#and i’m staring longingly at the new restaurant..

[moonsaurora]

no bc her and joe…i’m out of the restaurant but i’m not off the property. i keep trying to get off but almost as soon as i’m just about to get off fully something pulls me back on and holds me there

it’s genuinely not good for my health the more details we get the more i spiral

[nauticallyhypnotical]

can i request sebastian teaching a shy f!farmer how to touch herself after learning that he's her first serious boyfriend (with a bit of a praise kink sprinkled in?)

Even though you and Sebastian had been dating for a few weeks, the two of you hadn’t really had a whole lot of time to yourselves as a couple. You were going to remedy that—tonight, you had made special reservations for a new sushi restaurant in Zuzu City. After that, you were going to take him on a romantic moonlit walk through your favorite park, and then bring him back home to your farm. You were quite nervous, as you were still a virgin and wanted to impress Sebastian. You neglected to mention to him on the ride into the city how long you spent getting ready, mulling over various outfit choices in front of your wardrobe and rhetorically asking your dog, Clover, for advice on what to wear. Eventually, you settled on a skin-tight purple dress adorned with little gold stars, the sleeves drooping loosely down your arms. 

You’d wanted him to think you were pretty. Needed it, more than you needed the air you breathe. Your heart just about burst out of your chest when he picked you up from the farm, his chocolate brown eyes lighting up when he saw you, his voice gravely and low as he says, “hey, sweetheart, aren’t you just perfect?” 

Embracing him on his motorcycle as you rode the highway into the city made your skin feel as though it were on fire, or frozen solid, or maybe both at the same time. You felt electric as you clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Even with a helmet on, the smell of his cologne wafted into your nose, and you inhaled deeply. He smelled like the embodiment of autumn, with notes of apples and cinnamon, and it drove you crazy with desire. You almost laughed at yourself, the fact that you waited so long to have him and now that you did, you were too scared to do anything about it.  

Sebastian noticed your apprehension during dinner after about the third time of you blushing and looking away the second you two made eye contact. He looked at you endearingly with a smile on his face as you acted as shy as when you first met him, and he reached a hand across the table and encompassed it around yours. You nearly jumped out of your skin from the unexpected contact, and you timidly raise your eyes to meet his.  

“What’s got you so worked up, doll?” he asked, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine. You pondered for a moment on what to say. 

“I just...I just wanted this night to be nice, but I can’t seem to get my nerves under control...” the vulnerability was making your heart pound, and your whole face felt like it was on fire.  

“You’re my first boyfriend, I'm basically just winging it over here because I don’t know what to do,” you looked away at that, unsure of what Sebastian must think now that he knows how inexperienced you are. Instead of pulling away, he just rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb. 

“Who said this wasn’t nice?” he finally said after a moment of silence. You met his gaze. 

“I’m eating my favorite food with the world’s most beautiful girl; how could this not be a nice night?” He let go of your hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

“And if I'm your first boyfriend,” he murmured, a rosy blush dusting across his cheeks as he stares longingly into your eyes, “I have to make this a night you won’t forget.”  

After paying for your meal, Sebastian took your hand and the two of you walked down the still bustling streets of Zuzu, the city that apparently doesn’t sleep. You took the opportunity away from your shared friends, as much as you loved them, to really talk with Sebastian about things you really couldn’t say in your tiny little village. You talked about why you really left your old life behind to start over in a town so small no one really knows about it, and he opened up to you about his troubled family life. By the end of the conversation, your dislike for Demetrius grew stronger. 

As the cool crisp air chilled further and conversation slowed naturally, you began to really focus on the sounds of the city. You were intrigued to hear the faint thumping of music coming from what should be an abandoned Joja Co warehouse. Outside the door, a big man was standing by, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched any passersby.  

“Wanna check it out?” Sebastian asked you, matching your curiosity. You nodded, and he led you over to the door. You assumed the big man was eyeing you down as you approached, if his eyes weren’t obscured by black sunglasses. You wondered how he even saw anything, wearing sunglasses at night. 

“Password?” the man said gruffly. Sebastian made a point of briefly checking his surroundings before leaning in and whispering “midnight serenade”. The bouncer rapped on the door twice before stepping to the side, allowing whoever was on the other side to open it for them.  

“How did you-?” you asked. Sebastian just shrugged and gave you a mischievous grin. 

“Lucky guess,” he said. Inside the warehouse, they were immediately enveloped in a world of dimly lit ambiance and pulsating music. There was a surprising number of people, some of which were very engaged with the party lifestyle. Sebastian led you to a corner of the warehouse that was less crowded and invited you to dance with him. You had two left feet, but that didn’t stop you from accepting his proposal. The two of you laughed as you allowed the pulse of the music to fill your veins, fueling your movements. For the first time in a long time, you felt uninhibited, and you wondered how long the feeling would last.  

Yoba, it seemed, had other plans.  

The party was rushed by the ZPD, or Zuzu Police Department. Apparently, Joja Co did not appreciate occupants in its unused warehouse, even if they had no plans to do anything with it.  

With hearts pounding and adrenaline rushing through your veins, you find yourselves swept up in the chaos, frantically weaving your way through the crowd as you try to evade the authorities. You swiftly exit the warehouse through a side door and race through dimly lit alleyways to get as far away from there as possible. 

You’re still laughing when you finally reach Sebastian’s motorcycle, still parked in front of the sushi restaurant, now long closed.  

When you finally reach your farm, you ask him if he wants to spend the night, and it makes your heart flutter when he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.  

You get inside, and you both collapse on your sofa, tired from the day’s events. You instruct Sebastian to pick out a movie to play on your old box television while you toss some wood into the fireplace and get it lit, quickly returning to cozy up to his side.  

As the movie plays, and the fire crackles in the background, he lets his fingers trace idly along your arms, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of your flesh. You nuzzle into him, and a gasp escapes your lips as his hand roams upwards, caressing your neck and threading through your hair. You can barely concentrate on the movie as Sebastian lightly scratches your head, and you grasp at his shirt when those slender fingers of his wrap around a lock of your hair and gently tug. He pulls your head back and exposes your open mouth to him, and with the movie now forgotten in the back, his tongue is sliding against your own. He brings his other hand up to cup your face, and a heat blooms deep within you. You maneuver your body until you’re straddling his hips, and with his hands now free he uses them to slide up your dress until they rest on your hips, his thumbs massaging in slow circles.  

The moment you pull away from him to catch your breath, Sebastian looks at you with lust in his half-lidded eyes.  

“How far do you want to take this, tonight?” he asks you, his voice low and full of desire. You blush and shy away from his gaze, now noticing the abundantly clear hardness forming underneath you. You bite your lip and slowly roll your hips against his, relishing in the way Sebastian inhales sharply at your motion.  

“Well,” you begin to say, “I’ve never done this sort of stuff before...Maybe you can show me what to do?” Sebastian groans when he hears you say that, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on a spot that made you feel ticklish. He grips you harder as you writhe around on his lap, arching your back so your chest presses against his. He detaches himself from your neck just long enough to pull your dress up and over your head, and he takes a moment to admire your beauty. You felt self-conscious under his gaze, so you instinctively moved to cover your chest with your arms, but his grip on your wrist halts your movements.  

“Don’t hide yourself from me, princess,” he commands, his authoritative tone making you drop your arms. You allow him to unclasp your bra, spilling your breasts out. He grabs them with both hands and begins to massage them while pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. You’re moaning at his touch, and he watches you with amazement. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks, leaning forward to place a kiss on your chest. He grinds his erection into you with his words.  

“You’re so, so perfect, baby,” he says between kisses. You squirm delightfully with his praise, needing it more than life. You realize that all you want to do is make Sebastian proud as you bring your hands up to card your fingers through his soft, dark hair. He looks up at you with a soft look before taking your lips in his own, releasing your nipples to grab your thighs and reposition you with your back on the couch. His fingers hook under the waistline of your panties, and he fervently removes them.  

Sebastian pulls away from you to stare at your fully exposed body, your face flushed and chest heaving as you pant for air. Your legs are spread with him in between them, one dangling off the couch, and he takes one of his fingers and drags it slowly along your slit. 

“Shit,” he hisses, bringing it up to his mouth to taste. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” 

“Is that good?” you ask shyly, and he chuckles. 

“Oh, sweet girl, yes. You’re so good for me,” he coos. His words of affirmation are so important to you, your hips twitch upwards in response. You spread your legs wider, allowing him to get a better look. 

“I want you to stick a finger inside, can you do that for me?” he instructs. You nod, sliding your hands down your body and using your left hand, you spread your lower lips wide. With your right middle finger, you tease at your entrance and push inwards, gasping lightly as you curl upwards.  

“I want to hear you, baby girl,” Sebastian says. You begin to whine as you pump your finger in and out of you at a slow pace; he doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, pulling them off his body leaving him in only a t-shirt and boxers. He finally releases his hardened cock from its pitched tent, its tip dribbling a small amount of precum. He wraps his hand around his member and begins to masturbate, nearly choking on his words as he manages to sputter out, “p-put another finger in.”  

You do as you’re told, slipping in your ring finger, while using the digits on your left hand to rub your clit in circles. You feel pressure building up inside you, like a thread waiting to snap, the heat in your body feeling as though you were set aflame. You’re rubbing on a spot inside that has you seeing stars and feeling high. You chase that feeling, hoping Sebastian knows how hard you’re trying for him, and soon that thread finally snaps with your climax as you cry out your performance.  

“Good girl,” he says with a predatory tone, and when you pull your fingers out of your twitching vagina, he’s lining himself up at your entrance. He grabs your wrist and makes sure you’re paying attention as he cleans your release off your appendages. He’s pushing into you as he licks you at the same time, the lewdness of it all causing your already flushed cheeks to deepen in color; you felt hot, everywhere, and the overstimulation of your senses was causing your peak to rapidly build back up. Sebastian clutches one of your breasts with his free hand like you might slip away if he doesn’t keep hold of you. 

“Can you cum again for me, sweetheart?” he asks once he releases your fingers with a wet pop! You whimper as you shake your head. 

“I-I don’t know if I can, Seb,” you manage. Sebastian flashes one of his crooked, toothy grins that made you fall for him.  

“Aw, course you can, sweetheart. I'll get you there,” he purrs, and he cradles your head while leaning down to slip his tongue in between your parted lips. He’s massaging the muscle against your own in tune with his thrusts, and the hand playing with your boob now grips onto your fleshy hip. You’ve never felt closer to Sebastian, but still, it’s not enough. You need him deeper; you need him to never leave your side again. 

This time, your orgasm crashes down like a wave, an ecstasy like you’ve never felt flooding your whole body. You tremble and shake against him as all you can do is whimper into his mouth. He swallows up every last sound, his own moans better than any song he and Sam could produce. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, and he pulls out to finish on your chest. He rests for a moment, catching his breath. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he finally says. 

“I’ll grab a towel, get you cleaned up,” he’d been to your house countless times with Sam and Abigail, so he was quite familiar with the layout already. It didn’t take long for him to return with a rag, but it was enough time for you to doze off. Sebastian looked down at you fondly, and cleaned you up slowly, admiring his handiwork. When he was satisfied, he grabbed a blanket from your bedroom and crawled into the sofa behind you, draping an arm over your waist and holding you through the night. 

[erroramended-blog]

 Tada! wholesome! As suggested by @paintsplash1712​  Annnd, it inspired a little fic which I will include below the read-more.

“Ok, just A liiiittle further back.”

Hunter held up his thumb and index finger at a distance that was practically touching already, but Luz gave the joy stick another nudge. Predictably the claw jerked back with a wild swing, and by then they’d fiddled with the positioning so long that time ran out, so the claw dropped. It was a long plushy though, so the claw still managed to get a good grip on it. Maybe this time they’d actually—

Aaaand it slipped right out again.

“Urgh! How does anyone win anything around here?!” Vee complained, dragging her fingers down her cheeks in frustration.

Luz let her head thump against the glass. So far they’d burned through half their credits and won absolutely nothing.

The whole trip had been Luz’s idea. She’d heard about this new arcade bowling alley restaurant thing opening up a town over, and it was huge and had a lot of stuff from japan. It looked like a ton of fun, and since Hunter had his license now they wouldn't need a ride, aaaand they all had human money from picking up odd jobs during summer break so they could afford it, so with some convincing, mama said yes.

“I wonder if the others are doing any better.” Hunter thought out loud.

Amity, Willow, and Gus had come along too because of course she wouldn't leave them out. The only reason they weren't all plushy hunting together was because right at the start Luz had had the brilliant idea of splitting everyone into two teams and making the whole thing a competition. Whoever wins the least prizes buys lunch.

“Probably not,” Luz said, glaring at the rotten machine. “It’s all rigged.”

“But there has to be some sort of strategy to it,” Hunter said, rubbing his chin, “how else would so many people be walking around with prizes?”

“Maaaaan, I wish I could just stretch my arm, reach in there, and grab them!” Vee said, staring longingly at the big wolf plush they’d all been trying at.

A thought suddenly occurred to all three of them at once.

“I mean...I could, but, yah know,” Vee said, pointing up “cameras.”  

They all nodded and miserably shuffled off to try the next machine.

The place was big enough that they’d decided to have each team take opposite sides and work their way to the middle by lunch time— which was growing ever nearer. At this rate, If the other team managed to get even one plushy they’d win.

—

“That's it, I'm getting that prize one way or another!”

Willow's eyes flashed a glowing green for a second before both Amity and Gus jumped to stop her. To her credit though, Willow hadn’t been serious. She was frustrated, yeah, but she wasn’t actually going to tear the place apart.

“Ugh,” she sighed, “This is impossible!”

“These are worse than the games at the Bonesborough fall carnival.” Amity agreed, and she was right too. Those games could result in flaming chaos, or loss of limb, but at least you could get a mold fish out of it. “There's just no way.”

“Hmm,” Gus said, and Willow knew that thoughtful hmm. That was the thoughtful hmm of someone with an idea. “Well, there miiiight be a way.”

Gus smiled a devious smile, and lifted the flap of his shoulder bag just enough for a certain someone to peak her head out.

—

“Welp, that's the last chance we had.”

Vee threw her hands up in defeat and turned away from the claw machine.

“How could we have failed this badly?” Hunter said from his spot on the floor. From the look on his face, he seemed to be rethinking all of his life choice.“Not one single success? Where did we go wrong!?”

Luz could hardly believe it. All that time, all that money, and convincing, and planning, and this is how it ends? With nothing but regrets and heartbreak? This was supposed to be fun, but the three of them were completely crestfallen. Absolutely woebegotten! Anguished and downcast! And all the other synonyms she could think of!  

It wasn’t fair! It was—

“Woh, look at those guys!” Vee said, pointing.

Luz turned to look, amongst the last people in the whole place who weren't already staring at the three walking piles of plush toys and prizes. Luz almost moved to get out of the way, but piles seemed to be heading in her direction and—

“Hey guys,” A voice said, muffled by fluff and fuzz “Look what we won.”

“Gus!?” Hunter said, slack jawed in shock “Wha- How did you— What!?”

“It was no big deal,” Willow chimed in, “We're just that good.”

“No way,” Vee argued, “There is no way that you guys di—...”

Vee was about to accuse them of cheating, but she realized that she probably shouldn't say that outloud with all the people that were watching them.

“Diiiid such a good job,” Vee finished, glancing around. “Guess you really are that skilled, haha. Just takes a magic touch huh?”

“It wasn’t my idea!! I sw—”

“Sweeeeet”Luz said, cutting off Amity's confession before it could get started. “Sweet haul guys, haha, you win, ok lets go.”

A pair of workers whispering to each other had started heading there way, so the six of them booked it out the door and back to the car. Thankfully, no one followed.

—

“I’m sensing some foul play here,” Hunter said, opening the trunk. “What did you three do?”

“Er, well we maaaayy have had some help.” Willow confessed as she dropped her load of plushies in. Said help had been in the form of a certain blue chameleon palisman who could fit into the prize shoot.

“We didn’t make it obvious though,” Gus added, letting his palisman climb onto his shoulder as he put his things down, “Emme can be practically invisible when she tries.”

The little paliman shut her eyes and smiled, proud of her handy work.

“You guuuuys!” Luz said, rubbing her face in exasperation. “You can’t just— what about the cam— we could have gotten in so much trouble.”

Which was kind of ironic coming from the student of one of the biggest troublemakers in the boiling isles, who was also a frequent troublemaker herself. Willow understood though. Luz really had to push to get permission for them all to go on this whole roadtrip thing without an adult coming along.  

“Sorry,” She said. “We shouldn’t have risked the trouble like that.”

Gus and Amity followed up with there own apologies and the three decided to cover lunch despite winning.

“Also, if it helps, we did win a bunch of stuff with you guys in mind.” Gus said, fishing in the trunk for a specific one. “Behold!”

Gus held out the Holler Knight plushy they’d picked for Luz, which Luz instantly loved.

“Ok, you guys are officially the best.” Luz said, hugging the big squishy little guy from the game. “Aaannd I’m actually pretty glad you stuck it to the scammy jerks and their rigged machines!”

With a laugh, and all around agreement, they split up the prized and picked a lunch destination.

[we-are-a-good-meme]

7x04 - 05 and Buck’s jealousy

So after rewatching 7x04 and 7x05, I wanna say that 05 did a wonderful job of resolving buck’s issues that arose in the beginning - him just starting to accept himself and going for what he wants with tommy despite the missteps and coming out to two of the closest people in his life. But I’m still stuck on something in 04 that I feel like wasn’t fully resolved when it could have been done with one conversation, and that’s buck’s jealousy. The entire episode, we had him gradually losing his shit over being excluded from eddie and tommy, sending those depressingly longing looks, getting called out by maddie “Aw was it circled with a heart around it?”, trying and failing to get eddie’s attention, hurting bro in bball, and then having that talk with maddie about being jealous over a friend. After all of this, you’d think that buck would have an on-screen conversation with eddie to apologize because the bball incident really was fucked and also maybe be like “hey I’m not your babysitter I just wanna hang out with you and be included” or something? I feel like only a direct conversation could truly resolve the tension there, which is why I thought the door knocking at the end was eddie when it was actually tommy! And instead we have tommy reassuring buck that eddie wasn’t trying to replace him and wasn’t mad at him and to call him about it, but is that really enough of a resolution to the conflict that carried the entire episode? From 05 it can be assumed that buck did call eddie because eddie’s happy to see him in the restaurant, but the previous tension from 04 is never brought up in wake of the immediate bucktommy date conflict that causes new tension that runs through 05. And that got resolved and I loved it, but I feel like something is still unresolved about buck obsessing over eddie before. And I know that buck said he was actually trying to get tommy’s attention, that’s why he hurt his best friend, but bro was confused by that the same way we were - you spent the entire episode fighting for eddie’s attention that you never even got, but you’re now saying the reason you hurt him was actually because you wanted the other guy? Like, both can be true, and I’m not doubting bucktommy at all, but why did they put such an emphasis on buck’s jealousy over eddie if it was really wanting tommy that made him do all that? It would’ve been so easy to leave the friendship jealousy drama out of this storyline, it probably would’ve made the bi-awakening storyline with tommy BETTER because they’d have had more screen time to build it up, but they didn’t. Why not have buck longingly staring at tommy, rather than at eddie? I can’t be the only one who thought buck was actually catching feelings for eddie with the way he was acting and his interactions with maddie. They even kind of used maddie’s advice on getting eddie’s attention for his kiss with tommy?? But in 05, I really don’t see any indication that buck’s into eddie which makes me wanna think that the jealousy in 04 really was platonic, but then why was it more of a conflict than his attraction to tommy and why was it not resolved onscreen? Anyways this was more yapping than I ever do on here but I’m just stuck on this jealousy plot and regardless of who buck ends up with in future episodes, I would like something to happen that acknowledges if not explains that tension, hope that makes sense LMAO

[vampkaashis-wife]

General Alatus. The name echoes in your head, a gift you’re not sure Xiao meant to give you. Even now, outside Wanmin Restaurant in Liyue Harbor, all you can think of is the haunted look in his eyes. You had meant to stay there with him until he returned to a semblance of the Xiao you know, but a day - was it a day, or more? - underground, you and Paimon were hungry. 

Anyway, he would probably still be there when you got back, judging from the lack of response when you tried to talk to him after he told you… Several secrets of his heart. If not, well. You would see him again, you were sure. 

“Do you think he’s okay?” Paimon voices the thoughts you hadn’t. She doesn’t use his name, but there’s only person she could be talking about right now. After all, the rest of the party that fell into the Chasm bed with you had been spotted around the harbor already. Indeed, Kuki and Itto had boisterously run past you to find the famed Captain Beidou, who was rumored to be by the docks this fine night (Itto went boisterously. Kuki ran after him in resigned amusement). 

