be disappointed by or resentful over.

sometimes when i see hs content that deliberately distances sollux from aradia, i assume this is the dissonance people might have felt. people might find it "easier" to be cynical about them bcs of this strange tension.

but idc lmao. grab that shit by the neck

lack of easy resolutions and cleanly tied ribbons is pretty standard of homestuck and imo it doesn't make arasol's dynamic any less incredible. with the right affection and consideration, there's still so much potential to develop the nuance of their relationship outside of the popular quadrant-based depictions.

hs has a lot of really great character compatibilities but the way aradia and sollux are in their own special orbit is why i can write this much about them in the first place. it's that frail innocence between first loves that makes it so sweet to me, two kids who grew up too fast playing guesswork without being clear where they're going.

ultimately i do think you're meant to feel a little tragedy for just how much they care for each other, even if they can't quite establish it in simple terms.

maybe they keep taking breaks to progress their own paths. maybe they remain as anchor partners while seeing other people. but even if you decide to separate them, they're still (awkwardly) texting each other updates all the while. and when they reunite it feels like coming home.

and well. more than anything, i like to believe that they do want to be exclusive.

they're just afraid. after all, they're still learning how to love, beyond the projections of the foursquare quadrant system they had inadvertently distanced themselves from since young.

they might not have everything figured out, but they'll get there eventually if you just hold them together and write them there.

optional post-canon segment:

one of the limitations of main hs is that (monogamous) relationships are often written as the go-to solution to wrap up character growth; it's an easy "patch" to imagine characters getting their happy ending because they have a partner, and those who don't end up with someone don't get that closure (most notably jade).

hs2 reaffirms this by suggesting that aradia's character cannot progress without letting sollux go, because happily settling in a relationship automatically locks your potential.

that pathetic panel of sollux staring emptily into the sky is still my fave hs2 spoiler ngl i find the impact of their parting so emotionally provoking precisely bcs they were written in original hs to be each other's forever, coming back together again and again

but now, they're subject to the decisions of the post-canon authors who might choose to deviate from that.

it's not new for them to part, but now there's an underlying worry that her dropping him off this time might be the last time. while i think the prospect of shattering their stability to make them grow separately sounds fun on paper, no amount of me desperately hoping for a good execution is gonna guarantee it

idk. i guess prediction-wise im expecting sollux in classic dramatic-hs2 fashion to tell dave to back off aradia LMAO. otherwise it's just gon be sollux and karkat pathetically watching aradia and dave from a distance swimming in their unresolved feelings for narratively-powerful time players smh obvs it sounds corny as hell but who knows its still plausible

srsly tho i hope they take the opportunity to develop arasol's relationship in a fresh direction that doesn't hurt me too badly...... and i hope they force sollux out of his comfort zone. i like watching him struggle :-)