#and i presented the whole thing almost completely without notes and barely felt nervous ^^

[adore-gregor]

uni semester is going well so far

[godlygreta]

i never stopped loving you | j. kiszka

title | i never stopped loving you

summary | jake and y/n have known each other since grade school, they’ve been neighbors forever. a bit of romance ensues, but ends fairly quickly when complications arise while the boys are touring. a trip home from college ends in a slightly drunk confession.

warnings | some mature themes (bit of sex, but not explicitly), swearing, slight angst

word count | 2.5k+

author’s note | hi! this is the first thing i’ve written for any of the boys, so i hope you enjoy. i’ve written for other bands before, so writing isn’t new to me, but writing for greta is.

“I never stopped loving you.”

It slipped out. It didn’t mean to come out. Jake didn’t necessarily want it to come out. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? At the same time, who trusts the words of a drunk person? Usually it’s just brushed off as babbling, but Y/N couldn’t ignore what Jake said. Especially because she couldn’t blame it on not hearing him. There was no music playing outside the bar. The music was faint enough that anything Jake had said was heard.

High school was rough for Y/N with hormones mixed in with academics, horny teenage boys at every turn. Y/N wasn’t even interested in dating, not due to the fact that nobody was necessarily interested in her, but because she was too focused on her studies to even give a damn. School dances were a nice break from academics. There was a shift, though, when one boy in particular would start to really pay attention to her.

Jake Kiszka was charismatic in every sense of the word. Him and his twin brother, Josh, were always the two sweetest, yet most famous troublemakers in all of Frankenmuth High School. It got even worse when their younger brother, Sam, ended up in high school with them as a freshman. Jake had girls wrapped around his finger from the moment he had gotten a haircut. His hair was a lot shorter than before and barely even touched his forehead. Y/N didn’t really give a damn. To her, he was still Jake Kiszka, neighbor.

Their parents were friends and always hungout on the weekends. Y/N’s family had a cabin on the lake which they always vacationed at and occasionally would bring Jake’s family with. One particular summer, they stayed there for a week between the summer of sophomore and junior year. The summer’s were always hot, but this week in particular was hotter than the other summer’s before. “It feels like the Devil’s asshole out here.”

“I know, Mary, but that’s the exact reason we chose to come here this week. The kids can swim in the lake, it’s a lot cooler in the water than on the grass.” Y/N’s dad spoke, returning the conversation from her mother. He gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head and returned to unpacking the car. Y/N and the boys had already gone into the house and picked their rooms. The boys shared one, and Y/N got one of the spare bedrooms. 

Dinner was made as soon as everyone was settled in. Everyone sat around the dining table, laughing and eating as they did almost every weekend. “You excited for Junior year, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m sort of nervous about taking the SAT and ACT. I’ve been studying when I’m not working at the shop.” She picked at some asparagus on her plate as she answered Mrs. Kiszka’s  question. Jake and Josh weren’t entirely ecstatic about it, it didn’t really matter to either of them. Music was their passion and that was never going to change.

Smores after dinner was a tradition that started when they were all really little, barely old enough to eat them. The fire was lit by Mr. Kiszka and Mr. Y/L/N. Jake, Sam and Josh had always played music while the rest of them made their smores. Y/N always made extras for the boys for when they were done playing music. Whenever they had no idea what to play, Y/N always knew the answer. Running out of songs to play, though, was a rarity in itself. The Kiszka’s knew so much about their sound, nothing was in their way of playing songs that fit it. However, every once in a blue moon they would ask their friend what she would like to hear. “C’mon now. You should know I’m a sucker for The Beatles.”

Y/N could recognize the sound of Blackbird the second it started playing. She had only listened to it eight million times that summer. She hummed lightly along as they played. Everyone clapped as soon as their song was over, the boys immediately delving into their smores. Y/N had finally taken a seat next to Josh when she was finished making their smores for them. Once their parents had gone inside, though, Y/N and the twins dipped into their parents' cooler of beer.

Neither of the sets of parents cared, they knew their kids would be safe and unharmed if they drank at the cabin. Jokes were told and stories of the past school year were discussed, as well as the future. A topic so vast for high schoolers. “I still can’t decide between a lawyer and an art teacher.”

“You’ve always been great at arguing,” Josh joked, “Practically got fuckin’ Lindsey McNeil out of that suspension.”

“It wasn’t fair. All she did was stand up for herself and what she believed in, plus that teacher is fucking creepy and everyone knows it.” Everybody laughed, the beer in everyone’s hands was getting a little warmer with every minute that passed by. Everyone filtered out one by one. Sam went in first, followed by Ronnie (she was slightly upset about coming, having made other plans with friends for the hot weather), and then Josh followed, leaving behind Jake and Y/N.

“Did you want to go inside yet or stay out here for a bit longer?” The silence beforehand hadn’t been awkward for the pair. “Cause I was thinking of going swimming for a bit.”

“I’ll join you, we haven’t swam yet today.”

The sand leading into the lake was met with a bit of rocks. It was picturesque under the moonlight. The pair discarded their clothing, leaving their underwear and got into the water. The coolness of the water sent goosebumps along her skin, leaving no piece without some. Jake followed in behind her, coming up next to her before completely dipping under the water. He popped back up and shook his head.

“You know,” Y/N started, “I think you’d look really good with longer hair.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. You should grow it out.” She swiped his hair out of the way and giggled a bit. “You’ll still never be prettier than I am.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

The rest of the summer followed with light flirting and spending lots of time together. Junior year came around and nothing changed a bit. Prom was spent with the Kiszka family, Josh driving the three of you, as well as Josh’s date. The dance was lame, the songs were overplayed pop music, which Y/N secretly had a bit of a soft spot for. She would never tell that to Jake, though.

The pair ended up back at Y/N’s house, giggling all the way up to her room. He went into the bathroom to take his suit off, using one of Y/N’s hangers to make sure it wouldn’t wrinkle. However, Y/N was still having issues. She couldn’t manage to undo the zipper by herself, waiting for Jake to come back into the room to do it for her. He came back in, saw her still in her dress. “Need my help?”

“My zipper -- I can’t reach it.”

“I can do it,” he whispered, knowing Y/N’s parents were asleep. His hands were warm against her back, undoing her zipper slowly. The moonlight coming in from the window felt like that hot summer night at the cabin. He slid the straps down her shoulders, his mouth slightly agape. How could someone look so beautiful and delicate at the same time?

She turned around, her body facing Jake’s. He stuttered, telling her he could leave and he was honestly about to. Until he felt her hand grab his wrist. “Don’t go.”

He nodded his head, helping her get the rest of the way out of her dress. She stepped closer to him and put her hands on his chest. She could feel how fast his heart was beating. She had a hard time meeting his gaze, nervous of him not feeling the same way she had been. “You looked really good tonight.”

“Me? Everybody was staring at you the whole time, Y/N,” he spoke, one hand finding their way to her waist, the other pulling on her chin to force eye contact. “You looked absolutely breathtaking.”

There was a split second where both of them second guessed themselves. But it was over when Y/N pressed her lips lightly against Jake’s. It was such a feathery light touch, it almost felt like she wasn’t even kissing him. She pulled away slowly, her eyes closed, not really knowing what to do next. She didn’t have to figure it out though, Jake’s lips returned to hers with more pressure.

His hands had found their rightful place on her back, bringing her closer to him. Hers found their way into his hair. It felt so natural - the need for each other grew stronger with each passing minute. His mouth never wanted to leave hers, it felt as though her lips were coated in fucking drugs the way they were so addicting. He couldn’t get enough. “Do you want to..?”

“Yes, please.” It came out so needy - desperate. Y/N didn’t even care about how that presented itself to Jake. She just wanted to be even closer to him than she already was. And she got to be right where she wanted to be.

Her bed was more comfy than Jake had previously remembered. Or maybe that was because they were here under different circumstances, not just studying algebra because Jake wasn’t quite getting it. All he knew was that he wasn’t ever going to forget it. He wanted this moment to replay forever and ever. Not because he was just some horny teenager, but because holy fuck, this had just been some random thought - a daydream, almost. But this was real. This was happening.

A tangled mess they were when climaxing. “I love you,” came out as barely above a whisper. It took Y/N a half of a second to register what he was really saying before it finally hit her. She didn’t feel as if she had to say it back, if anything, he should realize that she loved him too.

“I could honestly stay here forever and stare at you until the end of time.”

“So do it. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

They didn’t though. And it wasn’t that simple. Complications arose after that night. Everything got messy and trying to tie in a relationship while the band was traveling and on the road became increasingly difficult, especially when Y/N went to college.

She came home to Frankenmuth while she was off for the summer. Her mother and father missed her a great deal and the first weekend home was spent in the Kiszka’s backyard, the boys excluded. It was weird to be at their house and not see them littered around anywhere. Ronnie was full of stories though, telling Y/N about previous times the boys have come home from touring and the memories they brought back with him.

It was painful to hear, but she was so incredibly proud of everything they had accomplished and done. Every once in a while, Y/N had checked up on their band's Instagram account. When she was really nervous — having a hard time not worrying about them — she texted Josh or Danny. Neither of them were ever going to say anything to Jake or mention it to Sam.

The two families decided to get together and have dinner at a local bar. The boys were still away, they weren’t scheduled to come back to Michigan for at least another month and a half. Ronnie and Y/N spent most of their time talking about future plans for the upcoming weeks while their parents discuss their weekend plans — what to have for dinner and who’s house to have dinner at. Time had passed quickly and before they knew it, it was 10pm.

The parents had left, leaving Ronnie and Y/N at the bar by themselves. At least, that was until the boys walked in.

Ronnie smiled widely, hugging her brothers but then proceeding to punch them for surprising her and not just telling her. Josh and Danny hugged Y/N first, Sam leading after. Jake didn’t hug Y/N. It stung a bit. It made sense though. The last time they talked — it ended in an argument which was the resulting cause of their breakup.

A few drinks were downed, a couple shots thrown in there as well. Y/N figured it was time to throw the towel in. She couldn’t handle the awkward glances and forced conversation on their part. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and put it on as she said goodbye to everyone. “Boys, lovely to see you again. I’m sure I’ll see you this weekend.”

She wasn’t going to. She was gonna avoid them at all costs. Come up with a lie — say she had the flu or something. Her mother would believe her either way, as well as understand where she was coming from with her avoidance. Her mother was there for her while she cried her eyes out.

She didn’t notice when Jake had followed her out. She didn’t notice him calling her name. The only thing she could notice was the tears falling down her cheeks, wiping them as soon as she felt them.

“I never stopped loving you.”

It slipped out. It didn’t mean to come out. Jake didn’t necessarily want it to come out. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? At the same time, who trusts the words of a drunk person? Usually it’s just brushed off as babbling, but Y/N couldn’t ignore what Jake said. Especially because she couldn’t blame it on not hearing him. There was no music playing outside the bar. The music was faint enough that anything Jake had said was heard.

“When we broke up,” he started. “I was a wreck. I was immature. It could’ve worked out - it would’ve worked out if I wasn’t such a child about everything.”

“Jake —“

“No, Y/N, I need to say this now. I’m a little drunk so I actually have the balls to say everything I want to. It was stupid to break up over something as menial as distance. The things I feel for you are so intense it scares the fuck out of me. I was so afraid of being gone all the time. You deserved someone who could be there to help you study for midterms. I was always in another state and sometimes another country. I wasn’t… there to be able to help you through anything. Everything’s different now, though.”

She sighed, not entirely sure on what to do with the information that was thrown at her. She was sober enough to remember the conversation tomorrow, but not nearly drunk enough to be able to deal with it tonight. “Do you wanna just come home with me? Talk about this tomorrow morning when we’re both sober.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

[purpleyellow]

It’s not enough

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“The remarkable world of Mark Lee’s mind” or, Mark rethinkgs his entire history with Bee.

a/n: I finished it!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛 this gif is peak devastation 

All Mark could think when Bee first joined the group was “Thank God for Lee Jeno”.

Noticing that while she didn’t know how to express herself in front of them, Jeno was the first to give her a sense of comfort. Mark, after getting nervous for not knowing how to be helpful, told himself that eventually, Bee would get close to him too. He had a year, after all, to become friends and grow a bond with her.

Except that a year doesn’t last that long and little girls don’t come with instructions.

He knows she cried on his last showcase with Dream. But Mark has a feeling she only did so because of the occasion. She was seeing the seven best friends she witnessed together being separated, and that’s a heartbreaking sight when you know how close they are together.

Two years later, Mark realizes that was his big mistake. It wasn’t on purpose but along the way, he isolated the girl from their original friend group, and maybe it’s what caused some sort of distance in between them.

The year following his departure was an eventful one, and the boy grew a lot, experienced a lot, and learned a lot. The best part of everything being that whenever he met with their little friend group, his spot was intact and everything was the same. Except for Bee. Mark would see how she had inevitably built her own place within the dreamies, and it had him feeling weirdly left out even though they were perfectly coexisting.

They went on being coworkers and labeling each other as friends despite the weird lack of bond, until, of course, the whole “crush” fiasco went down. Mark saw himself and the girl going from, no correlation besides being in the same friend group, to suddenly facing a crisis that revolved around her feelings and his lack of knowledge about how she works.

The image he had of her, was built on a shallow level based on how others perceived her. That’s his second mistake. Jeno, and some of his Hyungs, were almost protective over Bee. Renjun and Jaemin treated her like their personal teddy bear. Haechan, Chenle, and to some extent Jisung were not worth going over in his head, because he thought that if he joked around as they did, she would probably get offended.

So there Mark was, trying to work around, this seemingly fragile character, while finding out that she saw him as a friend more than he did to her. And that maybe all the stress he had gone through to make sure she was being “protected” was worthless and seemingly ignored. He was a bit selfish for wanting to do the right thing simply for others to notice him, but that’s how he knew things. That's how he had to build a career for himself, he needed to get recognition from others to do the things he had done. And maybe connecting everything to work was another mistake.

“What’cha thinking about?” Chenle throws his coat on top of Mark’s head after realizing the practice room wasn’t empty. Though the boy was so deep in thought he didn’t realize the idol had arrived until he announced himself.

“Just life” Mark groans while laying back on the ground, his phone left on the floor next to him. The younger boy walked to the side, taking a glance at the screen before smirking.

“And by life, do you mean someone special?” He teases and Mark's hands fly to the device, the notes app open on the words he had mindlessly typed. He knew Chenle didn’t have time to actually read everything, but the title gave away enough. “The little ballerina”

“I’m trying to see things through a different lens” The Canadian spoke looking sideways at him. Gesturing he continued “Yesterday, I tried talking to her back at the van, but to be honest I had no idea what to say. Apparently, there's no good way to approach it, but I kind of feel like there might be”

“Markie, Markie. Don’t overthink anything. What do we do when we have a schedule that we’re not particularly good at?” Chenle placed a hand behind his ear and waited for the boy to say.

“We go ahead and just do it”

“So do just that” The boy snapped, “Between you and me, Yun-hee doesn't know what she wants. At one point she's all certain about 'moving on' or whatever, yet then when you ask her for any details of what she's feeling, she completely ignores you”.

“You asked her about it?” Mark's head snaps up frowning and the boy nods. “What did she say? Does-”

“Did you not listen to what I just say? She brushed me off” Chenle rolls his eyes “But I think she still likes you if that's worth something. Maybe not the way she did back when Haechan dropped the bomb”.

“What do you mean? Like a friend?” He questions confused, decreasing the younger's patience.

“No, Mark. The same way you like her now”.

“Chenle, I already told her, and all of you, that I don't feel like that towards Bee” Mark’s tone gets more serious and the younger groans annoyed.

“You two are so slow, we literally have to put words in your mouth to get things going” Chenle speaks quicker trying to get his point across. “It's really obvious you care about Bee more than you did at the beginning of last year. And okay, let's say you don't have a little thing for her or whatever, but you do want to have some sort of relationship with her, don't you?”

“Yeah, being friends for once would be nice” Mark nods, sarcastically, and gets up from the floor. “I really just want this all to end”

Mark left the room shortly after and being honest with himself, he felt a little light-headed with everything Chenle just told him. Putting most things aside to revisit once he had a clearer mind, the boy decided to put into use the one good advice he could find in the middle of everything. When you have a particularly hard task, you just have to go ahead and do it.

So with that, his plan was built. And by plan, he means to have no prepared speech, and no questions to ask, instead figure out everything after he finally finds a way of talking to her, which has been harder than anticipated.

A couple of days later, while he went down to the sm cafe before it was time to be at the studio, Mark quite literally froze in place at the sight of a certain Stray Kids member standing near a wall.

Waving shyly at him and Renjun, Seungmin waited awkwardly to see if they would come near him.

"Bee shouldn't take much longer" Renjun caught Mark by surprise, as he approached the boy calmly "Her recording session is almost done, but we can show you the studio if you want to wait for her there"

"No, it's fine" Seungmin smiled, though a little intimidated by Mark's frown. "I'll just sit wherever if it takes too long"

"I'm sorry, you two are going out?" The laugh followed by Mark's question was a little nervous, considering he had only seen the boy a few times yet here he was waiting for Bee to be done so they could do... something?

"No, no. Bee's going to meet Moon, I'm just the intermediate" Seungmin tries to joke but Renjun is the only one laughing. Clearing his throat, he explains further "My group was nearby and we're meeting Ateez for dinner so Moon asked if I could come to pick her up"

"Yun-hee is staying over at her dorm" Renjun adds, glaring sideways at the Canadian. "A sleepover or whatever you want to call it" The three fall silent after he's done talking and Mark runs over an explanation as to why he's feeling so frustrated over this conversation.

He and Bee hadn’t properly spoken since the award show shooting. And while forced interactions were the bare minimum, the boy felt as if the distance they kept had triplicated its length. It made him feel odd to see her act normally with everyone, including a boy she hadn’t spoken to for a year. So why couldn’t they be normal as well?

"Well, I'm going ahead and get a coffee. She should be coming anytime, though being late is kind of expected at this point" The comment from Renjun makes Seungmin chuckle and both boys nod to each other. Turning to Mark, he frowns at his wondering expression "You coming?"

"I'm heading up actually, it's my turn on studio 3" He shakes his head and waves at them. The elevator doesn't seem to take much longer to arrive, which Mark thinks might be some weird doing of fate, considering as soon as he makes it to his floor, Bee is walking along the hallway. Or was, because she changes her path the moment she spots him

Acting purely on instinct might not be the smartest thing to do, the boy thinks to himself while chasing her through the building without any idea of what he wants to say once "catching" her. Maybe Kun hiding Bee in his studio and obviously lying to him was a good thing, or at least it gave him another day to think about where he wants to stand with her.

Ironically, a couple of days after, he's in fact standing in front of a door while thinking if he should or not enter and hopefully settle everything. Mark opens the door slowly, analyzing the small room with two chairs in which she's sitting on one.

“Can we talk now?” He waits for her positive to walk inside and Bee does so by simply nodding. Her eyes looked a little tired and uninterested, but the small tremor on her hands told him how present she really was. And just like the first time they met, her nervousness contaminated him, and they just sat inside the small room without looking at each other in silence.

"I, um, have been thinking about everything since that game night" Mark clears his throat and starts speaking towards the floor "And, not that you owe me anything, but I'd just like to know what happened"

Frowning, Bee quickly glances at him "What do you mean, what happened?"

"When did you start, kind of seeing me in that way. And how did it stop, I guess. It just feels like a lot happened that I'm not aware of, and it's making me look back and reconsider some stuff, I'll explain that later, just let me know what I missed"

Bee thought of how she would put things into words and twirled the ring on her finger, taking a deep breath she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair

"It started around when you came back from the SuperM tour. Or maybe before that, I'm not sure” She sighs and picks at her nails “It seemed like that boy I met was gone after you graduated, and you became this even cooler rapper, you became more confident in yourself, literally embodied SM's favorite child. I sort of became stunned, this feels really weird to say, but I couldn't really recognize you"

Mark slowly looks at Bee while she's talking and carefully listens, he feels a little more comfortable not to look away once she raises her head again. Once she stops, he nods turning his chair a little so they're more face to face.

"You feel out of it after you find out I'm still the awkward boy from before" His jokes make her shrug as opposed to the giggle he expected to hear.

"That happened, but also, you did turn me down" Bee bites her lip regretting the word choice "Not that I'm mad, or really hoped for anything, I simply didn't want to push anything or make things too weird. That's why going back to normal was such a huge thing, but it's been a really long time since then and we still don't know how to do that, I guess"

"Maybe it's because we didn't exactly have a normal, at least not the one we're trying to do right now" Mark catches her attention and she gestures for him to keep going "Thinking back to when we first met, we never got close just the two of us. The others were always around, and even then, I can't recall us sticking together or anything. That might be why you thought I was different"

"It makes sense" The girl mumbles tilting her head and frowning. If he was true, that would mean her crush had been based on this picture of him she drew on her head. And while part of it certainly was, Bee also knows that a little percentage came from his actual responsible yet boyish and kind personality she still appreciates to this day.

"I guess it does" Mark nods reading her face "We should probably find a way to work around that. Just get closer in general, I guess. Find out what our dynamic is like without blending in with the rest of the boys and ignoring each other" He speaks hopefully, but Bee fears it might not work again.

"But, what if this is it for us. We didn't naturally become friends, so maybe accountancies it's what we should stick with" She doesn't know if she meant it, or was scared of this whole 'finding out' deal and its consequences. From what she knew, Bee could easily slip back into her feelings for him and end up breaking her face again.

Yet Mark wasn't having it. He'd spent way too much time, especially lately, noticing how she was comfortable with the others, and the nice chemistry they had. He felt left out, not as in ignored, but Bee was sweet, and a little quirky which also made her funny, but still very caring, and he never denied she was pretty. He wanted to know what it’s like to be her friend like the others are. Though this moment might be the first time he questions if a friendship will be enough for him.

"Let's put an effort this time" He shakes his head dismissing her comment "We can stick around in the practice room a little longer now that our schedules mostly match. And you know, hang out together more, no running away or ignoring each other"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bee bounces up her leg and thinks a little bit.

"For what it's worth, we can try. We spent a good time in here and it didn't get awkward, so there’s hope" Mark giggles and she follows him "It'll make the teamwork better if you need a greater good to support your decisions"

"Okay" Bee nods making him shyly hold out a fistbump to her. Making up a quick and weird handshake, they laugh together lighting up the mood a little.

"Just a little request" The girl stops Mark as he's getting up "Let's not rush things, you know. Make it more natural than acting like we're forcefully acting as friends"

"Yeah, sure" Mark pats her head opening the door. And to everyone, especially the dreamies’, happiness, they're a little less awkward around each other.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Four]

Summary: Desire and darkness consume Poe and the reader, leaving them with only one goal. In the aftermath, years of pain and grief finally surface. 

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen=dubcon/noncon smut. Dark themes, mild violence/injury descriptions, language, angst, fluff. WC: 10,551

A/N: SURPRISE! One day early because I love you all and got my shit together this week. PLEASE NOTE the red banners are visual cuts you can use to skip the dark smut should you prefer to! 

Poe stood next to Charlie on the tarmac, waiting impatiently with his stomach in knots of excitement and anticipation. Even Charlie was shifting from foot to foot, uncharacteristically quiet while watching the transport ship slowly landing. When it hit the ground and the flight intake crew moved forward to help with debarking, he tossed Poe his signature grin.

“Ready, Flyboy?”

Poe laughed, “What does that even mean?” He glanced down at his shirt, straightening it for the tenth time before smoothing his hair carefully. “It’s been two years, I’d have gone to pick her up myself if they would have let me.”

“That’s my point,” His friend replied smoothly, raising a brow at Poe, who gazed back at his best friend, bewildered. “Two years apart, barely been able to speak with her, you keep her picture in your inner pocket here,” He tapped Poe over the heart, where the picture would be if he was in his flight suit, “You two are the most clueless lovebirds, I swear. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Glancing at the ship to see the ramp still hadn't lowered, Poe frowned, a rush of emotions swirling within. “You...uh, knew how I-?”

Charlie clapped Poe on the shoulder, “Isn’t there a term for it? Soulmates, I think. Yeah.”

“Charlie, I don’t think-“

Charlie rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying anything else about it, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know I understand why you took so long picking the perfect shade of sand shirt to wear under your jacket.”

Poe hummed in response, stunned by the casual way his friend spoke like everything was inevitable. He wasn’t so sure, though he’d always thought the term ‘soulmate’ could apply to platonic relationships. And while he was pretty sure he’d never just felt platonic toward you in any sense, Poe wasn’t going to get his hopes up that you actually may return his feelings.

Two years ago, Poe had held you the entire night before his and Charlie’s departure for D’Qar, cried along with you over how impossible it felt to part, to not see each other every day when his life had been wrapped around yours since as long as he could remember. He had left a part of himself there with you on Yavin-4, and now you were about to disembark your transport ship and unknowingly hand it back to him by simply being with him, real and tangible.

He was nervous to see you, he didn’t know why. Maybe Charlie’s words were only highlighting Poe’s own concerns now that you were mere moments away. He had barely even been able to get in contact with you for two years, he and Charlie were far enough away and regularly over-worked that it was impossible to do as much as they both would have liked. What if you climbed off of this ship as a completely different person? Perhaps things wouldn’t be as easy and natural between you both now, after so long apart. 

He’d gotten through these past two years without you knowing he would always have his memories of you, that before he knew it you would be with him-and Charlie-again, and new memories could be made. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Regardless, the last thing Poe was going to do when he finally had you back was confessing his feelings and risk fucking everything up straight off the cuff. He’d lived with these feelings for a long time, he could continue to do so now.

Lost in his thoughts, Charlie suddenly stood taller next to Poe, who glanced at his friend to find he was beaming toward the transport ship. Following his gaze, he first saw that the ramp was down and many of the passengers were now splitting away meeting friends and family. It only took him a moment from then to locate you.

The moment his eyes landed on you, excitedly bouncing down the ramp with a duffel bag over your shoulder, eyes searching wildly around, Poe felt every single worry melt, and a heavyweight on his shoulders seemed to lift away. You still looked like you, and stars were you ever beautiful, the loveliest woman-because, you were a woman now, not a kid, not a goofy teenager-he’d ever laid eyes on. He drank you in, during those moments you hadn’t yet spotted Charlie’s waving arm. Two years had given your curves a new classification, a reverence within Poe rising as he gazed briefly in surprise at the swell of your breasts, the fullness in your hips.

He could...drop to the ground right here and declare his undying love for you, just for coming back to him with that same fucking perfect smile. Just for the way your eyes finally found him and Charlie and you lit up like a sun, bathing everyone lucky enough to be within your presence in your warm glow. It was a fucking sight, a moment that he would never forget; you grinning and then hurrying forward through the crowd. Your duffel bag hit the ground just seconds before you were throwing yourself toward your brother and Poe, who each expected exactly what you would do and easily stepped forward and caught you. Crushing you between them in an embrace that felt so whole, so entirely right. Poe felt for the first time in two years as though he were home.

Wherever in the galaxy Poe went, if he had you with him it would be home.

“Oh stars, kriffing STARS,” You were squealing, an arm wrapped behind each of their necks to hold yourself up, your lips peppering warm kisses between them each, “I’ve missed you both so much, my best guys!” You had a few happy tears on your cheeks now, Poe noticed when you leant your head to his and pressed your forehead to his own, repeating the affectionate greeting with Charlie.

“Kid, fuck it’s good to see you,” Charlie’s voice was thick with emotion, but his eyes were much drier than both yours and Poe’s. “How was the trip?”

“Maker, Charlie, Poe-you’re both so tall!” You laughed, realizing you were dangling a few inches above the ground as they held on to you. Poe liked the way he could feel your laughter as your body moved against him; as though you were passing it to him. “The trip was fine, crap food but I had a nice elder lady as my seat-mate. Reminded me of mum.”

They set you down, though Charlie was stroking your hair out of your face and Poe kept his hand on your waist, unable to let you go and lose the sensation of you finally, finally in his arms again. He never wanted to be apart from you for that long again, not if he could help it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it home for mum’s funeral,” Charlie murmured, an apology he’d repeated many times since your mother’s passing a few months prior.

“Hey,” You smiled sadly, “You two spent a lot of credits to holo-call in for it, that meant a lot to me. You know mum would have been livid if you’d abandoned your duties just for her.” Still, a few more tears slipped down your cheeks and Poe reached up with his free hand to gently wipe them away as Charlie nodded solemnly, opening his mouth to respond when-

“Horn! Hey, come meet my brother!” The three of you glanced around, Poe recognizing one of the mechanics Charlie was friendly with waving him over. Pressing a quick kiss to your temple and assuring you he’d be right back, Charlie hurried away to greet the mechanic and his brother.

When you turned to peer back up at Poe, your grin wide and eyes seemingly doing their own assessment of him, he realized that this was now the first time you’d been alone together since that night two years ago. Feeling his face flush, Poe tugged you close against him and pressed his lips to the top of your head. You certainly hadn’t gotten any taller yourself, now especially small in his embrace. Something about the realization settled warm in his belly, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling back slightly to look down into your eyes again. Your expression was a little shy, as though you were pleasantly caught off guard by his affection, “How have you been, really?”

You had your hands pressed against his chest as you smiled up at him. “Good, glad to be here finally. Yavin-4 didn’t feel like home anymore after mum,” You trailed off, eyes falling and brightening somewhat as you gazed at his chest. “Poe, you got uh,” You slide your hands across the expanse of him and Poe had to work to keep himself from gasping at the sensation of it as heat coiled within him, “Like, big? Broad. Wow, oh and less scruffy, too!” You added, eyes swinging back up to his clean-shaven jawline.