“I hope so.” 

Xiao is not unlike you. A new name, a new life. A reckless quest to find someone he’d loved and lost. The only difference is he remembers his several thousand years of existence and you remember nearly nothing. Is it a blessing to remember, or a burden? Do the memories of the other four general yakshas bring him any ease, or only suffering?

You sigh, glancing at the untouched plate of almond tofu you had ordered without much thought. Perhaps Xiao had been so on your mind that you had ordered as if he was here with you. Humorous, really. Even if he was here, it was unlikely that he would partake in a meal with you. He seldom does, after all. Even so, eating is a vital part of any post-quest ritual. Xiao. You think it in your head, loudly, longingly, hoping that wherever he is in the world, he hears your concern echoed and amplified through the mountains of Liyue.

If you hope for him to appear, he does not.

-

It is later in your rooms that you call his name again. Out loud this time, and only because you still have that portion of almond tofu for him. Sitting on your bed, staring at the door, you murmur, “Xiao,” and await the knock that’s sure to come.

It comes in seconds, in fact, followed by the familiar: “You called?”

“It’s open.” 

He opens the door. He’s always looked smaller than most men when you take the time to look at him, but exhaustion and grief make him even smaller in your doorframe tonight. “Did something happen?” 

“I ordered too much almond tofu.”

For a few moments, he stares at what little of your face is illuminated by the lanterns you’d lit. Then he huffs a laugh. “This is not what I had in mind when I told you to call for me when you needed me.”

“I called because you needed me. But you’re not going to like that answer, so I just ordered too much almond tofu.”

Xiao falters, closing your door and leaning against it. “That’s not how this works. I’m a weapon, not a hero like you.”

“Really? You’re saying that after what you did in the Chasm?”

“Just doing my job.”

“Do you think,” you stand and walk toward him. Almost instinctively, his arm comes up to catch around your waist. “That we all think that of you? That the Arataki gang will let you go without considering themselves to owe you a huge debt? That Yanfei and Yelan would so soon forget what you did tonight? That I would say nothing after what you did?”

You’re not sure he knows he’s doing it, but he pulls you closer, hooking his chin over your shoulder. 

Gently, you push him away. With clumsy movements, you remove the bulkier pieces of his outfit - the shoulder guard, the necklace, the mask at his waist. With every physical item you remove, you hope to relieve some of the emotional burden in his heart, although you strongly doubt you’re having any success on that front. 

Xiao helps you where he can, but he spends most of the time watching in silence. He’s deep in thought still. Always is. Besides, Xiao staring and watching is not unlike him. He does it often, though usually from rooftops and not right before you. 

And then, when the last bit of armor is removed and all he has left on him is cloth, he holds your face in both of his hands. They tremble, ever slightly. He searches your eyes for the answer to a question he hasn’t yet asked, the bright amber of his eyes burning into your soul. “If I do something undesirable,” he whispers, “stop me.”

With that, his lips are on yours, a gentle and uncertain movement. Your hand grips his sleeve as he continues his unfamiliar movements. He’s not accustomed to this, you can tell, but neither are you. Indeed, the kiss is hesitant in a way Xiao usually is not.

When you pull away for air, he touches his lips as if they had been burned. A fire lights in his eyes, but not the kind that you usually see on the battlefield. No, this is - unexpectedly - fear. Shame. The mortalest of feelings from someone who makes daily mockery of mortal habits.

“You didn’t stop me,” he whispers.

“It wasn’t undesirable.” You hold a hand out to him again, a lifeline should he choose to take it. “It was fine. You can do it again if you want to.”

Maybe you should ask him what it means.

Maybe you should ask about the deep-rooted vulnerability bubbling to the surface of his existence.

Maybe you should extract some adepal promises from him before anything else.

But you don’t. 

Slowly, Xiao approaches again. Interesting, seeing him like this. To be honest, perhaps this is the reason you ask for nothing at all. That he fears the interaction means he understands the gravity of it. That he hesitates means he’s considering it carefully.

He lands the next kiss on your forehead, just a little peck of a motion.Then your cheek. The trail continues down your neck, his still-gloved hands gripping the cloth of the bed under you. “When I was falling,” he murmurs into your skin, “I thought of you.”

When he pulls away this time, he drifts over to the table where the box of almond tofu sits. He’s still talking, but he’s not quite looking at you anymore. You understand. Vulnerability is exponentially harder when you make eye contact, and Xiao has never been one for vulnerability in the first place. 

“Come sit with me?” He pleads. 

Pleads. Xiao, Conqueror of Demons, pleading to someone like you. 

“When you were falling,” you tell him, “I hated you.”

Xiao flinches. A moment later, a stony expression falls on his face again. “I was waiting for that.”

“I hated you because you gave yourself up so quickly.”

“I tried my best!” he retorts. “I used up everything-”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You used up everything and acted like I wouldn’t forever blame myself for losing you.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault.”

“It would’ve felt like it.”

Slowly, Xiao chews his food. You’re almost certain he’s not tasting it at all, simply going through the motions because it’s there in front of him.

Deciding to speak in his language, you fill the silence with, “You’re the only thing standing between Liyue and destruction. What would they have done with you gone?”

“They have you.”

“They wouldn’t have me if you weren’t here,” you say honestly. Liyue… Is a beautiful place, but the reason you keep coming back to it is not because of the nation itself. You care nothing for Liyue, to be honest, in the face of the care you have for Xiao. “Besides, I have other places to go. Aether… I still have to find him.” 

This, of everything you’ve said thus far, ought to be what Xiao understands the most. In the first place, he was in the Chasm to find someone who was like a brother to him. 

You lapse into silence again, giving Xiao a chance to speak. Perhaps you can’t drag things out of him this way. Perhaps only the heavy silence can drive him to break it by voicing his own thoughts. 

He watches you, like he always does, and says nothing. Not yet. 

Just as you doze off - and probably because you’re dozing off - he speaks again. “I don’t know when the last time I did something for myself was. But I think I will now… I didn’t plan to fall in love with you.” 

Blinking back to wakefulness, you tilt your head. “So that’s what it meant,” you muse out loud. “The kiss.” 

Xiao seems to try to shrink away from you. Then he recovers himself and continues, “Last night was the first time in a long time that I was afraid of death. I have always had many things to die for. I had nothing to live for, not until you.”

“Will you, then?”

“You already have my allegiance, traveler.”

“But what if I want more than allegiance?”

“What more is there to want?”

“You. All of you, not just your spear. … You are not the only one who fell in love without a plan.”

[cinnaminyoons]

( LOVERBOY. )

ミ☆ he’s been working up the courage for this very moment for a long time. he can only hope you say yes.

⤷ PAIRING kth x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 4.5k

⤷ TAGS model!reader, anxiety-ridden gays being dorks

⤷ REQUESTED 

taehyung x reader 😼 tete in a distress on how to propose reader

“i love you,” taehyung whispers against your lips. it’s dark in the private room, and taehyung’s over-the-phone request for candles had been kindly obliged by the staff. this week is his turn for date-planning, and he brought you all the way across seoul to a restaurant so luxurious that even he feels intimidated by it.

you chuckle, folding your arms over the table. your suit fits you so well – taehyung does his best to keep his eyes on your face, but that, too, is swoon-worthy. he feels like a teenager all over again, staring at you longingly when he thinks you’re not looking.

“you’ve said that a thousand times tonight, baby,” you murmur. “you seem stressed. are you okay?”

he shakes his head absently. after a moment, upon realising that your question had been ‘are you okay’ and not ‘are you stressed’, he bobs his head rapidly, blushing. his soft hair flops over his eyes and he sweeps it away.

“i – i’m okay. sorry. it’s just… i know i haven’t really been present in our relationship lately, and i don’t want you to think i don’t love you – i really do! – or that i’m not as invested anymore, and i just want to make sure you know that you mean the world to me.”

you place your hand over his. you’re warm, and the familiarity of your skin on his calms his racing heart. “take a deep breath,” you say, smiling gently. he does, and it’s a little shaky. “don’t fret. you’ve got your job – i’ve got mine. i understand that it’s rough at the moment, what with your new album, but you don’t have to worry that i’ll be upset if you have to reschedule or anything.”

a heavy wave of relief washes over him and he relaxes, entwining your fingers. “you’re way too good to me, hyung.”

the golden candlelight flickers over your features. with the dark room and your black suit, the outline of you blends well into the shadows. what is visible is bathed in a soft glow, perpetually shifting over the planes of your face and reflecting in your eyes.

it’s unbelievable how good-looking you are, making every second of your day a photoshoot.

“you deserve everything good, my love. if i can be a part of that, however small,” your eyes soften, “then i am happy.”

he’s going to cry. he’s going to wail like a baby in this restaurant because he’s madly in love with you and can’t find the right words to express it.

maybe you notice how tightly he’s gripping your hand. you engulf his hand in both of yours, rubbing small circles into the back of his palm, and smile. “thank you for tonight, tae. it was wonderful.”

“i-it wasn’t much,” he mumbles, scratching his ear. “but i’m relieved it’s okay.”

you laugh quietly. the restaurant has a live band playing something jazzy outside, and though it’s slightly muffled, it provides a nice backdrop to your words. “relieved? you’re nervous tonight. seriously – what’s up?”

taehyung swallows. the small velvet box weighs like lead in his jacket, and he’s sharply aware of it with every movement he makes. “it’s just that,” he laughs, a little embarrassed, “you’re way out of my league.”

“out of – tae, baby.” you sigh, but you’re smiling, eyes patient and kind. “how many years have we been dating?”

“uh, five years this december.” it sounds like a long time when he says it aloud. it doesn’t feel like it, though – if you see each other once a week, fortune is on your side.

“and how long have we known each other?”

he has to think and count. “nine.”

“so, am i really out of your league?”

“i... guess not,” he yields. he glances over the empty plates and bowls. he’s finished off his fancy cola spider, which he’d taken from what was basically the kids’ menu.

“see? you’re getting worked up over nothing.” you lean back, taking your hands away – to taehyung’s disappointment – and smiling. “i think it’s time to get out of here, don’t you? i’ll drive.”

taehyung nods and shuffles along the booth’s seat. he pulls on a black face mask, following your motions, and gratefully takes your hand as you gently pull him up and out of the room. it doesn’t do a lot if someone’s staring you in the face, but it does help bored eyes slide off of you. taehyung plays at hauteur next to you, matching the environment, and his eyes twinkle up at you above his mask.

the restaurant caters to people of wealth. these people, often followed and reported on by various journalists or news outlets, have made it necessary for a second entrance to lead straight to a parking lot for an unobstructed getaway.

after taehyung pays and you escape the dignified eyes of others, you’re both chasing each other down the steps and across the underground car park. you’re like children again, running around the playground and muffling your laughter as the other passes by your hiding spot, totally unaware.

the moment your attention lapses, drawn by the sound of an aggressive car honk above, taehyung smirks and slips behind a concrete pillar, pressing his back flat against it. he stays perfectly still for a moment as you call out his name.

after a short silence, taehyung dares a peek around the corner. you’re not there anymore. he glances around, puzzled, and twists back against the pillar—

“gotcha.”

two strong arms wrap around him and quite literally sweep him off his feet. he lets out a shockingly high-pitched squeak and chains himself to your neck with his arms as you bounce him higher, carrying him bridal style.

“you’re ridiculous,” taehyung coughs out, doing an awful job at hiding his giggles. “put me down! right now. what if someone sees?”

you shift him in your arms as you wander down the aisles of flashy cars. he wriggles in defiance and your grip tightens considerably on his shoulder and thigh. “don’t,” you warn, “i’ll drop you. it’s actually very hard doing this while looking attractive.”

he huffs and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at your side-profile. “uh-huh. i’m not sixteen anymore.”

“yet you’re still just as cute.” you wink down at him, flicking your head in an exaggerated imitation of the heart-throb character in a teen drama.

he kicks his legs out and pushes his lower lip out. “you’re just saying that ‘cause we’re together. i was so awkward around you.”

“it was an adorable awkward, my love. it’s always fun poking you.” you set him down in front of the dark blue car, sliding your hand into his back pocket.

he flushes when you pull him close. his chain earrings sway with the motion of his head as he turns his face into your neck. you play with them, letting them run like stream water over your fingers, and he whines softly as you give them a little tug.

“what’s that, baby?” you coo. your voice rumbles in your chest and taehyung presses closer to feel more of it. it’s been too long since he last saw you.

just as he thinks you’re about to do something, you move away, whistling innocently with the car keys in hand. taehyung takes several breaths to calm himself, trying to bring himself down to a calmer simmer.

he crosses his arms as the car’s headlights flash and it beeps, unlocked. “you’re awful.”

“awfully in love with you,” you tease, pulling open the driver’s door. “now get in, loser. we’re going to the movies.”

—

taehyung’s going to see you today, and he’s freaking out.

the birds outside his bedroom window mock him with their cheerful, happy-go-lucky chirping. he had let himself sleep in for a little bit, as it is the weekend and his day off, after all.

it’s been over two months since taehyung first held the little black box in his hands. he remembers turning it over in his hands, admiring the velvety sheen of it under the jeweller’s white ceiling lights.

while he had certainly been nervous at that time, that’s nothing to what he currently feels. back then, he was tingly, excited and nervous and bouncing on his toes, the kind of nervousness he felt before concerts.

as always, there’s a warm, anticipatory fluttering in his belly that he gets just before meeting up with you. but today, some terribly hyperactive frogs have joined the butterflies. 

he has to sit down on top of the toilet lid, he gets so dizzy. he just sits in his bathroom, staring at his reflection – bedhead and all – and has a mild crisis.

is it too soon?

i’m going to make a fool out of myself.

i’m going to choke and then i’ll suffocate and then i’ll die and then i’ll never be able to tell him.

but there’s been one spectacularly determined thought that he can’t kick out of his head, no matter how much he tries to. he has tried distracting himself with other tasks, and when that didn’t work, he did his best to logically step himself through it, should it actually happen.

you’re kind. you would never make him feel stupid. you and taehyung have been going strong for half a decade – he feels very old, all of a sudden – and this would be on anybody’s mind. you shouldn’t be surprised by it, even in the worst-case scenario.

he hopes it really won’t come to that.

“you want to know how much he loves you?” yoongi once asked when taehyung confided in him about his worries. “he doesn’t let you near the frying pan because he doesn’t want the oil to pop on you.”

such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. and yet, that’s the memory that comes into his head when he’s anxious about where he stands with you.

an hour and a lot of pacing later, he arrives on your doorstep. he knocks – tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap – and pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his coat pockets. the long brown coat is lined in cream-coloured sherpa fleece.

the door flings open. there you are, wearing a burgundy turtleneck and socks with pineapples on them, accessorised with a certain exasperated fondness in your gaze. “there you are, my love. you’re late.”

“ah,” he says cleverly. “good evening. i couldn’t find anything nice to wear.”

you laugh and wave him in, moving aside. he bounces up the steps and kicks his shoes off as you shut the door. “your wardrobe is bigger than my bedroom. what’s in it? bedsheets?”

“actually, most of it’s your stuff.”

you take his coat and hang it up. “and what’s so bad about my clothes, huh?”

“nothing! only, they – they’re unique.”

“mhm.”

he drops his head on your shoulder. he feels your laughter more than he hears it. “i don’t want anybody noticing how similar our clothes are.”

you place your hand on the small of his back and guide him further into your home. “if anyone asks about it, you can just say you admire my tastes. imitation is the highest form of flattery, and whatnot.”

he shrugs. he shakes his head and stops you in the kitchen, lacing his fingers around the back of your neck. “you know, your impeccable taste extends to more than just your clothes.”

you place your hands on his waist instinctively. the comforting weight pulls a soft sigh out of him. “oh? what else, then?”

“well,” he hums, “your taste in men is pretty good.”

you roll your eyes and push him away, the sound of his laughter ringing out in your cosy home. “you’re insufferable,” you call over your shoulder.

“you love me for it,” he says through a giant smile, his eyes warm like melted chocolate. he follows you, bringing plates of food to the table. the savoury scent and rich spices make his mouth water.

“no peeking,” you say without looking, setting a few side dishes down.

hastily, taehyung lowers the dish to chest level. “i wasn’t peeking.”

you grin and reach for it across the corner of the dining table. “i hope you’re not lying to me, love. i’d be very upset if you were.”

he makes a noncommittal noise in his throat.

“come,” you say gently, pulling out a chair. “sit. it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.”

he slides into the chair, pausing only momentarily to peck your lips. that little gesture says for him what he struggles to.

it isn’t that he doesn’t want to say it – he would scream it from rooftops if he could – but it’s the actual wording part that he has difficulty with. he doesn’t quite know how to tell you that holding your hand makes him feel like a sparrow flying among cotton-candy clouds, or that he purposely hides the extra pillows for he has an excuse to hold you while he falls asleep.

when you join him at the table, he notices how all the dishes are crowded in front of him. he pushes them closer to the midpoint between you, only for you to push them back towards him. “hyung, you don’t have to do that.”

“what if you can’t reach?”

he pouts. he says, “i don’t have tiny little t-rex arms, honey.”

“just eat,” you tell him. he does, with minimal complaining. as much as he’d like to protest, the food smells so delicious it has his heart speeding up in anticipation.

he opens up the main dish, peering under the lid, and his entire face lights up like a child on their birthday. in the blink of an eye, he’s shovelling glass noodles in his mouth, mumbling i love you so much around vegetables and meat.

it can be assumed that he’s talking to you, but with his expression, he could just as easily be talking to the noodles. either way, it’s a win for you.

you take a moment to watch him eat with a soft smile. dinner dates are a common choice for both of you – especially when you’ve got busy schedules. neither of you wants to delay dates because there’s not enough time, so you take advantage of meals to see each other, even if it’s just for twenty minutes.

besides, taehyung’s adorable when he eats good food. you’ve perfected your japchae recipe just for him – and if you’re ever cooking when he pops in, he stares at the skillet like it’ll disappear if he blinks. if you tease him about it – and you always do – he’ll get all shy and bury his face in your back, stepping up onto his toes to look down over your shoulder with a face heated by the blue fire of the stove.

dinner goes smoothly. you chat about your days, memorable encounters with strangers, and how big your potted plants are getting. it sounds so mundane and ordinary yet makes taehyung’s heart swell with affection.

maybe it’s because joking over the dinner table isn’t something that's routine for the two of you. it’s a lull between verses, a breath between one line and the next. if he could, he’d soak up moments like this forever.

the bowls lay empty, stacked in the sink, and yet you’re both still hungry. the last fading rays of the sun breach the kitchen windows as he presses his lips to yours, quick and light – once, twice. then deeper, for longer, until he’s gasping for air, lips rosy and kiss-swollen when he pulls back.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he whispers. rebellious strands of hair frame your face, lit up in a blinding gold. it softens the sharp glint in your eyes, the angle of your cheekbones – both beautiful like a knife’s edge.

your hand slips from cupping his cheek to balanced on his shoulder, thumb resting in the dip between his collarbones. you say teasingly, “then you should be happy you’ve got me, hm?”

he is. he is happy.

—

the morning is heralded in by pale sunlight streaming into his eyes. his brow furrows and he sinks his face deeper into his pillow. it’s warm, and firm. his eyes crack open blearily.

unusually, he’s woken before you. his pillow turns out to be your torso. his head rests on the junction between the arches of your lowest ribs, that place of perfect ease as you sleep, becoming a broad, slight concavity when you breathe in.

your warm palm rests on the round of his shoulder. you’re curved comfortably, temple resting on the other arm thrown across the pillows. taehyung, tucked into you, turns you both into a sort of capital t-shape.

he likes to watch you. it sounds kind of creepy, now that he thinks about it, but he doesn’t mean for it to be. he just loves basking in the knowledge that you’re his.

he glances at the clock on the wall. after a moment of calibrating his sleepy mind and blinking the blurriness from his eyes, he notes that it’s nearly half-past ten.

taehyung falls gently back to your stomach, exhaling softly as he closes his eyes again. he’s no longer tired – the sun has gained its strength, shining through the gap in the drawn curtains – but he delays getting up. his lashes graze your skin as he blinks, tracing the dips between pads of muscle with a touch as light as an artist’s brush.

on the bedside drawer, your phone buzzes. taehyung lifts his head. he stretches up and over your body and flips your phone upright, resting the bottom edge on the wood. after entering your password – it’s the day he confessed to you – he briefly scans the email.

he huffs and shuts off the phone, letting it drop back to the drawer. he rests his temple against your shoulder, the curve of his nose settled against the side of your neck. slowly, his fingers creep towards your gently-curled hand, sliding closer until his knuckles sit between each of yours, soft palms pressed close together.

it’s a humming sort of heat, he muses as he links your fingers together. despite the stillness of your body, life thrums in your veins, right there under your skin.

your chest rises and holds for a moment – you stir awake.

taehyung smiles softly. “good morning, honey.”

“mornin’,” you mumble, letting out a loose exhale. “time?”

“ten-thirty. someone’s contacted you for business.”

“ah… who?”

“vogue.” he laughs at your sigh. “what’s wrong now?”

you shake your head. “you wouldn’t mention it if it didn’t have something to do with you.”

he fakes offence. “oh, am i not allowed to take an interest in my favourite hyung’s life?” he settles back down, closing his eyes. he hums as you close your hand around his, lifting it up towards the sun. “it’ll mess with our dates. they want to fly you out for a whole week, and i’ll be touring right after it.”

your hand tightens on his. “that’s alright. we’ll enjoy the time we have now and make up for it afterwards. whose turn is it?”

“yours.”

“i’ll take you on a romantic trip to the aquarium. what do you say?”

chuckling softly, he gazes at your entwined hands, stretching his fingers out. the pink flesh glows as the light streams straight to the bone. “hyung?”

“hm?” you admire how his fingers slot so perfectly between yours.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, tae. never forget that.”

he smiles, gazing up at your face through his lashes. “i won’t. but you know what i have forgotten?”

you frown. “what?”

“i was supposed to make breakfast today.”

you fall back into your pillow and it puffs up around your head. “oh, love, i thought it was something serious. hey, it’s not that late. you can still make brunch.”

he rolls onto his back, settling against your chest. he says cheerfully, “then i hope you’re alright with waffles. we don’t have a waffle-maker in the dorms – sacrilegious, i know, right? – so i’m going to abuse yours.”

“i have a brownie box mix somewhere, i think,” you offer, “want to stick that in there, too?”

“we’re totally trying it.” taehyung rolls over again with a sleepy groan, pulling himself up. the white sheets pool around his thighs as he props himself up on one arm, gazing down at you with soft brown eyes. “wanna get up now?”

you can’t take your eyes off him. he’s a marble statue of a greek god. the sheets cover just enough to allow for modesty, twisted prettily around his hips. his calves are carved of muscle, and his lean torso is twisted so that the line of his shoulders follows the line of his legs – an artist’s muse. his hair is a complete mess, sticking out in every direction, and the even glow of the morning sun falls on his ankles so beautifully.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles shyly, tucking his feet closer to his body.

“marry me.”

his breath sticks in his throat as he stares at you, eyes growing round like dinner plates. his startled gaze follows you as you sit up and dunk a hand into the drawer beside you.

there’s a little red velvet box in your palm and your hands are shaky as they open it, revealing a silver band studded with a diamond in the centre, glittering in the light.

“would you do me the honour…” you swallow. this is not the way you planned for it to go, but it’s going, and you can’t stop. “of making me the happiest man in the universe?”

taehyung’s world shrinks suddenly to this very moment. nothing else matters but the way you search his face for a reaction, a response.

taehyung scrambles off the bed in just his boxers and dashes towards his jacket. he isn’t gone for very long, not letting you drown in embarrassment and fear, before he comes skidding back into your bedroom, dropping to one knee with a black box in his hand.

“you beat me to it,” he chokes out, tears gathering on his lashline. “i’ve been stressing about this for months and you beat me to it.”

“t-tae…”

“i even prepared a speech, you know?” your shape on the bed is blurring. he’s crying. you’re crying. you’re both laughing through it. “i – i was gonna tell you how every day together you make me fall in love with you all over again, a-and about how i want to kiss you for new year’s for the rest of our lives. i was going to be all s-suave and smooth, too…”

he clears his throat, trying his damnedest to steady his voice. he raises the box higher, the shining ring catching the light. “will you marry me?”

you’re nodding your head rapidly, taehyung’s desperately asking yes? is that a yes?, and then you’re both all over each other, clutching the other so tight the skin dips under white fingertips. he’s on your lap, arms and legs wrapped around you like a koala, and at this point he’s sobbing into your shoulder, relief crashing into him as real and vivid as a tsunami.

only once the tears turn to laughter, and the laughter turns to flushed, loving smiles, do you pull away. his cheeks are puffy and pink.

“hey,” you say with a breathless laugh, resting your temples together. “you still haven’t answered my proposal.”

he giggles, a little delirious with joy, and nods. he squeezes your shoulders. “yes! yes, i’ll marry you.”

your smile brightens, if possible. he sits back, still in your lap, and both of you pick up your dropped boxes. “how do we do this?” he asks softly.

“well, i proposed first, so i’ll give the ring first.” 

he holds out his left hand, fingers splayed delicately outward, and bites his lip in a partial attempt to stop smiling so widely. it’s beginning to ache a little, but if he’s hurting because he’s so overwhelmed with happiness, it can’t be all that bad.

you take his hand – it feels so surreal – and slide the silver ring onto his finger against his knuckle. it sits there, the sun flaring off of the diamond’s faceted faces, and declares your love for him as loud as possible.

it’s a miracle nobody’s really caught on to your relationship yet. sure, there’ve been rumours and grainy zoomed-in pictures circulating in corners of the internet for years, but nothing substantial. now, however, with this glowing proclamation, taehyung is blissfully taken.

he slips the ring he chose for you onto your left hand, his fingers lingering as he brushes over your matching silver bands in awe. it feels like a dream, happening so quickly and without warning. 

you both had the same kind of idea concerning rings – in such busy, active lives, you can’t afford to have it catching on things. while the two have diamonds embedded in them, neither have sharp edges sticking out. they’re bold, with thick bands, and they certainly aren’t meant for anything secretive. they’re there, they’re loud, and so incredibly proud.

“do i have the right to call you ‘hubby’ now?” taehyung asks, his voice a little wobbly.

“yeah, i think you do—” you chuckle “—hubby.”

he gasps abruptly, eyes flying open as he stares at you. “oh – oh, we have to plan a wedding! we have to invite our families, and the members, and get to taste a million cakes and wines and we’ll have a little cake-topper with the two of us and—”

“baby.”

“we have to choose outfits – i’ve always wanted to walk down the aisle, can i have a cape? hyung, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve wanted to marry you, oh, i think i’m going to cry again—”

“my love.” you cup his face in your hands – gently, but firmly. “let’s not get too ahead with ourselves. how about after your tour? we can stress about the balloon colours and flower types after that, yeah?”

he sniffles, holding your wrists loosely. “o-okay.” after a moment, he whispers hopefully, “so, can i wear a cape?”

you laugh, nodding and pressing your forehead to his collar. taehyung smiles broadly at the sound, his body light and floaty and tingly all over with insurmountable joy. life won’t be easy after this – for he refuses to hide anymore – and people will surely object, but he swears – he swears on this with everything he has – that as long as he can come home to you at the end of the day, he would do it all one thousand times over.

[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

What If? (H.JS)

Warnings : mention of divorce 

Word Count : 1897

Synopsis : she had never seen jisung as anything more than just a friend. that is until her and jisung volunteered to do a couples photoshoot for their mutual friend. seeing the way he looked at her, the way they just seemed to match perfectly had her wondering, what if they were more than friends?

“He said my portfolio isn’t good enough. There isn’t enough variety.” Hyunjin whined as he plopped beside me on the couch. I could see the disappointment and exhaustion in his eyes when he looked at me. He had been working on his photography portfolio for months now, hoping to impress his professor.

           “Did he give you any ideas to help expand your portfolio?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair. It’s always helped calm him down, or that’s what he told me.

           “He wants me to try to do a couples photoshoot, since I do a lot of portrait shoots. But I don’t even know any couples!” I slowly began to massage his head as he moved to rest his head in my lap, his eyes closing as he did so.

           “Y/N and I will do it.” Jisung offered from the kitchen. Hyunjin’s eyes shot open, meeting mine immediately.

           “Is there something you two aren’t telling me?” He questioned, causing Jisung and I to burst into laughter.

           “No, but we can act like it front of the camera.” Jisung chuckled as he sat in the chair beside the couch.

           “Besides, most of the school thinks we’re dating anyway.” I joked. Ever since high school, people have thought Jisung and I were couple since we’ve always been so close. Jisung is quite introverted and nervous around a lot of people, and he’s told me before that I comfort him just by being beside him. Growing up, he always clung to me in one way or another, not that I ever minded.

           “Yeah, when I met you two in high school, I could have sworn you two were a couple.” Hyunjin added, sitting up on the couch. “But you two would really do a couples photoshoot for me?” We exchanged looks before nodded.

           “You’re our friend and this is important to you. Of course we’ll help.” I smiled.

           The three of us set out to find some nice shooting locations the next day. It was the perfect day for a photoshoot; the sun shining high in the sky. Every once in a while, Hyunjin would stop us and we’d take some pictures. Jisung and I looked up some references so we knew how to pose and make it look more realistic.

           There was a lot of longing stares and laughter at how ridiculous this felt. Hyunjin was completely focused as Jisung and I posed for him. This was his final project and was worth 50% of his grade, and I could tell it was stressing him out. We tried our best to look as in love as possible, trying to hold in our laughter until the picture was taken, but sometimes it was difficult.

           “Stop looking at me like that.” Jisung chuckled, hiding his face behind his hands. I reached out, taking one of his hands in mine and continued looking longingly into his eyes. “Yah!” I watched as his cheeks became a rosy colour.

           “Let me love you!” I yelled as he suddenly took off running. As I caught up to him, I jumped on his back, thinking it would tackle him to the ground, but I was surprised when he caught my legs in his hands and continued running with me on his back. “Yah Han Jisung!” I shrieked, begging him to drop me.

           “Didn’t think this one through, did you princess?” I cringed at the cliché nickname, lightly hitting the top of his head in protest. “Yah! Don’t hit me!”

           The three of us ended up at a cafe looking through the pictures Hyunjin took throughout the day, after he downloaded them to his laptop. Jisung would point at one he thought was really nice, asking to send them to him later. But I just stared, my heart suddenly picking up pace.

           I stared at the pictures, seeing the wide smiles on both our faces. How perfectly our hands seemed to fit together. Hyunjin even took pictures of us when we were just being ourselves, running around the park with me on his back. You couldn’t tell the difference between the pictures where we were acting like a couple and when we were just hanging out.

           In all the years I’ve known Jisung, I’ve never seen him as anything more than my best friend. But looking at these pictures is like looking into another reality where he’s my boyfriend, and I don’t mind it.

           Han Jisung has always been the person I turn to when I have news to share, good or bad. Through all the hard times and fights, he stuck by me, promising me he’d never leave. He’s the person that knows me better than I know myself. He knows exactly what I need without me asking for it. It’s like he can read my mind.

           There’s no denying that he’s handsome either. He has a smile that can light up a room. Whenever I’m having a bad day, his smile alone can brighten it, bringing a smile to my face as well. And he’s got the cutest cheeks that puff out when he shoves food in his face, much like a squirrel. It’s one of my favourite parts about him. Honestly, I love everything about him.

           There’s no doubt in my mind that I accidentally fell for my best friend. I fell for him a long time ago, but I refused to admit it. But looking at these pictures, my heart can’t deny it anymore. I’m in love with Han Jisung.

           “Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Jisung’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Do you not like the pictures? Are we not a cute couple?” He joked, his famous smile dancing across his lips. I couldn’t help but smile back.

           “We’re obviously the cutest! All the pictures are amazing, Jinnie.” Hyunjin smiled at us, the stress seeming to wash off him completely.

           “Honestly, you two would make a really cute couple. Look at this picture.” He showed us a picture he took just a bit ago when we got to the café. Jisung and I were standing in line, waiting to order. As per usual, Jisung had his arm draped across my shoulders, and I was holding his hand that was hanging off my shoulder, our fingers laced together. We were staring at each other, wide smiles on our faces. We weren’t even posing, that’s just how we’ve always been. “You are the happiest with each other.” Hyunjin added, but Jisung and I were both silent, realization hitting us both.

           “Wow.” Jisung breathed out, his eyes suddenly meeting mine. “I’m so handsome!” He exclaimed, a wide smile taking over his face. I let out a laugh, but I could feel my heart drop. It was obvious that I was the only one who fell.

           I eventually excused myself with the excuse of a project due in a couple days that I needed to finish. I put my earbuds in and took the long way home, overthinking every little thing between Jisung and I over the years. When did my feelings change?

           Was it the night my parents divorced and I couldn’t stop crying, wondering what went wrong? Jisung came over after I had called him and he heard I was crying. I told him not to, but he still showed up, drenched from the pouring rain, holding a bag of all my favourite snacks. He held me until my sobs faded and wiped away the drying tears.

           Maybe it was when we were partnered for a project in high school and we were in my room, laughing about something completely unrelated to the project. We stayed up late into the night, until my dad came upstairs, offering Jisung the spare room to sleep in, saying he already called his parents. Jisung was awake before me, waking me up with breakfast in bed and a shy smile.

           It could have been when I was stood up, and instead of just picking me up and allowing me to do the lonely walk of shame out of the fancy restaurant, he barged in, apologizing profusely for being late. I smiled when I saw him dressed in his best suit, his hair a mess from the obvious run he did to get there. He even paid despite the high price and his dwindling bank account.

           Or it could have been a mix of everything. Maybe my feelings were never platonic. I always seemed to laugh louder and smile more when he’s around.

           A short vibration from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the message from Hyunjin, seeing a couple pictures from today on my screen along with a short message. I don’t think you two are just friends.

           The pictures were ones he didn’t show us at the café, or at least not when I was there. The first one seemed to be from when we were just wandering around looking for a location to shoot. I was looking somewhere off camera, probably looking around for a place to shoot. But Jisung’s eyes were on me. His hands were in his pockets while a soft smile danced across his lips. The way he looked at me was the way guys in movies look at their lover. Eyes full of love and longing.

           The second picture was during one of the moments we were trying to act like a couple, but we couldn’t contain our laughter. His hands cupped my face, our eyes locked together in a sweet gaze. You could practically hear our laughter just by looking at the picture. And in both of our eyes was the same longing look Jisung gave me in the previous picture.

           The final picture was another from us acting like a couple. I had closed my eyes just like the couple in the reference picture, thinking Jisung did too. Our foreheads were touching, his hands cupping my face once again, and my hands resting on his chest. But his eyes weren’t closed. They were open, looking at me with such love that I could feel the butterflies erupt in my stomach.

           I stopped walking, just staring at the third picture, hope building up in my stomach. The lyrics of the song playing in my earbuds was background music to the sound of my heart pounding.

           Just then, Jisung’s contact picture popped up on screen as he called me. He always knew when I needed him. He knew me better than I knew myself. I should have known I couldn’t keep these feelings a secret from him. He could read me as easily as you can read your favourite book.

           “Turn around.” Was all he said before hanging up. Slowly, I listened to his directions, turning around, and seeing him standing just a few feet away. “You felt it too, didn’t you.” He said, neither one of us taking a step. Strangers just walked on by, not paying us any attention, as if they were extras in a drama we were starring in.

           “Yeah.” Was all I could say, and a smile formed on his face. “I think I always have.” I added, surprised he could hear me with how soft my voice was. He finally walked towards me, closing the short distance between us before cupping my face.

           “Me too.” He whispered before pressing his lips to mine in the first of many kisses we’d share.

[redhoodieone]

His Girl

Plot: Dick Grayson has a type in women: athletic, feminine, and classy. However, the reader is completely different as she is plus-size, tomboyish, and spontaneous. But a conversation about Y/N between Dick and the batboys takes an unexpected turn one night.

Warnings: Language, Sensitive topics, and Fluff.

“What the hell’s up your ass?” Jason asks Dick, as he hands him a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the Batcave. It was only until last week that Bruce gave in and allowed a refrigerator to be down there after the boys begged him for one.

As long as it was only for beverages, of course. Bruce had mentioned the boys have been eating too much junk food lately, but the boys knew deep down that his rule is simply for him, because of his age, and maybe for Y/N, too.

Y/N has only been with the Batfamily for a year since her family died at the hands of Two-Face. She had only started training with Bruce for two months now, and the two of them have been working out quite a bit.

Which makes sense of Bruce’s one rule for the refrigerator, though. But that hasn’t stopped Jason from sneaking in food anyways; mostly pizza and lunch meat and cheeses for sandwiches.

But now, Dick’s distant and silence is unbearable since the circus descent acrobat is usually excited and rambling about anything and everything.

“Uh, nothing! I mean...” Dick stutters. His behavior tonight was questionable to say the least. Usually, he would be on his game and even throw some wisecracks but he’s been awfully quiet, nervous even.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Jason scoffs.

Dick sits on top of the hood of the Batmobile while he peels the sticky label from the beer bottle. He notices Tim and Damian walking out from the showers and are already dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Bruce is seated at the Batcomputer, still in costume but minus the cowl. Jason sits at the small table and sips from his beer and snacks on a triple meat and cheese sandwich he must have made quickly.

And Alfred had long gone to bed after Bruce forced him to get some rest since they’ve returned home and are not dead.

Dick suddenly notices Y/N must still be in the showers, on the other side of the cave for privacy where the guys can’t bother the girls.

“Fine...I’ve been...having these thoughts and dreams about Y/N lately,” Dick confesses. He notices Jason staring at him with a confused expression.

“Yeah, and…?”

“Well…lately, I’ve been thinking about her as…more than a friend. I’ve been seeing her in a new light. And you know I’ve always thought she was cool, and funny, and incredibly smart,” Dick continues, with a small smile. “But…I’ve never been sexually attracted to women like her before.”

Jason purses his lips and appears to think it over. “So, I don’t see the problem.”

“I just told you I’ve never felt this way about Y/N or any woman like her before.”

“Because you’re shallow.”

“I’m not shallow,” Dick argues, suddenly feeling defensive at Jason’s attack. “I just…I’ve never seen heavy women as hot, you know?”

“You can try to justify all that, but the point is, you’re shallow.”

“Have you ever slept with a heavy girl before, Jason?!” Dick snaps.

Jason chuckles and grins. “Actually, I have.”

“Bullshit,” Dick scoffs.

“Yeah, I have Dickie-bird. It happened three years ago, when my Outlaws and I kicked Black Mask’s ass. We went to a bar to celebrate in downtown Gotham. Roy and Star left early to go fuck or something. I was left alone and I was about to call it a night until this smoking hot woman took a seat next to me. She had long dark hair, tan skin, and curves that made my mouth water and my cock hard enough to pound nails. She was gorgeous, but there were these assholes around her and were calling her fat and telling her to leave because no one here would take her home. And do you want to know what I did?” Jason asks.

“What?” Dick asks quietly.

“I took her home, after I broke all those guys’ jaws. She was fucking amazing, man. She had a magnificent ass that she actually allowed me to spank. Her curves were endless, and after I fucked her good three times, cuddling and falling asleep with her was probably the best part of the night. I’ve never felt so…comfortable and felt warm, because I actually felt someone beside me,” Jason admits.

Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I didn’t think something like that could happen to you, Jason. If anything, I thought you were shallow.”

“I used to be, until I realized I was judging others, when I was actually trying to have others not judge me. Alfred actually helped me with that. I don’t remember every word he said exactly but he said I wasn’t trying all the ice cream flavors out there. Like, I was always sticking to a certain flavor of ice cream, and I wasn’t trying other kinds, meaning I should be looking at all types of women. And after my one night stand with that magnificent woman’s ass, I realized bigger girls aren’t deal breakers; they’re just more to love,” Jason admits, and shrugs with a smug smile.

“That’s…I don’t even know what to say. But Y/N’s different. She’s someone we know and it makes it harder. And my problem isn’t that I’m shallow, it’s how I’m supposed to handle my feelings about her.”

“Yeah, you are, Dick. Y/N’s literally the best woman we’ve ever met. Hell, the best woman I’VE ever met. She’s fucking funny, she’s so caring and kind, she’s smarter than Timbo when it comes to common sense,” Jason lists off his reasons.

“That’s true! I’m not going to lie about that!” Tim interrupts from the distance.

“Y/N’s real, she doesn’t bullshit about anything like other girls. She’s honest, and that’s a rare thing to find nowadays. And fuck…she can really handle her alcohol, she can down shots of Fireball like it’s water,” Jason adds.

“You don’t think I know all that? Of course, I do! That’s why I’m having such a hard time dealing with my feelings for her. I’ve only ever been with tall, athletic women, who wear skirts and dresses, eats healthy, and are…well, feminine,” Dick confesses. A guilty expression shows on his face. “And Y/N’s not any of that. She’s really short, kinda chubby, and she’s more of a tomboy type, who’s loud and rambunctious, and eats like a man.”