Poe made a noise of embarrassment at your words, smiling at you shyly. Reaching up with one hand, you stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Dousing fuel on the fire within him, the motion was so second nature, intimate, comforting, that he really could have gathered you in his arms right there and pressed his lips to yours. He wanted to ask you if you realized how much he fucking loved you, if you had any idea what you did to him, body and soul and mind consumed and controlled by you and only ever you.

Instead, taking a deep breath, Poe shifted himself away from you casually, leaning at the same time to bring his head level to yours, his nose scrunched, “And you are exactly as short as I remember. Actually, might be shorter with my extra couple of inches now.”

“Rude,” You laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder, whatever tension that had just been present now gone. Your eyes strayed away from Poe’s to look all around at what you could see of the Rebel base here on the tarmac, your gaze landing almost hungrily on a nearby x-wing before jumping to watch as several flew overhead; the current patrol.

He watched you in adoration as you drank in your first real glimpse of the Resistance, your eyes widened in wonder and excitement that Poe had felt too the moment he’d arrived on D’Qar.

But in truth, it didn’t compare to what he was feeling right now.

Poe reached up and stroked your cheek, “Welcome home, (y/n).”  

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

“Commander.” You stepped out of the cockpit, your hands twisting in front of you nervously. Poe looked up from where he sat on the bottom bunk. “We’re safely in hyperspace. Autopilot engaged.” You kept your voice soft, as if afraid he would startle.

Or maybe you were afraid of him now. He wouldn’t blame you.

Rather than replying, Poe simply made a noise that was meant to be confirmation he had heard you but it came out strangled enough that it sounded like he was in pain. And he was in agony but he was trying to hold it all back, figure out how to forget.

Did there exist a plant that could make him fucking forget?

He watched as your face twisted before you dropped to your knees in front of him, his body stiffening when you pushed between his legs. Your hands came to rest gently on his cheeks as Poe met your eyes, their expression mirroring his own; pain, regret. But there was something more there, though it hurt him to see it: concern.

“Poe,” Your voice was soft and Poe felt himself tremble in response, unwilling to accept your kindness. “Please, Poe. You didn’t do anything wro-“

Poe jerked himself out of your hold, leaning back as you remained crouched before him, your hands falling to his thighs to keep steady. “Didn’t do anything wrong?” He breathed, watching you look up at him. “I keep hurting you. All I do is hurt you, (y/n). Don’t tell me everything is okay.”

MISSION DAY FOUR

Desire.

It was...the only thing you could feel anymore. All there was. Nothing else in your mind, like it had been scraped of every memory, every morsel of you and the only thing that remained was this burning, intense thirst. It was fucking incredible, there was no pain anymore, the heat felt like it belonged, that you were designed for the sole purpose of allowing it to burn you. When you set your gaze to the man before you, you could see that he was burning too.

Poe, with his dark eyes and heaving chest, moved quickly-almost too quickly, and you wondered if the pollen gave humans a physical boost. It would make sense because when he was suddenly lifting you and thrusting you against the stone wall, you didn’t feel it. There was only pleasure, no pain, no disorientation, but fuck the feel of his hands finally on you was exactly what you needed. The relief of his touch was enough to have you craving more, more now, now!

As if reading your mind, he was swiftly peeling your layers of gear off, ripping and tossing the material, tugging off your boots, one hand holding you against the wall and it wasn’t until he was sliding your pants down that you realized you were dangling a few feet above the ground. So there was definitely some juice to the pollen. Something about that realization made your toes curl in anticipation.

“Please, please fuck me, I can’t wait another minute,” You heard yourself begging, and dark Poe smirked, pulling his clothing off before adjusting his grip on you. Now, his hand slid down to roughly hold your ass, pressing his body against yours so closely you were supported between him and the wall. You wrapped your legs around his hips, moaning at the feel of his erection pressed into your thigh, and you glanced down to watch as he lined himself up with your cunt.

And stars, he was huge, the biggest you’d ever had. Thick and veiny, you let out the filthiest moan just looking at his cock, your sounds morphing into screams when he tilted his hips and thrust into you completely in one swift motion. Filling you. Growling as he claimed you entirely.

It should have hurt. Even with how wet you were, being split open and filled so brutally should be agonizing but it felt amazing. You could hear yourself demanding he never stops once he began a fast, harsh pace. Your head knocked back into the wall and you still felt no discomfort, not with dark Poe surrounding you, filling you so perfectly. One of his hands did shoot up and grip your jaw, pressing your head into the wall so that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

He was feral, his expression greedy and dangerous and it only made you clench around him. “Fuck,” He groaned both hands tightening their hold on your hip and face, “G-going to fucking ruin you for any other cock, little girl. Fucking brat, always so mean, and now you’re begging for me to fill you up, aren’t you?”

You were delirious with pleasure, his words shot straight to your pussy, but you still managed to reply. “Want you to...fill me up, use me, just n-never stop fucking me.” He growled at your words and pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth to open so that he could lick into you, taste you and swallow your whimpers and moans for more. After a few minutes of this pace, you felt the coil you hadn’t realize was tightening suddenly snap, and you gushed all over his cock as you had your first orgasm.

“Oh maker, I’m cumming, fuck!” But even as you came, crashing through wave after wave, dark Poe didn’t let up and you didn’t feel even remotely spent. An orgasm of that magnitude should have had you passing out; instead, you screamed for more.

+

Poe couldn’t get enough of your body, tight pussy clenched around him as he took you in every position. He didn’t feel tired, sore, and despite having already filled you several times with his seed, his erection hadn’t worn off. You allowed him to roughly handle you into whatever pose he felt like, though you would curse if he took too long, and then mewl when he’d enter you again and begin harshly pounding you. Those dark eyes of yours always focused on him, taunting him. Begging him to claim you.

He was behind you on the floor now, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressed into your lower back, forcing you to arch for him. You were screaming for more even as he relentlessly slammed into you and he only grinned at the idea of giving you what you wanted. He smacked your ass to punctuate every other word, “So fucking tight! Such a good little slut, taking all my cum, you want more now?” He slapped you one last time as his hips slowed, his orgasm tearing through him and pulling another from you and he cursed aloud at how fucking good it felt when you squeezed his cock during your high.

“More, fuck, more!” You whined moments later, even as his forward thrusts forced out the excessive amount of cum he’d filled you with. It was hot, the visual alone enough to hold his attention as you wiggled against him and begged.

“Good little slut, taking me so well,” He moaned, leaning over your back and nipping marks into your neck. When he rose back up, he pulled you with him so that you were flush against his chest as he picked up the pace again. The new angle seemed to hit something inside you differently, as your renewed screams were filling the room within seconds. “Such a perfect body, look at these tits.” He whispered into your ear, one hand cupping your breast and pinching your nipple.

You came again, drenching his cock and before you even stopped moaning from the high you were asking for more.

And fuck, he was going to give you more.

+

Hours, it had definitely been hours. At least six, you thought, if the light from filtering from the hall was anything to go by. The sun was different on this planet, never fully setting, so from your best knowledge you guessed Poe and you had been fucking for a good six hours, minimum.

It wasn’t enough. You hoped it never stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t.

It still didn’t hurt. Each orgasm wasn’t yet enough. You could see rather than feel the bruises on your skin, the cuts on your knees and hands from the rough ground. Even when Poe spanked you, the bite was momentary and delicious. This high was simply incredible. The sensation of him coating your insides with thick ropes of cum was forever engrained in your mind now.

You were riding him now; had been for the last few orgasms. He liked letting you do the work even though it didn’t feel like work-and watched as you rolled your hips and bounced for him, his hands occasionally reaching up to play with your tits. When he would come, he would grab your hips and slam you down, his strength preventing you from moving as he filled you deep, usually pulling your orgasm along with him because he was just so fucking sexy groaning for you.

“Like riding me, little girl?” He growled, releasing your hips and allowing you to start moving again. This time, you braced your hands on his chest so that you could change the angle, moaning when his thick cock dragged along your walls in the most perfect way. Kriff.

“Love it, never stopping,” You gasped, the room loud with the noises you each made and the sounds your cum stuffed pussy made each time he entered you. “Fuck, so fucking good.”

You sunk yourself onto his cock for a long time, watching his face as he filled you over and over, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Was it ever going to be enough?

+

Poe could see you were cock drunk, your grasp on Basic slipping to the point where you simply whimpered out short phrases, some of them entirely unintelligible. It was incredible, seeing you bent over the table, stuffed full of his cock and unable to articulate properly how good it felt.

“Oh fuck, here you go, take my cum,” He snapped his hips forwards and came, his grip on your hips like steel, holding you in place to take every last drop. You came moments later, your orgasm soaking him and dragging his out again. After just a moment, he readjusted you, lifting one of your legs onto the table and holding it there, his other hand sliding up your back and pressing to the back of your neck, pinning you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” You screamed when he started up again. He smirked, enjoying the sound of his body slapping against yours. From the way he held you, Poe had his wrist comm directly in his line of sight. After a moment, he registered the time on the display and realized that you’d been fucking for twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours.

“Fuck, been fucking you all day little girl, filling you with my cum for fucking hours and hours,” He groaned, pressing you into the table even more. You whimpered in response, unable to speak. “Yeah, you love it, don’t you? Want more, come on I know you can speak, tell me you want my cum.”

“Uh, fuck I w-want, want your c-cum, please!”

“Yeah you do, fucking slut,” He picked up the pace again, then shot over the edge as you screamed, “Take my cum, take it, fuck.” Poe growled, still amazed at how tight you were, milking his cock perfectly every time. Once his orgasm subsided, he flipped you over onto your back and took a moment to gaze down at you.

Your black eyes were staring up at him hungrily, waiting for him to decide his next move. When you licked your lips, an idea popped into his head. He reached down and spun you so your head was at the edge of the table, your legs pointing away from him. He moved you so that your head just dangled over the edge, and then he pushed his fingers into your mouth, wetting them.

“Gonna put my cock down your throat, think you can handle that?” He said, grunting when your lips wrapped around his fingers and sucked a little. He was quick to replace them with his cock, one hand moving to hold under your head and the other guiding his length into your eager little mouth. “Fuck, yes.” He moaned, quickly setting a steady pace.

Once he had a rhythm going, Poe used the hand not supporting your head to place one of yours behind that one, “Tap, fucking hell yes, t-tap my hand if you need air, ah shit!” He just managed to give you the instructions before the overwhelming feeling of your mouth working on him so expertly had his balls pulling up and before he knew it, he was shooting his load down your throat.

You swallowed everything and then continued sucking him off as he fucked your face.

Thirteen hours.

+

He tasted delicious. You’d almost wished, when he shot that first load down your throat, that he’d started things out this way so that the taste of him was on your tongue the whole time. You made up for it by taking as much as you could, swallowing around his length as you pulled orgasm after orgasm from him.

Eventually, you were moaning around him enough that he realized it had been a while since you’d cum, and he pulled from your mouth. His dark gaze searched your cum covered face greedily before he climbed onto the table, pulling you up to lift you over his cock. He lowered you slowly onto him, the stretch exactly what you needed and so perfect that the moment you were fully seated you came, jerking in his arms.

You were in his lap, your legs wrapped around his back, and you briefly thought of how this was the most intimate position yet. Your chests pressed together, and he was expertly moving you in his lap, helping you to ride him.

His face was a breath away. You closed the gap.

He groaned when your mouth opened for him, letting his tongue taste the mixture of you and his spend. You squeezed his cock harder, you were so turned on, and it only took a few more rolls of your hips to feel yourself come undone again.

Your head felt heavy, so you let it fall into the crook of his neck, nuzzling.

“Oh yeah, so fucking good,” You whimpered, your arms around him, “Oh, Poe don’t stop!”

Poe.

Your Poe.

+

This is how...this is how he would have liked to be with you the first time, how he pictured it when he was younger. You straddling his lap, wrapped around each other as you rolled your hips and he pulled the most delicious sounds from you with his deep thrusts. It was intimate, the position allowing him to move between kissing you, holding you, licking your breasts, ensuring you were enjoying it as much as him.  

He could whisper sweet nothings into your ear this way, tell you he loved you and that he’d take care of you. And you would have liked it too, he knew, because you liked watching his face, reading his expressions every day and he knew that would have translated over to making love.

But this-this wasn’t making love, was it?

You had dropped your head down as you came again, your body curling into his as though for safety, comfort.

“Oh, Poe, don’t stop!”

He was going to cum again, the sound of his name on your lips for the first time hurling him over the edge, “Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!” He pressed your body into his and dropped his head to your neck, where he peppered it with gentle kisses as he spilled inside of you.

You both slowed your movements after coming down from your highs this time.

Poe felt himself panting, out of breath. You were panting too.

But why...why was he on the table? Poe leaned back slightly and you raised your head at his movement, your eyes meeting his. They weren’t as dark as before, but you looked tired. Poe felt tired, exhausted really.

You were still moving your hips, almost as if on autopilot. But you were frowning at Poe as you did, and then you winced. He froze, watching as you looked down at yourself, his eyes following yours.

“No...” He heard himself whisper in dawning horror. You were covered in marks; bruises or bites, hickies, red welts from places that looked like they’d been slapped.

They had been slapped. He had slapped you.

Poe felt himself softening inside you, a pain in his back and knees, his chest smarting as well. He glanced down and saw track marks from your nails down his chest. He didn’t even remember you doing that, it hadn’t hurt at the time. You whimpered, this time in pain and he looked back up into your eyes. They weren’t dark anymore. You were crying.

“Sweetheart-“ Poe faltered, shaking his head and trying to clear the clinging fog. You shifted a little and he slipped from inside of you. Both you and Poe groaned at the sensation, and you quivered as the mixture of fluids spilled out from inside you. “I-what happened...what did I do?”

Poe was sobbing now too.

It took some time to regain enough strength to move from the table, without the boost the pollen had provided you were both spent and every tired, aching muscle, bruise and bite mark or scratch could be fully felt now. Poe recovered first, easing himself to his feet and searching for the packs you’d each dropped when things...went dark.

You were panting on the table still, in much worse shape than he was and the rising panic inside of Poe was giving him the energy he needed to get to the medkits. He pushed through the pain in his limbs, thirst in his mouth and throbbing in his head-none of it mattered right now, not when you were suffering. He glanced at his wrist comm as he unzipped the medkit and realized, with horror, that it had been fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of brutal, relentless, rough sex.

The plant hadn’t just taken away inhibitions, hadn’t made it impossible to resist one another, no it had obliterated both of you-pushed you both into the far recesses of your minds and forced you to watch as its pollen turned you into feral, angry animals with exactly one goal.

And it stole from you both, stole your consent, your right to chose, abilities to control the urges that were twisted by its potency. Warped into selfish desire, the need for release and control, as if it was some archaic mating ritual-mark, consume, dominate. It wasn’t real, none of it had been, each of you losing yourselves in a hopeless battle against the strength of the pollen. And Poe...he had been violent, mean, brutal. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been, but it was the unavoidable reality that he was much bigger and stronger, the boost of the pollen making it easy to manhandle you.

He would never forgive himself for harming you. For the things he said, the marks left all over your body. If he could have died instead, fought against the pollen and let whatever happened in that case happen, he would have. Ten times over, he would have.

Just like Charlie, he would have sacrificed himself in an instant to protect you.

But you had refused to run and told Poe that you didn’t want to die. At that moment, right as he was coiled to try and run from you, he realized that you could die too. There was no medical backup, no nearby crew to call for help. It was Poe and you and the bacta shots that would have been completely ineffective with the pollen pulsing through your systems. He had to give in, and the darkness had taken him over the moment he accepted it.

He remembers fleetingly thinking of all the times in his life he had let himself think of being with you intimately. Usually guilt-ridden, he pushed the thoughts away; as a teenager, he failed half the time, and as an adult, he tried to refocus on other women, but they never measured up. When his imagination did get the better of him, it was always, always tender. Soft, slow, sensual. Just the very idea of being the one pulling moans from your lips and taking care of you would send him over the edge.

But that wasn’t what happened here. It wasn’t a light high that lowered inhibitions and made the sex last longer, feel more intense. No, this was a sinister plant so potent it drove away each of your humanity and respect for one another, pulling pleasure for yourselves instead of giving it to one another.

It was cold and harsh, and Poe was devastated.

You whimpered suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts, his head shooting up to look toward where you were laying on the table. “Sweetheart?” He stood the medkit in hand and tried to swallow back his sobs as he moved toward you.

“S’okay,” You groaned, eyes pressed tightly shut, “Find the bacta?”

“Yes, I-“ Poe faltered as he stood at the edge of the table, his hands holding the bacta shot he’d pulled out. “Can I touch you, or do you want to try and-?“

“Poe,” You mumbled tiredly, “I’m okay, please just give me the shot.” You attempted to roll yourself to your side and expose your buttocks for him but only ended up sobbing in pain again.

Flinching, Poe reached out and gently, so incredibly carefully, helped you to twist your hips. He heard himself whispering words of comfort but focused on opening the shot and lining it up. When he plunged the needle into you and pressed down on the plunger, you let out a weak but relieved little moan. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” He promised, tossing aside the bacta shot and brushing his fingers over your face comfortingly.

His shattered heart beat hopefully when you reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing.

+

Poe was watching you race Charlie up an older tree, his strength no match for your agility as the smaller sibling. It was a lazy day, hot enough to warrant a day by the river-which was what most of the kids in their town on Yavin-4 had been thinking, it seemed. The banks of the river were piled with kids and teens as far as he could see, though thankfully the prestige of the Horn and Dameron families left your favourite spot along the water relatively free of unwanted guests.

A few friends were nearby, giving Poe his space as he sat leaning against a boulder. A book sat open in his lap, though he’d been distracted many times now thanks to his inability to control his thoughts around you. His father had assured Poe that it was natural at seventeen to have a wandering mind, a surge of hormones, he’d horrifyingly explained. He advised that should the thoughts and feelings become too intense, that Poe needed to take a few breaths, refocus elsewhere, remind himself of the person that deserved his respect and not his wayward thoughts.

But Poe didn’t have these thoughts or feelings or whatever the fuck about anyone but you. It had always been you, and though so far he’d managed to hide his emotional and physical feelings from your notice, it alarmed him in moments like this. When you revealed much more skin than usual in a simple water suit, hair and sun-kissed skin damp from the water, he worried he might slip up. He was as ashamed of the direction his thoughts would go in as he was sure that you would, for the rest of his life, be the only one he ever truly admired so ardently, loved so deeply that he fought to refuse to disrespect you with his hormone fuelled thoughts.

You gave a whoop when you reached the highest point the tree would allow, its trunk and branches thinning enough to make it unsafe to climb any further beyond. A friend of yours, Tahla, and a few of his buddies were nearby in the water, laughing and teasing you from below and jokingly daring you and Charlie to jump. It wouldn’t have been unsafe to do, so instead, you both laughed and began the slow climb down.

You were moving much more slowly than Charlie now, out of breath from the race and taking care not to scratch yourself. Your brother hit the ground, tossed Poe a smirk, then barrelled into the water to cool off. Poe rolled his eyes, laughing as Charlie started picking up some of the smaller guys and tossing them into the water. A game fondly, yet unofficially, referred to as tempting the bull.

Poe adjusted himself against the rock, trying to get comfortable but he felt warm enough now that he thought he should get in the water as soon as Charlie wore himself out enough not to be a threat. You were still a good way up the tree, now slowed even further as you had a conversation with one of Tahla’s friends that had come out of the water to chat with you. Frowning to himself, Poe watched as you continued a friendly banter and felt the clutches of envy reaching for him.

This seemed like a good enough excuse to close his eyes and take one of those deep breaths his father advised. First standing, Poe tugged off his shirt so that he could make his way to the water, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Taking half a breath in until the sound of a branch snapping and your scream halted him in his tracks. Poe’s eyes snapped open and then he was frantically running, too far away to do anything as you lost your grip and fell, slamming into the ground on your side and letting out a pained wail.

Poe briefly met Charlie’s wide eyes as they both ran for you from different directions. Panic reflected there, but Poe got to you first and his eyes moved to you. Annoyingly, the blonde who had been speaking to you-distracting you-was knelt over you and worriedly checking you over.

Poe pushed him away from you, “Don’t touch her,” He heard himself snarl, taking a threatening step toward the kid, who raised his hands in surrender, “Get the fuck-“

“Poe,” He halted in his tracks and spun at the sound of your tiny voice, his anger waning the moment he saw you clutching awkwardly at your arm, Charlie knelt beside you. It was like you hadn’t even noticed your brother, though, your eyes only on Poe, surprisingly intense as you stopped him from chasing down Tahla’s idiot friend. “I-I think my arm is b-broken.” You sniffled, eyes streaming, and flinched as some of the tears ran through the scratches on your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart,” He was kneeling in front of you seconds later, inspecting you all over for any more injuries, thankful when your head appeared to be free of any bleeding. He looked to Charlie, who read his thoughts instantly.

“Kid, I’ll run ahead and let the Healer’s know what happened, flyboy’s got you.” Charlie kissed the top of your head and ran off at full speed.

You let out another sob, this time revealing to Poe that your pride was as injured as your arm. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” And with great care, he slid one arm under your legs, the other bracing your back, lifting you as he stood.

He carried you with great caution, moving a little slower than he’d prefer but, since you were still flushed and awake he figured jostling you too much would cause more damage than taking his time getting you to the healer.

“Were you gonna punch Raine, Poe?” You asked, still holding your arm carefully.

Poe grimaced, “He distracted you, should have waited till you were on the ground to bug you.” He replied tightly, not meeting your gaze as he didn’t want you to see in his expression how upset he was.

You sensed it, though, your good hand reaching up to stroke his jaw one, two, three times in a successful effort to soothe him.

“Raine isn’t all that distracting.” You murmured after a minute. Poe had to bite back a pleased smile, a little guilt bubbling up as a rogue thought tumbled in the back of his head that perhaps you had been looking at someone else when you became distracted.

+

Poe was a stubborn fucking man, this was something you’d always been keenly aware of, but at this moment you wanted to throttle him for it. You didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with him, though the bacta shot he’d given you had you feeling physically wonderful, it did nothing to help your mind.

And you were so weary, all you wanted to do was sleep but his refusal to receive his bacta shot was preventing that from happening. You just needed to close your eyes for a few hours and let your brain process everything that had happened.

“Poe, there’s no reason for you to say no to the shot. You know I have to do it, it’s my directive-“

“And as your Commander,” He cut you off, pushing the hand that held the shot away, “I’m ordering you to not follow the directive. I’m fine. Don’t need it.”

And he wouldn’t even look at you now, his eyes everywhere but yours, his expression tight. Stubborn, stupid flyboy!

You considered how to convince him, realizing the arguments you had used so far were ineffective. “Poe, I don’t know anything about this pollen.” You stepped up to stand in front of him at the table, both of you now dressed in fresh clothing, skin scrubbed with medical towelettes, though you both needed to take showers urgently. You stunk.

Poe glanced at you nervously as you came into his space, and you wanted to cry at how he looked afraid of you. Afraid to move, because he might hurt you. You could see him taking the last few years and pushing it all into this fucking day, convincing himself that he hurt you again, that it was somehow his fault.

You’d really done a number on him. Your heart filled with sorrow.

“I feel fine.”

You set the shot down on the table next to where he sat, then reached up and grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. He flinched at your touch, his body going rigid. “Poe, baby please let me do this,” His brows shot up in surprise at the sincere concern in your voice, the tenderness of your hands on his face, “If for no other reason, to at least prevent cardiac arrest or...or a relapse.” You didn’t want to say this aloud, but you knew that just because you’d been exposed to the pollen once didn’t make either of you immune to its effects. The bacta would ensure that nothing further happened while you were on the planet.

“What?” His voice was sharp, “Are you saying I could...that I might-“

You shook your head, “I’m saying I don’t know, and anything is a possibility if you don’t take the shot.”

Poe sighed heavily, his eyes closing as he gave you a small nod. Wordlessly, he stood and you dropped your hands, picking up the bacta shot as he undid his belt and pushed one side of his pants down just enough to reveal his buttocks. Wasting no time, you plunged the shot into his skin and let out a breath of relief at his sound of content. Without thinking, you placed your free hand on his lower back in comfort.

“Thank you, Poe.”

He fixed his pants and glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression painfully dejected. You wanted to hold him. Instead, he took a few measured steps across the room and stooped to pick up both of your packs, no longer meeting your eyes. You sighed.

“Let’s find somewhere to get a few hours shut-eye.” He said, leading the way out of the room.

You followed him, glancing over your shoulder at the room one last time, your heart ten times heavier than it had been before you entered it.  

+

It didn’t take long to find a room with a few bunks, you and Poe each falling to an empty bed and falling asleep in a matter of moments. You were able to get a few hours, waking up feeling surprisingly refreshed, one of the helpful effects of the bacta shot. You were on your back and blinked up at the base of the upper bunk for a few moments, confused as to why you’d awoken. A sharp, suppressed sob pulled your attention to the bed just across from you, though Poe’s back was to you, you could see his shoulders shaking. He was crying.

It happened then, a monumental shift inside of you that was like seeing your whole life flash before your eyes. Only it was all Poe, every single moment of your life interwoven with him because he had always been there, always been absolutely everything to you. Seeing him across the room from you, trying to hide his pain again. Something in the core of your being shifted. You had to bite back a gasp as you felt several years of pent-up anger and pain begin to melt away until you were left raw, trying to reconcile how you had let your relationship with Poe get to this point, and even why you ran in the first place.

Maker, you were awful. Charlie would be ashamed of you, he loved Poe like a brother and you had been nothing but cruel these last couple of months. Another choked back sob cut through the air and you wanted to walk over to Poe and soothe his pain, assure him everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and you didn’t know how to even begin to try and repair everything between you and him, especially not after what had just happened.

But you did...you wanted your best friend back. Which meant you needed to do some serious thinking. And that couldn’t all happen right here during the mission. So you pretended to just be waking up, noisily to give him a moment to hide his tears and pushed everything else back-just for a little while longer.

Poe stilled, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head duck down, no doubt wiping his tears away. By the time you sat up, he was rolling over at pretending he had just woken up as well.

“Hey,” You gave him a small smile, then glanced at your wrist comm. “If we eat something and then start our search, we can be back at the ship in roughly four and a half hours.” Poe nodded in response, sitting up, and you watched him reach into one of the packs by the side of his bed. He pulled out two bottles of water and a couple of rations each, handing yours to you and carefully avoiding touching your skin as he did.

As much as you wanted to tell him you weren’t afraid of him, you knew this moment wasn’t the time to start the conversation. Instead, you ate in silence, Poe’s eyes on the floor and yours gazing at the walls, which had some basic Empire propaganda posted upon them.

After breakfast, you each suited up properly for exploring the facility and set out, wandering the halls cautiously in search of the main control room. It didn’t take too long to find, though you were held up trying to get the door to disengage. When your usual tricks didn’t work, you had to set up a charge and blow the door. You’d used these kinds of minor explosives plenty of times, retreating down the hall further than necessary as you counted down until detonation.

Surprising you, Poe suddenly spun from where he stood next to you and blocked your body protectively with his wider frame as the door was blown off of its hinges. He looked over your head, hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t move until you leaned to look around him and confirmed it was safe to move in.

You felt as though your heart was sitting in the back of your throat now.

It was well preserved, evidently one of the first rooms to be locked up when the Empire forces abandoned this outpost. It was a treasure trove of intel and you excitedly got to work, breaking away from Poe to complete a safety sweep.

After completing a preliminary search of the room, you found the main control panel and, flipping through every piece of information you had in your brain on old technology, you started pulling it open to seek out where you could insert the data drive you’d brought. You were confident BB8 could crack through any ancient firewalls on any of the data you were able to recover. Poe was doing similar work at the stations' console across the room, working in silence but sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, looking away before you could catch his eye.

A while later and you were on your back under the console, seeking out the hidden panel that would give you access to the data bridge. It took a few minutes, but you finally found it and had to finagle it awkwardly with your nails, trying to pry the cover off. It gave a satisfying little ‘pop’ when you managed to free it.

And then it promptly fell straight onto your face.

It shot straight through your hands, the edge smacking off of the corner of your cheek before bouncing to the ground. “Fuck!” You cried, feeling the skin tear and warm blood pooling out.

Stars, you really were off your game.

Dabbing at the blood carefully with the sleeve of your shirt, you were suddenly dragged out from under the panel by your ankles. Before you could even question what was happening, Poe was leaning over you, his expression panic-stricken, only paling further when he saw the blood on your cheek.

“What happened?” His voice was frantic, hands hovering above you; it was an entirely uncharacteristic reaction for him that for a moment you could only stare up at him in surprise. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“I’m okay,” You assured him hurriedly, sitting up onto your elbows, “Just dropped that panel on my face.” You gazed at Poe as his eyes dropped from you to the panel now laying on the ground next to you. A modicum of relief swept over his features fleetingly.

Wordlessly, he reached into your nearby pack and pulled out a bacta-spray. When his hands raised toward your face, you watched as he hesitated briefly before he touched you, one hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you steady, the other applying the bacta-spray.

Still holding you, he dropped the spray into the pack again and pulled out a bandage. “Turn your head for me, sweetheart.” He murmured, his eyes focused on your cheek.

You did as he asked and waited as he used both hands to apply the bandage over your skin. Peering up at Poe when he finished, you were touched by his gentle care, though you understood it was coming from a place of contrition more than anything. His fingers absentmindedly brushed downward, to ensure the edges of the bandage were sealed; you shivered involuntarily at the light contact.

Poe went rigid, his eyes meeting yours briefly in surprise before you glanced away, your face flushing. “Thank you.” You murmured, remaining still until he scooted back and stood, and then you were quickly pushing yourself back under the panel.

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

You sat back on your hunches, eyes on the man in front of you as he came apart, the emotions he’d tried hiding from you since that morning now spilling out. You were holding yourself steady by gripping his thighs and could feel the way his body was as rigid as durasteel. You looked at him and reminded yourself that this was what you would do to him if you left again, that leaving things unsaid and unresolved was never the answer.

“I hurt you, over and over,” His hands came to clench at his sides, gripping into the sheets of your bunk, “I said horrible things to you, at Charlie’s funeral and then since you’ve been back, and yesterday I-I can’t even-“

“Yesterday wasn’t you, Poe, it wasn’t either of us.” You interjected softly, urging yourself to remain exceptionally calm as he came undone.

He huffed, unimpressed with your argument, “Y-you and I, we lost everything the day Charlie died. But you kept it together, organized the funeral, smiled and hugged everyone who came up to us...all I could do was stand there and be angry at y-you even though I knew it wasn’t your fault,” Poe shook his head aggressively when you opened your mouth to interrupt, “No, you know it’s true, you even said it yourself. I failed you. And then you came back and I failed you again, let us drift further apart than we’d been when you were in a different galaxy. You lost your brother, and then I lost you both and I-I’m so, fuck (y/n), I am so sorry.”

And he sobbed, a retched, heartbreaking sob that almost knocked you off of your feet, it was so real and deep. You couldn’t help the tears that poured down your cheeks in response, and you were momentarily at a loss of how to respond. How could you even begin to help take away that much pain? When you were the fucking person who caused it?

Unsure of what else to do, you slid forward and in between his legs again, your hands moving to grip his forearms. You rubbed up and down soothingly and held him harder when he tried to pull away.

“You shouldn’t be near me, not after w-what I’ve done to you.” He gasped out, failing to move out of your grasp but continuing to struggle. It was a testament to his fear of causing you harm that he simply didn’t push away, as the stronger person.

“Neither of us had any choice, Poe, we were both covered in that pollen. And,” You moved your head to catch his eye, to ensure he heard your next words, “And Poe, I was the one who tackled us into that bush, who forgot the map they studied for two days that showed that cliff. Do you blame me for what happened?”

Poe almost glared at you, stilling, “Of course I don’t blame you-“

“Then understand that I don’t blame you either, Poe, fuck.”

“(y/n),” His voice dropped, thick with emotion, “You said...right before I-you said that you didn’t want to die. When you put it like that, I knew it meant you understood what was happening but hadn’t heard of a plant this powerful and didn’t know if you could die if we didn’t...” He paused, shaking his head. He looked at you then, through tear-soaked lashes, an expression so full of sorrow you stopped breathing. “That was the only reason I stayed with you. I was fighting it, I was going to make a run for it when you wouldn’t. I wanted to run, let myself die because I could feel what the pollen was making me want to do to you and fuck, it scared me. What I did to you yesterday was horrific. Unforgivable. Everything I’ve done to you is.”

Suddenly, you were angry, his words registering in your brain like an explosion, “Shut up,” You growled, harsh enough to catch him off guard and he was peering at you in surprise, eyes searching your face in confusion. “Don’t ever, ever say-I can’t believe you...why would you want to die, Poe? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I could survive you dying? That I would want to live in a galaxy where you and Charlie were both gone? I left, I know, but I always knew you were at least alive!”

Poe gaped at you in shock, looking as though you had just slapped him awake, cleared the fog from his brain. Before you knew what was happening, he reached down for you and gripped your waist before dropping to his knees on the ground with you, crushing you into a tight embrace. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, and you wondered how you ever could be trusted enough for this strong, capable man to let himself become so vulnerable for you.

“Didn’t mean it,” He murmured, nuzzling your neck slightly as you instinctively run your fingers through his hair. “I promise I won’t leave...if you don’t want me to, I won’t leave you.”

You remained in Poe’s arms for some time, the silence was no longer heavy with anger but rather thick with emotion. And stars, you had forgotten what being held by Poe was like, the warmth and safety his arms had always surrounded you with. You let yourself forget; instead, you’d spent these last few years painting a picture of Poe Dameron with only the medium of his final words to you, resulting in an ugly, distorted image that served to fuel your pain, your resentment.

In doing this, you had forgotten how complex Poe was, how he acted cocky, snarky, but deep down he was a serious, earnest man with a heart of gold. He let himself feel, didn’t try to hide his emotions from you or Charlie growing up, he cried when you cried and...and fuck, the one time he messed up and let his emotions get the better of him, you fled and didn’t look back. You didn’t let him apologize, and you knew even if he had found you straight after your fight you wouldn’t have listened.

You abandoned Poe because you had been afraid, a coward if there ever was one in this situation. And you weren’t just running from the loss, you were running from feelings you didn’t understand the depth of until you lost your brother. Because there was this moment, it was so brief, fleeting, but for just one moment you had been relieved that Poe hadn’t died during the Gold team mission.

And what did that make you? Not only a coward for running but a monster for thinking it in the first place. Instead of dealing with any of your feelings, your grief, you took the easy route and fled literal constellations away, severing ties with the one man in the whole galaxy who mattered to you anymore because you were terrified of how fucking in love with him you had been, and how your brother dying was what made you realize it.

+

Poe had let you shower first, taking time while you were in the fresher to collect all of the items from the mission and put them in an airtight container. He didn’t want to risk any of the pollen getting onto either of you again. Once he’d done that, he put on a fresh pot of caf and was halfway through his first cup when you emerged, hair down in long, damp tendrils, wearing another of Charlie’s old shirts and some worn jersey shorts.

“Oh, maker, caf!” You groaned happily, eagerly accepting the cup he’d poured for you and taking a long swell, eyes closed. Poe watched you, his mind still reeling over everything that had occurred in the last day.

You had been acting so much like the you he remembered, the person he’d grown up with-so kind-hearted, understanding. It was overwhelming to try and process what had happened with the pollen while navigating this shift in his relationship with you. For the first time in a long time, Poe felt as though his best friend was coming back to him.

“Did you,” He paused, gauging your reaction to his voice, but you just observed him over your mug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Did you keep a lot of Charlie’s things?” If you were upset by the question, it didn’t show. You considered his words, nodding.

“I did, at first. I left so quickly that I didn’t have time to grab anything of his...Tommy and Rico boxed everything for me and kept it stored until I was reassigned.” Your expression tightened at the memory, “I had a few weeks off, I planet hopped to some of Charlie’s favourite spots, then once I was settled in at my new assignment had everything brought over. I kept a lot of his shirts, personal effects. Just donated his pants, really.”

Poe smiled, “I guess there were some very happy big and tall men that found those pants at the shelter.” Cheesy, he cringed internally.

But you laughed, a genuine little giggle just for Poe, one he’d heard a million times before but it had been so long, emotion bubbled up within him and his smile faltered; he glanced away, hoping you wouldn’t notice his shift in mood.

“What is it?”

Poe sighed, mildly amused at your familiar behaviour. You never did let him get away with hiding things if you could help it. Rather than explain how much it meant to him to be standing there with you, laughing, he swivelled the conversation, one last thing on his mind.

“I’m going to say something, and then if you want to just close this conversation after I do, I’m good with that, okay?”

You tilted your head curiously, giving him a little nod, “Sure.”

Poe looked away from you, staring down into his mug as he considered how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I know it was the pollen, all of it,” He took a deep breath, willing his brain to make itself useful, “I still need you to hear me say this: the things I said to you during...while we were under it-I wouldn’t ever say anything like that to you, (y/n). They were mean and filthy, crude words I’ve never...would never...not that we would, I mean, shit.” He ran a hand over his face, holding over his forehead as his frustration with himself grew.

“Poe?” You said after a pause, and he glanced up. Your expression was exceptionally understanding, “The same goes for me. The scratching too wasn’t me. And,” Your lips quirked, “I think I called you Commander a few times, and please know I do not call people by their rank during sex, stars.”

Poe chuckled, “Obviously, that would be fucking embarrassing,” Your smile widened at his response. “It’s just important to me that you know I would never think or enjoy saying mean and degrading stuff like that about a woman, about you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, “I’ve always known that, Poe.” Pausing to take another deep drink of your caf, you then pointed with your free hand to your right forearm, “Also, um, I have an implant so we...that is, I’m not going to, uh...” You trailed off awkwardly.

His eyes widened in horror, realizing he hadn’t thought beyond the potential emotional consequences of what had happened. “Shit, are you sure?”

You nodded vigorously when his gaze fell to your stomach before meeting yours again, “No sex pollen babies.” Each of you looked away at the same moment, embarrassed.

After a few minutes of quiet, Poe looked back down at you. You were standing next to him, leant against the counter and staring unseeingly in front of you. “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocused and met his, “Y-yeah, Poe?”

He moved slowly, careful not to startle you. Using his free hand, he cupped the back of your head and lowered his own to press your foreheads together, an affectionate display you had both done since you were little. He felt you relax into it, and for a minute everything was quiet and peaceful and safe.

Poe felt like his shattered heart wasn’t in so many pieces anymore.

And then you reached up with your hand and stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Just like that, he felt you come back to him.

Poe smiled to himself, getting lost in the feeling.

@mermaidxatxheart​ @foxilayde​ @eleinemk​ @paintballkid711​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @deitysnips​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin

[jortsaaaaaaart]

Three Hearts- Tendou x Reader x Ushijima

Soulmate AU- updates will be posted to https://archiveofourown.org/works/32830702/chapters/81464533

You remembered Sendai as being cold, so, so cold. The summers were short but they were also filled with many days spent exploring. You were part of a binational family. Your mother was from the United States, your father from Japan. Most of your early childhood was spent bouncing between the two countries before, finally, it was decided that the schools in Japan were much (much) better. It wasn’t too much of a culture shock. But the freedom Sendai offered was intoxicating. In Japanese culture it was perfectly acceptable to send your child out on errands, or let them visit the local park, on their own.

It was on one of these after school excursions that you ran into your future best friend. 

A humid June evening had you trailing along the bank of the local river. Cicadas and the current drowned out almost all other noise. You were debating turning back or taking a wade in the water when you saw a shock of red. There was another kid sitting by the river. One with a pretty vibrant bowl cut. However, when you got closer you realised his hair wasn't the only thing that was red.

"Uh, hey." You murmured, feeling more than a little awkward. "Are you okay?" He almost jumped out of his skin. Wide red eyes snapped towards you before hiding away.

The redhead hastily wiped at his eyes. "Y-Yeah."

"That didn't sound all that convincing." With a sigh you plopped down next to him, watching as he curled in on himself. You'd never been one to mind your own business, not even as a child. Seeing someone crying by themselves was an instant invitation for you to barge in and try to help.

"I'm fine."

"You're crying."

"No I'm not!"

"Hmm. . ." You leaned back, looking over the river. "So what's your name then? If you don't tell me I'll just have to call you cry baby."

“. . . It’s Tendou Satori.” He muttered. Tendou was eyeing you warily, like a stray dog afraid to take a treat from a stranger.

"I'm (L/N) (F/N). If you want me to leave I can, but you just looked so sad sitting here alone." You gave him the warmest smile you could before returning your attention to the water. Satori's red eyes stayed locked on you but he didn't ask you to leave. A few moments passed in silent solidarity before he spoke up.

"I'm usually alone."

"I know how you feel." You sighed.

"You do?"

"Well, yeah. I moved around so much before grade school that I don't know anyone here." You paused. "But, hey, now I know you, right?" Your smile made Tendou forget all about the tears. His cheeks flushed pink under the setting sun.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Asked Satori, who desperately wanted to believe you were being genuine. But years of abuse had a hold on his heart.

You blinked. "Why wouldn't I be nice?"

". . . 'Cause I. . . Everyone says I'm a-"

"Ah! Look guys, it's the monster!" A group of children walked up behind the two of you. They were pointing at Satori with mocking grins. "You shouldn't get so close to him, he'll gobble you up!"

"Monster?" You glanced over at him but he was purposefully avoiding your eyes. If possible he would've liked to completely melt into the grass. Away from everything and everybody. But you weren't sinking into the ground, you were rising up. The bullies took a step back as you stomped up the embankment. "What gives you the right to call him that, huh?"

"W-What?" The ringleader stammered. "You've seen him, he's a freak! He shouldn't be allowed near us normal huma-"

He fell to the ground, clutching his cheek. Everyone's eyes were wide and glued to you. 

"Y- You just punched me!?"

"And I'll do it again!" You stared down the boy while his friends helped him to his feet. Before you could say anything else, or fight a 1 v 4, someone grabbed your hand. Tendou dragged you away while you stuck your tongue out at the still stunned bullies. 

Neither of you would ever forget that day. It was the start of a lifelong friendship, and eventually, something more.

On your first year of middle school you officially learned what soulmates were. It was assumed most parents would give you the talk before then, but the school board wanted youths to be prepared. 

"They taught us about soulmates today in class." You were both lounging around in his room reading the newest Shonen Jump. You sat next to him on the bed, trying to keep up with his reading speed.

"Yeah?" You hummed.

"When you turn 18 your soulmate's name appears on your wrist. . . But, if you're older than them you have to wait for their birthday so the marks can appear at the same time. . . And then some people don't even get a soulmate." He wasn't paying attention to the manga anymore. His eyes were fixed to the floor while his brain waged war against itself. Tendou had been sure you were his soulmate since that first night. The butterflies in his stomach still hadn't gone away and every time he looked at you he felt like a pile of mush. 

But, still, the 'I think you're my soulmate.' died on his tongue replaced with something much more depreciating. "I'm probably one of those people. Monsters don't get soulmates after all." His grin was shaky at best and you saw right through it.

"Don't call yourself that." You chided. "And of course you have a soulmate, Tori. Someone out there doesn't know how lucky they are. Soulmates with the best volleyball ball player ever. And the greatest friend ever, too." 

You flopped down, holding your wrist in front of you. "I don't know if I'm excited or nervous."

"Well, it's a good thing, isn't it? Having a soulmate? You'll have someone who belongs with you and will love you no matter what." You pouted at him and he smiled, continuing with his speech. "I can't wait till we turn eighteen. And I know you can't wait either. Even if you're being a baby now."

Tendou had your eighteenth birthday planned out for years. Step one, he'd take you to the river where you met. Step two, shower you with presents and affection. And step three, wait for your soulmate's name, his name, to appear. Step four (profit), live happily ever after. However, like many things in life, it didn't go quite as planned.

On March 21st, right after the end of your final year of junior high, your mother died. It wasn't a shock, she had been sick for months, but the pain was still unbearable. Your mother's side of the family wanted to bury her in the family plot. An old tradition from an old, rural, part of America. Your father gladly handed the responsibility off to them. 

Tendou remembered begging his parents to let him see you off at the airport. He remembered how red and puffy your eyes were, the sad smile on your face when you promised him you'd be back soon. 

But you weren't. 

Your father was in no shape to take care of you. Burying himself in his work to try and forget his loss. February came around and you had your 16th birthday in America. The first year of highschool had started without you. Tendou sent you pictures from Shiratorizawa every day, making you promise to try and get back as soon as possible.

Another February came and went. Your father was getting better and you were slowly but surely convincing him Japan was the right place for you to be. Tendou texted you every day, talking to you about his volleyball matches, his friend Ushijima, how much he missed you. 

It was your third year of highschool and finally, finally, you were heading home. You told Tendou the news as soon as you knew. He seemed even more excited than you. You knew why, even if you didn't say it. Tendou had always been the one you thought of when you imagined your soulmate. But. . . There was something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. The whole thing made you nervous, so you kept your feelings to yourself. 

Tendou stayed up all night on your birthday, hoping, praying. His eyes never left his wrist for a second and finally at 2:45 a.m. , something happened. Your name, in your sloppy, too quick, handwriting, appeared. The relief of ten years of wondering washed over him. He laughed, breathless and giddy. He immediately messaged you, sending you a picture of his wrist before a barrage of messages, most of them legible.

A minute passed by, then ten, then twenty. . .

You had to see it too, right? So why hadn't you said anything? You hadn't called, texted, or, hell, even emailed him. Tendou started to feel his heart sink with each passing moment. 

What if you were disappointed?

Tendou's breath caught in his throat and he could feel his face burn. His phone clattered to the ground as he sank down into his bed. He tried to calm himself down, he didn't know what time it was where you were. Maybe you were out celebrating your birthday or sleeping? He just needed to sleep it off and give you time to respond.

Chest tight, Tendou waited. He waited till hours turned to days and suddenly it was March and his heart was broken. He wasn't sure what was going on at this point. You two had almost never gone a day without talking. But you hadn't read any of his texts or snaps. Eventually he stopped messaging you all together.

But he hadn't given up. He knew you were flying back to Japan soon and he was determined to ask you what the hell was going on.

By mid March you had moved back into your old home. Your father had graciously gotten a moving company for you and your meager belongings. Somehow he failed to show up himself though. You didn't blame him though, he was busy and you haven't been the best company recently. Before leaving America your grandma had begun calling you the walking dead. You were barely sleeping, your eyes were puffy with designer bags hanging heavily underneath. She understood why you were feeling so down and she was empathetic, but the rest of your small town wasn't.

You thought about the timing of it all as you began to unpack. The first box, full of books and notes, was barely empty before the doorbell rang.

Tendou was standing on your doorstep. Your soulmate was standing before you, and your first thought was to shrink back and pretend you weren't home.

He rang the bell again. "(Y/N)! I know you're home! I just. . . I just want to talk okay? . . . Please?"

Tendou stepped back as the door swung open. You were holding your wrist close to your chest, looking anywhere but at him. He could see how red your eyes were, though, and thought they matched his completely.

"Why?" He muttered. One pitiful idiot to another. "Was it so fucking awful? Having my name on your wrist?"

"It wasn't. . ." You started. "Tendou, it wasn't just your name." 

[mintaka14]

This is chapter 2 of my Dash & Lily inspired ML AU.

For the Lady’s Favour

A Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction

By Mintaka14

 Chapter Two – Complicated Plans

 “Delivery order,” Luka’s boss said laconically, and pushed a takeaway cup and a slip of paper across the counter towards Luka.

Delivery orders weren’t uncommon, but the address on the slip was, and Luka’s eyebrow climbed as he read it. His boss just shrugged.

“The customer paid extra for this one, so you’d better get going.”

At least it was a nice day to be making a delivery to the Trocadéro, and Luka headed out into the streets towards the gardens.

There were plenty of people clustered around the first bench from the northern entrance of the park, and the second, but there was only one at the third bench. He could see pigtails, and a girl bent over the sketchbook in her lap. As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of an assortment of clothing, notes and scribbles and odd sketches around the edges.

“Delivery for the lady at the third bench?” he called out, and his attention was caught by the figure she seemed to be working on. Was that… Jagged Stone? This girl had good taste in music, clearly, and the coat she’d sketched on him looked amazing.

“Hey, that’s really –“ The girl looked up, and Luka completely lost his train of thought as he found himself staring into endlessly blue eyes. Holy shit.

“Is that my coffee?” she asked with a tentative smile, and Luka jerked back to attention. He looked down at the chocolate and fluff with extra everything and all the froufrou his boss had been able to jam into one cup.

“Not exactly.”

The girl’s eyes fell on the cup in his hands, and she let out a soft breath.

“I guess he has a sweet tooth,” she said, and he handed her the cup, trying not to react to the brush of her fingers.

“You didn’t see who placed the order?” she asked a little wistfully. “It- it wasn’t you, was it?”

“Me?” Luka was still reeling under the impact of those blue, blue eyes. “Right now, I wish it had been.”

He nodded at the cup of chocolate and marshmallow fluff in her hands. “Although I’m more of a coffee guy.”

She lit up in a smile, and any semblance of rational thought that Luka had left was gone. Damn, she was just too gorgeous.

“Me too, to be honest. I wouldn’t get half the things I need to do done without a regular caffeine hit. Are you a night owl too?”

“Too often, yeah. It kind of comes with the territory.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, and he found himself talking more.

“I play in a couple of bands, and I’d keep falling asleep over my guitar in the middle of a gig without coffee to keep me going.”

“You’re a musician?”

He grinned and ducked his head in acknowledgement. “What about you? What keeps you up at night?”

It was only after he’d said it that he realised how that could have sounded, but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“Design and sewing.” She let out a faint huff. “The middle of the night always seems to be about the only time I can focus on my projects without something interrupting me, so… coffee.” She pulled a face at the mountain of fluffy chocolate in her hand, and then seemed to realise that they were still standing in the middle of the park. She backed up a reluctant step. “I should – I should stop holding you up. You probably need to get back to work, and here I’m – Sorry. Thanks for bringing me the hot chocolate.”

“You can hold me up any time,” he sighed, but only when she was out of hearing. He turned and headed back towards the coffee shop, but he came to an abrupt stop at the sound of running footsteps and the touch of a hand on his arm.

“Sorry, sorry!” the girl gasped. She held out a raspberry red macaron wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. It was a work of art. “I nearly forgot. Could you give this to the person who ordered the hot chocolate for me?”

“It looks like a ladybug,” he said stupidly, and she blushed again. “No, it’s cute. Lucky.”

“I could use a bit of luck,” she muttered, then she met his eyes and her smile grew brighter. “It was really nice to meet you, Luka. Thanks for my sugar rush.”

Luka’s malfunctioning brain caught on that. “You know my name?”

And the girl’s face flamed into embarrassment. “I don’t… you… the thing…” She gave up and nodded at his chest, and the name tag that was still there.

Ah. Of course.

“I’m Ma-ma-marinette,” she offered, tripping over her own name.

“Pretty name. It suits you.” Judging from the way her cheeks burned even brighter, his tone had been a little more heartfelt than he’d intended, and, reluctantly, he backed up a step. “Guess I’d better get back before my boss notices I’m missing and decides to fire me.”

The smile she gave him almost knocked him on his ass, and he turned away before he could make even more of an idiot of himself. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, though.

Luka stopped and turned back.

“Marinette,” he said. “Wait, do you know Juleka Couffaine?”

“We were in the same class for a few years,” Marinette admitted. “We hang out sometimes.”

“You’re Marinette! I heard all about you from Jules after that thing with the school photo.” He could have kissed her for what she’d done for his baby sister’s self-confidence, and if half the things he’d heard from Juleka were true, this girl was every bit as incredible as he’d just been imagining. He realised he was beaming at her like a fool, and tried to dial it back a bit.

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” she said, sounding a little alarmed, and he felt his smile soften.

“Nothing bad at all.”

When he finally got back to the coffee shop, Luka had barely had time to slide behind the counter and sling an apron around his waist again before the door swung open with an enthusiastic peal of the bell. He looked up to find Adrien Agreste heading towards the counter with an expression of barely concealed nervous anticipation on his famous features.

Luka gave him an easy smile, but before he could ask what the model wanted, Adrien had blurted out, “Did she like it? Did… were you the one who delivered the hot chocolate for me? Was she there?”

So Marinette’s mystery hot chocolate was Paris’ beloved poster boy.

Luka silently handed him the macaron that Marinette had asked him to deliver, and watched the model’s face light up like Christmas had come early.

~~~~~

Marinette was not surprised when Alya burst into her bedroom without so much as a greeting.

“So?” Alya said impatiently. “How did it go?”

“He sent me hot chocolate. I think I’m still in sugar shock, Alya, but the boy who delivered it was so funny and sweet about it –“

“Never mind the delivery guy,” Alya cut her off. “Your mystery guy came through! You had your first date with him… feel free to tell me I’m a genius any time now. This is a good start. The whole idea is for you to get to know each other before you meet, so you need to write to him and get him to do something to show he’s serious here.”

“Like what?”

Alya shrugged. “You’re the one with the plans. You just have to come up with something you can get him to do that doesn’t involve you meeting face to face, something he can do to win your favour.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I can ask him to fight a duel for my honour or something…” Marinette trailed off. “Fight,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“I know that look,” Alya nudged her shoulder. “That’s a plan happening, isn’t it?”

Marinette grabbed a sheet of notepaper from her desk, and her favourite pen.

“Ultimate Mecha Strike,” she announced.

“What?”

“An online challenge. It’s perfect. We don’t have to meet in person, but we can play each other online and find out a bit more about each other.”

Alya was looking as if she wasn’t sure if it was a bad idea or brilliant.

“What if he doesn’t play UMS?”

“Then I can teach him.”

“And what if he doesn’t like getting whomped?” Alya asked sceptically. She was very familiar with Marinette’s playing style, and Marinette made a face, still concentrating on the note she was writing.

“Then it’s better to find out now that he’s a sore loser, before I get too attached.”

Marinette read over the note, and folded it, presenting it to Alya with a flourish. Alya grinned, and tucked it into her bag.

“Right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Let’s see if he’ll fight for your hand. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Once Alya had clattered down the steps again, Marinette buried her face in her pillow and screamed quietly. This was a bad, bad idea.

~~~~~

Luka was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed over the door, and he paused as Alya came in. It wasn’t unusual to see her in the café, but it was unusual to see her there without Nino or their friends. He watched curiously as she sidled almost furtively towards the noticeboard and tacked something up between the band posters and lost and found notices.

“What are you up to?” Luka asked, and Alya leaped, her hand going to her chest as she spun around.

“Jeez! You startled me.”

Luka tipped his head at the envelope she’d just pinned up. “I saw you the other day, when you put that letter on the board, and now this one. What’s that all about?”

“Aren’t we allowed to use the public noticeboard?” Alya asked, her hands going to her hips and a defensive note in her voice.

“And that hot chocolate delivery the other day?”

Alya huffed in response, but Luka just kept watching her with a look of mild interest, until she said, “It’s just like this game. Sort of. Like a blind date, without actually knowing who you’re dating.”

Luka’s eyebrow climbed.

“Look, we have these friends who’d be perfect for each other, but she can’t talk to him, and he’s completely clueless, so we’re trying to set them up.”

“Right,” Luka said slowly. “Does Marinette know about this?”

“Well, she doesn’t know who it is,” Alya muttered. “But she’s had this huge crush on Adrien for ages. We’re just getting them to set each other challenges, doing stuff like that coffee delivery, or… I don’t know, looking for a painting at the Louvre, something like that. Like dates, where they don’t actually meet.” Alya gave a sudden grin. “It’s going to be so hilarious when they finally work out who they’re writing to.”

“Is this some kind of practical joke?” he asked flatly, his heart sinking a little for Marinette’s sake, but Alya’s angry reaction was somewhat reassuring.

“Like I’d do that to my girl!” she said indignantly. “This is just… a creative way to help her get past some stuff. You met Marinette, so you know how she trips all over herself and stutters?”

She’d certainly stumbled over their names when she’d gotten flustered, but Marinette had been perfectly coherent through most of their conversation. Alya must have taken Luka’s expression as agreement, though, because she barrelled on.

“Well, imagine that, but like a million times worse. Girl just cannot string a sentence together around a guy she likes. And Adrien, well, he’s great with knowing what to say to his fans, and being polite to other models and his father’s business contacts, but not so good with,” Alya gestured vaguely, “normal stuff. He’s never really noticed Marinette like that, because he’s not real good with subtle, but he buys into that whole romantic movie, big gesture, winning the lady thing.”

“And that’s where this comes in?” Luka asked drily, nodding at the letter pinned to the board.

“Exactly!” Alya smacked her hands on the counter. “It’s like something out of one of those old movies. We get Adrien’s attention with the whole romantic mystery thing, and in the meantime, they can get to know each other. Marinette can talk to Adrien, because she doesn’t have to actually talk to him and she doesn’t know it’s him anyway, and Adrien can get to see how amazing my girl really is.”

“This seems like a very complicated way of doing things,” he pointed out as neutrally as possible, but Alya waved away the observation with a flip of her hand.

“You don’t know Marinette. Everything tends to be complicated with her.”

“If Marinette can’t actually talk to him in person, maybe he’s not the right one for her.”

“Oh, please! She’s been in love with him forever. Love makes you do stupid things, and she just needs a bit of a push in the right direction. I know Marinette.” Alya narrowed her eyes at him. “And what’s it got to do with you anyway?”

Luka just shook his head, not trusting himself to respond. He was honest enough with himself to admit that the pang of disappointment he’d felt when he found out that Marinette was interested in someone else might have had something to do with his judgement here, but even so, this had all the makings of a trainwreck of epic proportions. He didn’t, however, need Alya’s measuring gaze to know that it was none of his business, not if Marinette wanted this.

He shrugged, and turned away to straighten the coffee cups.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” he told her, and the note stayed pinned to the board until Adrien came in again some time later to collect it. And if Luka’s heart sank a little at the eager expression on Adrien’s face, and the thought that maybe this ridiculous plan might actually work, then he kept that to himself.

[whitexwingedxdoves]

you want me; part 2            [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Era: Pre- Apocalypse Warnings: Language, Fluffy Angst. Summary: The years have gone by and finally you had the opportunity to give Negan a taste of his own medicine. A/N: AGAIN THANK YOU @jinxeee​ you have such a brilliant mind, gosh I love it! I hope I did you justice. I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS! Safe to say, I love jealous Negan. Read Part One Here. 

The years had passed and thankful you managed to escape the hell that was Negan’s torment for a few years at college but now you were back and everything seemed to fall straight back into the same routine. The familiar scurry in the house as your parents scrambled to put up ridiculous decorations and unnecessary fret over the organisation of the snacks. Though this party was your parents' way of celebrating your graduation, you noticed none of the fuss was pushed in your direction, no instead you were left to make yourself up and look presentable. You had convinced yourself while that you were away, your feelings for Negan had simply vanished claiming it was a stupid school girl crush but the nerves that lingered told a different story. Allowing your hair to fall perfectly straight and putting on the nicest dress you could find, you made your way down stairs hoping you were old enough to not get a how to behave lecture from either of your parents.

As people spilled in, you thanked as many as you could before you b-lined for another beer not baring to hear yet another “You’re so grown up now” or “I remember when you were in diapers”  it was almost like torture. You allowed the small of your back to rest against the kitchen counter top and pressed the glass bottle to your lips, savouring the bitter taste as it ran down your throat.