Jason snorts. “And that’s a problem why? That’s why Y/N’s fucking awesome, man! I actually really like how she’s not afraid to be herself. She’s not fake. Do you know how long it took for her to be comfortable with all of us and be who she is rather than how she thought we expected from her? And I don’t know about you but I love how she eats, whenever we go out to restaurants, I actually like how I can eat the way I want and not feel like a fat ass because I know her and I both love what we love and fuck all who have a problem with that!”

Bruce turns around in his chair and gives both boys a warning look. Even Tim and Damian silently take a seat and watch closely.

“Fuck…Y/N is the perfect woman. She’ll always be in my eyes,” Jason admits, looking down at his beer longingly before taking a sip.

“If you feel so strongly about her then why haven’t you tried to go out with her or sleep with her?” Dick asks angrily.

Jason’s pause takes everyone by surprise. “Because she can do better than me.”

“You-you actually tried to get with her?” Dick stammers.

“Oh, yeah I definitely did. I think about a year ago. I had spent the summer with her here while everyone was busy with the whole Justice League and Superman bullshit,” Jason explains. “You were with the Titans with Tim and Damian. It was just me and her.”

“Alfred was there as well,” Bruce mumbles.

“Anyways, call it cheesy as hell like those romcoms, but we actually got really close. She’s a spitfire for sure, but she really knows how to get under your skin,” Jason chuckles.

Tim and Damian nod their heads in agreement with that.

“And I obviously made the whole situation uncomfortable as fuck because when I told her how I felt, she rejected me. She said we were too alike, we’d butt heads all the time. And after that, I never brought it up again.”

Jason’s confession gives Dick a sense of confidence.

“Look, if you want to ask her out and do all that then I support you. Just know if you fucking hurt her or do anything wrong, I’ll slit your throat even if you’re family,” Jason threatens seriously.

“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up with her,” Dick says.

“Well, don’t bring up how her weight and appearance bothers you,” Jason says seriously.

“It doesn’t!”

“Okay. How did you ask Barbara, Star, Zatanna, and-”

“I get it, Jason. I’ll just talk to her and tell her I have strong feelings for her,” Dick interrupts him. “I’ll just tell her the truth.”

“You already did.”

That voice belonged to none other than Y/N. All the guys in the Batcave jerked their heads to the top of the stairs where Y/N stood and looked down with tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing her plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt she stole from one of them a long time ago, she doesn’t exactly know who though.

Dick and Jason slowly stand up. Dick carefully walks over to the stairs while Jason cautiously follows.

“Y/N…” Dick whispers, already feeling guilty and nervous that she had probably heard everything. “Please listen to me…”

“WHY?! So, you can tell me you didn’t mean any of that, when you actually did. I thought you were different! I didn’t know you could judge someone like that! Especially someone like me!” Y/N yells. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend! Y/N, please give me a chance to explain! I really like you, and-and I was just trying to ask for help so I can talk to you!” Dick pleads.

“Don’t lie to me! You were only asking for help because you didn’t know how to deal with me being fat and manly! I’m sorry I’m not like Barbara and Star! I’m sorry I’m not beautiful and thin! I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you!” Y/N cries out and runs up the stairs.

“Y/N! Wait! Please!” Dick shouts for her. He chases after her.

By the time Dick reaches Y/N’s bedroom door, it’s locked. He can hear her crying, automatically feeling like shit for being the reason why she’s hurt.

“Y/N, please…” Dick tries again.

“Leave me alone, Dick!”

Dick swallows hard and forces himself to move away from her door. There was no use for him to stand there; he’d already broke her trust and possibly ruined their friendship. He might have even ruined his chances with her.

Jason approaches Dick. “Is she crying?” he asks.

“Yes,” Dick chokes out. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, Jason…I don’t know what to do. She won’t even talk to me.”

“You should go, Dick. I think you’ve done enough.”

Dick was a little taken aback by Jason’s command. He pushes himself to walk away anyways.

“Bruce wants to talk to you. You should go find him before he finds you,” Jason adds.

Dick exhales heavily and leaves. Jason shakes his head in disappointment at him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Y/N’s bedroom door.

“Doll, it’s Jay. Please let me in,” Jason says softly. “I just want to talk to you.”

He didn’t think she would open the door for him. He didn’t think she would want to talk to him even though he hadn’t pissed her off or upset her in any way. But Y/N unlocked her door and even opened it for him.

Jason was deeply heartbroken to see Y/N; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet, and she had the devastating look on her beautiful face. He quickly walked into her room and shut the door, quickly locking it.

He had to be cautious though. He knew couldn’t say or do the things he wants to do with her right now. Instead, he slowly and carefully approaches her. She allows him to wrap his strong arms around her, bringing her closely to his body to hold and protect her from everyone and everything.

“Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason whispers into her hair. He tries desperately to not inhale the addicting scent of her shampoo and lingering perfume so much. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Y/N lifts her face from Jason’s chest and gazes up at him. The sight of her glistening eyes makes him draw her closer to him.

“What did I do wrong, Jay? What did I do to deserve all that? Is everything about me really bad?” Y/N asks softly, on the verge of tears again.

“No. No, don’t say that. Don’t say any of that! Nothing is wrong with you. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Jason admits.

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. It breaks Jason’s heart more when she tries to pull away from his embrace, but he refuses to let her go. His grip tightens and he holds her as if she’d disappear and leave him all alone.

“That’s not true, Jay,”

“It is true. Hell Y/N, you’re the most badass woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from any of us. You’ve managed to stay here even after all the bullshit everyone has put you through,” he explains. He even chuckles at a memory. “You’ve even made Bruce cry, remember? Remember you called him out on his bullshit when he refused to train you? You’re almost a savage like Alfred, you even make Wonder Woman and Catwoman look like dollar tree prizes, and that’s no lie.”

Y/N looks down at her feet. Jason knows she still doesn’t believe him.

“You’re always perfect in my eyes, Y/N. There isn’t a goddamn thing I would change about you,”

“If I’m so perfect, then why does Dick think so low of me?” Y/N asks. She sniffles adorably and looks back up at him.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot who can’t see the best thing that’s in front of him,” Jason answers, and looks into Y/N’s eyes before he looks at her lips. “But his loss is my gain.”

[iridecsense]

𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 - 𝘮.

⤷ summary: “You’re blue, I'm red, I wanna kiss your neck and make you purple all over.”

ꕥ word count: 33.7k ꕥ pairing: credence barebone | fem!reader  ꕥ genre: fluff, angst, smut ꕥ rating: 18+ ꕥ warnings: mentions of physical and religious abuse, mild violence and angst ꕥ kinks: femdom, masturbation ꕥ author’s note:  Credence’s first time requested by anonymous. Experimenting a new writing style with this one, I hope you still like it! This is very soft, but also sinful. I always suggest using Interactive Fics extension on Google Chrome and Firefox when reading my fics. Enjoy. ;) ꕥ key: (y/n) - first name (l/n) - last name (e/c) - eye color (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color

There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive. Humans aren’t as complex as they like to think. Humans are simple. Without realizing, it they put themselves into a routine. Eat, work, sleep, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat.

Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” And yet, most humans never fall into insanity. How is it humanity survives such a dreary existence? The answer itself is simple. It is because despite living simple, tedious, monotonous lives, they still have those few moments.

Credence wanted nothing more than to experience one of these moments. Life for Credence was human. It repeated on an infinite loop, no matter how much he prayed for it to stop. Unlike most people’s lives, Credence’s routine wasn’t something to accept comfortably. There was no eat, sleep, work, repeat for him. His day started with an unsavory meal. It was usually porridge or stale bread. Then he would go out and hand out his “mother’s” flyers while she ranted in the streets. After that, they’d return to the orphanage where he’d surely get beat for doing something wrong. After being denied dinner, he would return to his room and cry silently in his bed, trying to dream of a life better than the one he lived. Then repeat.

Today was supposed to be no different. Today, Credence would have to hand out flyers around Times Square until nightfall. He hated handing out flyers in Times Square. It was bright, loud, and crowded, and the rich people from The Eggs always came down to shop and attend the cinema.

Rich people are assholes.

For the most part, Credence was invisible amidst the hustle and bustle of the square. People were too busy chatting amongst themselves or rushing to the nearest store or restaurant to even bat an eye at him. He didn’t mind it. He welcomed invisibility with open arms. Being seen usually ended with new bruises and scars. That's what happens when you’re an outsider, and Credence was an outsider in every sense of the word. He was an outsider to the rich people that pushed past him on the sidewalk, an outsider to the orphanage, and an outsider to himself. 

So, the lowly outsider stood hunched over in the middle of the sidewalk next to a cinema. Above him was a large marquee lit up by five hundred flashing bulbous lights. Mobs of people dappered up in evening dresses and suits, tipping their fedoras and clutching their mink coats excitedly entered the theatre. Credence looked at the flyers in his hands. Mary Lou gave him three hundred flyers to give out, and he barely gave out thirty. Most of the ones he did manage to force into someone’s hand ended up on the ground not ten feet away from him. They couldn't even bother to find a trash can. He wouldn’t dare return home with such a disappointing turnout.

The sun had long since set. The roar of the night became corrupted with wealthy party-goers. The Square was alive with chatter and street music. The streets were filled with intoxicated drivers flashing their fancy topless automobiles and the pretty women that shouted inside them. It was rather scenic, and Credence often found himself staring longingly at all the people whose lives seemed much happier than his own. It was one of the few ways he could pass the time.

He would watch couples walk the street hand in hand, seemingly in love. The woman would occasionally point out something on display she fancied and sweetly coherence her partner to buy it for her—to which they always did. He would observe a gang of college gentlemen around his age hop from bar to bar, obnoxiously laughing and roughhousing in the streets, cat-calling passing dames. In his mind, he was one of them. He pretended he lived in a world where he wasn’t an orphan and grew up in a wealthy family. He would have a mother who loved him and a father who was proud of him. He would go to college and make friends with other boys. Maybe he’d fall in love with a girl along the way. Someone sweet to please the folks back home. Then it would be him parading down the streets with a pretty girl around his arms in Times Square, and some other poor guy would be miserable in his place.

As his eyes wandered the streets, watching the snippets of other people's lives and inserting himself in them, his eyes landed on her across the street. She stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a boutique. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, neatly placed under a velvet green beret. She had on a slim fitting wool coat with mink trim over a lace-covered silk dress that shined in the night’s light. When she began to walk, his eyes followed her down the street like magnets. The way she seemed to carry herself was unlike the others around her. She wasn’t pink with liquor, stumbling in her heels on the pavement. Each step she took was one of elegance and confidence. He couldn't look away.

“Hey, watch it, punk!”

Credence found himself shoved to his hands and knees on the ground, the flyers in his hands dispersing in the air around him. He winced in pain and looked up to see a man angrily peering down at him.

“Watch where you’re goin’, freak!” The man cursed at him.

Credence kept his head down. “I’m sorry, sir.”

The man sucked his teeth and purposely stepped on some flyers in front of him as he walked by, pressing them into the wet sidewalk. Only when he was sure the man had gone did he find it safe to move. He ignored the soreness in the palms of his hands and tried his best to salvage as many flyers as he could. Passersby couldn't have cared less about the papers they ripped and crumpled under their perfectly pointed shoes. He picked up what little there was left unscathed—about a hundred at least. He was lucky most of them were still stacked together. He went to collect the last salvageable stack across from him when another pair of (s/c) dainty hands reached for them.

Credence’s eyes landed on a pair of green pumps pointed at him. His eyes trailed up past long legs shielded from the cold by nude stockings, green silk, and tawny fur until they met painted red lips and glossy (e/c) eyes. Up close, she was much more captivating. He could now make out her soft, round features and see how her (h/c) curls perfectly framed her face. Her cheeks were dusted a lush red. Whether it was from the early winter chill, or a detail of her makeup was unknown. Either way, she was stunning. It took him longer than it should have for him to notice the flyers she was holding out for him to take.

Credence awkwardly stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on the tips of her shoes to avoid her gaze. Even in his slouched state, he towered over her, but somehow he still appeared small.

“I saw that.” Her warm voice filled his ears, catching him off guard.

He lifted his head to look at her once more. “What?”

The girl looked in the direction the man from earlier had left and frowned.  “The prick who knocked you over was half-seas over! He could barely tell his left foot from his right! If he had, he would have seen that it was his fault knocking you to the ground like that.”

Credence didn’t know what to say. That was the most anyone had ever said to him without spewing insults his way. Even more peculiar was that the strange girl talking to him was trying to defend him. His awkward speechlessness didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. Instead, her targeted vexed expression relaxed into a warm smile.

She urged the flyers towards him once more. “Sorry about your papers. I don’t think there’s much left to save.”

He carefully took the papers from her hands, noting how perfectly manicured her nails were. “It’s okay... thank you.”

“No need to thank me. No sense in being praised for common decency, right?”

Credence found himself speechless. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement. It was definitely something he should be grateful for. Most people wouldn’t look twice at him struggling on the street, let alone go out of their way to help.

The girl spoke through his silence. “You don’t talk much, do you?” She chuckled.

He shamefully bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she quickly assured him. “Sometimes, I think people talk too much. I don’t think people should say things they don’t need to, otherwise, words lose all valuable meaning. You know what I mean?”

He nodded slowly. “I think so.”

She seemed pleased with his answer, her smile growing ever so slightly. It wasn’t long before it was replaced with another frown. Unlike before, this wasn’t a frown of annoyance, but concern. Her brows turned upward and her red lips parted to let out a sharp gasp. She looked at him clearly for the first time, her eyes wandered over his slender form and taking in his appearance.

“Goodness! Aren’t you cold?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.

Credence shrugged half-heartedly. He was used to the cold by now. He only had a handful of clothes to begin with. He didn't have the luxury of having clothes that match the changing weather, he could only wear whatever clothes fit him from the donation pile. The warmest garment he obtained this winter was an old navy blue suit best designed for autumn’s chill, but useless against winter’s cold. She found it hard to believe he stayed in the cold for so long without freezing to death. Credence thought that was a bit of an exaggeration. It was a particularly cold November night, enough to keep the patches of ice and snow that had been shoveled to the gutters intact. With every shaky breath he took, a puff of white mist would follow. His nose and the tips of his ears were permanently colored red and, given his natural pale complexion, made him look rather sickly. But, he bore through it because he had experienced far worse.

Without warning, the girl took the liberty of placing her palms on the back of his hands. The gentle action was so alien, he flinched when he felt her warm skin.

“Your hands are like ice!” She gasped. “They’re two degrees short from falling off!”

It must have been true because the feeling of her hands was enough to send a fiery warmth throughout his body. Such affection was so foreign to him, he began to doubt it really happened. It wouldn't have been the first time his mind played tricks on him. Perhaps he was home in his bed, lucidly dreaming about a chance encounter with a pretty woman. In a moment, he would wake up, and the warm feeling of a woman’s touch would turn cold, and he’d find himself alone in his room again.

His theory was swiftly disproven when he felt her hands gently squeeze his. As if she had the brightest idea of the decade, the woman’s face lit up.

She took a step closer. “Say, why don’t I get you some tea to warm you up? There’s a coffee shop still open a few blocks away—I could drive you in my Ford!”

Credence blushed and swallowed. His eyes darted around nervously. “I’m not sure I should...” He mumbled.

“We can stand here in the streets like a couple of gulls if you’d like, but I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze, so you might as well say yes,” she smirked.

He wanted to say yes. But there was a voice inside him that warned him not to go. It was the same nagging tone Mary Lou barked in his ear. His mind spiraled, spewing scenarios of his adopted mother’s fury. He should be home by now. She never liked it when he returned home late. She would beat him again. She might even ice him—something she did when she was truly furious with him. The thought of it made his blood run cold.

“I-I can’t,” he stammered. “M-Mother is expecting me home—she’ll be wondering where I am.”

The woman’s once playful expression slowly faded. Her brows gathered at the center of her forehead and her smile faded. Credence was trembling and stuttering, helplessly trying to explain why he had to return home. His words slurred together into a tremulous speech. Passing pedestrians gave patronizing stares, actively avoiding the pair and whispering amongst themselves. The woman placed a comforting hand on Credence’s shoulder, silencing him almost immediately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” She said softly. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to upset you by it.”

She looked him in his eyes and offered a kind smile. There was a skip of his heart. A strange feeling weighed in his chest he had never felt before.

“Why don’t I drive you?” She suggested. “That way you can be home twice as fast!”

Credence took a moment to think about it. He found it increasingly impossible to say no. Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to extend their encounter, if even just for a minute. He had the smallest inference that if he said no, it would disappoint her. The thought of disappointing her was something he didn't want to do. He felt obligated to appease her. She had shown him a kindness that he may never get again. He thought he could at least keep her pleased.

“Okay,” he relented.

The girl grinned up at him and linked her arm around his. His cheeks grew warm, and he tucked his chin to his chest to hide his blush. Not that she would notice either way. She gingerly led him down the street, trying to engage him with small talk. He tried to listen, but he would get distracted whenever he felt her chest brush up against him. She was so close and so warm. Her touch burned through the thin material of his jacket and made his skin tingle. He could smell her perfume, like lavender and vanilla.

Such an alluring scent it was. It smelled familiar and sweet in its flowery nature. It reminded him of the transition from spring to summer, when the flowers became the most vibrant and fruit ripened to perfect sweetness. He wished he could smell it every day. It would be a refreshing change from the stench of mildew and boiled cabbage he often smelled. He wondered if she always smelled so sweet.

“So, what’s with the pamphlets? Are you a part of that Second Salemers organization?” she asked, pulling him out of his fantasies. He looked down at her and saw her looking up at him expectedly. He couldn’t help but grow hot with embarrassment.

“Y-yes,” he answered.

“Really? So, you believe in witches?” She teasingly wiggled her fingers in his face.

"My mother does,” He answered.

“How interesting,” she thought aloud. “I can’t say that I believe in witches, but if they do exist I wouldn’t mind.”

“You wouldn’t?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, they’re human like us, right? People tend to demonize things they don’t understand. Just because they’re different doesn't mean we have to fear or prosecute them. I think we should embrace each other’s differences and learn to appreciate them, rather than forcing everyone to assimilate to one idea of normalcy. If we do that, then no one would be unique. We’d all be the same.”

He listened closely as she spoke. He was absolutely fascinated by her. It was rather profound, the way she thought. Most people would disagree with her sentiments, especially his mother. The world Credence knew was built on a system of separation. A system that separated classes, races, sexes, and the able-bodied—a system he was a victim to. Never once had he met someone who desired to rid of it just as much as he did, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear such scrutiny from someone who seemed to benefit from it.

When she finished her societal criticism, she stopped in her tracks and craned her neck up to face Credence.

“Excuse my rambling,” she flushed. “I talk nonsense when I go deep in thought. Don’t mind me, I probably sound crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Credence spoke up. “I wish everyone thought the way you think.”

Their eyes locked in a moment of tenderness. His bold sentiments were enough to make her heart skip a beat; unbeknownst to him. Their intimate trance was broken when a passing car flashed its blinding lights in their eyes, causing the girl to release her grip around Credence’s arm. The loss of contact made his arm feel too light; as if someone had taken a piece of his arm away.

The girl let out a sheepish chuckle. “Well, this is it,” she said as she walked over to the luxurious motor car parked on the side of the street. Luxurious seemed like an insult of a descriptor for the magnificent opulence of the machine. The streetlight illuminated the pearl-colored metal that matched the white-rimmed tires. Gold embellishments lined the rim. Tawny leather seats contrasted the exterior and matched the fabric roof. It was something Credence had only seen in advertisements.

“She’s a bit much, right?”

Credence hadn’t realized how apparent the astonishment written on his face was. He expected the girl to laugh at him, but the girl didn’t find joy in his culture shock. She was nervous, as if she were ashamed of her possession, like he had just discovered her most shameful secret.

“She was a gift from my father,” she felt the need to explain. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything, I truly am. It’s just that I would never have bought something so ritzy for myself.”

“I like it,” said Credence.

His words seemed to relax her otherwise tense demeanor. “I’m glad you do,” she smiled as she opened the door. He watched her slide into the driver's seat. He approached the machine cautiously, eyeing the foreign object skeptically. The girl watched him closely, an amused smirk curling her lips.

“You’ve never ridden in a car before, have you?” She asked. Credence shook his head.

“I promise there’s nothing to worry about,” she chuckled. “I happen to be an excellent driver. My father wouldn’t have given me one so expensive if I wasn’t.”

This was true. Such a beautiful car wouldn’t be gifted to someone who would evidently wreck it. The girl pats the empty passenger seat invitingly, urging him to get inside.