“There she is!” Your whole body tensed at the sound of familiarity. Your eyes darted in the direction from which it came, Negan. God you forgot how handsome he was, how he held himself with such confidence, it made you choke a little on your beer before you shot him a soft smile.

“Y/N this is Tiffany!” a small framed woman who looked fairly similar to every other girl he had ever brought around appeared from behind his back. The name caught you off guard a little, allowing a small smirk to crease the corners of your lips. Putting the bottle down you reached out for her hand and gave it a light shake.

“It’s nice to meet you Tiffany!” your eyes finally met with Negan’s as you pulled away, the joke wasn’t lost on him either. You managed to tone out most of what she was saying before she excused herself, leaving you alone with the man.

“Well, can’t say I'll forget her name!” You felt your heart skip a beat when he chuckled at your joke. As you turned back to your beer you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of his eyes all over you. “So, you still not settled down?” you poked a little, his hand resting on his heart mocking your jab a little.

“Are you still chasing guys who are far too old for you?” his jab actually did hurt a little, your cheeks turning an obvious pink shade as your eyes escaped his gaze. You allowed your hands to cradle your face and let out a small groan at the mention of your adolescent actions. The moment fell silent for a short time until you looked back up at the tall man, leaning on the island in front of him… that famous smirk still plastered on his face.

“Yeah, thanks for being so nice about that – Oh, wait!” you shot Negan a look, though a smile graced your lips before you reached for another drink. The man didn’t say a word, his eyes soaking up your new curves. He was seeing you in a completely different light and it scared him a little.

“You’re a lot different now” he uttered, his words almost classing as a whisper, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes settled on your hips, causing you to freeze in your tracks. The way his voice deepened despite how quiet he spoke sent you wild, you felt 17 again. Your thoughts raced as you peered up at him. He looked at you the same way you used to look at him, so much hunger and longing. Finally you had the upper hand.

“Finally grown up enough for you?”  Negan could note the way your attitude almost immediately changed. Holding yourself with so much confidence despite how fast your heart was beating. You watched his smirk fall from his face, completely taken back by your new found power. You slowly creeped your way over to him until your bodies pressed together, your lips meeting with his ear “Never gonna happen, kid” you mocked, feeling him quiver slightly at the feel of your breath on his skin causing you to laugh a little. You made your way past him into the main room where most people gathered, doing your best to keep occupied, though it usually involved being told about a time you did something rather embarrassing when you were 4. For the rest of the night you did your best to avoid him, only every so often shooting him the best seductive look you could possibly throw his way without someone questioning you. He was like putty in your hands now and you planned on having fun tormenting the older man. Pay back if you will.

A couple of days had passed, you tried not to think about Negan or how you acted that night despite how brave you looked, the second he left your house your knees almost gave way. Today was a quiet day, no one was obsessively fluffing pillows or polishing mirrors, instead they were out you’re not entirely sure where but you took full advantage of the free house. Wearing nothing but an oversized band shirt that your dad used to own, over your underwear and binge watching some T.V show that seemed decades old. You groaned at the sound of the door bell ringing, having finally got comfortable under the thin blanket on the sofa. It took everything to get up and answer the door but you were glad you did. Once the door swung open, you saw Negan there holding some sort of screwdriver but he looked nervous, you found it kind of cute. His eyes widened at the sight of you, how you managed to pull off such an effortless look and still be incredibly sexy, he’ll never understand.

“urr, is your dad in…” you let him sit in silence before turning your back on him and walking into the house, he followed as you expected and closed the door. Leaning against the banister you couldn’t help but smirk as you watched him fumble with the screwdriver. “It’s your dads, I'm just returning it!” he quickly retorted. You hummed in his direction, nodding slowly before reaching out your hand to take it from him.

“Well, i’m not sure he’ll need it” you started as he handed the tool to you, you ran your fingers along it before biting down on your lip “Considering he bought a new one a few years back because you never returned it” Your eyes now met his, not daring to miss his reaction. He shifted on his feet a little before flashing you that devilish smile, pushing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. You didn’t allow his gaze to fall as you watched him intently but before he could reply the sound of the door opening caught his attention. He took a few steps back at the sight of your parents' return but you didn’t move, your eyes never left his.

“Negan, what are you doing here?” your father shouted out, holding onto a couple of brown bags packed with groceries.

“Just returning your screwdriver dad!” you called out finally letting your eyes peel away from him. Your dad shot you a confused look as your mother rushed past you holding bags of her own.

“Thanks but- you can keep it. I got a new one!” he replied quickly before following his wife into the kitchen. You couldn’t hide the smile that wiped across your face, it almost felt permanent. You held the screwdriver back out to him, and let out a small chuckle as he took it from you.

You heard how large the lump in his throat was by the sound of his gulp, oh how you loved this feeling, you couldn’t help but think that this was the exact way he felt watching you get jealous over the many girls he introduced you to. You followed your dad into the kitchen shortly after and leaned up against the side, making sure your shirt was raised just high enough that it exposed the length of your legs and teased the fabric that kept you modest. His steps were slow as he followed behind you, biting down so hard on his lip he was convinced he’d draw blood soon. He’d never felt so vulnerable before, completely and utterly your play thing. His eyes snapped towards your mother as she filled the silence.

“Well since you’re here, would you like to join us for dinner?” You listened to his slight stutter, turning down the offer which caused you to scowl a little.

“Oh come on, you were JUST saying how much you loved my mom’s cooking!” Peering over your shoulder at the man, winking in his direction.

“Great! We’re having chicken!” she announced before nudging your father “Greg will keep you company until it's ready” You watched as both men left the room, finally standing up right as you attempted to help your mum put away the newly bought food. “And you, go put something decent on for crying out loud.”

Time for dinner had come and you purposefully chose the chair directly opposite Negan, now wearing a shirt that was practically see through; it was so thin and a skirt that just stopped before your knees. Laying as far back in your chair so you could reach his legs with your feet letting your bare toes explore his ankles and running up the hem line of his pants. Watching him squirm was entertaining enough for you, every so often stabbing some food onto your fork. Listening to him attempt to string a sentence together while your dad quizzed him on pointless things until everyone’s plates were clean. Your mother started to gather the dishes together until Negan offered to do them, saying something like it was the least he could do.

“I’ll help” you sounded eager but it didn’t register with your parents like it did Negan. You pushed yourself away from the chair and followed him into the kitchen. “I’ll dry, you can clean. '' You spoke softly coming up behind him, lightly pressing your body against his to push past him and grab a towel. The two of you remained silent most of the time, every so often you’d lightly brush your fingers against his hand as you took a plate or glass from him until you had finished the chore. You turned to leave the room but your body collided with his, his hands laid flat on your hips to steady you, your eyes finally meeting with his making you aware of how incredibly close your lips were to his. His heart raced at the feel of your hand lightly pressed against his chest, the quietest tune hummed from your lips for a moment as you trailed your fingers down his shirt, your curiosity getting the best of you in that moment. The sound of your mothers heels clicking on the wooden floor was enough for Negan to push you away, attempting to act as natural as he possibly could.

He didn’t stay very long that night, in fact as soon as your mother walked in, he said thank you and left. You scolded yourself for allowing the moment to get far too heated, for not controlling yourself better and figured you needed reinforcements. Another day at Y/L/N household, another gathering. It was game day and you knew for a fact Negan would be there, he never missed game day with dad. So you invited over your friend Derek, he was hot enough to make the man jealous, of course you updated Derek on the situation so he didn’t get the wrong idea, you had enough on your plate after all.

Your steps seemed a little too preppy as you pulled Derek down the stairs behind you, your hair purposefully ruffled to give off the illusion you had been up to no good. The sound of your giggles immediately caught Negan’s attention, he watched as you paraded your new little toy around the living room, introducing him to everyone there until you finally reached Negan. You could see the vermillion glow escaping his cheeks as you approached him. “Negan, this is Derek.” Your words never sounded so teasing, biting down on your lip a little.

“Nice to meet you Eric!” Negan’s snappy response only caused the hellish smile to creep onto your face.  The interaction was short but god it tasted so sweet to watch Negan take a huge spoon of his own medicine. You made a point to flirt with Derek at any moment you got while the first half of the game played out but eventually you needed to go grab a drink. You left all the men in the living room to enter the kitchen but on your way back someone caught your arm, Negan caught your arm. At first you were shocked, a little taken back by the grasp he had on it until you saw the look in his eyes. You could almost see everything he wanted to do to you if you looked deep enough.

“What sort of game are you playing” he hissed at you, as quietly as he possibly could, his anger only fuelled your smile.

“What are you talking about?” your words seemingly innocent but your eyes screamed mischief. He pulled you a little closer, allowing an unsatisfied smile to soften his features.

“You think your little boyfriend will make me jealous?” his laugh represented something fiendish. “I'm gonna make you want me so bad that you’ll come crawling on your knees” you allowed a small moan to pass your lips as he spoke your eyes fluttered slightly not able to focus on much more after that.

Negan did everything in his power to get you to swoon after that day, he seemed to make an appearance almost every day, doing something to push you further towards the edge but you always knew how to counteract it. You didn’t know what he thought would happen when your parents invited him over to test out your new pool, the way he purposefully lounged around in nothing but shorts, tight shorts that was in fact you’d even caught your mum staring every so often. When you had finally had enough you began to strip off your clothes beside him, making sure he could see every bead of sweat that ran down your faux tan. You stood in the middle of the garden, now only wearing the skimpiest bikini you could find in your collection, you heard Negan clear his throat suddenly as you bent down to retrieve the sun block from the small table that stood between your lounger and his. He admired the way you managed to fill out the small amount of fabric on your body as you slowly turned to him.

“Could you get my back? '' You whispered, now standing over him, you found it funny how he rushed to stand up, taking the tube of sunblock from your hands. You turned around awaiting his hands to touch your bare skin and when it did, you allowed a small sigh pass your lips, quiet enough so only you could really hear it. His touch was gentle and almost tickled a little as his hands ran across your shoulders. His heart was racing a little too fast for his liking, scared he might pitch a tent any second he called out to your dad, telling him about the new job he landed as a P.E teacher. Once his hands had finished exploring every inch of your back, you turned into him a little, the back of your hand lightly grazing his crotch. “Thanks Sir” you whispered before laying back down on your lounge chair, relishing in your victory.

-

The next day your parents packed up their suitcases to ‘escape the real world’ for a few days, leaving you all alone in your house, which was perfect. A little TLC was in order for you, you had the nicest bath you’d ever had, you ordered your favourite Chinese food and if the night couldn’t get any more perfect the 1996 Romeo and Juliet was on the TV. “either thou or I or both must go with him” you whispered into your chow mein in unison with the TV suddenly jumping at the sound of the door bell. You reached for the remote and paused the movie before throwing your blanket off and heading towards the door, smoothing the silk nightgown against your skin.

You were pleasantly surprised when you opened the door to find Negan stood there, his hands buried into his jacket pocket. “My dads not here” your words teased, your eyes inspecting him. He managed to push past you and make his way into the house whispering I know into your ear as he did. Clearly puzzled you closed the door and turned to face him, your brow bone cocked waiting for the reason for his unexpected visit.

“I'm here to see you” his words seemed slightly rushed as he nervously paced the hallway. You shot him yet another look, not satisfied with his answer. “We need to talk” he finally spouted, your hands crossed at your chest, the cocky arrogance taking over as you did.

“About?” attempting to course the words out of his mouth, squinting your eyes appearing oblivious to his demands.

“Us, this – whatever this is. I can’t keep playing cat and mouse with you!” You couldn’t hide the smug look from your face, watching the man plead with you.

“Us? You think because you got a boner rubbing sunscreen into my back that there’s an us?” you teased, adopting the same attitude from the girls who used to tease you at school. Negan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he just shook his head at you as you stood there, all high and mighty.

“Why are you being so cold!” he hissed in your direction, your nostrils flaring at his assumption.

“I'm cold?” you hissed right back stepping a little closer to him, pushing your index finger into your chest as you spoke. “Like you didn’t do this to me? I was kid Negan, there’s better ways to let someone down. You didn’t have to break my heart and drag it through your pile of bimbos” Finally you snapped, all the anger from every visit you had to endure as a teen bubbling to the surface. Your chest heaving slightly as you watched the man take a step back from you.

The silence crept up on you, both too far into your own thoughts to even speak. Negan shook his head, leaning himself against the wall behind him before breaking the silence with a cold laugh.

“So… you did all this as some sort of revenge?” his words were quiet as he stared up to the ceiling but you were quieter. “That was your big plan. Make me fall for you so you could just throw me away” his words broke in the grasp of lump that hung in his throat. His eyes slowly meeting yours, he thought you resembled that of a deer in a headlights in that moment, your eyes were glossy from the fresh tears that had yet to fall.

“make you what?” you croaked, any confidence or arrogance completely flushed away by his words. He didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. You slowly walked towards him, practically tip toeing. “Make you what, Negan?” you asked again, standing much more closer to the man. He pushed himself from the wall, closing the gap between you both. His chest swelling in your face as your eyes followed the zipper of his jacket until they reached his hazel eyes. His hands slowly cupping your face as he lent down, his lips almost touching yours.

“Fall for you” he whispered before you pushed his lips against yours. You couldn’t hold back this time, not after that. The way his hands ran through your hair only made the kiss much more desperate, your hands finally finding the back of his neck. You had dreamt of this moment for years, night after night but none of them compared to the real thing, the way your heart protruded with love for this man. The butterflies dancing in your stomach now that they have found their purpose.

He pulled away for a moment, his lips still hovered yours, his eyes taking in your expression, the way you seemed so at peace right now in his hold. “No more games.” He whispered, his lips occasionally grazing against yours, only making your longing for them grow. You just nodded as quickly as possible before pulling him back into the kiss, feeling his smile grow on yours.

[riddlecrux]

Historical AU

Day 7 of Elriel Month!

Summary: Blue and violet material rustled as she stared at three stars and three mountain peaks which sparkled in the daylight. The place that called her home. Velaris knights galloped through the forest with grace and dignity. At the front of the formation, she spotted him. Note: This is a snippet of my upcoming multi chapter Medieval AU Elriel fanfic!

There was talk in the town.

A gossip about one particular knight was spreading among ladies like a wildfire, fast and unforgiving. Whenever she went out, for a trip to the market or tailor, the words were often hushed and clipped. As if saying them outright and loud would bring the said person stumbling through the door - unannounced and feared. It was as if a shadow of a knight lived among the elites, constantly watching their lips, ready to strike from the darkest parts of the room. She had thought that gossiping was a rather boring thing to do, especially during the daytime - she much preferred spending her free time gardening and walking through the nearby forest.

The solitude she yearned for was always waiting for her, embracing her in silence and wisps of spring wind. A book under her arm, the hem of her skirt tucked between her fingers as she moved through the green maze with a blush covering her pale skin. It was something completely different from the small, claustrophobic ballrooms filled with perfumed guests and men trying to catch themselves a woman, a wife, a person that they were going to tame. A woman, later barely a doll. Empty shell filled with her husband's desires, placid and neat. Never free, never wild - an object that men love to present as a trophy.

Elain huffed, long steps halting as golden brown tresses slipped from her modest braid - her blue dress wrinkled and dirty, the mud sprinkled even her undergarments as she maneuvered through the forest road. She glanced behind her, a nervous tick, and with a soft frown on her forehead, she leaned against the rough tree. Few flowers slipped from her hand as she closed her eyes, breathing the scent of nature which coaxed her troubled mind.

She knew that the day would come, sooner or later - she prayed that her resolve and kindness would prevent her from marriage without love but naive as she was she knew that it was only a matter of time before her mother chose her a fiancé. Preferably rich one, from a distinguished family with a house close to the city market and church. Those arguments were vain and so ill-matched in Elain's opinion. She didn't care for money; she wanted to be loved. More than anything else she wanted to be chosen because of her personality - not too extravagant, timid, and simple as her father once said. Nesta always had a spark in her, steel that made men tremble before her, a woman made for a king or a duke. Her older sister was always the example of everything Elain wasn't, yet the day before Nesta's arranged marriage it was her older, wiser, dutiful sister that ran away - leaving a letter in which she chose love over duty.

I do not wish to be shackled by a man that does not deserve me. Women are much more than cattle you breed to sell. I part with a heavy heart, not because of my decision but because of the future of my sisters.

Elain had read the letter thousands of times, tracing letters with her fingers - remembering Nesta's coldness and silent form of love. She envied her older sister. If she was more courageous, less soft she would, perhaps, repeat her sister's steps.

Sighing through her parted lips her head hit the tree behind her. I do not wish to be shackled by a man that does not deserve me. She murmured under her breath like a prayer staring at the empty road that led to her little town. Gripping the old book by its edges Elain willed herself to pray. Pray that the man her mother had chosen would not like her. Pray that her resolve would show her the correct way, an answer to her broken promise. Pray that…

Her eyes opened at the sound of horses coming down the road. Glancing behind her cover she saw four riders, all dressed in black robes - all of them being knights. Her grip on the branch tightened as her mouth parted once again at the sight of a very well-known flag that was flowing in the air behind them. Blue and violet material rustled as she stared at three stars and three mountain peaks which sparkled in the daylight. The place that called her home. Velaris knights galloped through the forest with grace and dignity. At the front of the formation, she spotted him.

A knight dressed in black armor, iron spikes coming from his shoulder pads, and even sharper ones adorning his helmet. His gauntlets tightly clenched around his horse’s harness, dark and utterly beautiful. The breastplate was wide and devoid of any ornaments safe for three stars on each side of his armor. On his left side an extraordinary sword. Its majestic hilt covered in small, blue gems which were reflecting sunshine as he moved on the massive, gorgeous stallion. It was her gasp that made him snap his neck in her direction - she quickly scrambled and hid behind the tree wishing that he hadn't seen her. As the sounds of hooves started to ease with their every step, Elain slowly crept from her hiding position. Her heart beating so loud that the bird sitting on one of the branches fled from its resting spot.

The talk of the town - The Scarred Knight, came just in time for the tournament.

*

3 YEARS EARLIER

The summer was hot and stuffy.

Elain shot a quick glance behind her shoulder as she ran through the crowded streets of the town. She could hear Lucien's screams and his brothers’ laughter, however, she didn't stop. Her feet adorned with leather booties moved even faster, as long as she lost the gingers she would be safe. She turned right, stumbled because of the moving wagon, and sprinted towards cathedral alley - people were staggering when she turned in another street, her hair falling from her up-do in waves of molten gold. The freedom in her lungs was addictive. She felt like a bird, freed from its beautiful cage that it was trapped in for its whole life.

Her feet hit the muddy ground as she scanned moving peasants and with a resolution on her delicate features, she whirled around and ran straight towards the training grounds. One step, two steps...

She gasped when she collided with a solid body, her feet getting caught in the lace of her dress, making her fall on her backside with a loud thud. Her forehead was hurting and she could swear that the world around her wavered as she finally decided to glance at the reason for her fall. It was a knight, a tall and very deadly one. His violet eyes scanned her for injuries and with a slow sigh, he presented her a gloved hand.

"My lady," his sensual voice rang in her ears as she gracefully - at least she hoped so, gripped his fingers and stood up. Her beige dress was dirty and ruffled at its edges. Her mother would have scolded her till her calves were raw from the beating. The sight of her so utterly ungracious and dishonorable would shake her so much that Elain would have had to beg her on her knees to stop. Nevertheless, as she looked at her skirt she saw few droplets of blood and with a frown, she deduced that she, in fact, sliced her palm when she tried not to stumble.

Snapping her attention back to the knight in front of her, she slowly bowed and smiled. Her curls created a halo around her heart-shaped face when she finally looked him straight in his eyes. He was tall, well built and had brown skin. It was a beautiful color, she mused trying not to think how handsome he was.

"Sir Knight, pardon my intrusion," she cocked her head as another knight appeared in her peripheral vision. He was even taller and bigger than the one from before. His long hair flew on wisps of wind as he chuckled seeing her state and dirt on her dress. One dark brow rose with a flicker of amusement in his bright eyes.

"It's a rather peculiar sight to behold," he murmured as another wave of deep laughter erupted from his throat. She could feel redness coming up on her cheeks and with a swift movement, she ducked her chin down. Her mother would have simply perished if she saw her right now. What a disgrace for her perfect family.

"Cassian, the lady is hurt," she still didn't dare to look up, and when the newcomer left as quickly as he appeared she stole a small glance in the direction of soft sounds.

On her right, the training grounds were almost empty safe for a knight in black armor, kneeling on the ground. His hands were bare and visible to her eyes - scars, horrible and painful ones adoring his long fingers and gentle palms were a stark contrast to his dark attire. However, what caught her initial attention was the way he was slowly but surely trying to feed a stray kitten that aimlessly wandered here. His kneeling person, sharp against the tiny creature barely visible to the human eye. Two oddities coexisting in that nanosecond of time seemed to stop for her as she devoured the sight of this blindingly pure kindness.

"My lady," she heard the other man from somewhere far away. Her tunnel vision focused on that one person, his act of gentleness amidst the blazing sunlight, and… the way his scarred fingers were trembling while he placed all of his weight on his knees. As if he was scared and ashamed of their appearance, even before that small animal hissing in his direction. "My lady?" Her doe eyes found violet ones and with a soft gasp, she came to her senses.

"Please do forgive me for my ignorance," her voice shook and she hated herself for that. For that slight hint of distress slipping through the cracks of her perfectly molded mask of courtesy. The knight rose a dark brow and with frivolous joy watched her behavior as if he had solved a mysterious puzzle. Deep down in her chest, her heart sang an unknown song that made her spiral even further into herself.

"Azriel!" A sharp command slashed the air as she whipped her head at the source of that loud noise. The violet-eyed knight bowed elegantly as the kneeling man slowly stood up, even taller than previously acquainted knights, and slowly made a way towards them. His armor was loud, yet mesmerizing - she felt her bloodstream tickle, surge as the earth shattered under her legs with the force of warmth and longing she suddenly felt. An intake of breath caught in her lungs made her frozen as foreign yet so well-known hazel eyes stopped on her person. As if she had dreamt about them, as if they were forever imprinted inside her like a burst of thousands of stars. The slits in his helmet allowed her to see his long eyelashes, dark and dangerous, as he inclined his greetings.

"Sir Knight," she breathed out, like a bird singing for its designed mate. The knight's burning gaze left her shaking - as if her soul suddenly came down on earth and wished for a moment of utmost closure.

"The lady is hurt," the shorter one supplied glancing between both of them with a smirk. "Please attend her while I gather supplies," and with a swift nod, he left both of them alone. She supposed that time became only a fraction of surrounding her world when Azriel only stared at her, his scarred hands tucked behind him as if the sight of them might have somehow offended her.

"Sir Knight," her lips parted with a silent echo of yearning. "You have truly beautiful hands," his eyes widened, a golden hue covering his irises as his armor rumpled with the stretch of his muscles.

"It's a far-fetched compliment, my lady, yet I'm declaring my thanks," he blinked as she fought with an overwhelming feeling dancing in her chest. He was so close to her and yet she felt as if he was a whole ocean away. Maybe her soul, the one who often whispered in her ear about soulmates, tricked her and made her a fool. Maybe because of that she wanted to say something, anything that could last - to make him remember her, a wild girl with flowers in her hair.

"It's not," she urged and let herself smile. "For what I have seen, Sir, you are gentle-natured," a gust of wind ruffled her tresses and when she tried to fight with them, scarred digits arrived next to her ear.

"And you, my lady, are indisputably a spring ready to conquer the already fading winter," he whispered urgently. Her heart trembled at his words, it was as if he had spoken to her spirit, to the gaping wound of her hidden longings and dreams. As if he had known her, right now and all these centuries before. The time was crashing into her like waves of that unknown feeling that overcame her, however before she could answer the loud yell of her name startled her like a deer.

"I must," her ragged breathing stopped when she saw red-haired men stumbling onto training grounds. Wide-eyed and breathless she stole the last glance at her starry-eyed soulmate and turned around. Even if all laws of this world told her to stay, screamed at her to turn around to see the universe crashing inside those hazel eyes, she didn't.

She left him there, a tray of sunlight and starlight glittering behind her as he watched her till she became only a speck of dust in the blazing heat.

[ladyeliot]

I got you.

Request: Anonymous. Hello there, first of all I love your way of writing, the fics are great! Could I send you an request? Maybe the reader and Chris met again after the pandemic, they have an unfinished relationship and she realizes that she still loves him. Don't worry if you don't feel like it, thanks a lot! 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of anxiety and the pandemic. A little angst.

Word count: 2687

Notes: Sorry for taking so long! And for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

There had been so many times when you had imagined yourself growing old with him in that house that you didn't know how to deal with the situation right now. You were in Massachusetts, inside your car, standing in front of his house, without any warning and without knowing how he would react when he saw you after so many months.

You and Chris had a history, a short but passionate history that lasted two and a half years as an established couple and one year with comings and goings. The reason for the break-up was not the end of the love, but the time. The time you spent apart was longer than the time you spent together, your work was not very compatible with his, and although you both did your best to overcome it, it was not enough. Even so, after the friendly break-up the relationship didn't end completely, let's say it never had a point and end, becoming friends with benefits, and it was something that didn't seem to matter to you. However, there was a conversation going on between you, and although neither of you named it, that conversation was present. Every time you coincided for a short period of days everything happened except that conversation, and without it neither of you could evolve, neither of you could have freedom. You felt that you were still bound, and you both knew it.

The global pandemic did not benefit your situation, while he stayed in Boston with his family, you flew home. At first everyone thought that the situation would be resolved in a couple of months at most, but as time went on the problem became bigger. The months passed, the pandemic became uncontrollable and everyone stopped their lives. Your contact with Chris was not lost, but it weakened, there were too many things to think about and the constant fear that something might happen to a loved one made you anxious, and your priorities were elsewhere.

As time went by you discovered to value the little things in life, perhaps because of the pandemic. You realized what really mattered, what made you happy and what you were willing to fight for in your day-to-day life. Chris was one of those things. Your life with him was not perfect, like nothing else in this life, but the positives outweighed the negatives. Confinement allowed you to meditate, to consider how you wanted your future to be and to discover that the important thing was to live in the moment, because you never know what is going to happen. It was clear that during the pandemic you couldn't fight for what you wanted, nor take a plane and fly to where he was, but things would slowly come back to normal, and it would be time to make an important decision.

As you had predicted, light began to appear at the end of the tunnel. Things were relaxing again, taking on a new normalcy and you had to start to take up your old life again. Conversations with Chris had increased over the last few months, you had too much to say but it was a bit difficult for both of you to put it on the screen, so in the end you always ended up talking nonsense and getting a laugh out of each other. Maybe that was what you liked best about him, that he managed to make you smile even in your worst moments. It was comforting to discover that he was well, that he had overcome, with his more and with his less, that period and that your feelings towards him had not changed.

It was obvious that you were back to your routine, and that meant that work would barely let you take a break. The New York company had not dealt with the COVID crisis very well and the situation was quite alarming. You barely had time to reconnect with your friends, as you set foot in New York City hundreds of business problems fell upon you. Stress was trapping you, preventing you from even sleeping at night, and all you needed was to escape from that environment because your head was going to explode. You were told that several trips were planned to discuss the impact the pandemic had had on various locations around the country, and you felt an immediate relief when you were told, unless you could get away from the centre of the bomb.

Your destination was even more comforting, as it was barely 30 kilometres from your previous residence with Chris. The plane left for Boston first thing in the morning, the sky had not yet awakened and you chose to rest your eyes for the 60 minutes that the journey took. You hadn't spoken to him for the last two weeks, basically since you arrived in New York, when he called you, you were in business meetings and always came home in the early hours of the morning, falling into bed. That was your life, quite complicated to complement with external factors.

The meeting with the Boston headquarters was not too negative, which got you to relax and send good news to your company. The most positive factor you brought out is that you had finished early enough to do what you had in mind since you discovered your trip to Boston. You borrowed a car from your company and set off for the house where you had lived for almost two years. You didn't know if he would be there when you arrived or if it would be completely empty, but you erased those thoughts from your mind and just drove.

You knew the route perfectly, you used to do it every morning. It was nice to rediscover the variety of colours that those little forests could have during the autumn. You lowered the window so that the wind would fill the interior of the car, producing extreme relief in you, relaxing every limb and freeing your mind from any stressful event. That's all you wanted during the long, final months of your life. It took you just over 30 minutes to reach your destination, and when you were there the world around you came to a standstill. It had been so long since you had been in front of each other that a little worry had formed inside you.

You assumed that naturalness was the best way to deal with such a situation, so you chose to get out of the car and face what might happen. You analysed the outside of the house, there was no car in the driveway, no sign of anyone inside, but a very familiar voice, along with some barking, guided you to the back of the garden. A wistful look on your face, and your smile widened when you discovered that Dodger, hearing the rustling of leaves under your feet, had noticed you. From the distance he headed towards you at great speed, causing Chris to fix his gaze on you. As usual, Dodger lunged at you, causing you to fall backwards into the wet grass, but you were used to that.

The next few minutes hundreds of emotions met in the air. The reunion with Chris was silent, but many things were said through the eyes. First came the nervous smiles, then the excited look and then the hugs.

"It's been so long since I've hugged you... that I've forgotten how it feels to be hugged by you," he whispered those words in your ear and made you tremble, wishing that the embrace would never end.

There were no questions between the two of you, no "What are you doing here" or "Why did you come here", you didn't need an answer to either of them, you wanted to focus on the moment. You went back into that house, for the first time in a long time, accompanied by a Dodger that was fully seeking your attention and that almost prevented you from walking.

"Let's go, buddy! Let Y/N in the house," he said trying to catch him. "Oh, he just ignores me. I'm sorry you'll have to manage on your own. He has chosen, very smart."

Chris' comment made you show a sweet smile as Dodger tried to lick your whole face as you crouched at his height.

"I've missed you too, sweetie," you said, standing up as you could.