Credence slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather seeping through the thin fabric of his suit, sending shivers down his spine.

“Here.” The girl reached in the back seat of the car and pulled out a large grey blanket. “The car will get warmer as we drive, but this should be good for now.”

Credence placed his papers on his lap and reached for the blanket.

“Wait,” she stopped him, a small frown appearing on her features. “You’re bleeding.”

Credence followed her stare to his left hand. He turned his palm upward to find the healing wounds on his palms had reopened. He didn’t notice the sting of the cuts before, but now his hand burned with the slightest movement. He couldn’t help but feel exposed. He hated his hands. They were ugly. Permanently blemished with raised scars that formed from healing and reopening and healing and reopening at contact with his mother's belt. It was unsightly. He shied away from her, mortified. She must’ve found them just as repulsive.

But the girl didn’t seem phased by his calloused and scarred hands at all. She didn’t hesitate to reach inside her breast pocket and pull out a pink handkerchief to wrap around Credence’s hand. Again he could feel her warmth. Her soft hands caressed his skin, pulling him closer. She handled him gently, delicately folding and wrapping the silk fabric around his cuts. She glanced at him as she did so, only to find him avoiding her gaze with his chin tucked into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered as she tended to him.

“You’re sorry?” She let out a breathy chuckle. “And what are you sorry for, exactly?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “For making you drive me home. For ruining your handkerchief,” he said.

The girl sighed as she tightened the cloth around his hand and tied it into a bow to keep it in place. “Bunny, you’re not making me do anything. I insisted, remember?” She reminded him. Credence felt the entirety of his face grow hot. He turned to face her again, only to be met with the same (e/c) eyes and kind smile she had before. His heart felt as though it were beating a mile a minute.

“And don’t worry about my handkerchief,” she adds. “I have dozens of them. They’re more for looks anyway, I never use them.”

Credence nodded and silently thanked her. She gave his hand another squeeze before leaning back in her seat and starting the car. The car made a sound like a lion and roared to life. The seats trembled beneath them, and the headlights lit the road ahead. When the car jerked into drive, Credence felt uneasy. She drove the car well, and he suspected that she was driving at a slower rate for his benefit, but the feeling of the car moving made his stomach churn with excitement and fear. He walked everywhere he went. He’d taken the subway once before when he was younger, but somehow this was different. He fidgeted in his seat, finding anything to distract himself from the tight feeling in his stomach. His eyes fixated on his hands, brushing his fingers against the smooth fabric of the handkerchief. It was colorfully embroidered with flowers and lacey patterns. He followed the design with his eyes until they came upon two scripted letters embroidered in gold on the corner that wasn’t tied into a knot.

“Are these your initials?” He asked to distract himself with small talk.

The girl gasped dramatically. “I never introduced myself, did I? How rude of me! I’m practically a stranger and here I am driving you around Manhattan without giving you a proper introduction.”

The girl took one hand off the wheel and held it out in front of him. “My name’s (y/n) (l/n).”

Credence took her hand and shook it lightly. “I’m Credence. Credence Barebone.”

“Credence. What an odd name. I like it,” she grinned before pulling her hand back. “So, where am I taking you, Credence?”

He told her he lived in the old chapel on Pike Street. She fell flustered while trying to explain she didn’t know exactly where that was. Credence then told her she was going the right way, and if she kept going straight, he would tell her when to turn. While they drove, she did her best to get to know Credence. He answered every question she asked with a short and vague response. She didn’t ask him many questions to begin with. She mostly talked about herself or the people she knew, like her family and friends. Almost everything reminded her of them.

He figured she did it to make him feel more comfortable. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed hearing her talk. While driving, she saw a dress in a boutique and mentioned that her friend, Darla, would love to have a dress just like it. When they passed a tea shop, it reminded of her mother, who only drank earl grey tea; which, to her, is the most boring of teas. On the sidewalk, there was a stray cat running into an alleyway. She told him how much she wanted a pet cat as a child, but she couldn’t get one because her father was allergic.

He couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. The more she talked, the more relaxed he became. He stole glances at her when she wasn’t looking. Watching her lips move as she talked, outlining the bridge of her nose and the curve of her cheek. He had been staring so intently he hadn’t even realized she’d asked him a question.

“Credence?” Her voice filled his ears.

“Yes?” He answered.

“I asked if I turn here.”

Credence turned to look out the window and saw that they had stopped at the corner of Pike Street. It was a quiet neighborhood filled with old apartments that had dim windows and unfriendly doors. Sticking out like a tabby cat among tigers was the Church of the Second Salemers. A rickety thing dwarfed by the buildings that surrounded it. Credence’s heart sank. If only the ride was a little longer.

“I can get out here,” he told her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

Her lips twitched into a bittersweet smile. “Alright,” she simpered. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” He said truthfully.

There was a beat of silence. The two sat awkwardly, not really knowing how to say goodbye. Credence stared at his hands in his lap and began to untie the handkerchief.

“Keep it,” she stopped him before he could. “To remember me by.”

Would this really be the last time? He knew that she meant nothing by it, but hoped he didn't have to remember her. He wanted to see her again. He didn’t want it to end.

He gripped the cloth tightly in his hand. “Thank you.”

He reluctantly opened the car door and stepped onto the slushy street, closing the door behind him. She waved at him through the window, to which he returned in a less enthusiastic manner. He took a step back onto the sidewalk and watched as she drove down the street until she disappeared around the corner.

“Goodbye... (y/n),” he whispered.

It had been weeks since Credence’s chance encounter, and ever since his mind was consumed with thoughts and fantasies of (y/n) (l/n). Everything reminded him of her. The melting snow on the ground, the smell of flowers that mimicked her perfume when he passed the floristry, passing women in mink coats and tea shops; they all emulated her.

He often thought about how different things would have been if he did what he wanted that night. Would she be with him now had he gone to the café when she’d offered? Would she have liked to know him? Would she have enjoyed his company? The more he thought about it, the more he wished he’d taken the risk—his mother be damned.

Now all he had were memories and theories of what could have been. Though, fantasizing became his new favorite pass time. Reminiscing about her was one of the only things that gave light to his otherwise dark, mundane life. Like right now, he was thinking of what it would be like to make her laugh while scooping porridge into bowls for the orphans to eat.

He thought her laugh would sound feathery and jovial; the kind of laugh that makes you want to smile and laugh with her.

“You’re smiling.”

Credence was pulled from his thoughts by his sister, Chastity. He looked to the side and saw her smirking into the pot. “What?”

“It’s not just today,” she says. “You’ve been... different lately. Happier, I think. Always smiling to yourself. Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Did you meet someone or something?” She persisted.

Credence scoffed. “How could I have met someone?” He refuted.

Chastity she glimpsed at Credence skeptically. “I guess not,” she hummed, much to his relief.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re blushing, though,” she smirked.

Credence’s cheeks burst into flames as he attempted to sputter an explanation. Chastity giggled to herself, finding amusement in teasing him.

“What’s going on, children?”

The sickeningly sweet voice was enough to raise the hair on the back of their necks and shudder their hearts. They turned around, craning their necks up to the banister. Mary Lou Barebone towered over them just as menacingly as she could in her own prim and proper way.

“Nothing, mother,” Chastity answered for them. “Credence was just telling me a joke.”

“This is no time to be joking,” she scolded. “We have a very important meeting today with Father Blackwell, and I will not allow distractions. We can't lose focus. This is our chance to spread our message to the church— to the city! You should be preparing, not laughing.”

“I’m sorry, mother,” Credence apologized.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she warned, before sauntering away.

Even in her absence, Credence couldn’t find the will to relax the rest of the morning. The threat of her looming presence was far too great. After the orphans had finished their meal and left, Chastity washed all the dishes while he cleaned the dining hall. Once they finished their menial tasks, Modesty came downstairs to tell them Mary Lou wanted them to hurry and dress in their best attire for Father Blackwell.

Father Blackwell was the priest of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He was the most famous priest in New York City and the priest of the mayor. Mary Lou was very anxious to present her case to him. According to her, once Father Blackwell hears her pleas and shares it with the church, the city would finally begin to take her seriously and put a stop to the heresy festering right under their noses.

So she believed.

It was Sunday. Today they would attend a mid-day service and attempt to get counsel with the priest. Though, Credence doubted Father Blackwell would even see them. As he got dressed, he looked himself over in the mirror. His ‘best’ attire was a dark plum suit so dark it looked black if you weren't paying attention. It made his already pale skin look even fairer and darkened the color of his raven hair and russet eyes. It was the only suit that fit him perfectly and had few blemishes. He’d probably look like a proper gentleman if his mahogany shoes weren't so terribly worn due to them being the only pair he owned.  

He took the matching hat off his dresser and put it on. Hidden underneath it was the pink handkerchief. He took the piece of fabric in his hands and held it up to his nose. It smelled like her. Remnants of her perfume still lingered between its stitches. He was grateful she allowed him to keep her handkerchief. He felt foolish for ever trying to part with it. It was the only proof he had that she existed; that their brief night encounter had truly happened.

“What are you doing?”

Credence instinctively hid the cloth behind his back, turning around to see Mary Lou standing in his doorway.

“I was straightening my tie,” he says, his voice wavering slightly.

Mary Lou looked him over for a moment, trying to find something out of place. “Come now,” she orders, having found no reason to torment the boy. “We’re leaving.”

She walked away. The sound of her heavy footsteps thumping down the stairs was Credence’s signal to breathe again. He pulled the handkerchief from his back and folded it neatly before hiding it underneath his pillow.

On their way to the cathedral, Mary Lou gave each of them a stack of flyers. She wanted them to hand out flyers to the congregation once the service ended while she talked with Father Blackwell. If there was one thing about Mary Lou, she was passionate and determined. When she set her sights on something, she will do everything in her power to execute it. She’d been planning this meeting for weeks. She readied herself in the only way she knew how: through constant prayer and tedious preparation. In a way, Credence was thankful for it. When Mary Lou became enlightened on an alternative approach, she was far too busy focusing on it to bother him. It was one of the few windows of relative freedom he had, and they came once in a blue moon. This meeting could mark the end, or the beginning, of this liberation.

Sitting in the pews during service, he could hardly concentrate. St. Patrick’s was a magnificent building, an authentic replica of the renaissance with its high, arched ceiling, stone engravings, and vibrant stained glass windows. It was the epitome of class and beauty. So, naturally, it would be the one church favorited by the high society. Wealthy families filled the better half of the sanctuary. While Credence and his family sat in the back with the rest of the commoners, they filled the front pews with tailored suits, mink coats, and Sunday hats. As Father Blackwell preached to the congregation, Credence searched the pews for a familiar face.

He knew his chances of seeing her were low, but he couldn't help but hope one of those Sunday hats would turn around and reveal those sparkling (e/c) eyes. His leg shook nervously, his eyes darting from one aisle of pews to another. It only stopped when a firm hand tightly gripped his thigh.

“Pay attention,” Mary Lou whispered, malice laced in her tone.

Credence swallowed, his body tensing immediately, afraid of even moving an inch in her presence. He turned his attention from the pews to the altar. Father Blackwell was standing in front of his pedestal, reading a scripture.

“We are living in a godless time,” He said. “Satan parades in the streets, preying on our sons and daughters! When the night comes, our children leave and venture into the streets. The devil and his minions tell them to wear promiscuous evening attire, commit sodomy, and fornication! Tempting them into Speakeasies to drink the Devil’s urine and feast on the bodies of Lilith’s daughters! Our city has become the devil’s playground. There is no God out there. Only sin.”

Flashes of her face imprinted in his mind. Credence frowned and tried to push it from his thoughts, but he couldn’t. His thoughts became consumed by her. As Father Blackwell spoke, he began to envision things he knew he shouldn’t.

“‘The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.’” Father Blackwell reads. “Don’t you see? It isn’t ‘fashion’ or ‘modernity’. The devil has infested the media to infect our minds. He wants to taint our bodies to further stray us from God. ‘Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body’... and therefore, is a sin against God.”

His cheeks burned, and he prayed nobody would notice. He’d never thought of her like this before. Yet, somehow, the sermon unlocked one of his most shameful desires. He imagined the feeling of her warm body pressed against his. He reminisced about the feel of her soft skin. He pictured the curves of her lips, chest, and hips. He wondered how they would feel on his lips. Would they be just as soft?

“Brothers and Sisters, we must rid ourselves of all sin. Protect your children, for the devil, has his eyes set on them. The greatest sin against God is the polluting of our holy bodies. We must practice modesty and chastity. Only then can we be saved... Let us pray."

The congregation bowed their heads and listened as Father Blackwell lead the closing prayer.

The priest’s words echoed in the back of his mind. Even as he and his sisters handed flyers to those exiting the church, his mind would drift back to the sermon. Mary Lou had left him and his sisters to talk with Father Blackwell. He watched as she walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar. Father Blackwell was already conversing with a member of the church, a stocky man wearing a cream-colored suit and matching hat.

She nearly approached him before another man stopped her. Credence recognized him as Deacon Ripley. Deacon Ripley was as galling as his face would suggest. His face was pointed and far too wrinkled for his age. Deacon Ripley had a habit of sticking his unusually large nose into other people’s business. He reminded Credence of a sewer rat, just as unsightly and full of shit.

He couldn’t make out what was being said, but from the looks of it, Deacon Ripley was reprimanding Mary Lou. Mary Lou did her best to get Father Blackwell’s attention, but he and the mustachioed gentleman ignored her calls. Mary Lou was never really one to lose her composure, but in her desperation, she attempted to divert Deacon from obstructing her access to Father Blackwell. She rushed to the altar, calling Father Blackwell. She began stating her case, catching the attention of those still left in the church.  

“There are evil forces at work, Father!” She shouted. “Heretics walk freely amongst us, doing the devil's work!”

Deacon Ripley came behind Mary Lou. “Pay no mind to her, Father Blackwell, she speaks fabrications.”

“This is not fiction, Father, I can assure you,” she says. “I have seen them with my own eyes. The devil’s concubine.”

“What is this you speak of?” Father Blackwell demands.

“Witches, Father. There are witches here in New York, working right under our noses—”

“I told you, Father, she’s insane,” Deacon Ripley cuts in.

“I am not crazy,” Mary Lou snarks. “And if we don’t stop them now, there will be hell to pay!”

“Enough, Ms. Barebone,” says Father Blackwell. “I will hear no more of these fairytales. Please, have decency.”

Father Blackwell turned to the gentleman and guided him to a back door where they disappeared from the sanctuary. Mary Lou, still determined to be heard, began shouting after them, preaching her testimony of witches infiltrating New York. This resulted in her being handled by a few clergymen and escorted off the premises. People whispered and gossiped as the Barebones walked by. It wasn’t hard to tell Mary Lou was humiliated. She put on a brave face, clenching her jaw and holding her head high. She grabbed Modesty by the hand and walked away. Credence and Chastity followed close behind with their heads down.  

It had been about a week since the church incident. Mary Lou hadn’t left her room since. The only one to see her was Modesty. Mary Lou always had a soft spot for the younger sibling. In any other circumstance, Credence would have taken such behavior as a blessing. Whatever wrath Mary Lou was feeling wasn’t being directed at him. But the looming threat of her presence left him little to no space to relax.

Credence was helping Chastity make pamphlets in the dining hall when the sound of Mary Lou’s door opening and closing halted their process. Small footsteps trotted down the stairs and into the hall.

“Credence,” Modesty called. Credence stood from his seat and walked to Modesty, who handed him a stack of flyers once he was close enough. “Mother wants you to pass out these flyers around town. She said not to come back until they’re all gone.”

Credence took the flyers in his hands and reluctantly walked to the door. It was snowing today. It wasn’t cold enough for it to stick, but it was cold nonetheless. He already wore his warmest clothes, which happened to be an old navy sweater vest, grey wool suit jacket, and matching trousers. He threw on a grey fedora and ventured into the streets.

He didn’t mind handing out flyers. Anything to get out of that awful place was enough for him. It was just about noon when he left. He thought it best to head towards the inner city. It was Saturday, so there were sure to be people bustling in and out of shops today. It usually wasn’t a long walk, Credence was used to walking long distances. However, the nipping cold slowed his pace a bit.

In the first hour, he spent walking around midtown and passing flyers around the park. Handing out flyers in winter rarely yields any results. People are far too cold and miserable to bother pulling their hands from their pockets to grab a piece of paper. After a very unsuccessful hour, he migrated further north, closer to Times Square.

“Credence?”

Credence stopped in his tracks, his heart jumping wildly in his chest. He slowly turned around to where the voice had come from. There, in all her grace, was the last person he expected to see. He could see her even more clearly than the last night he saw her. This time, she wore a large, white fur coat that stopped at her ankles and a matching fur hat. In her gloved hands, she carried a small beaded purse that glittered when light reflected off it.  In the day’s light, her skin radiantly glowed, much like her purse. Her eyes seemed bigger than what he remembered, mimicking that of a doll’s. They were enhanced by the brown eyeshadow that darkened her lids and the mascara that elongated her lashes. Today, her lips were raspberry pink instead of the deep red he remembered. Snowflakes nestled in the nooks of her curled (h/c) hair, making her appear even more angelic.

“Mi-Miss (l/n)?”

He hadn’t a moment to process her appearance before she rushed into his arms, catching him by surprise. She threw her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his broad shoulder. His hands instinctively gravitated to her waist, holding her steady as she stood on the tips of her toes. She felt lush in his arms, the heat from her body sent warmth spreading throughout his center. The expanse of his neck and cheeks blossomed into a dusty shade of rose. His mind raced as he tried to collect his thoughts. He was almost sure she could feel the rapid beating of his chest.

If she did, she didn’t seem to mind. She held onto him, squealing excitedly. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you!” She said between giggles. “I was hoping you’d be here!”

Credence raised his brows, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You... You were hoping?” he repeated.

She pulled away, falling back on her heels to look him in the eye. Her hands still held onto his arms. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you,” she says. “But every time I come down, I hope I do.”

“You visit often?” He asked.

“As much as I can,” she admits. “I live in Kings Point. Do you know where that is?”

He nodded. Kings Point was a village up North by the bay in an area commonly referred to as West Egg. Many wealthy families live there in their ritzy mansions, throwing parties, boating, and golfing.

“Yes, well, I can only visit on weekends. Mainly with friends. But, lately, I’ve made a habit of coming down on my own, since I met you.”

She had said it so casually he thought she must’ve not realized how it sounded. Had she been purposely coming to the city, hoping to cross paths again? A small smile formed on his lips.

Her hands slipped from his arms and returned to her side, much to his disappointment.

Just then, a man behind her coughed, drawing their attention. (y/n) looked back and gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry, Eddy. How rude of me! I completely forgot to introduce you.”

She stepped back to the man’s side. “Eddy, this is my friend Credence Barebone. I met him a few weeks ago in Town Square. Credence, this is Edmund Tully.”

Credence and the man made eye contact. The man, Edmund, was tall; even taller than him. He was built, with wide shoulders to match his thick neck and strong, clean-shaven jawline. His rectangular face was undeniably handsome, with strong, straight features Credence had only seen before on statues and hooded green eyes. His blond hair was almost completely hidden underneath his grey newsboy hat that matched the tailored grey suit he wore underneath a thick, black, fur-lined ulster.

Credence was already intimidated by the man. He was older, around his late twenties. If it wasn’t his overall overwhelming appearance that intimidated him, then it was definitely the pointed glower directed at him. (y/n) didn’t notice it. Her eyes were focused on him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Credence, bravely offering his hand.

Edmund looked down at Credence’s outstretched hand. “Yes, and you as well,” he said indifferently, reluctantly taking his hand and forcing a smile. (y/n)’s brows wrinkled slightly at the interaction as she looked between the two men.

When they stopped shaking hands, Edmund turned to (y/n). It was almost comical how drastically his expression changed when he looked at her. His face softened and his phony, tight-lipped smile became genuine.

“(y/n), darling, I’m afraid I have to go now,” He said.

“So soon?” She asked.

“Yes, actually. Your brother and I have a meeting with your father and Mr. Finnegan around lunch,” he explains.

“Oh, I see,” she hums in understanding. “Well, you better get going.”

“You’re right, I must.” He took a step closer to her. “It was lovely running into you today, (y/n).”

Credence watched as he bent down and placed a large hand on her waist. She too reached around to wrap your arm around his torso. He watched as the man kissed her right cheek before moving to kiss the other. This didn’t phase her at all. Instead, she smiled as if it happened all the time. Credence felt looked away, upset by the display. Why did he feel upset?

The two pulled apart, and Edmund began to walk away. “I’ll tell your brother you said hello, shall I?” He yelled.