You headed inside the house, where Chris was watching you with a tender expression on his face. As you entered, a warmth and that unmistakable aroma of Chris was in the air. It was a mixture between the smell of wood from the fireplace and his fragrance. That caused your senses to come together and create a familiarity in you. You looked around curiously, quickly analysing every corner, Chris waited while you checked.

"It's all the same," you said in a soft tone smiling at him.

"Yep," he replied in the same soft tone. "Will you stay for dinner with us?"

You showed him a smile as you slowly nodded. "That sounds great."

You knew you had one night before your plane back to New York left the next day. There was too much to do and too much to say for just one night, and neither of you were likely to start that conversation, you were experts at it.

Both of you got down to work in the kitchen, as if you were back in the past. Neither of you were experts in that field, but you used to let yourselves go. Dodger, calmer, took a seat in his basket and watched you with curiosity.

"Beer?" asked Chris, approaching you with a bottle.

"Thank you," you took it and took a little drink, imitating him.

The situation was common, two people cooking, but for you it was not at all common where you were. Chris was a person who did not hide his emotions, and you had seen this during the time you had spent together. In the relationship it was much harder for you to express what you were feeling, but at that moment it was perhaps not too much for you to be back in your old home, with the man you had loved, after a year of not seeing each other and having a relationship that was not quite closed.So you finally put down the knife you were cutting onions with and threw yourself away, knowing that everything could go wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" You frowned softly and looked at him.

Chris was caught off guard by the question, as he watched you and arched his eyebrows, while leaning against the refrigerator.

"Okay," he nodded across his arms. "Why are you here?

You remained pensive, you had gone into the lion's den, because even you did not know very well how to answer that question. Why were you there? You opened your lips to look for a coherent explanation, but nothing. Chris was waiting for the answer, but he realised that you didn't know what to say, so he approached you. "It's okay," he said, taking a lock of your hair and putting it behind his ear.

"No," you frowned. "It's not okay."

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously, returning to his previous position.

"To us," you pointed. "I don't know if it's right what we're doing to each other.”

"What are we doing to each other?" he asked gently, trying to get you to express what was on your mind.

"This," you raised your voice a little. "We didn't finish. We have no end..."

"That's why you came," he crossed his arms at a considerable distance. "To put an end to it?"

You asked yourself if you had come to that, and the answer was obvious, no, you had not come to that.

"No", you whispered looking into his eyes, then you put your hand to your face. "God, this is too complicated."

"Hey...", he came up to you again and took his hand away from your face. "If it wasn't complicated it wouldn't be us."

Those were the truest words he had ever said. You both had a magnet for complicated situations and were the first to try to deal with them.

"Try to tell me why you came here," he kindly insisted again. "I have a clear idea, but I need you to confirm it.

You remembered how you felt when you got there, when you drove there, when you discovered that the business trip was taking you to Boston, where he was. All your happiness in those days was for him. During the pandemic you told yourself that you needed a change in your life, that many things had been lost because of your previous priorities, and your mood had also changed.

"I have come... ", you sighed, emptying your lungs and taking in air again. "I'm here... During the pandemic, I realized what really makes me happy, how things can change from one day to the next and that you have to fight for what you want." You felt a little embarrassed. "God..."

Chris knew how complex everything was for you, that you only extracted your sentimental feelings and thoughts when you were angry and had an argument, so that was a big effort.

"Please Y/N, continue", he gave you a soft smile.

"In short..." you started.

"No, don't summarize", Chris cut you off with a little laugh, which relaxed you.

"Okay," you leaned against the kitchen island and took a breath of air. "It's simple, I've decided that I want to be happy, and you make me happy.”

When you released that sentence you felt an inner relief, you freed yourself from a great weight that had been with you for a long time, and now Chris had everything in his hands. The next ten seconds were the longest of your life, you waited to see Chris' reaction, who was just a few meters away looking at you with a little smile on his face, that you didn't know how to take it.

"Well?" you whispered expectantly. "Are you planning to say something?"

The smile on Chris' face widened and he slowly took a step towards you to shorten the distance, standing face to face, finding you between the kitchen island and his body. He didn't say anything, it was what he did that made you realize his opinion. He stretched out his arms to take your face in his hands and approached you very slowly to kiss your lips. Your heart gave a return when you felt him so close to you again, testing his taste on your lips again, rediscovering the touch of his beard. A bark from Dodger came in the moment, but you barely noticed the event, as you were too busy meeting again.

You split up by cutting off the kiss and frowning.

"Wait. You haven't said anything, what do you think?"

"Come on honey, isn't it obvious?"

You arched an eyebrow waiting, Chris rolled his eyes and caught you sitting on the kitchen counter, you being taller than him.

"You're going to make me say it," he said, looking at your smile. "If I tell you that I love you, so that I can kiss you again and then later develop the answer, will that help?”

Those were the things you loved about him.

"It depends on the kiss."

Chris soon had you in his hands again, more firmly than the previous time. You let yourselves go forgetting everything around you, as if you wanted to make up for all the lost time, all the time apart. Chris lifted you off the counter again and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I got you," he whispered against your lips.

"You've always got me."

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise @lavendertales

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[inosukki]

stress relief, kenma kozume.

synopsis: after a rough day at work, kenma wants to try something new that might benefit the both of you.

warnings: titty sucking, handjob, cum eating <3

[a/n]: this is my first and last time writing nsfw content LOL. also did not proofread my bad bros����

Things were eerily quiet without Kenma around.

Well, to be quite honest, things would still be quiet even if Kenma were in your shared apartment. But at least you’d here the clicking of his controller or the soft grunts of discontent that came with him playing his games. It was odd how he barely made a sound when playing, only opening his mouth to give a command or plan an attack with his team. Most guys you knew yelled at the top of their lungs, followed by insults and curses that left you wondering how someone could ever talk to another human being with such venom.

Maybe that’s what drew you to him back in highschool. His shy demeanor. Always cool, calm, and collected. Nothing like Kuroo, the brash and loud hyena-laughing third year who’d introduced the two of you to eachother.

Kuroo and you, despite being a grade level apart, had been placed into the same chemistry class. The two of you bonded over the fact that none of your friends had shared your wits, so you decided to be lab partners for the rest of the year. There was something about your persona that drew you to him, you were so welcoming and inviting and comfortable. Just the perfect person to get Kenma out of his shell, he thought.

So, one day, he invited you to his house (which at first caused you to raise a brow, you were just school friends, right?) to study for an upcoming exam. He was easily the smartest person in the class, but you took this as an opportunity to catch up to your senpai. Unknown to you, he had also invited Kenma to play COD, which lead you to come face to face with a cute boy with cat-like eyes that you would end up falling for.

That lead you here, sprawled out on your couch clad in boxer shorts and a hoodie, lazily scanning your eyes across a copy of The Awakening. Today was your off day from work which you’d hoped to spend with Kenma, but as you two were cuddling, he received an urgent phone call that left you cold and alone in bed. All you could do now was patiently wait for your boyfriend to come home.

As if on cue, you could hear the light tinkling of keys and the click of your front door. The creaking sound it emitted caused you to cringe (but you left a mental note to get that fixed soon) and place down your book.

“Hey honey, how was work?” You called, fitting your chin in between your knees. You wrapped your arms around your legs, squeezing them closer to your chest.

Kenma swiftly closed the door, shrugged off his coat, and slung it onto the floor all in one breath. He was visibly tense and irritation flooded his eyes. Sighing, you picked your book back up and payed him no mind.

Though your relationship with Kenma was amazing, it was far from perfect. He was sweet and attentive (to an extent) but he had trouble communicating himself. You could barely read him as he often showed no emotion. And when he did, he barely liked to talk about it. It was probably the only thing about him that bothered you.

You heard the creaking of the floorboards as he walked past you and into your shared bedroom, along with a deep sigh and the shuffling of feet. The only thing you could do right now was wait it out and hope he’d come to you.

The stress of being a CEO, Youtuber, pro-gamer, and stock trader was larger than you could imagine. Kenma was always up late nights, often on the phone or on his PC, discussing with other board members or filming a video. But he never once complained, which both worried you and caused your heart to swell. He was always independent like that, but it also wasn’t healthy to keep things inside all the time. You wanted to be the shoulder he could lean on, just like he was for you.

As your focus shifted from your thoughts to the book in your hands, you felt the a weight drop down beside you. You stopped yourself from jumping when you realized that it was just Kenma. Fuck, you thought. He really is like a cat. I barely even noticed him. Instead of the suit he was wearing when he walked in, he was sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a plan white tee. Once again, you placed down your book (would you ever finish it?) and faced towards him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You whispered, taking one of his hands and rubbing soothing circled with your thumb.

He shook his head, no. “Rough day at work,” he mumbled, his raspy voice causing a smile to form on your lips. “Make it better?”

Now it was your turn to sigh as you enveloped him in your arms. Kenma places himself in your lap, almost like a child, legs squeezing around your waist and arms encircling your neck. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, adjusting his body as to not hurt you. Gently, you placed your hand on his head, raking your fingers through his bleach-blonde hair.

What Kenma lacked in words, he made up for in touch.

Whether it was a hand on your thigh, a leg on your lap, an arm around your waist, or his head on your shoulder, Kenma was always touching you as to remind you that he was present. Instead of a simple ‘hey’ he’d press his lips against your cheek or wrap you up in his arms. It was cute, and the first time he’d greeted you with a hug and a kiss you almost melted on the spot.

The innocent embrace between you two was cut short by the sound of sucking and slurping ringing through your ears. You let out a sharp gasp, your breathing halting for a second. Kenma, without warning, had begun to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses in the crook of your neck. The hand that had been gently placed in his hair was now gripping onto the strands in shock.

The sounds ceased completely as Kenma pulled away to look into your eyes, a string of spit following in tow. It was only then you noticed the pool of saliva on your neck, reaching your hands to touch the dampened skin.

“Sorry, was that ok?” He whispered, suddenly shy.

That was more than ok.

“Uh, yeah that was o-it was nice...I liked it.” You affirmed, scratching the back of your neck.

What had come over him? Usually it was you that had initiated anything sexual between the two of you. Kenma was rather low-maifnence in that aspect of your relationship, and never asked you to do anything or even hinted at it. Sometimes it felt like the only reason the two of you had sex was because you wanted it. He seemed indifferent to the whole ordeal. But now he was suddenly attacking your neck unprompted. You were kind of thankful for it, honestly.

“I-Is it ok if I tried something?”

His eyes flickered to yours, a hopeful glint in them. He had placed his hands between his thighs, gently rocking back and forth as if he were nervous. You held back a laugh as to not embarrass him. He was adorable.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Go ahead.”

The rocking subsided as he let both sides of his lips turn upwards in a shy smile. He removed his hands from his legs, letting himself reach up to the hem of your sweatshirt. Slowly yet with anticipation he lifted your sweatshirt over your head, tossing them to the side with ease. The removal had left your hair parting in several directions, which caused you to chuckle and smooth it down.

A sharp intake of breath caught your attention as Kenma’s eyes bored into your bare chest. It was as if he was shocked that you weren’t wearing a bra. You watched in anticipation as he brought his right hand to caress your left breast, thumb lightly ghosting your nipple. It was your turn to inhale as the touch caused you to jolt upwards and lean into him. He smiled, that was the reaction he was looking for.

“Your tits are so pretty, baby. Soft...” The compliment sent waves of heat through your body.

Kenma let his thumb press circles into your soft nipple which was beginning to harden due to his intimate touch. Before you could urge him to do something, anything, he opened his mouth and let his mouth go to work on your breast. His tongue licked around the hardened bud, letting out a content sigh. He seemed to be enjoying this just as much as you were.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you pressed his face even closer to your tits. He sucked harshly, as if trying to milk you. Immediately, you bit your lip to stop yourself from making any more noise, almost embarrassed at how easily Kenma affected you.

He continued to suckle on your breast, even lightly nibbling it, as if begging you to make some sort of noise. The lewdness of him sloppily sucking on your skin shot arousal straight to your core.

He let his hand trail to your other breast, groping it with a rather strong grip before lazily giving you a squeeze here and there. A substantial amount of drool dribbled down the sides of his chin as his tongue swirled around your nipple. “I...I’m getting...hard...”

You hadn’t realized that your eyes were rolling into the back of your head until they began to unblur. Kenma has detached himself from your chest with a small ‘pop’ and was wiping his lips with his forearms. Your eyes trailed to his crotch, biting your lip at the darkened spot of his sweatpants. The faint bulge caused heat to pool in your lower stomach.

“Um, could you maybe... give me a–uh–handjob while I’m... doing this?”

You giggled, nodding feverently. He smiled nervously at you, avoiding all eye contact. Growing impatient, you gestured for him to get up, to which he obeyed. You snaked his sweatpants down, letting them fall to his feet, and did the same with his boxers. You bit your lip once again when his cock sprang free from the confines of his undergarments, slapping against his stomach.

“C’mere,” you whispered, guiding him back into your lap. Before he could continue his assault on your tits, you wet your hands with a generous amount of your saliva, licking it from the beginning of your wrist to the ends of your fingers. Then, you masterfully wrapped your fingers around his cock, ensuring that its entirety was covered in the sticky substance.

“Ah–” Kenma whined at the touch, arching his body into your hand. In order to keep himself preoccupied, he gripped your left breast and paid special attention to the one he left untouched.

As he licked and sucked on your breast, you went to work. His cock had stiffened in your grip, his thick veins almost protruding. You reached for his balls, light massaging them with your fingers, earning a groan into your chest. Smiling to yourself, you lightly grazed the area between his testicles, knowing how sensitive it was. His breath hitched in his throat, and once you were satisfied with the noises Kenma was making, you moved onto his length.

The tips of your fingers lightly scratched along his hardened cock, teasing his sensitive state. You continued the teasing with soft, slow strokes along his shaft, making sure you didn’t apply to much pressure and have him finish early (which happened quite a bit, to his embarrasment).

Your hand momentarily froze when you heard Kenma’s soft moans. How is it possible for a man to have such a pretty moan? The noises that Kenma made were heavenly. Whether it be a mewl or a groan, it always left you wanting more.

“Mm, keep going p-please.”

The request brought you out of your trance like state as you returned your attention to the task at hand. The tip of his cock was a flaring red, pre-cum beginning to spout out. You fisted the middle of his cock, spreading the fluid around.

Your focus on his length had almost blinded you to the fact that he was sucking on your tits. You jolted in surprise when he bit on your supple flesh. You could feel him smiling against you, reveling in the fact that he had elicited such a reaction from you. Two could play at that game.

With your nimble fingers, you slowly pumped his sensitive length, making sure to not apply too much pressure. The movement caused him to whimper and suck even harsher on your bare breast. You grasped his cock, making up and down movements starting from the base and moved up to the shaft , simultaneously rubbing your thumb over his slit.

“Mmf,” Kenma whimpered, his voice muffled by your skin. “Feels so good. You’re too good to me, baby.”

Pride filled in your chest at his words of encouragement. You decided to pick up the pace. Your grip around him strengthened, as did your rythym. As you built up a faster pace, so did he. The puckering sound that filled your apartment only got louder as Kenma violently sucked on your soft skin.

The lewd sound of slurping, sucking, and slapping of skin surrounded the two of you as you violently jerked his cock in fluid motions.

“Keep going, I-I’m almost there.” Kenma griped, no, whined, into you.

“You’re doing so well, Kenma, aren’t you? Your words caused him to bob his head up and down. “Don’t hold back.”

The pressure on his cock didn’t cease as you continued your pace, losing yourself in the bliss of it all. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of him as ceased his sucking and fell into your body in exhaustion.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna–” His warning fell on deaf ears as you continued pumping him. His whines grew louder and urgent. You loved how vocal he was during times like this.

Suddenly, thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock, staining your soft, silky hands. Kenma was a tired mess, sweat sticking to his white shirt as he heaved and groaned.

The same eery silence from before attempted to creep back, but was warded off by the exhausted groans of your boyfriend.

“Feeling better?” You teased, poking at his side with your clean hand.

He scoffed in disbelief before letting out a small chuckle. “Yeah, much.”

“Good,” you playfully retorted. “Or else I’d have cum on my hand for no fucking reason at all.”

At the mention of his cum, Kenma’s face flushed. He didn’t notice the substance on your hand and immediately got up and began putting on his pants.

“I’ll get you a towe-”

Before he could finish the sentence, you were already lapping up the milky, almost translucent substance with your tongue. You licked up your forearm, catching the stray that had dribbled down. Then, you slurped the majority of it which had gathered in your palm. And finally, you sucked on your fingers, giving a few kitten licks here and there to ensure that you’d gotten it all.

“No need! Got it all. See?” You grinned brightly at him, showing him your clean hand before wiping it on your shorts. “Aww Kenma, your face is all red! Did I embarrass you? C’mere so I can pinch your cheeks!”

“Shut up!” He groaned, attempting to run away but failing to do so due to his pants being at his feet. “Get away from me!”

[tetsuroyaoyaoya]

✧ CAFÉ AU NAME ✧

pairing: barista!akaashi x f!reader

word count: 2,418

synopsis: you walk into akaashi’s back-alley coffee shop every thursday evening with a new book, a new order, and a new name.

The feathers of the duster glided over the counter, brushing off any loose beans onto the linoleum on the bar. Conscious of the time, Akaashi let his eyes wander over to the door expectantly. It was still an hour till closing time, but that’s not exactly what he was looking forward to. 

For the last two months or so, every Thursday evening, roughly an hour before close; in walked you. 

From the second you walked through the door, he was entranced by you, and his infatuation only deepened the more you visited his hidden little cafe.

Akaashi had never been one to have friends, besides ones he met through his old volleyball team, and there was definitely no girlfriend anywhere in the picture, so he didn't really know where to start when just one look at you made his heart tumble out of his chest.

And, becuase of course, there was another dilema on his mind; despite asking for your name every time he made your drink, he didnt actually know your real name yet. Every time you came in you had ordered something wildly different, along with a brand new name. The poor boy thought he was going insane.

The first time he had met you, it had been a sunny evening, and as usual, the shop was pretty much empty - only two customers and himself occupying the café. He was practically begging for something to do before the bell on the door chimed, signalling another entry.

For the first time in his life, Akaashi had to physically pause in shock as he laid eyes on you. He quickly caught himself out and slipped right back into his role, but the fact that you had caught his attention enough to distract him like that was baffling to him.

"Good evening. What can I get started for you?" His eyes followed you as you approached the counter gracefully, smiling at him before squinting up at the menu.

"Ah... hazelnut mocha? Yeah, regular size, please." Akaashi resisted the urge to chuckle at your indecisiveness.

"And a name for that?" You rained an eyebrow slightly, eyes darting around the shop, noting how empty it was. Akaashi has realised his mistake, but it was both a mistake of habit and just a petty excuse to learn your name.

"Elizabeth." Once again, Akaashi was rendered speechless. It seemed his surprise didn't go unnoticed either as you attempted to hide your giggle behind the book he hasn't realised you were holding. he tried to catch the title, but didn't get the chance as you had composed yourself before he could even blink. 

He cleared his throat and moved to the till, where he quickly tapped your order into the machine. He tried desperately not to blush when your hands brushed as you handed him the money for your drink, and decided to focus on making your drink instead of studying your face. 

However, because of this, he completely missed the way your eyes followed him as he danced across the bar, first for the syrup, then for the chocolate. It was as if you would miss the entire show if you took your eyes off of him. He moved so fluently it was if the process was ingrained into his body. You continued to watch as he allowed the chocolate to steam unsupervised while he prepared the espresso, savouring the scent of the coffee as he pulled the shots. 

You noticed a slight change in the sound to the steam, as did he, and without even looking he turned the lever to stop it, while also pouring the the espresso into the mug and swirling it together. The pouring felt like some sort of performance, with the way he held the jug so lightly, gently and precisely guiding the chocolate into the mug, wiggling it to make a gorgeous pattern on top. 

He placed the drink on a saucer, pairing it with a spoon and a little biscuit that he had pulled from seemingly nowhere. You smiled gratefully as he pushed it over to you, barely able to meet your eyes. 

“If you want a quiet place to read, the corner over there with the ferns is probably your best bet,” He nodded over to a little nook across the shop and you could see what he meant, it was secluded, and all other tables were faced away from it, but you could still see out over the entire store, especially with it being so small. 

“They’re fake... in case, you know... allergies?’ Giggling, you tucked your book under your arm in order to use both hands to carry the drink over to the table. A you did, Akaashi finally got a good look at the spine. 

‘Pride and Prejudice’

Elizabeth, of course.

“I’ll be here if you need anything.” With one last nod in thanks, you left the counter, allowing the barista to breathe again without the fear or stuttering or stumbling over his words. 

The second time he met you it has already turned cold, and frost was beginning to creep its way up the café windows. Luckily, it was nice and toasty inside the shop, and with an unlimited supply of hot drinks at his fingertips, it couldn’t be any better.

Except, it could. 

Akaashi was actually meant to be training up a new barista today, and yet he was distracted, thinking about a certain customer that he hasn't seen in a full week now. Who did he think he was? Falling in love at first sight only to possibly never see you again? It was just his luck. 

The owner was drawn out of his thoughts as he heard a hiss of pain, immediately looking over to see said new barista with a hand now covered in scalding hot coffee. He sighed, but quickly grabbed the cloth he kept in his apron pocket. Wiping the trainee’s hand, he instructed them to run it under cold water for as long as possible to make sure it didn't blister.

As they walked away, Akaashi faintly heard the door chime, and ran a hand through his hair in order to calm himself before speaking to a customer. 

“Hi, what can I- oh...” You stood across the counter, warm eyes peeking out from where your neck and mouth were buried in the biggest, fluffiest scarf Akaashi thought he’d ever seen. He heard a small chuckle and you reached up to unravel yourself from the bundle of fabric. 

“Stressed?” Your voice was soft when you finally freed yourself. Akaashi could only give you a nod and a small smile in response, aware of his trainee’s return to the machine. A quick once-over told him that they were fine and he could continue with their training. 

“What can I get you today?” It only took one look between the two baristas to understand the situation, and you immediately took pity on the owner, deciding to order something simple to be nice. 

“Just a latte, thank you.” The more experienced barista smiled at you gratefully, and put the transaction through the till before taking your money. 

“And a name for that?” He suggested playfully, mostly in reference to his mistake the last time the two of you met.

“Emma.” He almost laughed, eyeing the new book you were holding. A fan of Jane Austen then. Akaashi opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass behind him. It was a good thing he turned away in a panic the second he heard it, or else he would have seen you jump out of your skin in surprise. 

The whole café seemed to become even quiter than it already was for a few moments, only Akaashi’s soothing murmer present in the silence. He once again made sure that the trainee was alright before instructing them to step away so that he could clean up the mess. He disappeared for a moment before returning with a sweeping brush. With a smile, albeit a nervous one, he told you to sit down to wait rather than remaining at the counter. 

“Get comfy, it may be a minute.”

The third time you returned to his little café, Akaashi was too busy already serving a customer to greet you immediately. He was so distracted that he hadn't even heard the chime of the bell on the door, which was unusual. What did attract his attention to you however, was the odd sniffle every minute or so to his left. He slipped his gaze over you in time to see you desperately trying to hold back a sneeze, nose scrunched in the cutest way possible, sleeve ready to catch it. 

With a quiet chuckle he quickly finished up with his current customer, handing the order over to his trainee, who had surprisingly improved by miles in the past week, and was now able to handle the standard drinks to an acceptable degree. 

As the customer moved on, he watched you with an amused smile as you practically waddled up to the counter, no scarf today, but instead a chunky sweater that more of less buried you, barely visible fingers clutching your book choice for this week - Sense and Sensibility. 

He raised an eyebrow expectantly and you rolled your eyes. Despite the scarf the previous visit, you had managed to catch a cold last week from the freezing wind you walked through to get to the café, and you still hadn't fully recovered yet.

“Afternoon, Elinor.” Your eyes widened as he guessed you name for this week before you even had chance to order, but it brought an excited smile to your face.

“Something strong... uh, a... ugh!” He snickered at your frustration and you scowled, a crease in your brow, but he couldn't take you seriously with the bright pink flush across your cheeks the cold had given you. 

“A cappuccino!” You announced triumphantly, but quickly calmed yourself in slight embarrassment as you realised you might have been just a tad too loud. Akaashi was clearly enjoying your playfulness today, but made no comment, thankfully.

“Chocolate dusting?” You perked up again at that, but remained sheepish.

“Extra, please?” He put your order through the till as he always did, and you stalked off to find your usual seat as he handed it off to the trainee. 

The fourth time you stopped by, the cold spell has finally disappeared, and the glow of the evening light shining through the windows was slightly warmer than it had been recently. 

Despite this, the sight of the improved weather was immediately dampened when you walked in, such a tired expression on your face that Akaashi physically stopped in his track out of worry. You always had such a happy smile that seeing you without it seemed so strange. 

At the look on his face, you tried your hardest to smile like you usually did, but you could both that it was horribly forced, and you gave up quickly. 

“Choose for me today, ‘kaashi.” He didn't know what surprised him more - the nickname or the fact that you knew his name in the first place. Obviously it was on his name tag that you saw every time you were in the shop, but he hadn't expected you to actually remember it. 

He couldn't help the strange feeling in his stomach, both in worry and... something else that he couldn't quite place the feeling of. 

“This one’s on me. Jane today?” Even with your mood, you were never without your precious book. A quick look at the cover told him that it was Jane Eyre today, his favourite. 

You opened your mouth to protest, but one stern look from Akaashi shut you right up. You gave him a thankful smile, a genuine one, and slowly walked off to take your usual spot.

Akaashi waited until you had your back turned to quickly switch places with his other barista in order to personally make your drink today. The other barista was shocked at his hurry, but shook their head with a smile at the action. They had witnessed enough interactions between the two of you to understand. 

The next week, Akaashi waited all day and all evening, so worried about last week and how you left without a word that he couldn't even focus on his work because he just needed to see you to make sure you were okay. 

But you never came.

He was upset, but you were probably busy, or something had happened, but the though of an incident of some sort only put him even more on edge than he already was. 

With a sigh, he exited the shop, adjusting the bag on his shoulder so that he could place the key in the door to lock it. He was about to turn the metal when he heard frantic footsteps behind him. Akaashi glanced back to see you, rushing as quickly as you could, jacket billowing behind you as you made it towards him. 

You came to a stop just next to him, hands on your knees as you attempted to catch your breath as Akaashi stared down at you in bewilderment. As you finally stood straight, you smiled heavily, breaths still laboured.

“Work meeting ran over,” you tried to explain, “you aren't closed yet, are you?” You could clearly see him with the key in the door, but he could hear the evident disappointment in your voice. 

“Depends.” Hope flooded your features and the absolute joy on your face would have made him give in if he hadn't already. 

“On?” Even if he didn't know it, you could see plain as day how dejected he looked today, and you had an inkling that it was to do with your lack of appearance. 

“Tell me your name.” The was a slight pause, before you giggled at the simple condition, causing Akaashi to turn his head away as to hide from you how contagious your smile really was.

“Y/N.” You held your hand out, having never been happier to introduce yourself to someone. 

“Keiji, nice to meet you.” He took your hand in his and shook it, lingering for a moment before letting to go to take the key out of the door and open it, gesturing you inside with a smile. 

You brought books to places with you to loose yourself in someone else’s fantasy, but maybe you had found your real-life fairytale. 

masterlist

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Allotrope Christmas Special

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Words: 2.7k Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Happy endings. Authors Note: Merry Christmas! I wanted to share this gift with everyone for the holidays. I am such a sucker for my own story and the characters and I felt like it would be really rewarding to get to see into their future in one way or another, and so this was born. I always knew in my head how their life together would progress and what it might be like- it’s been exciting to be able to write this and now, to share it!

You smile before your eyes even open, drifting to consciousness with delighted glee buzzing along your skin. When you finally open them, your smile broadens. It’s still dark, barely five hours have passed since you fell asleep to the soft glow of white Christmas lights hanging around the bedroom. There’s excitement humming in your bones, a feeling you try to quell while your lover sleeps beside you, but the feeling erupts from your throat and manifests as a grin too wide for your lips and a wiggle in your shoulders. You’re in your happy place. It’s- you check your phone- five nineteen in the morning on your favorite holiday with your favorite person still sound asleep beside you. Except that he isn’t, you realize, when a tiny mumble slips past his pouted lips. Turning to him as you coax yourself to relax back into the linens, your smile remains. Your fingers rise to his hand, tucked in front of his chest where it landed after it slipped from your waist when you woke. His skin is silky smooth, chocolate hair just as silky fluffed about with the natural wave it carries. His lashes are long, catching the faintest glow of the warm amber light hanging from the headboard. With pink lips, his pucker continues to twitch in his dreams. Every nuance of his brings a smile to your lips and love to your heart, as dumb and corny as that sounds. Every simple thing, like the way he always flexes his toes before he lets his feet hit the floor in the morning, or the way he always stirs drinks counterclockwise three times before tapping the straw or spoon against the rim twice. At how he seems particularly happy during the early afternoons, in his own words his favorite time of day because he isn’t hungry and work is almost over so he is more productive. Things you’ve spent nearly three years getting to know, the last year of which has been spent living together in what used to be just your apartment. He moved in just after the new year, almost a year after you said your first ‘I love you’s. A laugh bubbles from your throat, remembering the first time you saw him doing his skincare routine. Hilarious and meticulous as it may be, it has grown into a beneficial routine of pampering for both of you. You recall how his skin felt under your palms just a few hours ago. The way you worshipped one another under the same glowing lights in your shared bed, naked as the angels themselves and singing praises to the heavens just the same. As if being called to life at the memory, desire for him stirs in your gut. You wonder if he is too tired or if he might be so inclined to give you a gift this early on Christmas. Unable to help yourself, your fingertips graze the side of his face, physically admiring his angelic beauty with a quiet, breathy chuckle. “Mm… ‘S funny?” he mumbles, the center of his brow twitching a fraction. His fist clenched the duvet, followed by a deeper scowl on his brow as he noticed it was not where he left it. With his eyes still closed, he splayed his fingers and reached out toward you, humming with content when he felt the warmth of your skin. Your smile grows wide again, excitement unsetting and freed once more by the simple interaction. “I am just so very much enamored with you, Kim Junmyeon. That’s all.” His brows fluctuate their shape into one of surprise, and he peeks one eye open at you, unable to stop the smile that forms. “Well good morning to you too, sweetheart.” He says with an air of smug happiness. Free to express your love for him, your fingers now find themselves pressed to his hairline briefly before you drag his bangs out of his face, giving his scalp a good scratch along the way. Junmyeon sighs with delight. He rises on one shoulder, side-eyeing the lights still glowing around the room as he stoops his head to yours and plants a soft kiss directly to your lips. Then another when your head lifts from your pillow to chase his lips, and a third when your arm snakes around his neck. His eyes find yours, wide awake. He searches briefly in silence for an answer to the question he doesn’t ask. When he finds it, he smiles, rolling himself over you completely. You hunger for his lips, more and more until the space between your bodies is nonexistent and you part only to breathe. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his lips as your fingers climb his shoulders. He is adjusting the linens swirled around his hips when a thought hits him. Junmyeon’s body stills momentarily, lagging in motion as he thinks. Suddenly, he reaches his arm across his side of the bed, struggling to grapple with the knob of his bedside table without rolling you on top of him, a thought you consider while you wait. His head turns back over his shoulder and he levels you with a heavy stare, locked in his uncomfortable position. It feels like the moment drags on for a long time, but you feel no signs of something wrong from him. You know him well enough to notice when he is working up his nerve. He leans back over to you with one hand strategically behind his back, “Close your eyes.” You obey his command immediately, curious at his shenanigans. “Why do I have to close my eyes for a Christmas present?” “Because I love you,” he starts, and his voice sounds shaken. Puzzled, you wait for instructions. They come in the form of a deep breath from him before you feel his fingers on your cheek. “Because I want to surprise you, and most of all, because I cannot fathom spending the rest of my life without you.” You’re certain the way your eyes pop open is not at all graceful or beautiful, but he is smiling at you for all he is worth anyway. In his free hand, is a small blue velvet box, and nestled inside of it is a shining diamond ring. After many attempts to catch your breath and form words, all you can manage is a feeble “What are you saying?” In slow motion you notice how the apples of his cheeks are tinged a rosy color that spreads to his ears and his neck, much the way he blushed the very first night you met. “I am asking, or begging or pleading for you to say yes.” You are still stunned and unable to respond for a second longer than his nerves can bear, so he babbles a little, “Please, please be my wife. Let me make you as happy as you make me and let me keep loving you.” He winces at how hard your palms come to grasp both of his cheeks in your palms. Perhaps you’re a bit nervous as well, too energized to control your movements with as much precision as usual. Rather than words, your body lifts to crash your lips to his as your arms curl around his shoulders. He kisses you back with fervor, clutching your naked back in his hand to keep you grounded against him. He kisses you harder, faster, with as much passion as he can muster with his whole body shaking just slightly. Your fingers smooth down his arms, to his hand clutching the soft blue box, holding onto it tightly. When you part from him, eyes absorbing every minute detail of the moment, his eyes are large and round and soft. Fragile with emotion and the glittering of tears he refuses to let fall or acknowledge at all because he knows how cliché it would be. It takes a moment for him to realize what you’re waiting for, until you ask. “What are you waiting for?” Junmyeon blinks at you and smiles, fumbling, “Oh, is that a ‘yes’?” His reaction and bashful smile are infectious, pulling a genuine laugh from your chest loud enough to wake your neighbors, “Oh my goodness,” you grab his cheeks again, “Yes, you goof!” Your lips smear against his in an effort to defend yourself from your own tears, and you both laugh. The sound is breathy and refreshing, smiling like idiots too in love to stop kissing long enough for him to slip the ring onto your left ring finger. The first thing you do once it’s on, is lay your palm flat against his chest, over the space where his heart beats strong and steady. Where it beats honestly, reassuring in the comfort of every pulse that gives him life. Your eyes catch his briefly, lit up like Christmas lights as he watches you admire the diamond there. “Well,” he whispers, unsure whether to continue, “how does it look?” You grin in return before schooling your expression into one of mock concern, “I’ve got bad news,” you sigh dramatically, “I’m afraid it looks like you’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of your life.” Junmyeon snorts in jest loudly in the intimate space of the bedroom, tossing his head back with mirth. When he returns to you, he shakes his hair from his eyes, and his lips pucker in an attempt to keep himself from smiling so hard he can’t see. “I’m glad you like it,” he declares, relief flooding his shoulders. Then he bends to steal a kiss from your lips, pulling away with only enough space to form words. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He comments quietly, looking at you until it becomes too much to bear and his lips need to descend upon yours once more. It doesn’t take long to rekindle the fire from minutes ago, sparked brighter with the new affirmation of your love with the engagement. In the three years you’ve been doing this, with practiced ease you fall deeper in love with him every day. Junmyeon leans over you, slowly forcing your back into the soft linens and using one hand on your knee to spread your legs wider for him. “Time for another present,” he winks with a gentle laugh as he sinks to his abdomen on the bed. Your lover pulls your hand to him, letting his thumb catch against the ring he just gave you with a smile before he tugs your fingers to his head. He sighs in pleasure with the first tug on his hair not a minute later, tongue, nose and chin wet with your arousal and his saliva. Not that you need it, but two fingers stoke the flame of desire in your core as your hips struggle to stay on the mattress. Junmyeon swears every sound you make is more holy than any hymns the angels could sing today, every touch of your skin a greater gift than the birth of God himself, not that either of you are practiced believers. Just before you’re sent toppling over the edge, he removes his tongue and his fingers- stifling your whine of despair with his lips and the ache in your core with an easy slide of his cock that has you gasping into his mouth. You can’t count how many times you’ve done this with him. Can’t even count the times you’ve had him like this in your shared bed, let alone every other place. Even so, something is different about this time. Magical, you are sure with or without the engagement ring glittering from your finger. Perhaps it’s the pure joy of Christmas morning, coupled with your affection and utter devotion to one another that sends you toppling over cloud nine in less than a minute. The fullness of your heart, fit to burst so it spills tears down your cheeks when it overflows. Junmyeon wipes every one of them away, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your forehead and the tip of your nose as he chases you slowly into blissful oblivion. His release is quiet and gentle, buried completely with his free hand touching your cheek so delicately. As if he is holding your soul, as he sometimes does when he is so tangled in feelings he knows words can’t express. Your own hand rises to rest over his, stroking the knuckles and watching his head lift from your neck. Although dark naturally, his eyes hold a sparkling that lights him up like every Christmas tree in the city. Every bulb on every string of them around your apartment is no match for the beauty he holds. He takes a moment to admire the way your ring catches the lights behind your head, humming his appreciation. “I love you,” he confesses, turning his hand from your cheek to catch your fingers, “I am honored and, admittedly, a little amazed, that you’re mine.” A smile forms on your lips, “I think the honor is all mine.” _____________________________________ Days later, your fiancée sits beside you at the large round dinner table. The setting is beautiful. High class with tablecloths as white as the snow on the ground outside, accented with black linens and seasonal flora in golden vases around the grand ballroom. Expensive and classy are the words that best describe the scene in your mind. They pale in comparison to the man beside you. The one with golden skin and dark hair swept to the side stylishly atop his head. He’s wearing a tuxedo with his own expensive watch and cufflinks to give the image his own style. His brothers talk loudly with him, seated at the table for ten. Some of the chairs are empty, scooted from the table or not quite pushed in all of the way at odd angles. Empty, but no less warm or inviting knowing they belong to people who will return to them when food reaches the table. Junmyeon keeps your left hand with him beneath the table. He holds it gently, absentmindedly spinning your engagement ring around your finger while he talks. After dinner, you dance, reflecting on your years with him. With the other familiar and friendly faces of his company, and the sense of pride that you’ve grown so much in the time you’ve spent with him. The first time you came to an event with him, the fear of gazes that pass over you now seemed so silly. You greet them all with a smile, pressed close to the love of your life, feeling comfort and ease with the joy you see in each of the people that notice the ring on your finger. Most that you recognize already knew before this party, but the reassurance that each one resonates such approval and happiness on your behalf makes you giddy with excitement all over again. You dance late into the night with several of his brothers, each stealing you away with the promise to do it all over again at your wedding, quipping Junmyeon’s protests with the truth that he will get to dance with you forever so it is important that they steal you away for a dance at the few meaningful evenings. Neither of you says a word of protest when his youngest brother reaches for your hand last, although it doesn’t stop any of you from grinning and laughing when you take his hand and he leads you back to the dance floor. Just as the your dance with Sehun begins to come to a close, the lights dim and a shower of white lights litter the space above the ballroom. A countdown begins on a screen high on the far wall and people- yourself included- rush to their loved ones for the grand finale. The kiss to end one year and ring in a new one. You don’t remember the countdown ending, because Junmyeon finds you and catches your waist at seven seconds, and his lips find yours at six and they don’t stop until after the gold confetti that rained down at midnight has stopped. And just like that, you enter your fourth year with the love of your life, ready to count for many, many more.

[peakywitch]

The Psychic 2 - Tommy Shelby

part one

masterlist

warnings: swearing of course, mention of the dead.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: this is just SHIT but i like it but then again i don’t ?? so i may be changing a few things over the next few days, nothing too big.

The entire Shelby family was dead silent. They were very busy looking at the woman with the cards.

"No, that’s a lie." Tommy laughed sarcastically.

“This is no lie, Mr. Shelby. I don't lie about these things.”

"It’s a fuckin’ lie!" he yelled, standing up "Grace is bloody dead! And do you know how I know? Because she took a bullet, that was meant for me right in fuckin’ front of me!"

"Mr. Shelby…"

"Not! You don't get to say a damn thing!"

"Thomas..." Polly began.

“You are a liar, Y/N! You’re…!"

“Watch your words, Thomas. You don't know if she's gypsy.” Polly said.

"I don't give a shit, Pol." He replied, with fire running through his veins "I don't give a shit what this liar...!"

"Mr. Shelby!" the girl screamed, being a ball of nerves and fury. Who would’ve think she'd be yelling at a Shelby?

“Mr. Shelby nothing, Y/N! You’re…!" the Shelby was starting to get closer to the poor girl, covering her completely.

"Your heart lies by the Thames!" the girl screamed, over the screams of the fearsome man.

Thomas' eyes were wide open, his brow furrowed tightly and his hand in a fist.

"By the Thames…" the poor girl breathed, trembling with fear "lies your heart, Mr. Shelby."

The Shelby's face froze, remembering.

"The ashes…" Y/N whispered again "The woman bathes in them."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, sometimes I receive things in code." She sighed, as she watched Thomas walk away from her.

 .

As Y/N poured tea into two cups, Thomas looked at her little house. The dense velvety violet fabric covering the window kept everyone from looking through it. Her walls were covered in drawings, pieces of paper with different symbols and figures. She had a lovely cupboard, filled with colorful mugs and matching kettles. Everything was too jazzy for him, but portrayed in a beautiful and funny way the soul of it’s owner.

"Your… er… house, it's very… "

The anxious lump in Thomas' throat was killing him, it was the first time he had a hard time speaking.

"Little, I know." Y/N smiled, after putting down the kettle and serving homemade lemon cookies on a plate.

Weird. Thomas was thinking about the word weird. But he resisted.

"Mr. Shelby…" began the girl "I won't tell you anything mystical today, you don't have to be nervous."

"And who told you that? My mother?" he asked, with a wryly tone but steady eyes.

Wearily, the girl replied, "The constant tapping you're doing with your foot it telling me, and it's driving me crazy."

The noise stopped.

Y/N sat across from the Shelby, then sipped her tea.

“Why are you here, Mr. Shelby?”

The man in the suit cleared his throat, settling in the chair he was.

“Right.” He took a lemon cookie, and talked with it in his hand. His accent was so thick, one could barely understand him.

“I came here, Y/N, to apologize.” He bit the lemony sweet treat he was served a few moments ago. In his lips, he had a few yellowy crumbles. The most scared gangster in the whole Birmingham, if not the country, had crumbles in his lips from a homemade lemon cookie.

A smirk was almost present in Y/N face. She was biting her inner cheeks, trying to hold it back. After trying to drown it in tea, she spoke:

“Don’t worry, Mr. Shelby.” She let the smile appear on her face. There was no way that smile wasn’t going to show up.

“Sometimes…” she spoke, softly caressing the golden edge from the tea cup, and then she looked up at him “things we don’t want to notice, or know, come to us. Sometimes in the strangest way, sometimes in the most mundane.”

“How’d you know?” he asked, his eyes were not going to abandon hers.

“I…”

“If Grace is alive, somewhere, how did you know all the stuff you told me?” he wanted to know, but at the same time he wanted to forget everything. He wanted to forget everything Y/N told him, and go back to being a widowed man who had a kid and an illegal business to run.

“You have one shitty guardian angel, Mr Shelby. He was getting tired from all the bullshit you’ve put him through. So he wanted a vendetta.”

Y/N was messing with the Shelby. It was risky, yes. But, boy was his face something. He was speechless and a little embarrassed.

“Mr. Shelby, it was a joke.”

“Oh…” he whispered, and drank tea.

“I can see dead people, Mr Shelby. I don’t only hear them. So, whenever I’m walking, they come to me. They sometimes want to pass a message or say something in particular.”

“You told me private stuff. Things from Grace no one knew she told me.” He said again, tense.

Y/N scratched hey left eye, and sighted.

“Grace told everyone about his father getting killed by the IRA. But she never told to anyone about his sister and her mother, Mr. Shelby. Only the dead speak about their death. We suffer them, we try to forget. We never speak about them again. But the dead, they do. And they want you to find Grace. I don´t know why, I don’t know where, but…”

Thomas’ mind was working a thousand miles per hour. He interrupted her:

“Can you find her?” he asked, after finishing his drink and getting up to leave.

“Mr. Shelby…”

“I said” he put on his peaked hat, “can you find her?”

The look Thomas had in his eyes, touched something inside of her. She felt his inner desperation, his sorrow and saw all his sleepless nights.

“I can try. I can’t promise success but…”

“Speak to God, speak to Lucifer. Go to hell, go to heaven. I don’t care. But, by order of the peaky fucking blinders, you will help me find her and bring her home.”

Just like that he left, leaven the poor girl with a bittersweet taste and a heart full of pityness.

 . 

A cold body was running down Watery Lane. Four o’clock in the morning. The wind was the only sound present, but she couldn’t stop hearing a voice over and over again. When she arrived, she began to yell:

“Tommy! Open the door, Tommy!”

Y/N was waiting outside the Shelby residence, screaming Thomas’ name while knocking non-stop the black door.

“Y/N?” said the Shelby, appearing in his pajamas. “It’s fucking four in the morning. What it is?”

He looked so sleepy and housewifely. If it wasn’t for the Italian voice ringing her ear over and over again, she would’ve blushed.

Two hours after, the clock told Thomas it was quarter to six. Y/N was sitting in the couch, chewing a piece of bread. On the coffee table beside her, was a paper with her handwriting:

oltre La piazza, Oltre il poNte

olTre i mulini, oltRe le catAste

“Y/N, tell me what it means.”

“I said I don’t know, Tommy.”

“You wrote Italian! There’s no way in hell you don’t know!”

Y/N sighted, exasperated.

“I don’t speak Italian, Shelby. I just wrote what I heard. I don’t even know if I wrote it correctly.”

The argument was a cycle. I don’t, you do, I don’t, you do. Five minutes after the monotonous fight, Polly stepped into the living room-

“What are you idiots doing arguing this early?!” she asked, angrily.

“Thomas, I speak to the fuckin’ dead, i don’t speak Italian.”

“Italian?” asked Polly. She was as tired as she was lost.

Y/N handed her the sheet, without getting up the couch. Polly read the piece of paper, only to be as confused as the two who were fighting.

“Instead of arguing, why haven’t any of you thought about going to our own little Italy here in Small Heath for translation, eh?” she asked, with an annoyed expression.

taglist: open

@halepea

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1 

kiss time! yesssss. well, except everything goes downhill from there

anyhow, this week’s scenes - aftermath of an eventful evening...

1.10 

Weller ushered his nephew up to his apartment, his physical body now inside the building but his mind still stuck out on the stoop. Images and emotions swirled together, with most of his consciousness locked on the memory of kissing Jane, while the rest of his brain did its best to fend off Sawyer's seemingly endless questions about what he'd seen.

"Why were you kissing her?"

"Isn't kissing kind of gross?"

"Was that your friend from when you and mom were kids?"

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Shit. He had to get that under control before they got back to the apartment and Sawyer outed him to Sarah.

But it was nearly impossible to get his thoughts in any sort of order at the moment, and Weller didn't want to outright lie to his nephew. Yet he also didn't want to face Sarah's scrutiny when he hadn't even had time to process what had just happened.

"Um, yeah, that was uh… Taylor. But she's not my girlfriend. So that was kind of a surprise," Weller finally replied, doing his best to focus his attention on the present.

"Oh. So she wants to be your girlfriend," Sawyer concluded.

His nephew was only nine but he'd pretty much nailed the question in the centre of Kurt's mind.

"Er. I don't know. We're going to have to talk about that," he said.

"You think we could not tell your mom about this until I figure that out?"

Sawyer gave him a blank look and for a moment Weller thought he was going to have to bribe the kid to keep him quiet. But then his nephew nodded sagely, and made a confession of his own.

"A girl in my class kissed me last year. I didn't tell mom either."

"She would have made a big deal about it."

Kurt grinned and ruffled Sawyer's hair. He figured that was a fairly normal thing for a boy that age to keep secret from his mom. And it certainly helped him out in the whole scheme of things.

"Yeah. That's kind of what I was thinking," Weller replied, with a breath of relief.

They entered the apartment and, true to his word, Sawyer ran off back to his favourite game without any mention of what he'd seen. Sarah was in the kitchen prepping things for dinner and barely looked up when they came in so Kurt started putting groceries away, hoping to hide the fact that he was in complete turmoil.

Weller was halfway through unloading the bag when he jolted, realizing suddenly that he'd just let Jane go off without her detail after giving her shit for sneaking out. For a full minute he stood there staring at a can of beans, stuck between running after her futilely and calling her right then, even though she most likely hadn't brought her phone on her illicit mission.

"Kurt?"

Shit. Busted.

He had no idea what Sarah had just asked him so Weller looked up blankly, trying to push the sudden panic out of his throat. His instinct was to sprint out the door and drive all her possible routes home but he had enough sense to resist immediately giving into his anxious impulses. Though mostly because he'd have to explain his behaviour to his sister, which could then easily lead to Sawyer spilling his secret.

"I asked if you wanted white rice or brown rice?"

"Oh. Brown please."

Weller finally put the can of beans down and tried to shake himself out of the moment. He forced back his emotions by repeatedly telling himself that Jane could take care of herself. Anyone that tried to attack her would regret their decision immediately. Also, he was already too late to catch up with her, so it would likely be a wild Jane chase that would require ditching dinner and lying about everything.

It took a lot of effort to turn his attention to cooking, but with Sarah insisting on helping him, Weller did his best to not let his mind drift. Yet still he constantly found himself lost in the memory of Jane's mouth coming up to meet his; how it felt, finally kissing her after desiring it for so long.

A huge part of him wanted to drive over to her safe house after dinner and experience that feeling again. Despite where that was likely to lead, including all the complications it would create. It had felt so right with Jane, more so than it ever had with anyone else. Which really wasn't surprising considering the way they'd fit together perfectly, right from the start.

Dinner was a complete blur but thankfully Sarah was questioning Sawyer about a school presentation due the next day so Kurt got away with fixating on what had happened and what he should do next. Jane had said she'd see him tomorrow and that was definitely the wisest course of action. Yet he absolutely could not stop thinking about her and waiting until the next day to see her again seemed torturous.

"Kurt?"

Dammit. Caught again.

He looked up blankly at Sarah, who was giving him a suspicious look. Sawyer, on the other hand, was grinning at him slyly.

"Sorry, I've been thinking about a case," he said, figuring it wasn't entirely a lie.

His sister was still eyeing him strangely but in the end she just shook her head at his inattention.

"Must be some case," she commented.

He couldn't quite tell if she suspected what was going on in his head but forced himself to swallow his instant defensiveness. He didn't need to give Sarah any more indication of where his mind had been during the meal.

"Yeah, sorry," Kurt repeated. "My head's not here right now. Why don't you guys go work on that project and I'll clean up dinner."

Again, Sarah flashed him a funny look but was, thankfully, more concerned about helping Sawyer practice his presentation than quizzing Kurt on his odd behaviour. He breathed a sigh of relief when they headed off and left him to deal with the dishes.

As soon as he was alone, Weller pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment. He knew he should call first, before making any rash moves. Yet he didn't feel ready to address what had happened between them. Telling her the truth about his feelings seemed risky to the extreme. Even though she'd been the one on his doorstep initiating the kiss, it still didn't seem prudent to tell her that she had completely blown his mind.

He finally dialled her number, his heart pounding in his ears. And when the call went through to her voicemail, Weller felt more deflated than he should have been.

He'd really wanted to talk to her – partly to make sure she'd gotten home okay but mostly just to hear her voice. It was hard not to think that she was avoiding his call and didn't want to talk to him. Which was stupidly crushing despite everything that had happened between them that night.

Weller hung up after leaving a message and stared blankly out the window. Resisting the urge to dial again, he put the phone down and clenched his hands into fists. Going over to her safe house now would certainly get her detail gossiping about his late night visit.

Forcing back both his worry and his desire, Kurt decided the best course of action was to pour himself a drink. Sitting down at the couch, he sipped at his whiskey and tried to drown out all of his impulses.

He shouldn't drive over there, no matter how much he wanted to see her. So Weller forced himself to stay planted on his sofa, trying not to stare at his phone. Instead, he slugged back the rest of his shot and let his mind drift back to where it had been all night. At the memory of Jane's body, tight against his, and the taste of her mouth on his lips.

###

Jane crawled in the window of the safe house and immediately collapsed to the ground, shaking.

It was as if all the physical and mental shock hit her at once, as soon as she made it back inside. Her lungs still burned with the pain of aspirated water and she was unnaturally cold even though she'd run most of the way back and was finally almost dry.

Shivering on the floor, Jane curled up into herself like she had the first night of her new existence. It seemed absurd that she now wanted to return to that state of innocence, without a single memory or revelation about her past. After all that time and so much effort, it had turned out to be better not knowing anything at all.

Who the hell had she been? 

What kind of person would voluntarily choose to do this to herself?

While it was still possible that her former self had been forced to make that video and that none of it was true, Jane had an ominous sense that it was. Oscar's tattoo had gone a long way in making her believe his story and the video he'd shown her. They'd been engaged, presumably in love. She remembered feeling regretful when returning the ring, knowing that he would be upset with her decision.

Jane groaned, desperately wanting to believe that it was all a ruse. She'd already had so many doubts about her past, even before that night's mindblowing revelation. Now she hated the mere thought of who she had been. Especially as all the implications kept flooding through her.

She had done this, planned this all. Purposely involved Kurt in it for some reason, probably a nefarious one. Oscar had been short on details, yet had implied that her team was involved in something illegal. But the idea that Weller was anything but an honest FBI agent seemed completely insane.

God. Had it really only been hours since she'd kissed him?

It felt like a lifetime had passed, especially the time spent being waterboarded by Tom Carter. Jane shuddered again just at the memory of it; the terror of being unable to breathe, feeling like she was drowning. She noted again that she felt frozen despite finally being dry. Knowing that she needed to get warm, Jane tried to push her way off the floor. But it was as if all the trauma of being physically tortured then emotionally devastated had finally caught up to her and she was stuck in her position.

Images of the night kept flashing through her mind, like a frantic slideshow whirling out of control. Sitting on his doorstep, nervous but determined. Walking away from his place, lost in the memory of her lips against his. Being grabbed and thrown in a van before she even had a chance to react. Then the bag and the water and the drill. The gunshots. Oscar and the video.

Jane felt herself starting to hyperventilate as the cycle of images wouldn't stop; always culminating with that picture of herself, telling her that this was all her idea. Even the thought of betraying her team and being a mole was devastating. She owed them so much and trusted them completely. Especially Weller.

Weller.

A part of her still wanted to see him, even though the idea of telling him what had happened was unthinkable. Because, more than anything, Jane needed comfort at that moment and he was her only source for it. The thought of his warmth wrapped around her shaking body was almost inviting enough to push away the horror of the other thought, the one that had been plaguing her ever since she'd seen that video.

What if Weller found out that she was a terrible person, who'd plotted her way into his life? He would obviously despise her, even if she really was Taylor.

Jane moaned again, desperately wishing that it had all been a dream. There had certainly been an unreal quality to her night, yet her misery and self-hatred were entirely too real.

She was about to spin back into the same cycle of remorse and despair when a familiar noise finally broke through her consciousness. It was her cell phone, which she'd left at the safe house so her movements wouldn't be traceable.

A part of her registered that it was the middle of the night by now, so any call would likely be important. Yet still it seemed impossible to get up and answer the phone.

Eventually Jane waited long enough and the ringing stopped, but now that question was occupying a piece of her mind as well. Who was calling her so late? A part of her worried that it was Oscar, or someone else involved in the conspiracy she was tied to.

Trying to get her limbs back under control, Jane growled at her own weakness. The events of the evening had finally caught up to her, especially the stress her body had been put under. But she didn't have time to cry about it, or tremor alone on the floor. Especially if her phone was ringing at that hour.

As if in a trance, Jane found herself pushing herself onto her elbows first then onto her knees. After that, she somehow managed to get to her feet and stumbled towards the phone, feeling as if she wasn't inhabiting her own body. Everything seemed so unreal still; her entire world had collapsed to reveal something she'd never expected.

Jane finally got to her cell and saw that she had missed a number of calls from Weller. Just seeing his name on the screen made her heart clench with dismay. She couldn't talk to him; he would immediately know that something was wrong.

As she listened to her voicemails, Jane's roiling mind went into overdrive, trying to come up with a solution. If she didn't answer at all Weller was liable to show up at her door, despite the time - he certainly sounded concerned enough. Which would then lead to all sorts of complications she couldn't face at the moment.

It seemed to take forever before the obvious answer finally made its way through her anxiety. She could send him a text to let him know she was safe and put off talking to him until she'd had more time to recover.

Somehow Jane forced her fingers to operate the phone and managed to cobble together an excuse for not answering for so long. Even though she was still shaking, unable to get warm despite being dry and safe.

Sorry, out thinking, no phone. Home now. Talk to you tomorrow.

Goodnight. See you in the morning, Weller replied immediately.

Jane pictured him at home, up late worrying about her. The image, along with the text would normally have made her feel warm, though a little guilty too. Now, she could only think what he would say if he knew who she really was.

He'd hate me, she thought once more. 

As much as I hate myself.

Goodnight, Jane texted back, even though it was clear she wasn't going to be doing any sleeping. She could only hope that Weller would be able to get some rest, after keeping him up so late. As for herself, she had hours left to spend ruminating on what had happened and what she was going to do.

The images still wouldn't stop pouring through her mind, forcing her to relive her terror at being repeatedly drowned, then threatened with a drill, then shown that video. And yet there was that other memory too, that brought on a different sort of panic. Reaching up towards Kurt; seeking comfort in the warm sensation of his lips on her mouth, the feeling of his body right up against hers.

She wanted that, wanted him. But not if it was part of a plot. And definitely not if he was going to get hurt.

Jane realized that tears had started to slip down her cheeks and she didn't have the energy to push them back. Soon they were pouring out and and she didn't bother to try controlling them or even wiping them away. Curling up on the couch, Jane just kept sobbing until her lungs ached and daylight was peering through the blinds.

Opening her eyes and groaning at the light, Jane peeled herself off the sofa and stood in a burning hot shower, trying to wash the dirty feeling from her skin. Yet she didn't feel any more cleansed when she emerged from the water, nor had it lifted any of the heaviness in her soul.

Whatever had happened to her, it was obviously all her own fault. Now all she could do was protect everyone from the fallout of what she'd done. No matter what it took, she wasn't going to let any of them get hurt.

Whoever she'd been before the memory wipe, that wasn't who she was anymore. And this version of her wasn't going to let anyone hurt the people that she loved. Not even herself.

[agustdef]

VIBE

Pairing: Yoongi x Trans!Reader

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 12.4k

Warning: Cheating (not by the pairing); Brief Sexual Content; Mental Health; Mention of Emotional and Mental Abuse; Mention of Mental Health

Rating: NC17

Banner Marker: @guktro​

Lovely Beta Reader: @guktro​ because he’s a persistent little thing and wanted to be the first to read it.

A/N: The fic was written for @guktro​ and takes place in my I Found You and With All My Heart universe. With that being said, I must say that this portrayal of of trans man was written with Gray in mind and to fit his feelings/what he wanted. So, while I apologize if this makes you feel unrepresented I will not deal with any invalidating of Gray’s feelings towards his own identify.

YN rushed to class after sleeping through the first five alarms he set. He’d meant to get up early, but after a night spent focused on getting a side project done he’d fallen asleep early morning. He scolded himself as he sprinted into the classroom, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. His burst of late-night inspiration meant that he’d completed the graphic work he’d been tasked with, a thing that kicked his ass for weeks before that night. And it also meant that he had extra money deposited in his bank account by the time he woke up that morning.

A win.

Well, a partial win because the look his professor gave when he just barely had his butt in a seat as class started lessened some of the joy.