“Yes! And tell him that mother wants him home by ten o’clock tonight!” (y/n) responded as she waved goodbye.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Credence spoke up.

(y/n) looked back to face Credence. “I have two older brothers, actually,” she told him. “Aaron and Channing. Eddy is Aaron’s friend. They met at Oxford University. He and my brother both work for my father now, so he’s around often. He can be a bit... overbearing sometimes, but he means well.”

“And your other brother?”

“Channing is only a year older than me, so he’s twenty. He’s my best friend,” she revealed. “He isn’t here, though—in New York, I mean. He’s currently studying abroad in Japan.”

“Japan?”

“Crazy, isn’t it? Between you and me, I think he’s only there to follow this Japanese girl he met. And I don’t blame him! I met her before and she’s very beautiful, sweet too! Though, I do miss him a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone with him when I had the chance.”

Credence looked down at his feet as he listened. For some reason, the thought saddened him. Did she miss her brother so much that she would end up leaving for Japan one day? Would he never see her again? Would she miss him if she did? He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay so they could keep meeting like this. So he could see her face and have her smile at him so kindly, like she always did. Her brother might miss her, but he needed her.

Credence felt so selfish for thinking such things. How could he possibly think he deserved her time? If he told her what he truly thought, how would she react?

As if she could read his thoughts, (y/n) took a step closer to him. He picked his head up to face her and saw that she was smiling up at him.

“But, if I had done that, then I wouldn’t have met you,” she says.

Just as quickly as his deprecating thoughts had come, they left once her words reached his ears. Credence could only stare at her in disbelief.

“And he sends me letters every month, so, I guess it's all right,” she chuckled. “So, how have you been?” She asked, bringing him out of his daze.

“I...I’ve been well,” he says.

“I’m glad,” she smiles. Her eyes travel down his form. A small crease forms in the middle of her brows as she tilts her head to the side. “You still haven’t gotten yourself a coat, I see.”

Credence looked down at his clothes as though he had forgotten what he had on. “No, I haven’t.”

She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “I suppose I could just buy you one.”

Credence shook his head, not wanting to inconvenience her for a second time. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I wasn’t really asking,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really.”

She stared at him for a moment, squinting her eyes slightly. “Fine, then.” She began unbuttoning her coat. Credence watched her, confused by the sudden action.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked.

“If you won't let me buy you a coat, then I won't wear one either,” she says simply.

Credence furrowed his brows. “But you’ll be cold.”

She scoffed. “And you’re not?”

Credence was rendered speechless. A small smirk curled on her painted lips. “Either you let me buy you a coat, or I won’t wear one at all. I can’t walk with you knowing you’re freezing and I’m perfectly comfortable.”

She was impossible. No matter what he says, she would always find a way to make him give in.

“O-Okay,” he concedes.

(y/n) grinned brightly, fixing her coat back over her shoulders and hooking her arm around his as she had once before.

“This will be fun!” She beamed.

She led him back in the direction she had come while eagerly telling him about the boutique she knew would have the best selection for him. He increasingly became more comfortable in her presence. He even properly engaged in conversation, much to her delight. And whenever she smiled up at him, he found himself smiling too.

The boutique wasn’t far—about three blocks away to be exact. It was a small blue shop with gold painted windows. Through them, Credence could see posed mannequins dressed in all kinds of fancy coats, dresses, and suits. Written above the entrance in the scripted font was a sign that read: Vendicci’s.

Upon entering the store, their ears were filled with Italian opera. The shop appeared to be empty. There were no other shoppers, and the front counter was left unattended. Credence followed her to the counter. On its surface was a small golden bell that she tapped lightly. The bell rang, signaling their presence.

Shuffling could be heard from the back of the shop, catching their attention. From the back of the shop, they could hear harsh whispers and unintelligible curses. A short, thin man came stumbling in. He had dark olive skin and chestnut brown curls that fell around his Grecian face. He was disheveled—the first three buttons of his pink dress shirt were unbuttoned, and the fabric of his pressed white pants were creased. Without looking, the man made his way to the back of the counter, mumbling in a language he couldn’t make out.

Following behind him was a woman equally disheveled in appearance. Her short black hair stuck up in odd places, and she had missed one button of her blouse. She wandered the shop, to mind some clothes on the rack as the man drew near to the front counter.

“Stupidi Americani... Sorry, we are closed for now. You can come back later when—,” The man stopped when his eyes landed on her.

(y/n) smirked. “Hello, Raül,” she waved.

“Bella!” He gasped and hurried towards her with open arms. “How wonderful to see you!” He said in a thick Mediterranean accent. He placed hands on her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss both of her cheeks. “You look even more lovely since the last I saw you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Raül,” she chuckled.

“Where have you been?” He pouts. “It’s been so long I’ve barely been able to survive without you.”

“I’m sorry, Raül, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of how I spend my money,” she explains.

“Mind your money here! I have so many new items you would look molto bella in. I saved them just for you,” he winked.

“That’s sweet of you, Raül. I promise I will come by and try them on at another time.”

Suddenly, the man became aware of Credence’s presence in the room. He looked at him like something had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Raül raised a skeptical brow and asked with pursed lips, “Is this man with you?”

“Yes, he is,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “We’d like to buy a coat. Something thick for the winter.”

Raül nodded and hummed, turning back to face her. “You’re just in luck,” he says. “Early this week I got a shipment straight from Italia: a fine selection of winter coats designed by Feliciano Romano himself.”

(y/n) gasped, clasping her hands together. “That’s fantastic! We’ll try those first!”

She took Credence by the arm and they followed him through the shop where they came upon a round archway covered by red velvet curtains. Raül pulled back the heavy curtains to reveal a separate room. It was small. The carpet was also red to match the curtains and the loveseats and chairs that decorated the room. In the center of the floor, was a circular platform. Above it was a circular ring of white drapes that had been pulled up. Across from the platform was a wall of mirrors, reflecting the room from different angles.

The woman from earlier had come in as well. With her, she brought along a rack filled with many expensive coats. She pulled it to the side of the room, right next to the platform. Raül thanked the woman with a playful pat on her buttcheek.

Credence blushed, having put two-and-two together about what was going on between the two co-workers before he and (y/n) had shown up. (y/n) was unfazed at all by the promiscuous interaction. Instead, she took off her coat and hat and threw them on one of the sofas facing the platform before taking a seat.

“Let’s begin!” Raül said excitedly.

“Stand up there, Credence.” (y/n) pointed to the platform. Credence did as he was told, and stepped onto the raised surface, awkwardly awaiting more instruction.

The dark-haired woman came up to Credence with a large coat in her arms. He didn’t need to put it on to know it wasn’t something that would suit him. She stood behind him and slipped the sleeves of the coat over his arms and shoulders. The coat itself was heavy enough to make him slouch slightly and tense his leg muscles to carry the added weight. The warm fabric engulfed his lanky form. It was made of strange, thick fur—not mink, but from another animal, he couldn’t guess. It was dark brown, and in some areas, it looked black. The length of the coat ended just above his ankles and the sleeves practically covered his hands, the tips of his fingers were all that were visible.

It was definitely a coat well suited for a more muscular type of man. It was the kind of coat that would be perfect for a large Russian mobster. However, on his lanky form, it just looked plain silly. (y/n) looked at him in the mirror, catching his eye.

“Do you like it?” She asks. “Be honest. I won’t buy you something you don’t like.”

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“Absolutely not!” Raül said as he took a step onto the platform and stood in front of Credence, looking him over intently. “I never thought I would say this to anyone, but, my dear, sable is not for you.”

“You don’t think so?” (y/n) chimed in.

“Miss (l/n)!” He gasped. “You are my most fashionable client! Tell me you don’t think this works for him!”

She looked him up and down, a smile stretching across her lips. “I think he looks cute,” she says. “like a cuddly bear.”

Credence blushed and shied away from her gaze. Raül tuts his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Well, he must be the skinniest bear in the forest,” he mutters as he pulls the coat off Credence’s shoulders.

“Want to try another one?” She asked. Credence nodded.

Raül went through the rack before pulling out another coat for him to try. He found one he thought might look best and took it off its hook before helping Credence try it on.

After he helped him slip his arms in, he took a step back to look him over. “How's this?”

It was a slim-fitting burnt orange fox fur coat that stopped halfway. It had a low collar and large brown buttons that trailed from his chest to the hem. He noticed how it was tighter around his waist and made his hips look bigger than he’d like. He thought it was a coat he would see on a woman. 

“It’s a bit bright for winter, don’t you think?” She pointed out.

“Nothing is ever too bright,” Raül argued.

She squinted at Credence’s reflection in the mirror, pondering the look. His face burned red and he silently pleaded she disliked the coat as well. His flustered expression made her stifle a fit of giggles. “I think we’ll try another one,” she smirked.

Raül sighs and slips the coat off Credence’s shoulders, much to his relief. The next coat was a black and white trench with large black buttons and a belt. Credence stood uncomfortably in front of the critical pair.

Raül crossed his arms, a small approving smile plastered on his lips. “Now this, I like!”

“I don’t know...” She hummed. “What do you think, Credence?”

“It’s itchy,” he says.

“It’s tweed,” Raül said, as though it made it better.

She giggled and looked at Raül. “Another?”

They went through several different coats, most of which were unflattering or uncomfortable. Credence thought the others were doing it on purpose — at least, he felt like she was. There was something about the playful smirk that curled the corners of her lips whenever he was dressed in a seemingly ridiculous or feminine coat that made him feel as though she had taken joy in dressing him up and watching his cheeks turn red from embarrassment whenever she expressed how ‘cute’ he looked. While there may have been no initial mal-intent when she initially insisted on buying him a coat, he was starting to feel like she was toying with him; teasing him for her own pleasure. 

Raül pulled another unsatisfying coat off of his shoulders only to replace it with another. The weighted coat comfortably slipped onto his shoulders. When Raül properly fit the coat onto him, he took a step back, a small smile gracing his features. Credence turned his neck to look back at (y/n) who had a similar expression of approval.

“Wow.” She whispered.

The coat was indeed impressive in a simplistic kind of way. It wasn’t too flashy or extraordinary. Just a simple black trench that fell to his knees. It was a sharp, angular cut, one that seemed to broaden his shoulders to imitate a somewhat muscular appearance. The shade of black complimented his pale skin and matched his raven locks, making him appear more porcelain than before. 

“Magnifico! So handsome, like a dark prince!” Raül cheered. His assistant then too voiced her agreement.

(y/n) moved from the sofa to the platform where Credence stood. She eyed him closely, circling him before stopping in his eye-view. She ran her hands up his arms, feeling the material under her skin. She dragged them up and across his shoulders, before stopping at his chest. Credence’s heart drummed against his chest, excited by her touch. He wondered if she could feel it through the coat.

“Do you like it?” she asked him.

“I do,” he says, truthfully this time.

She smiled and turned to face Raül. “We’ll take it!”

(y/n) left with Raül and the woman from earlier to pay for the dashing coat, leaving Credence alone in the dressing room. He looked himself over in the mirror, admiring how he looked in the black material. He couldn’t deny how good he looked in it. For the first time he looked, normal. Better than normal—he looked like a proper gentleman. Sure, a real ritz could snuff him out in a heartbeat, but to the average New Yorker, he could pass for someone on the same caliber as (y/n). It was like looking at the version of him he always wanted to be.

It wasn’t long before the fleeting fantasy soured. The rational part of his brain picked at the flaws of this entire interaction. How would he explain to his mother where he got such an expensive coat? If she saw him wearing it, she would definitely ask questions he was afraid to answer. Either way, he knew he couldn’t be seen with it on while she was around. But he couldn’t throw it away; not when she went through all the trouble of buying it for him. And it was such a nice coat... Credence shook the worries from his mind. He couldn’t think about it now. 

After (y/n) paid for the coat, the two bid Raül goodbye and ventured back out into the cold. Already, Credence noticed a stark difference of the cold with the coat protecting his skin. It dulled the nipping chill that never left during the winter months. 

“Much better, isn’t it? ‘Not cold’ my ass,” she snarked playfully. She fished around her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. “Take these.”

Credence eyed the gloves questionably. (y/n) sighed and took his hand from his side, sliding the gloves on before doing the same with the other. “There,” she grinned. “I wasn’t sure if these were gonna be the right size, but look! They’re perfect!”

“But... you didn’t have to buy these for me,” said Credence.

“I didn’t buy them,” she says. “Raül gave them to me—well, to you. He says those gloves must go with that coat. I have to say I agree; they really complete the look.” She began walking down the street again, prompting him to follow her. “And don’t worry about the coat, okay? Like I said before, it’s on me,” she reminded him.

Credence still felt couldn’t accept something so valuable without thanking her. She bought him a coat because she cared about how he was feeling, just like when she helped him off the street all those weeks ago. He felt indebted to her—grateful to her. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he returned the favor tenfold. 

To her, this was obvious. She could tell buying the coat bothered him. He was so tense. He probably would never relax around her unless he somehow proved that he deserved to. Perhaps she can help him see. She glanced at the taller boy from the corner of her eye.

“But,” she sighed. “If you’re still looking for some way to repay me, I can think of something I’d like you to do.”

Credence perked up. “Really? What is it?”

She grins up at him, showing her pearly white teeth. “Go on a date with me.”

Credence’s eyes widened. “W-What?”

(y/n) chuckled. “If you don’t want to go on a date with me, that’s fine.”

“No!” He said all too desperately. He blushed at his own excitement. “I mean... Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s why I suggested it, isn’t it?”

Credence blushed. A date? He’d imagined taking her on a date in his head about a hundred times. He thought of what he might say and do on the chance he got to be alone with her again. Maybe this time he’ll follow through.

“Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you want to go?”

“How eager are you!” She laughed. “I didn’t even say when and you’re already trying to sweep me off my feet, huh? Either that or you’re just trying to get rid of me.”

“T-That’s not how I meant it!” he stammered.

(y/n) giggled at his demise. “I’m just teasing you, Bunny. No need to turn so red,” she smirked.

She didn’t help his case when she slipped her arm between his to link their arms. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her being so close to him. No matter how many times she touched him, he always managed to get flustered. It’s probably why she did it so much, just to see him blush.

“Now is as good a time as any,” she said while smiling up at him. “Are you hungry? I’m starving!”

They walked through the city together, arm in arm. Unlike last time, Credence attempted to be more interactive with her. (y/n) was definitely the more dominant converser, but his attempts to be more engaging with her didn’t go unnoticed. He asked her the questions that have been collecting in his head since they met.

He asked her what she did in her spare time (paint) and what her favorite food was (chocolate). He learned that she was a Columbia scholar currently on break and that she recently adopted a hairless cat named Onyx (it was the only cat her father wasn’t allergic to). Talking with her became easy. He even made her laugh a few times.

While they walked, Credence felt like they passed about twenty different restaurants and cafés he thought she would like. But whenever he thought they were about to stop, she kept going. He was wondering where exactly she was taking him. 

“Are we eating somewhere in particular?” He asked discreetly.

(y/n) nodded and hummed. “I’m taking you to one of the best places on earth. Salone’s! It’s not that far from here. It’s been a while since I’ve been, but I’m really craving it. Have you ever been there before?” She asked.

Credence shook his head. “Never,” he said, causing her to gasp dramatically.

“Oh, now we definitely have to go! What kind of person would I be if I let you go on living without experiencing God’s gift to man? And by ‘God’ I mean Dixie Salone, the owner.”

When they turned the corner, there was a small restaurant named Salone’s across the street. Taking precautious measures, (y/n) gingerly led Credence across the street and to the restaurant. When they opened the door, the smell of grease and peanuts filled the air. The place was reasonably packed, with average looking people all looking at them as they entered the room. (y/n) looked out of place in her rather extravagant attire, though now—with her on his arm and his new coat—he probably looked just as pretentious as she.

If (y/n) noticed the leering eyes of the other customers, she didn’t show it. Instead, she scoured the area for a place to sit, before landing on a booth tucked away in the back. They claimed the booth for themselves. Credence took the booth facing the door, shedding his outer attire and tucking it away in the seat corner. (y/n) slid into the seat across from him, shrugging off her coat and hat, revealing her clothes underneath.

Underneath the mound of fur, was a matching white dress. Unaccommodating to the weather, the dress underneath hung off her shoulders. It had long sleeves, but the upper half of her chest and her shoulders were exposed. Though, Credence figured when you have fur to wear over your clothes, it doesn’t matter much what you wear under it. The fabric was velvet, which must have also helped. From what he could see, it hugged her body well. Credence looked down at his hands on his lap, realizing he had been staring a bit too long. Lucky for him, she hadn’t noticed.

On the table were two menus placed before them. He looked down at the large printed sheet. Credence had never been to a restaurant before. He had eaten nowhere else but the church. He ate once a day (if he ate at all) and it was the same thing almost every time: porridge and stale bread. But on the menu before him, there was no porridge or stale bread at all. There was soup, steak, chicken, and almost every kind of pie. He felt his mouth watering just thinking about it. 

“Don’t bother looking at the menu,” (y/n) told him, gaining his attention. “I’m going to order for you. This place is really only good for two things, everything else is subpar, trust me.”

He looked at the menu again, mildly disappointed. He was looking forward to trying fried chicken. He took a moment to look around the diner. Most of the people there looked like working classmen: factory workers or nannies. Some still wore their uniforms under layers of sweaters and scarves. Others wore regular everyday clothes. Many of those who eyed them upon their entry returned their attention to their food and prior conversations. Though, there were a few that still snuck looks at their table in the back. Some were harmless, like the little girl who was staring at (y/n) in awe. Some were more menacing, like the rugged-looking man sitting on a stool by the counter who seemed annoyed by their presence.

(y/n) noticed that Credence’s eyes were shifting around the room pointedly. “Is something the matter?” She asked.

“It’s just...” He began. “I never thought you would be the type to eat at a place like this.”

“I guess it does seem a bit funny, huh? I look like someone who’d frequent an uptown steakhouse, right?” She chuckled. “Truth is, I’ve never had a big part in that lifestyle. Banquets and fine dining, I mean. It’s all fake and pretentious. But this—” she gestured to the room around them. “This is real. The food is real. The people are real. Do you know what I mean?”

Credence nodded. “I think so.”

“Some of my favorite memories take place here. My father would take me here when I was little on his days off. It was one of the happiest times of my life. I guess I wanted to relive that with you today.”

Credence took notice in the look in her eyes. He could tell that recalling such memories saddened her. He didn’t like seeing her upset, but, at the same time, he was glad she wanted to share something so important to her with him. One day, he hoped to do the same.

Not long after that, a young woman dressed in a red dress and a white apron with a stitched red S on the bottom corner walked up to their table with a notepad in hand.

“Hello and welcome to Salone’s, what can I get the lovely couple today?” The waitress asked. Credence couldn’t help but blush after being referred to as a couple.

“Yes,” (y/n) said happily. “Today we’ll—” she stopped mid-sentence before glancing at Credence across the table. She smirked and waved the waitress down to her.

The waitress smiled and got down on her knees next to her. (y/n) grabbed a menu and held it in front of their faces so Credence couldn’t tell what she was whispering. He watched in confusion as (y/n) whispered their order to the waitress.

The waitress nodded, and every once in a while he heard her giggle. “Yes, alright... okay... got it!”

The woman stood back up on her feet and smiled down at the two diners. “If you two just wait here, I will be right back with your orders,” she said cheerfully before trotting off.

“What did you get?” Credence asked once she had left.

(y/n) shook her head and held her fingers to her lips to imitate the motion of closing a zipper. “It’s a surprise,” she winked.

Credence nodded, having decided to trust her decision. In the meantime, while they waited for their food, (y/n) engaged in another conversation with him. It was a continuation of their earlier conversation about pets. (y/n) wanted to know if Credence had any pets. When he told her he never had a pet, she asked him what kinds of animals he likes. He told her that he never met many other animals before. He’d seen many rats in his life, but that just came with the joys of living in New York City. But he thought it appropriate to mention he once made a bond with a stray cat when he was younger.

It was a black skinny thing, with a chewed off ear, and part of its tail was missing. One day, when he’d been left out on the streets as a punishment (he told her he was walking home), the cat came up to him and was begging for food. Lucky for the cat, he had a piece of bread in his pocket. He gave it to the sad creature, and it ate it from his hand. He’d never pet a cat before then, but he liked how it’s fur felt when he brushed it, and the sounds of the cat’s meows. After he told her that story, he stated that he probably liked cats the best.

“We’re just alike! Maybe one day I can take you to meet Onyx,” she suggested.

The corners of Credence’s lips curled up softly. “I’d like that,” he said.

Just then, the woman from earlier came up to them with their order on a large silver platter. The waitress placed the hot food onto the table, along with their drinks before leaving them to enjoy their meal. Credence looked down at the plate of food in front of him.