There was no time to linger on any of that though because the moment the professor started talking it was full steam ahead. They’d entered another section of the course, which brought them all closer to designing a website completely from scratch. That meant the coding, art, font, almost everything had to be crafted by them.

It was something that excited YN, but also made him extremely nervous seeing as the end product would be the deciding factor of their final grade. Plus, it was going to be done in pairs and despite having attended school their all undergrad, he wasn't buddy buddy with anyone in his classes or his major for that matter. All his friends were in different majors or different schools. Which meant it would be a random person and goodness knows the odds of that person being a team player were low.

However, he tried to keep positive or at least his friends tried to keep him positive. It didn’t help, so he’d just decided to act like it wasn’t a thing until it was. Something that worked until halfway through the class when he heard his professor mention how he’d out of the partners right that moment.

Panic was not a strong enough word for what YN felt as his head snapped up to look from his laptop screen to the front of the class. His eyes scanned the projection on the wall and he held his breath as he did, hoping that whoever the hell it was wasn’t a total shit show. When he found his own name, part of him wished that he’d had a total shitshow instead of who he got though.

After reading the name he turned his head to look towards the back of the room and his eyes met Min Yoongi’s. Yoongi smiled at YN and tipped his head, something YN did in return so not to be perceived as unhappy before turning around again.

But YN was unhappy. Well, not unhappy because he thought bad of Yoongi or anything, but because the man made him nervous as hell. He’d been in most of YN’s graphic design classes since he’d arrived in Korea and a distraction since day one. YN thought that he was ridiculously cute and then as time went by the attraction grew as he watched him go from pale, flawless skin to his arms covered in tattoos. Something about seeing all the art on him heightened things for YN and made him more of a flustered mess around him. All without having never spoken to him before.

Not that YN hadn’t tried. With bullying from his friend’s, but that day as he’d approached “to ask about the homework” Yoongi was joined by a Black woman that YN had seen around him a few times. They’d smiled at each other, linked arms, and walked away from campus as YN reached the halfway point. It left him a tad heartbroken to see that he hadn’t managed to even say hi and that Yoongi may have had a girlfriend.

From that day on YN continued his thirsting from a distance and leaving it at that.

The project pairing meant that he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore and he was unsure of how that would play out, but for the rest of the class time he told himself he could get through it. The reminder that he had a grade to worry about was enough to give some faux confidence.

That wore off as soon as Yoongi approached him as they were dismissed.

“I rented one of the computer rooms for something else, but would you mind heading there with me right now? We don’t have to get any real work done, but it could get the whole expectations part out of the way,” Yoongi said.

Startled, YN only found it in himself to nod and then off they went. Yoongi led the way out the building and to one several feet away that was filled with private rooms for students to rent for course work. They checked in and went into one of the computer rooms on the lower floor.

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, just unpacked his stuff and booted up the computer. And that left YN awkwardly sitting in a chair next to him, his bag clutched against his chest as he waited. He didn’t know what to do next and that was more about the awkward first group mate meeting then it did any attraction that he felt.

Once Yoongi was done with all his prep he sat in the other chair and turned to YN. He must have sensed the tension because he smiled wide, one of those gum showing ones that YN had seen once or twice when he was talking to his friends. It had a strange calming effect.

“You already know, I’m Min Yoongi,” he said, his hand held out.

YN was a deer in headlights for a second, but soon enough reached out to grasp the hand.

“I’m YN LN.”

“Nice to meet you, YN. We have other classes together, right?”

“Yes, we do.”

Conversation fizzled for a second after that and the awkward tension returned, but Yoongi didn’t allow them to sit in it for too long.

“Okay. I know I said we wouldn’t do any actual work today, but do you have any ideas for what we should make the site for?”

The next beat of silence was because YN needed a second to think, before remembering that he’d made a list in the beginning of the semester, so he’d have it. Without saying a word he unlocked his phone and searched through the notes app to find it. Once it was on the screen he handed the phone over to Yoongi.

There was a look of confusion on his face before he glanced down at the screen and saw what was there. He looked over it for a moment before handing it back.

“We have some of the same ideas. I thought about using this as an excuse to build something for my shop and portfolio, but we don’t have to do that. Don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to get unpaid work out of you.”

That piqued YN’s interest.

“For your shop?” he asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes, I work at a tattoo shop.”

“Ah. Then we could do that. Doing it for a real thing always makes it easier to get the work done. And at least here payment would be a grade and something to add to my resume as a real in use website. But I’d also take a tattoo as payment,” YN said jokingly.

At first Yoongi appeared taken aback, but then his smile returned.

“Anything you want.”

A shift happened in YN and he relaxed a lot more, even putting his bag on the floor.

“Cool, you have any specifics you want to try for?”

And from there they just talked, bouncing ideas off each other and cracking the occasional joke. It was an easy flow they had going and by the time they thought to save some things for a later date in mind an hour had passed.

YN cringed when he saw the clock. “Sorry, for eating into your room time.”

Yoongi waved him off.

“It’s fine. It means I can’t procrastinate and will get something done before my sister comes to meet me for a late lunch. She’ll kill me if I don’t get it done,” he said.

Thought of his own sister made YN frown, but he pushed away the thoughts and gathered his stuff to leave. He turned and smiled at Yoongi, then waved as he backed from the room.

“Text me your schedule and we can figure out when to meet again,” YN said.

Yoongi nodded and they both turned away from each other, but just as YN pushed the door open Yoongi called out to him. Confused, he turned back to see Yoongi’s brows furrow as if in that.

“What’s up?” YN asked.

“You go by he/him, right?”

Discomfort built in an instant as YN was unsure of the reaction that would come with his answer, but he nodded his head and Yoongi smiled again.

“Okay, just making sure so I don’t use the wrong thing.”

With that they said their goodbyes again and YN left, but he left with a happy feeling inside him. He’d moved past the need for outside validation of his gender, but it was always nice to feel someone being considerate. Especially when that person was someone he’d never told before and had to have heard it through the grapevine. He knew how easy it was to misgender him because his appearance screamed feminine and he had no impending plans nor made an effort to make his transition physically apparent.

It was just nice for it to not have someone make a big deal out of it.

So, he walked away from that first meeting beyond happy with the way things went and confident about the project. Which was how he felt after every meeting after that and even on the day that they presented their project.

Everything had gone so well and he only had one regret: Not getting a chance to know Yoongi much outside of their assignment. But the semester was over and YN was so busy with school, work, and life that he barely even had the time for his friends.

And the next thing he knew he was on a plane on the way back home to the US.

 ### 

The moment YN stepped into his apartment he wished he hadn’t. He’d closed the door gently as not to rouse his boyfriend who worked the night shift, but when he turned to face the living room he saw that the man was already awake. In fact, he was awake and he had company.

On the couch sat Sam and between his legs was some “friend” of his with his dick halfway down her throat. The sight didn’t startle YN and he barely had the energy to be upset about it. Especially when both of them realized he was there and could only look like a deer in headlights. Well, Sam was pretending to care that he’d been caught, but YN saw the way he fought the little smirk that wanted to form on his lips.

“Oh, my goodness,” the girl said.

That was what made YN focus solely on her and he remembered her from a few group hang outs. She was a sweet girl who was newer to the group and Sam liked to hang around her lot, though she always seemed to put distance between them when he got too close. It seemed like she’d given up on doing that.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” she said.

“So, if I didn’t it was okay to give oral to my boyfriend?” YN asked, his voice empty.

She shook her head profusely and rose to her feet, fixing her clothes as she did.

“No. My goodness no. Sam… he, well he said you guys broke up. I wouldn’t… I’m not the type to…”

Her scrambling to find an excuse should’ve given YN some sort of relief or reassurance that she wasn’t a horrible person, but he felt nothing. He merely held up his hand to get her to stop and walked back out of the door without another word to either of them.

He’d planned to get in a quick lunch nap, thus coming home when he did, but that was out of the window. So, YN walked around aimlessly until he stumbled upon a cafe. Once inside, he ordered something and found an empty booth away from everyone.

The first few minutes were sat in silence with him merely staring at the other bench seat blankly. He didn’t speak or move until the barista brought over his drink and sandwich. A brief thank you and then he began to nibble on the food, hoping it was enough to focus his mind on something else, but it wasn’t.

All he could think about was the disaster that was his life.

When YN returned to the US he saw it as temporary and as a means to help out his family. His mother struggled a little and he wanted to help, plus he’d missed them since he hadn’t had the chance to go home during his undergrad. Things were fine for a while, but then they all just became so mean and uncaring about his feelings. His mother tried, but sometimes she was just the worst. And his little sister was rude and acted like she hated him or at least that’s what it felt like. Every second of the day it was her trying to undermine and trash talk YN, get the others on her side. And while YN’s brother wasn’t like the other two, he wasn’t the most helpful in saying anything when they ganged up on him.

It was horrible for his already not that great mental state and at some point he was pushed too far. The only option for his own health and safety was to leave, but he poured so much into them it was hard. After talking to a friend back in Korea they got him a plan to go back and he saved as much as he could for the ticket. And the moment he had enough his bags were packed and he was on a plane there.

From there he stayed with friend’s, though as they all progressed in life and started dating seriously or getting engaged it became harder for him to do. Thankfully, he had started dating and as he prepared to find someone else to move with Sam offered for them to stay together. YN had been unsure, there was a gut feeling he didn’t listen to, but living with a boyfriend prematurely was better than being homeless.

So, he moved in, but things dissolved quickly. Sam was trash. His manipulative nature became more obvious and though YN could see it, he was really into him. Certain things were let go or blatantly ignored and that gave him incentive to get worse. YN had found him cheating twice and he’d let Sam talk him into staying both times, but things were still bad. Especially as he became disillusioned and realized he had to stay until he could find a place he could afford to live.

Seoul was expensive and even on his great salary he couldn’t afford it. So, he endured it. Dealt with Sam’s bullshit and tried to remind his heart that Sam wasn’t good for them, despite how they still acted as if they were a happy couple.

Life refused to give him a break and with everything crashing down he’d flirted with returning to the US, but that was no better than staying with Sam. And he didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be in Seoul. But that didn’t stop the thoughts as he sat there and ate his subpar sandwich at the cafe he hated.

All he had to do was have a few friends go to get his stuff with him, stay with them for maybe a day and take the next plane back home. It was that easy, though nothing about it felt easy. Especially as he reminded himself he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want his joy ruined by someone else.

Which meant that before he spiraled in a public place he needed to pull it together and check apartments again. He’d done it on the train ride back to his apartment and found nothing, but things changed.

After several deep breaths he pulled out his phone and scrolled through all the possible apps for housing. Unsurprisingly nothing that he’d rent alone was in his price range that he could do, which frustrated him and almost made him put his phone down but he pushed forward. He’d accepted a long time ago that he would need a roommate, so he narrowed his searches for those kinds and found a few, but they were mostly creepy or still too much.

That’s when he was really ready to give up, but then the app he was on glitched and refreshed the page. Annoying because he had to scroll all the way down again, but also a heaven send. As he re-scrolled he stumbled upon a listing that was below what he was willing to pay and in a great neighborhood close to his place of work.

YN had never moved so fast to look through the pictures and see what other information the person had to say. The room that would be his was spacious, had great windows, and a wonderful view. Plus, the rules laid out weren’t overbearing.

A simple scroll to the bio of the owner, Sidney, had him even happier because he saw a picture of a Black woman with a kind smile. She explained she was a resident at a prestigious hospital and her last roommate moved out, so she needed someone else to help pay the bills. And there was a direct line about not minding gender at all as long as you were a decent person.

For once life appeared to be on YN’s side, so he scrambled to message Sidney through the app giving the required info about himself and making it clear that he could come to meet her as soon as she was available.

He hoped for a response before he got off work, but what he didn’t expect was one ten minutes later as he left the cafe. She told him it was an off day so he could come after five. YN responded quickly that he got off work at fifteen minutes after five and could be there by five thirty. Sidney replied with a confirmation and YN went back to work with a pep in his step and some hope.

However, that hope turned to nerves as he made his way to the apartment. He even debated not going in once he reached the building but persisted and made his way up with the mantra “you got this” playing in his head. It was effective enough that by the time he knocked he believed it.

The door opened a few seconds after his first knock and he was greeted by the woman who’d he’d seen in the picture. She smiled at him.

“You must be YN,” she said.

YN nodded. “Yes, and you’re Sidney.”

“That I am. Please do come in.”

Sidney motioned YN inside and he paused to kick off his shoes before following her further into the apartment. It was so much nicer in person and he felt himself get excited at the thought of living there but had to remind himself that it was possible he wouldn’t. He had to get along with her after all and just because she seemed nice didn’t mean that she would just let him stay or actually was nice.

“I can show you around and then we can sit and talk or the other way around, whatever you’d prefer. Also, a random man may appear at some point, he does not live here but insists on invading my home anyway,” Sidney said, her voice grew louder as she said the last part.

“Oh, shut it,” a voice shouted out in the distance.

YN was confused at first, but also amused by whatever dynamic Sidney had with the mystery man who was supposedly an unwelcomed guest.

“Tour first is fine,” YN said.

“Tour it is then. You can put down your bag and we can start in the kitchen,” she said.

Without looking YN sat his bag on the couch and followed closely behind Sidney. She walked him through the space, pointing what was where and what was what. Every room got a somewhat detailed explanation, even the empty room that could be his. It was weird how in-depth Sidney was for showing someone who hadn’t been given the go ahead to live there yet. But YN assumed it was just how she was or some way to ensure that the person knew a lot before making a choice themselves.

Five minutes later they finished and walked back out to the living room where there was suddenly someone on the couch. YN assumed it was the person Sidney had been calling out before and shrugged it off.

“Okay, now we’ll sit down and talk for a bit. Get to know each other,” Sidney said as she plopped down onto an armchair.

“And if you aren’t some creep I get to ask you questions too,” the man said.

Something about the voice was familiar, but YN didn’t know just how familiar until he finally walked around the couch and could see the man’s tattoos and then his face. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide as he stared at him.

Yoongi’s reaction was practically the same, going from an intimidating glare to a fish out of water.

“YN?” he asked.

“Uh, you two know each other?” a confused Sidney asked.

All YN could do was nod as he thought about what kind of craziness was his life.

“Um, yeah. We went to college together. Had a lot of the same class and he even helped me build the shop's website,” Yoongi said.

That’s all it took for Sidney to join and create a trio of shocked expressions.

“He’s that YN?”

For some reason that snapped YN out of his momentary glitching as he wondered what she meant by that, but by the glare Yoongi leveled her with he was sure he’d never figure that out. Though Sidney appeared unphased by his clear displeasure and simply shrugged. Which was met with a roll of the eyes before Yoongi focused on YN again.

“I thought you went back home,” Yoongi said.

YN took a moment to clear his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I did. But the plan was always to come back and I did that two years ago.”

“Oh, that’s good. Glad you got to come back,” Yoongi said, a wide smile on his lips.

As he’d learned years back Yoongi’s smile could make anything feel okay and all the nerves and confusion YN felt before he smiled were pushed to the wayside.

“Well I’ve made my decision. You can move in,” Sidney said, disrupting the moment.

Both of them nearly broke their necks turning to look at her, eyes nearly popping out of their heads.

“W-what?” YN asked.

“You have a job and the ability to pay rent, right?”

“Yes. I’m a section leader at LE International. I can even show pay stubs if you’d like.”

“Then that’s that. Yoongi clearly isn’t opposed to you and that’s good enough for me. You can move in whenever.”

“Even right now?”

“If you want, but is that all you have to move in with?” Sidney asked, tone cautious.

Unsure of what to say YN simply shook his head, but when neither of them said anything or pushed he felt the need to give an explanation. Plus, he was let in without any issue and so he felt a sense of comfort with them.

“I do have more stuff, but it’s at my old apartment and going there isn’t a good idea. At least not right now,” he said.

At that Sidney and Yoongi shared a look for a second before Sidney turned to YN and smiled at her though it was a tad unsettling, much different from the ones she’d directed YN’s way before.

“When do they leave the apartment?” she asked.

Startled, YN looked at her for a long time before answering.

“Um, he’s off tonight but works again in two todays,” YN said.

Sidney nodded before turning Yoongi. “Call Kookie, Namjoon, and hell even Jin. Those wide ass shoulders of his are intimidating all on their own. Tell them to meet us here in fifteen.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word, just threw a reassuring look YN’s way before leaving the room to make the calls.

All of it happened so quickly that YN took a second longer to process it all.

“Oh no, you don’t have to ge-”

A shake of Sidney’s head shut him up.

“Two days is much too long to be without your stuff and even if it wasn’t it may not all be there if he sees you aren’t coming back. I know I’m overstepping a bit and I can call this all off, but you deserve to be in an environment away from whatever it is you’re trying to escape and that means without fear of never getting your stuff back. So, we can proceed and even go alone if it makes you more comfortable or stop it here.”

A warmness filled YN and he felt his shoulders shake a little as tears he didn’t know he held back fell. People he barely knew were being nicer to him than of those he’d known for years or his whole life. And they were prepared to go up against her ex for him without a single question asked. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Please help,” he managed to mutter.

Sidney nodded and carefully moved closer to YN, asking before she touched him and then easing him into it before pulling him into a tight hug. Something YN didn’t know that he needed until it happened.

Once they got him calm and their friends arrived they headed out to YN’s ex’s place. He was nervous the whole way, but the entire thing was a bit of a blur. They got there, their friend’s Jungkook and Namjoon appearing behind YN was enough to keep Sam at bay and the others packed up his stuff. There were a few words from Sam, but any time he shifted the wrong way Jungkook took a step forward and he shut up. It was a weird switch from the sweet-faced tattooed kid she’d met at Sidney’s and the one ready to kick his ex’s ass if he breathed wrong.

Everything was moved out and Sam had his key back within about thirty minutes. And they were back at the apartment soon after that. They all helped YN unpack his stuff and get comfortable in his room, even ordering his favorite food for dinner.

By eleven that night he was curled up in his new room, in his new apartment, and for the first time in a while he felt like things clicked.

### 

Comfort wasn’t something YN easily found, but it settled in after the first two weeks of living with Sidney. Though she was very busy most of the time with work and school life, she went out of her way to make sure YN was okay and taking proper care of himself. And all her friends were just the same.

After week one of being there he’d met the rest of the friend group, which consisted of Taehyung and Jimin, who he knew from work. They’d been nothing but kind and didn’t push him to tell his life story. All they requested was that he tell them when they crossed a line or truly didn’t want to participate in something; and they’d backed off quickly the one time it happened.

From there it had been so easy to mesh with them, come out of his comfort zone, and just live his life without worries of his ex or where he’d live next. Months passed so quickly and he hadn’t endured a panic attack at all.

It was a nice change of pace and put a bit of a pep in his step.

After a night of watching movies and a morning of breakfast made by Sidney who came off a twelve-hour shift and who apparently craved a mountain of homemade blueberry pancakes. YN didn’t complain because for one it was food he didn’t have to make and for two he hadn’t had pancakes in over a year. So, consuming all that crossed his plate was a must. Though as he traveled to work regret in the form of drowsiness settled in quite a bit.

All that left the moment he stepped in front of the work. Though he’d been working there a while it made him quite anxious to go in every day. He loved his job and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but sometimes that feeling was enough to make him want to try and freelance or something so he could avoid offices and a team of people.

But that wasn’t why his demeanor changed when he arrived. Oh no, it was the two men who stood off to the side of the main doors that did that. Or more so one of the men that was there.

Jimin and Yoongi stood in front of the building with smiles on their faces as they talked together about something that appeared beyond hilarious from the outside looking in. They were laughing and wrapped up in their own worlds as they spoke. Not noticing YN’s gawking nor the many others who eyed them up intensely. Though to be fair YN was sure Jimin was used to it from how much it happened daily. However, with Yoongi there and wearing a short sleeve shirt with his tattoos on full display the attention increased tenfold. Which was always the norm when he came in to work with the company on something.

At some point YN found himself drifting from the momentary drooling over how hot Yoongi was to enjoying the expressions of those who saw them. Something he got so wrapped up in that he didn’t notice Jimin calling his name and waving him over for about fifteen seconds.

Once he snapped out of it, he walked over, head ducked as he avoided the prying eyes of those who noticed where he was headed.

“Hey, we’ve been waiting for you. Thought you normally came in earlier?” Jimin asked after they parted from a hug.

YN nodded. “I do, but I woke up to Sidney cooking breakfast. There was so much of it. She wouldn’t stop filling my plate.”

Yoongi laughed at that, the first sound he’d heard after he’d walked over. It had YN staring him down out of curiosity, but that washed away once he pulled him into a side hug. The affection was brief, but still quite nice.

“Blueberry pancakes?” Yoongi asked.

That guess would’ve left YN from months before surprising, but he’d learned that Yoongi and Sidney knew each other creepy well. Like there was being close to someone and then there was this telepathic like connection where Sidney could see the way Yoongi’s nose twitched and was fast enough to get him a tissue before he sneezed and vice versa.

Though he didn’t think about it often YN was quite jealous of their sibling-like dynamic when compared to the one he had with his own siblings.

“Yeah, she said something about needing them before she lost it,” YN said.

Before Yoongi could respond to that both of them were ushered inside of the building with Jimin muttering about needing to get into the conference room on time. They went without struggle because an angry Jimin wasn’t something anyone wanted and being late wasn’t on the agenda for that morning.

Once the three of them were inside of the elevator Yoongi spoke up.

“She does that when she’s coming off multiple twelve hour shifts sometimes. She’ll either pass out or stress cook blueberry pancakes. I think with the school part of her life finally letting up she has enough energy to make the pancakes now.”

With that new information YN made a mental note to learn to make the pancakes so sometimes she could come home and eat them then pass out. He knew she was a stress cooker and baker, but surely the craving for pancakes existed even when she was dead on her feet. So, the chance for her to get the satisfaction of both was something he liked for her. She worked so hard nonstop and deserved nice things.

While YN plotted on how to get her to teach him the recipe they reached their floor and headed out, going straight to the conference they were to meet that morning. When they walked in they were the last ones, but others were clearly still settling in which meant that their entrance wasn’t the focus. They moved quickly to get into their seats and a few minutes later the meeting began.

“As you know we’re taking on work for an upcoming idol group. Usually that would mean very little from us because they have an in-house team of some sort, but this project is out of their depth. They’re looking for some top-notch work with the concept they’re going for. And because they want things to be cohesive you will be working closely to give ideas and creative direction. This is very involved,” Section Leader Kim said.

Everyone muttered words of understanding before she continued.

“Some of you have hands-on experience with prop type things, so you will be in charge of helping conceptualize that and bring it to life. While three of you will be dealing with a lot of their social media and branding stuff. You will be creating from scratch for them to ensure they appear as unique as possible.”

There were more murmurs and then she directed her gaze towards YN, Jimin, and Yoongi.

“You three will be in charge of all things social media and branding. You will craft from top to bottom. I know YN has experience in it and Yoongi has done it a few times before when he freelances for us, many of those times will partnered with Jimin. So, I’m counting on all of you to do this. Understood?”

“Yes,” they all said.

“Good. There is a meeting set with the company’s creative director, the group, and their manager for an hour from now. Go prepare with your best portfolio examples and take the van that’ll be waiting downstairs in twenty minutes.”

In an instant they were on their feet and out of the room. A mix of fear and excitement drove them to go to their desks and grab any printed things they might need as well as chargers for their tablets just in case. Well, Jimin and YN did, Yoongi simply plopped down into a random chair and started going through his own tablet. When YN walked past he saw him copying certain stuff into one file marked with the project name.

Within fifteen minutes they were ready and in the van that drove them to wherever the meeting was.

YN felt the anxious energy that filled the vehicle but tried to keep his own in check. His focus was on his own tablet organizing some things, so they were easy to find when he tried to show them. However, he did that so quickly that he needed something else to preoccupy his mind, so he opened up his coloring app and used the pen to color in the picture of a sunset. The calming effect wasn’t the same as if it had been paper and crayons, but it helped a great deal. So much so that by the time they reached the company building he felt like he was entering a lunch date with work colleagues and not walking into the lion’s den to do his job well enough to please the entertainment company and his boss.

That didn’t mean that he felt confident enough to take the lead though. Yoongi was the one to do that with YN and Jimin following close behind him. They both got so nervous in new, high pressure environments that it was good to have someone else take charge sometimes.

And with Yoongi at the helm things moved smoothly. They got inside, were brought into a conference room, provided drinks, and NDAs for them to sign. No one tried to be difficult nor did anyone side eye them as often happened, though there were lingering eyes on Yoongi’s tattoos. Would’ve been some on Jimin’s too if he hadn’t worn a long sleeve.

Their wait for others only lasted for about five minutes before they were standing and greeting the group of seven. They all introduced themselves and as the introductions took place YN was shocked to learn that the group was the four, heavily tattooed men. He was very here for it, but surprised nonetheless.

Surprises didn’t stop there though. The moment butts hit seats the creative director dove into what they were looking to do. All of it came at them fast and YN barely had time to process the gist of what the hell was going on. It was about halfway that Jimin asked them to slow down a little and they obliged, explaining things in a less excited manner. Once he finished each of the members took a turn explaining what they hoped things to look like.

From there they were all allowed to share their past work and some ideas. They’d received vague information from work so they’d kind of gotten some understanding of what was wanted, but nothing they had truly fit. That wasn’t a problem though, there was some interest in some of the stuff and it was only the first meeting.

Yoongi had finished explaining something to the manager who’d wondered if they could create some sort of glitch vibe to incorporate when one of the members, Hyun, pulled his attention.

“I apologize if I offend you or it’s too personal, but who gave you that tattoo?” he asked.

Yoongi paused before following Hyun’s gaze to the large tattoo on his forearm that was about as intricate as the others, but glitched out and splashed with colors. It was one of YN’s favorites.

“Oh, Jimin did,” Yoongi said while pointing towards the man in question.

That led to them all looking wide eyed at as bashful Jimin buckled a bit under their gazes. There was some nervous energy wafting off him and YN wasn’t sure if it was because they all appeared amazed or because despite major changes to who could tattoo in Korea they were displeased to see it so openly admitted.

YN knew it was the former, well it mostly seemed like the former.

“You do tattoos?” Moon, another member, asked.

Jimin nodded and then cleared his throat before speaking.

“It’s something I do on the side because I like it. I usually work at Yoongi’s shop. He’s a bit of a reverse of me, works full time doing that and freelances doing this.”

Again, they looked beyond shook at the revelation and that was when things truly got rolling as they brainstormed ideas. They took a few pictures of Yoongi’s tattoo and then built off the concept of it. Though YN was not a tattoo artist, nor did he have any, it was easy to keep up since he was around them so often and found them interesting.

Time flew with their newfound excitement and suddenly four hours had passed. Since the group had other things to do they left first and after finalizing some things with them the creative director also took his leave. He said he wouldn’t need anything from them for the rest of the day, but to spend time coming up with things that fit for what they were trying to do for their meeting a few days later.

So, they left on a high note. The issue was that they were so excited and eager about everything they found themselves at Yoongi’s working on things immediately. They’d all taken up space and began working on designs that they could implement for it. They were only going for rough sketches or bare bones ideas to be decided on next meeting, but it was all consuming.

Seokjin had come through with food and forced them to sleep, but they worked so hard to get everything done. And if it weren’t for their excitement to bounce ideas off each other they would have gone all that time with no social activity at all. Not that isolated while submerging yourself in work so much you only had two people to talk to was a good thing.

Thankfully, they emerged from that behavior before Sidney had to make good to come over and kick all their asses. They’d finished everything in time for their next meeting and when that one went well they truly felt like hot shit.

However, they needed to rough draft a website. Something that Jimin knew how to do but not like them, which worked out since he had a few appointments to do and it didn’t hinder progress. Though it did leave Yoongi and YN alone, something that they hadn’t been since their college project. Which meant awkwardness to start before they got into a groove and found the right flow.

It reminded YN of how much he’d loved working with Yoongi back in college, as well as stirred up some feelings he hadn’t thought about. Not enough to say that he truly fell for the man, but enough that he wished he could ask him to accompany him on a non-work-related outing just the two of them.

Luck was on YN’s side though, because the moment that they finished the website Yoongi turned to him and smiled. One that YN returned whole heartedly before raising his hand so that they could high-five. Yoongi rolled his eyes but did it anyway and then there was a shift.

Instead of releasing YN’s hand he held onto it and stared at him for several, long seconds before he finally said anything.

“I’m going to say something and please tell me if I’m crossing a line,” Yoongi said.

“Uh, okay.”

“I know that it hasn’t been that long since the whole crazy ex thing and us reconnecting in a way we hadn’t when we first met. But I want to take you out on a date. To be clear it’s not anything extremely serious, I’ve just been feeling something and I need to act on it before I allow myself to possibly feel anything stronger.”

YN’s eyes went wide two sentences and just stayed that way for a bit. His mind replayed the words over and over in his head, knowing that he’d heard Yoongi right the first time he said it.

“You want to go on a date with me?” he finally managed to ask.

Again, Yoongi’s smile took form as he nodded. “Yes, I do if that’s something you want to do. No pressure, I’ll be fine if you say no. I’ll even be fine if you say yes and we just don’t fully click that way. A no pressure situation.”

Despite the constant reminder of no pressure, YN felt a great deal of pressure but also none at the same time. He wanted the date to go well so he wanted to try to make it work but knowing that Yoongi was prepared to continue as they were if what they thought was there wasn’t was a relief.

Probably the chillest request for a date he’d ever gotten. Definitely from the chillest person he’d ever encountered.

“Yes, I would like to go on a date with you,” YN finally said.

Yoongi’s smile getting any wider felt impossible but it did. His expression and body language screamed happy and that only enhanced the joy that spread through YN after he’d said yes.

“Anything in mind?” YN asked.