“Burgers?”

“Burgers,” she repeated excitedly. “If there’s one thing this place can make, it’s a damn good burger. Well, that and a mean vanilla milkshake! The fries aren’t half bad either,” she says as she pops one in her mouth.

Meat and fried potatoes filled his nostrils. The burger was as big as the plate it came on. The sesame bun was soft and round, and the edges appeared to be lightly toasted. Crunchy lettuce, cheese, and two slices of bacon coated in mayonnaise and ketchup poked out from the sides on top of a thick beef patty. (y/n) smiled in amusement as she watched Credence carefully take the burger in his hands. His eyes were practically sparkling with excitement.

“Go on,” she encouraged. “Take your first bite! I want to see the look on your face when the juicy meat hits your tongue.”

Credence glanced at her across the table, before opening his mouth and taking a generous bite out of the hefty burger. Various flavors overstimulated his senses. The beef and pork collided with the onions, lettuce, cheese, and condiments to create an unfamiliar taste he’d never experienced before. The meat was succulent and juicy, just as she said it would be. The cut of the beef was thick and chewy, and the bacon was crispy and flavorful. The bun was soft and crunchy and tasted as though it was toasted with butter. It wasn’t stale at all! It was like it came fresh out of the bakery just before it wound up on his plate. 

It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Well?”

Credence hadn’t even realized he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, (y/n) was looking at him expectantly. He swallowed the delicious food and licked his lips greedily, chuckling softly.

“It’s good,” he smiled.

A wide grin stretched across her painted lips. It was the first time he’d laughed around her.

“You have a pretty smile, you know that?” She told him.

Credence’s cheeks reddened for the thirtieth time that day, and he lowered his head to hide it from her.

(y/n) chuckled softly before taking his basket of fries. “Here.” She took the red ketchup bottle from the side of the table and drizzled the condiment over the fries in a zig-zag pattern before sliding the basket back towards him.

“Thank you,” he muttered bashfully through a mouth full of food.

“You’ve got ketchup on the side of your mouth,” she told him.

Without thinking, he stuck his tongue out to lick the spot clean. (y/n) smirked in amusement, watching him do so, finding it cute.

“Did I get it?” He asked.

She snickered and reached her hand across the table to the side of his face. Her thumb gently swiped the corner of his mouth. The action took him by surprise. He sat tensely as she did it. It was a quick moment— a gentle touch, and yet his entire body burned with heat at the contact. When she pulled away and leaned back in her seat, the warmth still lingered. She looked him in the eyes, not breaking contact as she brought her thumb to her lips. The pink flesh of her tongue darted out and lewdly flattened against the pad of her thumb, cleaning it of the ketchup.

Credence felt his body ache at the simple action, the tips of his ears burning incredibly hot. (y/n), who was by no means ignorant to the effect she had on him, could only smirk and marvel at the rosy tint of his cheeks. Credence was grateful she didn’t draw attention to it. It was easier to hide how flustered she made him when they were outside, and he could blame his feverishness on the cold. Now that they were inside and it was warm, it made it harder to deny. He couldn’t bear being teased by her further, he felt like he might explode. She must have sensed it too, because she made no other moves to make him blush after that. She acted as though it didn’t happen and continued to eat her food. Credence then too returned to eating, praying that the ache he felt went away. 

It did, with the help of other distractions. (y/n) continued innocent conversation as they ate to keep the peace. As they talked she could tell that her earlier display still hindered his interaction. While they talked, she’d notice his eyes would linger on her lips rather than her eyes; and whenever they did lock eyes, he would trip over his words and look away.

It was cute, she thought.

Before she could decide to tease him further, the waitress had returned to their table, having noticed that their plates had practically been licked clean. She asked if they were finished with their plates, and they both nodded.

As she collected their dishes she asked, “Can I interest you two in some dessert?”

(y/n) pursed her lips and turned to Credence. “What do you think? Still have room for more, pretty boy?”

Credence flushed.  “I-I’ve never had a milkshake before,” he stammered, referring to the claim she made earlier.

She smiled, before gingerly holding up a finger to the waitress. “We’ll have one large vanilla milkshake with extra cherries, please!”

The waitress returned her smile and winked. “Coming right up!”

It wasn’t long before she came back with the milkshake. It came in a large glass cup filled with vanilla milkshake and topped off with a generous swirl of whipped cream. It was decorated with a cherry, but the extra cherries (y/n) asked for layered the bottom of the glass. The waitress placed the glass on the center of the table between the two. She handed them two big, red and white striped straws before leaving them once more. They both took one and put it into the glass.

(y/n) smiled eagerly at Credence across the table. “You get the first sip,” she said.

He thanked her as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around his straw. He sucked on it how he normally would without realizing how thick the milkshake was. (y/n) watched him struggle for a moment as he nearly ran out of breath trying to suck the ice cream up the straw. He got it eventually, the cool, sweet, vanilla filling his mouth. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really, but he just knew that the taste surprised him. He never had sweets before. Sugar is a gluttonous indulgence that Mary Lou found sinful. But as the sticky sweet cream slid down his throat, he wondered if all sin was just pleasures he was being denied.

He didn’t have to tell her he liked it. It was written all over his face. It was probably the most relaxed she’s ever seen him. She enjoyed seeing him that way, with a small smile on his face and flushed cheeks. Credence was so invested in the milkshake, (y/n) was sure he would drink it all if she didn’t get her sips in. Credence nearly choked when he looked up and saw her face mere inches from his own, sipping on the other straw in the glass.

She didn’t seem to mind at all, being so close to him. Her eyes were closed as she sipped. Her curled lashes brushed against her full cheeks and her glossy lips circled the straw delicately. This close, he could see the texture of her (s/c) skin, seeing the few freckles and moles that decorated her features he hadn’t noticed before.

When she did open her eyes, he didn't look away. This time he looked in her eyes and saw for the first time that her eyes weren’t just one shade of (e/c), but a combination of different shades and colors to make the color that was distinctly her’s. Similarly, she saw that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black if it weren't for the few streaks of chocolate brown and burgundy that reflected in the light.

(y/n)’s lips curled into a smile. She bashfully looked away from his eyes and into the glass. The two drank in comfortable silence, savoring both the milkshake and the tender moment. They drank the contents of the glass, leaving nothing but the leftover cream and cherries at the bottom. They wouldn’t go to waste. Cherries must have been (y/n)’s favorite because ate most of them. She did however offer one to Credence for him to try. She held the cherry by the stem and encouraged him to take a bite. He thought it was a bit embarrassing that she insisted on feeding it to him, but he took the cream covered fruit into his mouth and found it just as sweet—if not sweeter—than the milkshake itself.

She let him eat the remaining cherries himself. While he was eating, he watched (y/n) gather her things, putting on her coat before sliding out of the booth.

“I’m going to go pay while you finish,” she told him as she got up.

She walked over to the front counter where the waitress was counting money from the cash register. Credence watched as the two women talked. (y/n) smiled at the waitress and said something that made her laugh. She reached into her purse and pulled out several bills. She handed it to the waitress, who looked at the cash in her hands with wide eyes.

“For me?” He overheard the waitress ask. When (y/n) nodded, the young girl squealed in excitement and rushed from the counter to hug her. The two stumbled due to the unexpected force, but (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. She laughed and hugged the waitress back, patting her back in a friendly manner. Credence, having finished his cherries, got up to stand by (y/n)’s side.

“Thank you so much, miss!” Credence heard the waitress gush as he came up.

“It’s nothing, you deserve it,” (y/n) insisted. (y/n) turned her attention from the young girl to Credence beside her when she felt his presence. She looked up at him with a smile. “Are you ready to go?” She asked him. He nodded.

The waitress looked between the two and grinned softly. “You two make a sweet couple,” she said.

(y/n) returned the grin, hooking her arm around Credence and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, playing into the waitress’s assumptions.

“You two have a blessed day!” The waitress left to tend to a waiting customer leaving him victim to (y/n)’s smug grin. At this point, even his neck was red. (y/n) couldn’t help but find  it amusing. No matter how flustered he got, he wouldn’t protest.

She lightly squeezed his arm, making him look down at her. “Are you ready to go, pretty boy?” She asked him.

It was the second time she called him that, and it was just as startling as the first time. The pet name made his heart swell in his chest and his brain stutter. But again, he didn’t protest. He just nodded his head and turned his face away to hide his reddened cheeks. (y/n) giggled, satisfied with the reaction she got, and they both walked out of the restaurant and back into the cold.

Outside, the snow had stopped falling, but the sidewalks were still slick with slush and ice. (y/n) took a deep breath, breathing in the crisp air as she looked up at the sky.

“Is it that late all ready?” She muttered to herself, her happy features falling slightly. Despite the heavy, grey clouds blanketing the sky, they could still see the sun shining brightly behind them. Credence too looked up at the sky. From what he could tell, it was around three in the afternoon..

He turned to (y/n). “Do you have to go now?” He asked her regrettably.

Her eyes fell down from the sky to his own. Her lips pressed into a small smile and shook her head. “Not just yet,” she said.

“Why don’t you walk with me to the park.” She demanded more than asked and pulled him off down the sidewalk.

He walked with (y/n) a little while longer, back towards the park. Along the way, (y/n) would stop outside shops and look at the items displayed in the windows. Some things of the things she expressed an interest in were for her, sometimes she would see an item and would say something along the lines of “Mom would love this” or “Aaron has something like this”. But sometimes she would stop and turn to Credence and ask, “Do you like this?”

He had to talk her out of buying him things multiple times. She seemed so eager to spoil him. She wanted to buy him a new pair of shoes and a watch she’d seen on display. There was an expensive-looking suit outside of a tailor’s shop, and her eyes practically sparkled upon seeing it. She tried to convince him to go in and try it on, but he knew if he did, she would end up buying it for him. How he deterred her from the idea was a miracle in itself. But eventually, she dropped the idea, and the two continued on their walk. 

The two reached the park without buying a single thing. When they reached the entrance of the park, (y/n) stopped, and pulled away from his side. Credence halted in his tracks, turning around to face her. He looked down at her as she smiled up at him.

“Do you have anywhere to go after this?” She asked him.

Credence shook his head. His mother wouldn’t be expecting him until dark.

She pursed her lips and tilted her as if in thought as she sighed.

“Should I just kidnap you?”

The question took him by surprise. (y/n) laughed at the perturbed look on his face. “I’m joking, Credence,” she said between snorts. “I won’t kidnap you. Not unless you want me to.”

Credence smiled softly, letting out a soft chuckle of his own. This made (y/n) smile even bigger than before. She took a coy step closer to him, taking one of his gloved hands in her own and swinging it playfully.

“I had fun today, Credence,” she told him. “As first dates go, this is probably the best one I’ve ever been on.”

“Just probably?” Credence mumbled jokingly.

(y/n) smirked, amused by the sudden remark. “Yeah, just probably.”

Credence looked down at their hands, admiring how small her hands were compared to his. Somehow he hadn’t realized just how much shorter than him she was. He always felt smaller than her. He didn’t mind it: feeling small. It was different from how other people made him feel small; like his mother or strangers on the street. They made him feel tiny, like a bug— like something disgusting and inconvenient. To them, he was something they could easily step on. But with her, it was different.

With her, he felt small, like a flower. And to him, she was the sun. She was so big and so bright. Whenever she was around, he felt alive. And whenever she wasn’t, he felt like he might die. He didn’t mind feeling small around her, because, at least when he’s with her, he is consumed by light. 

“I had fun too,” Credence spoke up. “I really enjoy spending time with you, Miss (l/n).”

“Are you always this formal?” She teases despite her obvious blushing. “I enjoy spending time with you too, Mister Barebone.”

She gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go. She brushed past him, striding down the street. Credence watched her as she walked, his heart sinking just a little.

As though she could sense it, (y/n) looked at him over her shoulder as she walked and grinned. “Don’t look so sad,” she yelled to him. “I’ll find you again.”

With a chaste wink, she disappeared around the corner and away from his line of vision, leaving him with a full stomach and an even fuller heart.

That night, Credence returned home alone. He reluctantly walked back to the crooked chapel. His mind was fogged with thoughts of her. When he came to the front of what he, unfortunately, called ‘home’, he hesitated to go in. He looked through each window. It was dark inside. Could everyone have fallen asleep already?

He looked down at the coat on his body. He quickly shrugged the heavy material off of his shoulders and folded it in his arms before quietly entering the house. The house seemed empty, and it was almost too quiet. He pushed his way through the dark and carefully made his way up the stairs as to not make a sound. He’d gotten good at being quiet in the house. He memorized each squeaky board and mastered the art of moving in silence despite his height. 

He crept up the stairs as he’d done many times and tip-toed to his bedroom, where he then quietly shut his door. Once he heard the door click softly, he released his breath and sighed in relief.

His room wasn’t much. It was small and comprised a bed with an old iron frame, an armoire, a sink, and a metal tub that he uses to bathe. He looked down at the coat in his hands. He moved to the armoire by his bed and opened its doors. There wasn’t much inside; he had little to put in it, anyway. But today, he would be thankful for that. 

The armoire was a rather fancy piece of furniture. It stood out in his otherwise destitute room. The armoire was just as old and worn out as the rest of the room, but it wasn’t hard to tell it was an ornamental relic of the 19th century. It had enough space to fill two weeks’ worth of clothes. It was almost offensive how little there was inside it. One detail about it was its hollow bottom. Credence could slide the bottom plank of wood to reveal a cubbyhole. Its original purpose must have been for shoes or winter blankets, but now it would serve a new purpose. 

Credence kneeled on the ground and packed the coat neatly into the cubby before throwing his new gloves on top. They fit perfectly inside and he was allowed to slide the wooden plank back on with ease. With that accomplished, he rose to his feet and closed the armoire doors. He began undressing, stripping his clothes until he was left in nothing but his boxers.

It was as cold in the house as it was outside, but credence had no pajamas that would keep him warm. He had but one pair of old satin pajamas that were too small for him. He decided not to wear them tonight. The naturally cool material wouldn’t provide him warmth or comfort.

After putting away his dirtied clothes, Credence fell back on his bed and stared up at the rotting ceiling above him. As he lay there, his mind would drift to the memories of his ‘date’. Just thinking about her made his heart beat faster. He pictured her in his mind, reliving the time he spent with her.

It was the most surreal thing. Being with her made him feel things he never felt before. She made his heart flutter and his cheeks warm in a pleasantly addicting way. When he was with her, he forgot everything bad. There was no anxiety, no judgment, no harsh words, or abuse. He was just a normal man with a normal woman. He wished he could feel that way all the time.

His hand reached behind his head and slipped under his pillow to retrieve the soft pink piece of fabric he kept there. He held it up in front of him, rubbing it between his fingers. The moonlight from his window reflected on its threads, and he could read the stitched initials in the corner.

“(y/n)...” He whispered her name so tenderly. Just saying her name aloud made his lips tingle. He loved saying her name for the simple reason that it was her name. He would say it a thousand times aloud if he could.

He brought the cloth down to his nose and inhaled its scent. Her fragrance still lingered on the soft fabric, clouding his senses. Credence felt a familiar stirring rise in his stomach. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he pressed his legs together. His mind flashed to the other day in the church, remembering the lewd images of her he had fantasized about. A part of him was ashamed. Sexual desire was a sin he shouldn’t act upon. It was a vile, disgusting act. That’s what the church told him, at least. And his mother would have no part of it either.

Mary Lou made sure to reprimand him whenever she suspected him of sexual temptation, so much so he shied away from girls all together. Yet recently, he’s felt a bumbling desire well up inside of him. He knew what it was; he felt it before. Only once before had he fallen victim to his lusty desire. It had been in his adolescence. He was sleeping when he had a dream about a red-haired woman he’d seen on the street. She was most likely in her twenties at the time, but she was so captivating he remembered her face for a week. He dreamed of that red-haired woman touching and caressing him. She’d even kissed him like he’d seen couples on the street kiss. This mild fantasy woke him from his sleep with a shameful mess on his bed.

He was so humiliated and ashamed he rushed to confess to Mary Lou, who punished him greatly for his lasciviousness. He didn’t dream of the red-haired woman or any woman at all after that. That is, until he met her.

At first, his thoughts of her were innocent. He would fantasize about holding her hand and laying on her chest as he slept. She would caress his face and run her fingers through his hair.  He would give her chaste kisses on her cheek, and she would giggle and laugh, returning the favor. But that changed that day he went to church and listened to Father Blackwell’s sermon. That was the first time he thought of her in such an erotic way.

It was because of this he felt particularly suffocated by her presence today. He became even more aware of her touches. His eyes would stare at her lips more often and glance at the curves of her chest. He thought about how she held on to his arm; How warm and soft she was; Her small hands. He thought about how her finger felt brushing against his lip. About how her tongue darted between her plump lips to lap at her thumb.

Credence bit his lip to keep his whimpers from escaping. His thoughts were filled with images of her, his body reacted on its own. He curled on his side and pressed his legs together to relieve himself of his growing hardness. Instead of discouraging his growing lust, it seemed to only spur it on. The feeling of his thighs pressing against his length brushed an itch he desperately desired to scratch.

He wanted her by his side so terribly. If only he were as confident and manly as the men he saw on the street, she would be. If he were as confident as the man she was with today, then he could call her by her name. He too could take her by her delicate waist and kiss her cheeks. And, oh, did he wish to kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her many times today. He wanted to kiss her the moment he saw her. He wanted to kiss her again in the boutique when she pressed her hands on his chest, and again when she asked him to go on a date with her. He wanted to kiss her multiple times in the restaurant for teasing him so viciously, and he wanted to kiss her deeply before they said goodbye.

He imagined what it would be like to be that kind of man; what it would be like to have her with him now, and what he would do if she was. If she was there on his bed laying next to him, he would want to kiss her now as well. He would have her under him, staring up at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes. He would brush the hair away from her face and stroke her cheek. Her hands would hold his sides and pull him closer so their bodies lay flat against each other. He would feel her and she would feel him. Her warmth would consume him, and their bodies would mold together.

Credence closed his eyes and smelled her pink handkerchief. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend she was there.

“(y/n)...” He whispered her name once more. His hips rocked hesitantly, the undeniable bulge in his boxers was now too evident to ignore. Rocking his hips caused a pleasurable sensation in his stomach. It felt so good, he did it again... and again... and again; rocking his hips as he held her handkerchief to his nose and imagined her.

He thought of kissing her soft lips as he pressed into her, feeling her hands run up and down his sides as they had done before. He wanted to rock his hips against her like he was doing now. Would it feel as good for her as it felt for him? Would she breathe as heavy as he was now? Would she pant and whisper his name?

“A-ah...”

He panted lewdly, pleasuring himself with these thoughts. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

He laid on his back on the bed. His body seemed to know what to do without thinking about it. He kept his eyes closed as his free hand snaked down his body to palm himself over his boxers. He rubbed himself through the fabric, his shallow breaths filling his ears. But to him it wasn't his hands, but hers; her soft, small hands touching him gently.

It was her delicate hands that slipped past the waistband of his boxers and gripped his length. It was her hands that stroked him slowly. She was there, whispering his name while he whispered hers. The more she stroked him, the shorter his breaths became. Each breath he took was filled with her scent. She consumed him, wrapping her essence around him, and filling his body with heat.

She stroked him faster as they kissed. He kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue past her lips as he’d seen couples do before. He could taste the cherries and vanilla on her tongue, as sweet as they were in the milkshake they’d shared. She moaned his name in her mouth, driving him crazy.

“Ha..-ahh. ahaa...”

More, he thought. All he could think about was how he wanted more. More of her scent, more of her touch, more of her.

Her hands became wet with his slick, gliding up and down his length with vigor. His body was overtaken with a foreign sensation, buzzing through his body, collecting where he wanted to be touched the most. The faster she stroked him, the better he felt. She felt good, so so good.

“H-Ha...-haaaa...(y/n)...”

He wanted to say her name over and over. He wanted to shout it, loud enough for the heavens to hear. He didn’t care if God heard him. He wanted God and the angels to hear so they would know how she made him feel. He was overwhelmed by love and lust for her. He wanted them to know that his body was hers and he willingly gave it to her. He wanted to touch her, please her, feel her.

His eyes clenched shut. Her hands pumped his twitching length excitedly, the buzzing heat collecting at his center. His legs began to shake, his back arching from the bed. Lavender and vanilla, that’s what he smelled as his vision blurred and the buzzing heat tingling in his core burst and was replaced with a cool wave of overwhelming pleasure.

His body trembled, somehow coated in a thin layer of sweat despite the room being cold. He stayed still, laying in silence as he let his body calm. When he finally opened his eyes, he half expected to see her hovering over him with that playful smile on her face, only to be met with the rotting rafters of his ceiling.