For a moment Yoongi’s lips formed a pout as he mulled it over and then his eyes lit up as he seemingly figured it out.

“There’s this temporary restaurant and art gallery in Incheon. They have some of the work by that one artist you said you liked recently. You could meet me at the shop after my last client on Saturday and we could go. If that’s something that interests you,” he said.

All it took was the mention of seeing the artist Bri’s work for YN to be on board with the plan in an instant.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he said.

Laughter escaped Yoongi at the response and he nodded. “Saturday it is then.”

YN went home sometime after that feeling a kind of lightness and genuine excitement that he hadn’t in a while. And he didn’t care if it only lasted a few minutes or hours, he savored it. 

### 

The entire time YN got ready for the date he’d been calm. There were no worries or internal meltdowns, no matter how much closer he got to the actual meet up time. He’d gotten up from his binge watching of Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan and showered, then dressed without issue. Didn’t even overthink what to wear, just found something that he deemed date appropriate and casual. Though he did pause for a moment to thank the heavens that the dress code for where they were going was relaxed.

Even as he applied his make-up and waved bye to a half away asleep, still in scrubs Sidney on the couch on his way out he was fine. It was a miracle and he was so happy to not be beside himself, but naturally that all came crashing down.

As he approached the last stop on his train ride he noticed a few people gathered together laughing and talking. They’d all been there since the stop before, but YN paid them no mind as he played a game on his phone. But an extra loud laugh drew his attention and when his head lifted to glance there way he realized he knew them. It was a collection of some of his old friends, ones who’d let them stay with them for a bit and were also the reason he’d met his ex. And with them was aforementioned ex.

A discomfort built in YN’s stomach, not from seeing them but from the idea of confrontation. Despite clear attempts to block him and keep away, Sam had made it his mission to pop up someway in YN’s life for a few months before vanishing completely. And though he’d given up, YN knew him to hold a grudge and be persistent. If he saw YN there would be some attempt to talk and with people to back him avoiding him was hard. But YN told himself he could do it.

YN looked away from them and focused on his phone once more but made sure to keep alert just in case they saw him. He made sure he had everything he came onto the train with, moved his purse from his lap to crossbody, and held his phone firm with Yoongi’s number at the ready.

The moment the train came to his stop he stood and moved past them quickly, keeping his head down and his eyes averted. However, the train jolted a little harder than usual sending him stumbling into one of them a little. He did his best to offer a quick apology and then turned back to the doors willing them to open faster. And when they did he bolted out of there just as his name was being called out by Sam.

People around him were startled by the person sprinting through the station and up to the surface, but YN didn’t stop until he was across the street from the station and amongst a group of people. He paused to catch his breath and ensure he hadn’t been followed out of there and when both of those things were clear he made his way towards the tattoo shop. Thankfully, it wasn’t far from the train station.

As he walked there the adrenaline from that close call left him and made way for the nerves that had remained at bay all day. It was as if they’d been awakened by running into people he wanted to avoid, though something told him it was more likely they’d just been waiting for the right moment to strike. What better moment was when he was only a few hundred feet from the shop's entrance.

One more time that night YN found himself pausing to pull it together, words of encouragement and surety repeated in his head to get him to make the final steps. And once he got in front of the door he was calmer, though not as much as he preferred.

“You got this,” he whispered just as he pushed the door open.

Upon entering he was greeted by Jimin who sat behind the front desk and Jungkook who’d just emerged from one of the back rooms. They both wore genuine smiles, clearly happy to see YN and that was enough for the incident from several minutes ago to leave his brain. People who actually cared deserved more of his focus than anyone else.

“Hey, he just finished up and is cleaning his space. You can go back there if you want,” Jungkook said after a brief hug.

After he hugged Jimin he headed on back without a word. He’d been to their shop a few times and it wasn’t hard to find things. Yoongi’s room was the last one in the hall and when YN reached it he took a deep breath before knocking on it. There was silence and then a soft come in before he proceeded.

When YN opened the door he was met with Yoongi wiping down his chair and the strong smell of a bleach laced cleaning substance. It made his nose wrinkle and he almost backed out of the room, but he got used to the smell quickly.

“Hi,” YN said.

Though that was the natural thing to say YN beat himself up for saying it. Something in him said he could have said something cooler, but he knew damn well trying to be cool or appear chill or whatever the hell he wanted to go for was stupid. Also, Yoongi didn’t give a fuck about that anyway.

Stopping his efforts to clean off the chair, Yoongi stood tall and turned to smile at him. It was wide and though there was a trace of tired etched into his face it didn’t detract from the genuineness of it.

“Hey. I’ll be done in a few minutes. Just want to make sure things are good since I don’t come in tomorrow.”

YN nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll just stare at this wall for a while.”

Yoongi laughed at that and then went back to cleaning.

And true to his word YN proceeded to stare at the wall. But it wasn’t like it was blank, the thing was covered in some of this work. Yoongi tended to make prints of his favorite pieces or the ones that spoke best to his ability and put them framed up on walls. Which meant that the space was beautiful and YN could get lost in examining them all for hours. He’d tuned out Yoongi, Jungkook, Jin, and Sidney talking the first time he laid eyes on it because he was so swept up in it all. They’d all taken faux offense to him ignoring them, but all voiced understanding of why. Their compliments had Yoongi turning red by the end of it.

Something was different about the first time though. At first YN couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but a few seconds later he realized a piece had been moved and there was a new one in its place. While the other had been a drawing the one in its place was a chunk of text. It was in a beautiful script that one would deem impossible to do so fluidly on skin, but Yoongi had achieved that.

Once YN got past that he noticed that it appeared to be words from Puck’s final monologue in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That made him laugh, but also got him thinking about something that he wanted that was similar. He’d wanted a tattoo when he was younger and then as he grew up and dealt with life the urge became stronger, though he had more direction than before.

While thinking he hadn’t realized how far he’d drifted until Yoongi pressed a hand to his lower back.

“See something you want?” Yoongi asked.

Instinct told him to push the idea aside and tell Yoongi it was nothing, but his mouth and brain seemed to disconnect on the matter.

“Just thinking about how I’ve wanted a tattoo for forever. And this one just makes the urge all the more real.”

There was no response at first and that made YN start to doubt sharing that, but when he turned to glance at Yoongi he saw a thoughtful expression.

“How about we do one?” Yoongi asked after a few more moments tick by.

“Now?”

“Now. I still owe you a tattoo, don’t I? Plus, we can go to the exhibit another day. Though if you don’t want to spend our first date getting takeout and getting a tattoo then we can do it later.”

For a moment YN thought about it, but then realized there wasn’t much to think about at all.

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

And that’s all that was needed to get Yoongi smiling again and guiding YN over to his desk where he sketched out the tattoos. They dove into Yoongi’s portfolio for inspiration, but nothing fully stuck no matter how much YN loved it. After who knows how long they ordered dinner from a nearby sushi restaurant and even as they ate they focused on finding the one.

It was frustrating and YN felt a bit bad about using their date like that only for them to come up with nothing. He’d planned to voice that thought, but then suddenly Yoongi cleared all the stuff and pulled out a pencil and a sketch pad. Then he turned to face YN, expression serious, something that YN had grown used to while they worked together.

“What’s your favorite color?” Yoongi asked.

“Uh… blue.”

“Mine too. Favorite cliche tattoo?”

“Song lyrics.”

Yoongi nodded along and started writing something on the paper, but he held it so YN couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Favorite time of year?”

“Winter.”

There was more nodding and writing before Yoongi looked up once more, his eyes fixed on YN’s as he spoke.

“And without giving me some job or basic life goal, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

And surprisingly YN knew how to respond without question. “The hero of my own story.”

That got a small smile out of him and he even reached over to squeeze YN’s knee before he wrote something down and then tore the page out of the book. YN watched Yoongi sit the paper to the side and then him sketching on the blank page under it.

Not a word was uttered as he did so, the room silent and uncomfortable. Of course, confusion filled YN but after all the time spent looking and with the determined look of Yoongi’s face he let him do his thing. Which only lasted for a few minutes before Yoongi flipped the sketch pad for YN to see what it was.

YN burst into tears as he took it in.

Everything about it was perfect despite it being in slightly rough shape. The right words were there and even the more drawing oriented parts of it fit so perfectly and didn’t overtake the words. Goodness, YN couldn’t stop focusing on the words. They just slapped him in the face with how well that fit what he wanted. How well they fit him.

Gathering himself was hard, but he managed to make it clear to Yoongi that he loved it and that’s what he wanted. Yoongi wanted to comfort him, but YN waved it off and after making sure that all was fine he got to work getting it drawn on his tablet so he could print it out for stencil.

All of it happened so fast from there, they’d found a spot for it and how it would lay and YN was in the chair ready to go. Yoongi had all his stuff ready to go and the buzz of the tattoo gun brought YN back to, but something was different then.

The euphoria from finding the right thing and finally doing something he’d wanted for years was still there, but there was that voice in the back of his head poking at it. It’s what he wanted and he knew that wouldn’t change, but something just felt off. Like it wasn’t the right time for him to be getting it. Like he wasn’t ready for it.

“Wait,” he said just before Yoongi’s needle touched his skin.

Thankfully, Yoongi heard him just in time and pulled away, turning the gun off and setting it down on the table. Though there was clear confusion on his face he didn’t say anything, just waited for YN to be ready for whatever the next thing was.

His kindness and patience made YN feel guilty and a little bit stupid. He’d gotten a date with Yoongi only for them to not go on the planned one because of some whim that YN had and couldn’t go through with.

“I… I want the tattoo, but I just can’t right now. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I just… something is telling me that right now isn’t the right time. And I hate that because I know I love it and want it, but I’d hate to have the joy of getting it clouded by whatever weird shit is happening in my head. And I hate it more because we could have been finishing a really great date doing something we both enjoy instead of spending hours doing this only for me to chicken out during the last second. It’s unfair to you. And I’m so, so, so sorry, Yoon.”

YN’s ranting would’ve gone on longer if the guilt hadn’t increased once he realized that he’d been talking for a bit and was definitely going to keep going if he wasn’t stopped.

Following his little spiral there was silence before Yoongi reached out and held both of his hands with his own. He waited until YN looked up at him and then gave him a gentle smile while his hands squeezed YN’s lightly.

“I’m the one who offered out of nowhere. I’m the one who decided to make this a consultation kinda date. I made those choices and I stand by them. We found something and you’re not ready and that’s fine. It happens to a lot of people. Sid almost got the tattoo on her side about ten times before she finally went through with it. And she was as sure as you were about this one, probably cried just as much. I’ve had clients even do that a time or two, it’s not a big deal I promise you. We ate food, we spent time together, and though it was frustrating at times I had a good time with you. I promise. Plus, I already said we could retry that date another time. So, unless you no longer want to go on another date with me, then we can still do that.”

Relief was not the right word for what YN felt after that, but he couldn’t think of another word for it. At least not until he found himself leaned forward with his lips pressed against Yoongi’s. He was unsure if he initiated the kiss, but all that mattered is that Yoongi returned the kiss without hesitation.

When he pulled away YN found the right word for what he felt.

Bliss.

###

Several dates followed the first one and they’re all great. The initial date plan never happens because after the night they were supposed to go, the pop up ended sooner than it should have. That made YN feel even more guilty about changing their plans, but after a great afternoon spent at a festival it was forgotten. Especially with how well things went.

YN and Yoongi clicked in a romantic way. They both felt it and weren’t shy about the growth in their affection towards each other nor their feelings.

However, despite their dating for over a month neither of them had made the move to make things more official. Which wasn’t really necessary since they and everyone else knew they were together, but it didn’t stop the odd thought here and there about if Yoongi genuinely wanted to commit to YN. And he was sure Yoongi had the same thought whenever he went to introduce YN and stumbled on what to call him. Neither of them said anything though.

Everyone thought they were being stupid, including Sidney, but they let them work out their stuff at their own pace. Even if their own pace was two idiots not just addressing the one thing that could remove any inkling of doubt, while knowing the other is thinking it.

It would have gone on longer if on the day that YN and Yoongi were going on yet another date, Sidney was too. There was a doctor that she’d been sleeping with that she sometimes went out with, though usually only as a preface to sex. After an incident where she had to explain to him that anal beads were not in fact candy, things had been strained and Sidney said he’d asked her out to get closer again. She didn’t see it becoming much more, but she also wasn’t against trying so she’d agreed.

As she’d parted ways with YN after they left the apartment there had been an offhand comment from her telling YN to ensure her boyfriend didn’t eat the cookie dough she had sitting in the fridge. The recipe called for a two-day waiting period before baking and she refused to make another batch just because Yoongi was a fiend.

Usually YN brushed off the label, but it stuck with him that time and he felt his mind go into overdrive as his cheeks burned at the thought. Yoongi was not his boyfriend, but he wanted him to be and that meant that he was going to have to ask him. He needed a plan to do that, but just as his brain got to working on one Yoongi’s car pulled up.

The thought was dismissed as he hopped in and Yoongi leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away from the building.

For a moment all YN thought about was how soft his lips were.

That was until he realized he was unfamiliar with the route being driven and didn’t even know what the date was supposed to be.

“Uh, where are we going?” he asked.

Yoongi shook his head immediately. “I didn’t tell you for a reason. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Naturally, that made YN pout, but he didn’t press him for it.

“I would joke about you taking me somewhere to kill me, but you’re too lazy to dispose of a body. Unless Sidney didn’t actually go on a date and is waiting for you and my dead body at a second location.”

At first Yoongi laughed, but then his brows furrowed and a frown formed upon his lips.

“She has a date? Please tell me it’s not with anal bead dude?”

All YN did was sigh and that elicited a groan of annoyance from Yoongi. He didn’t care for the man and that was before the aforementioned incident. There were many times he’d told YN, Sidney, their friends, and the man in question how stupid he thought he was. And how he didn’t understand how he managed to get Sidney to be around him for more than two seconds, let alone became a doctor. It wasn’t the most he’d disliked one of the people Sid was with, but it was apparently up there on the top of the list.

“You know she isn’t even into him that much, so I don’t know why you’re so worried. Not like she’s going to marry him suddenly. She’d probably marry Jin before anyone else. They mesh,” YN offered trying to placate him.

There was a huff from Yoongi and then a nod. “True. Or Hoseok, they would probably be good together. If they ever stopped being busy when the other could finally come around.”

“One day.”

From there conversation fizzled and YN stared out of the window watching the world go by. Minutes ticked by and then they were pulled into a parking lot and headed to a train station. Even as YN realized the direction they were headed he couldn’t figure out what it was they were going to do.

Which was fine since they reached their destination and he would have never guessed it in a million years. And he was beyond happy about that.

They stood in line at a place that wore the sign of the artist he’d wanted to see the work of and from the windows he could see it was a similar pop up to the one they’d been meant to go to. The pieces were different, but it was still a set up for dining amongst the works.

YN was so shocked and giddy that he didn’t utter a word until they were seated at a table for two and waiting for their waiter to return with water.

“I didn’t know they opened another one. I’d been hoping and stalking their accounts for it, but nothing ever came up. Not even yesterday. This is so fuckin’ cool,” he said.

The ramblings of joy didn’t stop there, YN continued on gushing about the artwork and about how much he loved being there. And there were several thank yous thrown Yoongi’s way, all of which he waved off.

There just hadn’t been something that excited him like that in a while and he couldn’t shut up about it. Not that Yoongi seemed to mind. They still had a back and forth, Yoongi putting his two cents in and sometimes being the reason for why the conversation shifted in one direction or another. Though it was mostly about the artwork and sometimes about how good the food was.

Before YN knew it they’d finished dinner and began to walk around to look at the art. Though the entrance area held some there was another room down a short hallway that gave more of the feel of an actual gallery. The things hung in there had a similar feel to the things in the dining space but were vastly different. The artist tended to be more traditional with their stuff, but the things back there were more digital.

And right then YN fell more in love with their work and Yoongi found himself entranced by it for the first time.

At that point they were kids in a candy store calling over the parents every time they found something that they loved. It was chaotic, but they both had enough patience to wait for one another to come look at what they were talking about.

They were beyond adorable. But they were also so caught up in the work that they didn’t realize how much time had passed until there was an announcement of five minutes until closing. There was some pouting on both their parts, but they understood and turned to go hand and hand.

Until YN stopped suddenly.

Confused, Yoongi stopped too and turned to glance at him. He was met with a wide smile, but a determined expression. It clearly worried him and he opened his mouth to speak, but so did YN.

“Is somethi-”

“Will you be my boyfriend? Also, can we do the tattoo tonight?”

The first question had Yoongi choking on air and missing the second one.

“Repeat that,” he said.

Seconds ticked by with YN saying nothing, because despite the confidence during the initial ask, he felt his nerves kick in hard as he was requested to say it again.

“Um, well I asked if you would be my boyfriend and if I could finally get that tattoo.”

More silence came as Yoongi’s mouth opened wide and closed repeatedly, the poor man was doing a terrible fish impression. It would have been funny or something to tease him about in many situations, but all it did was make YN nervous as he waited for an answer.

Thankfully, the suffering only lasted about thirty seconds before Yoongi pulled it together. He pulled YN close, their faces inches apart and then answered.

“Yes,” he said before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to YN’s lips.

It was a gentle, yet passionate kiss that made YN melt into his embrace. He never wanted to leave that moment, but when they pulled apart he couldn’t stop the happy feeling that filled him. Which was only amplified by Yoongi’s bright smile.

They would have stayed like that, but then the two-minute warning came and they realized they needed to move. But before they left Yoongi turned to YN.

“Also, that was yes to both things if that wasn’t clear. I’ll text Kook in the car.”

And just like that they were off. They practically sprinted to the train station and then to the car once they got off the train. There was a buzz of adrenaline surrounding them and it didn’t start to lessen until they stepped foot inside the shop.

Though Yoongi still appeared incredibly happy and ready to conquer the world, YN found himself deflating a bit. Each step towards Yoongi’s room brought on nerves and by the time his butt hit the seat of the tattoo chair he felt like he was halfway ready to sprint out of the room.

All the feelings from when they chose the tattoo came back and he was there unsure of whether to go through it, despite really wanting to. It was a recipe for disappointment and he didn’t want to chicken out again, but his brain wasn’t being kind.

The shift in him went unnoticed by Yoongi until he turned to him with the printed off stencil in hand. When he saw YN’s downturned lips and the tense behavior he frowned.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Yoongi said softly.

That almost broke YN, because he was being so sweet about enduring YN’s indecisive ass twice in a row. It was too nice of him and it only made YN frown more, but instead of guilt flooding in certainty did. Something in YN shifted and drowned out the other voice being a pain in his ass and suddenly a smile graced his lips.

“No. I want to do it,” he said.

Of course, Yoongi appeared unsure for a moment but after staring him down he nodded and got to work.

Alcohol pads were used to wipe down YN’s arm and then the stencil was placed. It was done a few times to get the right placement, but when it was just right on his forearm Yoongi proceeded; with caution though.

He allowed YN to choose the music and asked if he was sure, then grabbed the gun and turned it on. The first mark was a tense one for both of them, but as time went on things grew more relaxed and went along smoothly.

The tattoo in question wasn’t that big, but it had some intricate details that needed all of Yoongi’s focus. It left YN alone with his thoughts, but he never drifted to a bad place. If anything he was more so worried about how long it would take and trying to play on his phone without moving the arm that Yoongi was working on.

A few hours and one small break later though, the tattoo was done. Yoongi had been able to get it done completely but said YN would have to come back once it was healed to get it colored again just to be safe.

That didn’t matter to YN though. In that moment all he wanted to do was see the thing. He’d avoided looking at it through the process and during the break so he could get the full effect, and that is definitely what he got.

The moment his eyes laid on the tattoo through the mirror his body shook as tears fell rapidly.

On his forearm was a forest of leafless trees. The setting was winter and that could be seen from the snow that was depicted falling down. While the trees were a lot of the tattoo they started before the crook up his elbow and stopped about two or three inches before his wrist. From that point on a plot of blue dahlias among snow took up the remainder of the space. Though the ones they were thinking of when coming up with the tattoo were red, they’d chosen blue because it was something that already brought YN happiness. But it didn’t stop there. Since the dahlias weren’t as tall as the trees it left space above it. So, in the midst of all the little snowflakes were words written in a beautiful script. They were truly the thing that evoked the most emotion from YN.

We'll be in full bloom at the end of these hardships.

Those words resonated with him on a whole different level and though they were bittersweet, all he felt was joy with them. Hope too. Those were things he thought were out of his reach, but he’d finally felt them.

Yoongi, Sidney, their friends, and most of all YN himself had finally helped him see he could feel like life was on his side. And it was the greatest feeling in the world.

[robertppattinson]

always the gentleman: steve rogers

summary: steve rogers x reader. smut!!!!! steve keeps walking in on reader having some alone time, and goddamn it if he doesn’t wish it was him instead of an ann summers toy she’s holding.

word count: 1,900

warnings/tropes: smut, clueless!steve, tease!steve. bucky has a cameo teehee. enjoy!

-

The first time Steve sees you like this, it’s a complete and utter accident.

This meaning shaky breath, hair clung to face, a wild bucking of the hips. This meaning ass up in the air, right hand between your legs, the sweetest friction. This meaning soft mewls, almost sinful, though he was adamant you could never be anything but angelic, celestial, even. 

It’s his own fault, really. Steve knows he can be oblivious, careless. The thought of walking in on you in such a compromising and vulnerable position, bent over in your bed, in your room, had never even so much as made a peep at him before he entered without a knock. Your bed, your room; how many times did he have to remind himself? He should know better, for heaven’s sake. Getting involved with someone at work was sacrilegious, no matter what sector ‘work’ regarded. Office romances always ended badly - why should the Avengers Compound get off any easier? ‘Involved’ is a loose word for it, now that he reconsiders. He can’t be ‘involved’ with someone he has only touched in his dreams, really, truly touched like he craved with the girl who left stains on every inch of his brain since the day he met her.

It’s a miracle he has enough sense to remain still, like the carved statue he is, and painfully quiet. Steve aches everywhere; his hands, yearning to reach out and touch you; his legs, eager to step forward; his dick, aching with relentless throbs that snake all the way up his spine, prick his ears and bloom a tender blush on his cheeks. 

It’s a miracle you aren’t privy to his heart, thunderous in his chest, surely visibly protruding from his t-shirt. Golden rings still on your long, slender fingers, glistening in the sunlight poking through your open window. Wait - open window? Don’t you know somebody could see you? Not any neighbours this high up in the building, granted, but somebody? Drones aren’t hard to come by these days, he scolds you internally. And he realises in the boyish, clueless way he’s still prone to that he is that somebody watching you. He wants to leave, knows he should, but he cannot, for the life of him, tear himself away from this. From you. So beautiful, he can hardly stand it. How delicious you must taste in his hungry, greedy mouth; how gorgeous you must look above him, below him, whichever way you wanted; how sickeningly sweet you must feel clenching around him. He’s sweating, poor boy, almost as much as you are -  small, wet tell-tales of exertion on the armpits of your crop top as you work yourself closer to coming. Your legs tremble, tanned against the pale eggshell sheets strewn across the bed, bottom lip harshly bitten into. A hiss of pleasure, a high-pitched intake of breath, one last curl of your fingers and you are undone. 

It’s a miracle he finally regains control of his limbs, silently leaping out of view back out into the corridor before you turn your head towards the door, frowning, swearing you had closed it. Only a few metres apart, a goddamn-cockblocking-son-of-a-bitch wall separating you, both figures shudder and sigh blissfully. Fucked out on your bed, sensitive, you carefully draw your fingers into your folds one last time, curiously observing the milky liquid of your come, and bring it up to your mouth, moaning at the pleasant taste. 

Steve is about to leave, actually leave this time, he means it, when he hears it.

“Mmm,” a sensuous moan, almost guttural. He swears his dick has never been this hard, never wanted to pop out of his jeans so much. That is, however, until: “Steve…” 

Shit. Shit. Shit. You couldn’t have seen him, surely? A quick whip of his head to the door reveals he has escaped a lifetime of embarrassment; no sign of you. Still fucked out on your bed. But if you hadn’t heard him, then - oh. And there it was, the biggest, thickest erection of his life, and all he could do was tuck his dick into the waistband of his boxers (Calvin Kleins, after he had heard you swooning over the Mark Wahlberg and Kate Moss campaign from the 90s), and traipse sullenly to his own room. Steve felt like a teenage boy caught looking through his father’s Playboy, indignant, yet secretly proud of having found the Playboy in the first place. 

With a sigh, embarrassed, shameful and utterly, utterly horny, Steve turns back towards your door and closes it for good, polite measure once he hears the shower turn on. Always the gentleman.

-

The second time Steve sees you like this, he tells himself it’s another accident, that he just happened to be on the wrong (right) floor at the wrong (right) time. 

Looking for Bucky is an innocent act. Why his friend, more like life companion, really, would even be on this floor is beyond him, but Steve pulls out his phone and taps on Bucky’s contact. He’s wandering the floor, from one corridor to the next, when he hears a light buzzing to the east of the building. Goddamn Bucky left his goddamn phone lying around again. Goddamn it. 

He draws closer, and though his mind is slow to catch up, rusty with these lustful theatrics, the most primal part of him senses the situation immediately. The buzzing is louder now, more akin to a gentle rumble, and his dick twitches. Here he is again, outside that door. Only now, he doesn’t have to turn the handle to open it; it’s already ajar. 

Is he a narcissist for thinking you left it open for him, just him, so he could see and hear you again? 

One peek. Only one, quick peek and that’s it, Rogers, I mean it. And he does, truly - but he had also meant not to be presented with the sight before him again, meant not to drift his hand towards his own centre, for lack of a better word. It really felt like his centre - his dick, he means; everything revolves around that goddamn thing lately. He’s hard, palming himself and trying not to have his mother’s shrill voice in his head, yelling at him to stop being a pervert and pull himself together. 

But he can’t, and he’s petulant towards this fact. He can’t, not when you have never looked quite so riled up. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth gaped open in a silent scream, thighs trembling. Small hands forcefully wrapped around a pink vibrator - a rabbit, he thinks they call this particular type - that gets slightly twirled around until you find the right spot. You come much quicker than when using just your fingers, practically writhing around as if you’re being electrocuted. This vulnerability is insanely captivating, Steve notes, this openness. Whenever he jerks off, in the shower, in his bed with a condom (a posh wank, you had called the concept once), he does so quietly, stealthily, still coy and afraid of someone hearing him. Suddenly, there’s nothing he wants more than to have the whole Compound hearing his name slipping from your cherry lips, echoing through the glass and metal. Just the mere thought drives him crazy, hand down his jeans to touch himself properly when you come for a second time, harsher, more sustained and by God, there it is again:

“Oh, Steve… fuuuuck.”

The deliciousness of this barely has time to register before he feels the familiar release of his own orgasm. Right in his jeans. Goddamn it all to hell. 

He’s lucky they’re a deep blue, almost black, so he can walk to his room without arousing much suspicion. It’s wildly uncomfortable, and more than a little gross, but he’ll take what he can get. 

“Hey - you rang?” 

Fuck off Bucky, I swear to God.

“Uh, sorry. Butt-dial,” Steve offers, shuffling awkwardly, trying to get past his miscreant of a friend as quickly as possible.

Bucky raises an eyebrow in question, but decides to let it go. Many years together have taught him to keep to his own business unless Steve asked for help himself, or was otherwise unconscious and covered in blood.

“Alright… I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Wanna show Y/N this new album I’ve been listeni-”

Steve storms off. Always the gentleman.

-

The third time Steve sees you like this, eyes cloudy with lust, squeezing your thighs together for some, any, kind of relief, it is by no means an accident. 

Grey joggers cover his bottom half, his chest bare and t-shirt discarded in a crumpled up mess next to him. He doesn’t know what has come over him, this sudden bravery to practically gallivant his penis in your face as you try to concentrate on the TV, gripping the nunchucks much harder than usual. Wants to test you, he supposes, confirm his suspicions. He’s hopeful, and he has every right to be.

You’re not the best driver as it is, never mind that this is Mario Kart, but the willpower it takes to keep your eyes on the screen is inhuman. Every other second, though, your vision flits towards his groin, mentally tracing the outline of his dick. He’s big, of course, even when flaccid. Your mouth waters involuntary at the conjured up image of him at his full hardness, lining himself up just before his head enters you. 

“Stupid fucking-” you grunt, hitting random buttons in vain as your character is knocked off the track and falls into the water. 

Groaning at your new sixth position (you were just second, for crying out loud), you glance at Steve, who is smirking at you already, having just pushed himself into first place and finishing the track. 

“Language!” He laughs, a big, boisterous sound that makes you nervous. You loved making him laugh - your favourite pastime. Aside from making him come in his jeans outside your door, of course. 

“Funny you should say that,” you begin, tongue wetting your bottom lip anxiously. Come on, Y/N, time for you to be brave now.

“Oh?” 

“You weren’t telling me off for swearing yesterday.”

Silly Steve, it takes him a moment to process the comment. You take the opportunity, can see his cogs turning, to stand up in front of him. And you peep at his joggers, too, but who can blame you?

“… Oh.”

You hold out a hand, shaking almost imperceptibly, inviting, tempting him. “You coming, Captain?”

He’s too far gone to even try to resist, and his hand feels so… so homely wrapped around yours. You reach the door of the games room and before you can pull it open to scurry upstairs, Steve releases your hand and pries the door open himself. 

“After you, doll.”

You know he does this just so he can look at your bum as you walk up the stairs, so you roll your eyes to the heavens, and he smirks again, his brain working faster now and picturing you rolling your eyes in a different, imminent way. 

Steve has been raised right, of course, would never dream of letting a girl, especially his girl, walk through a door without opening it for her first. That’s what he tells himself, at least. Totally not so he can check you out. Always the gentleman.