He sighed through his nose. Once the euphoric cloud in his mind cleared, shame and regret replacing his lusty desire, he moved from his bed to the sink across the room. He turned the knob and a low stream of water fell from the faucet. Taking the dingy rag that rested on the sink’s bowl, he wet it, using it to clean up his mess. As he wiped himself, he wondered if that was what sex was like. He never touched himself like that before, though he wanted to many times. Now that he had, the answer to his question was clear. Sins were just pleasures he was being denied. 

He returned to his bed, burying himself beneath the covers. He took the handkerchief back into his hand and held it by his face as he slept on his side. His eyes grew heavy, the scent of lavender slowly drifting him to sleep. A passing thought in his mind wondered if this is what it would feel like to sleep by her side. He would do anything to just hold her once, to lie on her chest and listen to the sounds of her breathing.

That was his last thought before falling asleep.

Several days would pass since the last time he saw her. They would be long, dreary days spent in the chapel. It snowed relentlessly for three days, making it impossible to venture out. During that time, he would clean and help Chastity serve meals to the orphans that sought refuge from the streets. The day when the snow finally ceased to fall, Mary Lou tasked him with shoveling the street in front of the chapel while she took Modesty and Chastity into town.

It was once he finished shoveling that he realized he had the rest of the day for himself. He pondered staying in the house for a moment, but quickly threw the idea. He couldn’t bear another minute in that house. Instead, he went on a walk. It wasn’t unusual for him to do this when he had the time. He would walk aimlessly just to get away. He only could afford to when his mother left him alone.

Today, Credence found himself at Central Park. It was no surprise that the park was packed. The low temperatures of the past week allowed the lake to freeze over, thick enough for people to skate on. Men, women, and children scattered across the area. Carolers were singing Christmas songs and street vendors peddled treats. It was a pleasant and lively scene.

He had almost forgotten that Christmas was so soon. He’d been so caught up with his duties it had slipped his mind. He liked Christmas, even though he didn’t celebrate it the way most people do. His mother forced him and his siblings to attend church on Christmas Day. But he could appreciate what others did on Christmas. He liked seeing the kids play in the snow, showing off their new toys. He liked the idea of parents spending time with their children by the fire. He even liked listening to Christmas songs that would play on repeat outside the record store.

Credence watched the people as he walked through the park. He liked to imagine himself in their place. Sometimes he was a kid playing fetch with his dog. Sometimes he was a woman making snow angels, or a man building a snowman. Right now, he was the man of a couple skating on the ice, holding hands with his partner. The pair laughed as they spun in circles, occasionally grasping at each other’s arms when they slipped.

He was too busy projecting he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. Like any other creature, he was susceptible to attack. He flinched as he felt icy-cold pellets burst against the back of his head. He heard a sharp gasp not far behind him, followed by a heap of childish giggles. Credence turned around, expecting to see a group of devious looking children. Imagine his surprise when he saw her standing ten feet away from him with a group of children looking incredibly guilty.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry, Bunny! I was aiming for your shoulder, I swear!”

“(y/n)?” He muttered in disbelief.

How did she always appear in the least expected places? He stared her down as she rushed towards him. Today she was wearing a heavy, brown fur-lined coat and a green cloche hat that matched her boots. When she reached him, her hands immediately reached behind his head to dust the remaining remnants of her snowball from his hair.

She looked at him apologetically. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I feel like a total gink,” she pouted.

His cheeks burst into flames. The position she put him in had her chest brushing pressing against his as her hands brushed through his hair. At this angle he could see how neatly curled her hair was under her cap, falling in styled swirls around her face. Her swollen nose was red from the cold. Her breath that smelled distinctly of coffee beans warmed his cheeks.

Credence’s expression softened, a faint smile ghosting his lips. She was still apologizing to him, frantically brushing snow from his hair and shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he said in hopes to calm her. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. Her head lulled forward, hiding her face in his chest. “You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” He heard her muffled voice say.

Credence swallowed the lump in his throat and nervously licked his lips. This was the closest she’d ever been to him. He reached a dithering hand to grasp hers and rubbed the back of her gloved hand with his thumb.

“I’m not angry,” he assured her.

(y/n) lifted her head from his shoulders to meet his eyes, searching for any sign of irritation. “Are you sure? You can get me back, if you want.”

Credence nodded his head. “I’m sure.”

She believed him this time, her relief washing over her face. “I really am sorry,” she said one final time. “I just saw you walking past by chance and I wanted to surprise you.”

“I was surprised!” He said a bit too excitedly.

This made her laugh and playfully push his shoulder. Her laugh alone was enough to put a smile on his face, one that made dimples appear on his cheeks. He felt her hand firmly grasp his, holding it properly.

“Why aren’t you wearing your new coat and gloves?” She asked. “Don’t you like them?”

Credence had forgotten he wasn’t wearing the coat you got him. He couldn’t, not without his mother seeing it. If she knew about the coat—if she knew about him seeing you—she would be furious. He kept the coat (y/n) had given him hidden with the rest of the precious things she gave him. He wore the old navy blue coat out that Mary Lou had recently acquired and given to him. It wasn’t nearly as warm or stylish as the coat (y/n)  had gotten for him, but it was enough for the winter, and it was the only thing he could wear in front of his mother.

“I do like them,” he answered. “I was afraid of ruining it. I don’t want to wear it out too much.”

It was the best excuse he could think of at the time, and after mulling over it for a brief moment, she seemed to accept it. She then told him that, if he did end up damaging his new coat, she would simply buy him another, and spoke no more of it.

She nodded towards the lake behind him. “Did you come here to skate?”

Credence looked back to the lake. “Oh, no,” he said. “I never learned.”

Another gasp left her lips. “You’ve never been ice-skating before?”

He shook his head.

“Then we’ve got to fix that, now don’t we?” She reckoned.

Before he could ask what she meant, she’d already left his side. He looked in all directions until he saw her talking to an older couple sitting on a mess of picnic blankets under a tree. It appeared she’d asked him a question because their answer was a shake of their head. She waved goodbye to them before walking off to pursue another person, who gave the same answer. He watched her do this a few times around a small area of the park with no luck. At one point, she stood in the middle of the snow pondering while she scanned the area. Curious, Credence walked up to her.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Looking,” she replied simply.

Her squinted eyes panned across the park, her lips pursed as though she were thinking very hard about something.

“Ah!” She shouted, a triumphant smile stretching across her lips. She turned to Credence and winked. “Follow my lead.”

She walked down a small hill towards a small group of children who were playing in the snow at the bottom. Credence followed a few steps behind.

“Hey, kiddos,” She waved.

The kids stopped what they were doing to look up at her. She waved her hands towards her, beckoning them over. The children shared confused looks, before cautiously making their way towards her. She squatted down Asian style to meet their eyes. Credence stayed a couple of feet away, but he could still make out what was being said.

“Can you keep a secret?” He heard (y/n) ask the children.

The kids nodded and hummed in confirmation. (y/n) grinned.

“You see my friend over there?” She pointed behind her, directing the children’s attention to Credence. “He’s never been ice-skating before!”

The children snickered whispered teasingly among themselves. Credence looked away, embarrassed to be taunted by children. (y/n) giggled with them and easily brought back their attention.

“I really want to teach him,” She revealed once their jeering ceased. “But he’s so silly, he forgot to bring a pair of skates.”

“That is silly!” One of the little girls yelled.

(y/n) looked between Credence and the children. “Now, I see you have a pair of skates.” Sure enough, there were a pair of skates laying in the snow where the kids were once playing, far too big to fit on their small feet.

“Do they belong to any of you?” (y/n) asked.

“No,” The little girl shook her head. “They were already there.”

“We think someone left them by mistake,” An older boy chimed in.

“I see,” (y/n) hummed. “Do you think I can take them for my friend, then?”

“But we was gonna use ‘em! We saw them first!” A small blond boy frowned. (y/n) looked at the boy and flashed her kindest smile.

“Oh, were you now? How about I just borrow them? I’ll bring them right back to you, I pinky promise!” She held out her pinky for him to take. The boy looked at her hand in front of him. He lifted his hand and stretched out his pinky.

“I guess that’s okay...” He mumbled through puffed red cheeks.

(y/n) hooked hers around the boy. “Aren’t you sweet?” She affectionately pat the top of his head. “I hope my kid will be as kind as you are.”

The boy blushed and swat her hand away from his head, adjusting his hat. “Whatever, Lady!” The blond boy ran away, the rest of the children chased after him with childish taunts.

(y/n) chuckled and rose back to her feet. She walked up to where the skates were laying and picked them off the ground before making her way back to Credence’s side.

“Are you ready?” She asked excitedly.

Credence shrugged his shoulders, still processing the events of the last fifteen minutes. (y/n) scoffed and rolled her eyes, forcibly taking Credence’s hand.

“Just come on,” she groaned as she dragged him towards the lake.

When they reached the edge of the ice, she handed him the skates and ordered him to strap them onto his boots. Credence did as he was told and sat down on the nearest bench, securely strapping the skates onto his shoes. After (y/n) had double-checked to make sure they were on right, she held out her hand for him to take. He grabbed it, using her to find his balance. When he stood to his feet his ankles wobbled, disrupting his balance.

(y/n) gripped his arm tightly to keep him from falling. “Careful,” she warned.

He held on to her as she guided him to the lake. She stepped on the ice with ease. She grabbed his other hand and helped him step on the ice. Immediately after his skates touched the ice, his heart raced.

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” his voice fluttered anxiously.

“You’re okay, I got you,” she promised.

She pulled him further out onto the ice, still clasping his hands. Credence gripped her hands for dear life while silently trying to figure out how it was he ended up in this position.

Other skaters flew past them as he stumbled on the ice like a baby deer. (y/n) didn’t give up on teaching him. No matter how many times he slipped or tripped, she was always there to catch and pick him back up when he fell. Eventually, he got the hang of it. He started balancing himself on his own, gliding somewhat smoothly without having to hold on to her. It didn’t take long for him to relax and reciprocate her playful activities.

(y/n) eventually stepped off the ice, giving him the space to skate on his own. She watched him fondly, taking in the smile glowing on his face. He went around in circles, almost bumping into others a few times, but he directed himself easily. She would say he was a natural.

He went on like that for a while as she watched. When he’d had enough, he made his way back to the edge of the lake where she stood.

“Was that fun?” She asked when he skated towards her. Credence nodded his head and smiled bashfully. She helped him stop by taking his outstretched hands. 

“You’re a fast learner. I’m kind of jealous. I didn’t get the hang of skating until I was twelve,” she brooded jokingly. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” he said as he stepped back on the snow. 

They walked towards the bench, and Credence sat down to take off his skates. (y/n) stayed standing. “There’s a vendor selling treats across the street,” she told him. “Why don’t you give those skates back to the kids while I get us something to drink?”

“But––” Credence tried to protest, not having the courage or social skills to approach a group of children. It was quickly ignored, however, for (y/n) had already made up her mind, and began walking to the street. 

“I’ll be right back!” She said as she left him alone on the bench. 

Credence looked around, silently doubting his ability to find the kids. His eyes scanned the park until they landed on a group of children having a snowball fight. He recognized one of the children as the bratty boy (y/n) convinced to let them borrow the skates. 

He reluctantly got up from the bench and walked over to the children, skates in hand. The closer he got, the louder their shouting laughter became. Most of the children were boys between the ages of seven and thirteen, but three girls around their age had gained their friendship. One girl stayed off to the sidelines watching the others play. He recognized her as well.

“Excuse me... little girl?” He called. The little girl turned around and held out the skates. “Here.”

The girl took them and smiled. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked behind him, frowning when she saw nothing there. “Where’s that nice lady?”

Credence pointed across the street towards the street vendor where (y/n) was patiently waiting in line. “She should be back,” he told her.

“I like her!” said the girl. “She’s very pretty, like a princess!”

This made him smile. It made him happy to know others, even children, saw her the way he did. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She is.”

The little girl looked at Credence, noting the soft smile on his face as he watched you. “Do you like her or something?” She probed unexpectedly. 

“Uh... I...?” Credence struggled to find the words to say. It's not that he didn't know the answer, it was just that he hadn’t expected to be asked that question. Especially not from an eight-year-old girl. Were his feelings that transparent? Did you know how he felt too?

The little girl didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I think she likes you,” she told him, surprising him for the second time.

Credence flushed pink. “Really?”

The small girl reached her hand to pat Credence's arm and imitated the look of someone wise beyond her years. “Trust me. Women know these things.”

Oddly, he couldn’t help but feel a bit hopeful despite the words coming from a child. He never felt about anyone the way he felt about her. The way he is when he’s with her—the way he talks to her and touches her—he can only be that way with her because he likes her. He could never be that way with anyone else. But he always felt that, for her, it was different. Seeing her interact with others like the children, the waitress, Raül—even Edmund—made him realize that she was kind to everyone. She didn’t treat him that way because she liked him. She treated him that way because that’s just the kind of person she was.

“Hey, kiddos!” (y/n)’s voice caught his attention. Both Credence and the girl looked up to see her holding a cardboard box of steaming paper cups. “I got something for you!”

The children playing heard her too and ceased their fight to run towards her. They circled her like a litter of puppies, excitedly asking what she was holding.

She lowered the box for them to see, showing off cups filled with light brown liquid. “For letting us borrow the skates. Be careful though, it's hot!”

The kids yelled enthusiastically as she began handing them each a cup. Credence walked to her side to help her.

“What is it?” He asked.

(y/n) frowned. “Hot chocolate. Have you never had hot chocolate before?”

He shook his head, causing her to gasp.

“I wish I had known sooner!” She pouted. “I got this is from a vendor across the street. I could have gotten better hot chocolate with marshmallows at a cafe a block from here.”

“I think it’s delicious!” The little girl interjected. 

(y/n) smiled down at her. “Well, if you think so, then it must be.”

Credence ended up being the one to give the bratty boy his cup of hot chocolate. (y/n) watched him as he drank it greedily. 

“What about you?” She asked him. “Do you like it too?”

“It’s pretty good, I guess,” he said, trying his hardest to sound indifferent, but it was hard to take him seriously with the chocolate mustache on his lips.

(y/n) laughed and took his cheek between her fingers, pinching them gently. “Gosh, you’re so darn cute! Do you have a big sister already? I can be yours, if you want. I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

The boy blushed and pulled his face away from her hand. “Lady, you’re crazy!”

He threw his empty cup on the ground stormed off angrily. The other children finished their cups and handed them back to her nicely before running off too, leaving her and Credence alone. 

“What did I say?” She mumbled to herself.

Credence couldn’t help but find it amusing. It was nice seeing her tease someone else for a change. 

“Maybe he already has a sister,” he answered sarcastically.  

(y/n) scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, just drink your cocoa,” she chuckled after handing him a cup. 

The two threw away the empty cups and cardboard box in a nearby trashcan. (y/n) suggested they take a walk around the park and talk. She asked him if he liked the hot chocolate, to which he answered yes. She then asked which he liked better: vanilla milkshakes or hot chocolate. He told her milkshakes. They talked like this for a while. Occasionally she would ask about his family and what he liked to do at home. He didn’t give her many satisfying answers, but that didn’t stop her from prodding.

“So, did you give up on hunting witches?” She asked.

Credence swallowed another sip of his hot chocolate. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t carry around flyers anymore. Did you give up?”

“Oh. No, it’s not that,” he said. “I don’t think my mother will ever give up on exposing witches. It’s just that right now she’s kind of stuck.”

“Stuck? Stuck how?”

“She wanted to speak at the church to let everyone know about what she’d seen, but the priest, Father Blackwell, wouldn’t allow it.”

“I know Father Blackwell,” she told him.

Credence perked up. “You do?”

“Yes! My father is a big supporter of the church. Personally, I identify as agnostic, so I don’t go to church with him unless it’s for a holiday like Easter or Christmas. I wonder if you’ve seen him. Not that you could miss him. He’s a rather large man,” she joked.

“Does he wear a white suit?” Credence asked, remembering the stocky man talking with Father Blackwell the last time he visited the church.

(y/n) grinned and nodded excitedly. “That’s his Sunday suit! He has four of them. For some reason, he only likes wearing cream-colored suits on Sundays.”

“I have seen him,” he admits.

“Small world!” She exclaimed. “Well, anyways, I can definitely tell my father to put in a good word for your mother to Father Blackwell.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course! Better yet, why don’t we go right now?”

“N-Now?” Credence gaped.

“It’s Wednesday, they have a service tonight. Father Blackwell will be there, and I can try to convince him to let your mother have a set this Sunday!

“But what about your father?”

“We might not need him. I know Father Blackwell well enough. He might be swayed on my word alone. It won’t hurt to try,” she explained.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Come with me, my car is just a short walk from here!” She grabbed his free hand and directed him towards the street where she’d parked her car. 

After they reached the car, she drove him to the church. It was a short fifteen-minute drive from Central Park. It was still too early for the service to start, but when they entered the church, a few people were sitting in the pews praying. An older woman was playing the organ at the altar while Deacon Ripley read scriptures from the Bible. He stopped only stopped when he noticed the two walking down the aisle. 

“Oh, God,” Credence heard (y/n) mutter under her breath. “Not this clown again.”

He wasn’t used to you outwardly showing your distaste for someone; you were always so nice. But considering it was Deacon Ripley, it wasn’t too surprising. 

He was a cunt.

As they came closer, Ripley marked the passage he’d finished reading and closed the Bible. 

“Miss (l/n),” he called her name with a sneer. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

“I’m here to speak with Father Blackwell,” she replied coldly. It was the first time Credence had ever heard her use such a tone. 

Ripley frowned, taking a step down from the podium. “What business could you have with him?”

(y/n)’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “My business with him would be his business and mine, so why would I tell you our business if it isn’t your business to begin with?”

Her witty remark clearly got under Ripley’s skin. His frown deepened and splotches of red began appearing under his grey skin. He didn’t get the chance to respond before Father Blackwell stopped him. 

“Give it a rest, Ripley.” Father Blackwell had come out from the door to his office. He moved between Ripley and (y/n), and held out his hand for her. “(y/n), it’s lovely to see you. It’s been a while. A year, I think?”

She took his hand and shook it. “Don’t be silly, Father. You saw me earlier this year, remember? For my parent’s Easter party.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he nodded, chuckling softly. “Must’ve slipped my mind. What brings your here, child?”

 “Ah, yes, about that...” (y/n) eyed Ripley. “Can we speak somewhere private, just the two of us?” 

“I don’t see why not. Step into my office.”

(y/n) turned to Credence and gave him a reassuring smile before following Father Blackwell to his office and disappearing behind the heavy door. Credence could feel Ripley’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. He obviously wanted to say something to him. 

“Seeing that godless woman walk through God’s doors was not something I expected to see today,” he began, excited to get his two cents in.  “But I must admit, seeing you by her side surprises me more. I didn’t realize you two were so close”

What was his problem? Why did he hate her so much? Then Credence remembered what she said to him in the park. Could that be why Ripley hated her? Because she didn’t believe in the church? No, it had to be something else. His pointed anger felt too personal.  

“We’re not really,” Credence answered. “I only just met her.”

“So you say.” Ripley circled him. “I wonder... Does your mother know about you and Miss (l/n)?”

If there’s one thing Credence hated about Ripley, it was his talent for stirring up trouble. His hobby of collecting and relaying gossip often caused spouts within the church. Credence fell victim to this twice before, each time resulting in a beating from his mother. He had to be careful with what he says to Ripley because he will most definitely relay it to his mother if he thinks it will cause conflict. 

“She does,” he lied as best he could. 

Ripley raised his brows. “Really? I never took her for the kind of woman who would allow her son to stroll the streets alone with such... unholy company. If there’s one kind of person Mary Lou hates, it’s women like her.”

Credence frowned. “What do you mean by ‘women like her’?”

“Don’t you know? Not only does she not accept the Christian God, but she fully denounced him. Instead of saving her divine feminine for holy matrimony, she committed salacious acts with various men that would make the Virgin Mary cry.”

Credence fell silent. So this was the reason. The malicious smirk on Ripley’s cracked lips proved that he couldn’t wait to tell him what he knew. 

“Oh my,” Ripley sighed. “I suppose you didn’t know.”

Credence clenched his fist. He could feel his body vibrating with heat. He was so angry. How dare he speak about her that way? How dare he disrespect her? Spread rumors about her? Was gossip not a sin?  Who was he to degrade and scrutinize her?

So what if she did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change what he thought about her. It didn’t change how he felt about her. But hearing such demeaning words come from Ripley's mouth made his blood boil. 

There were times where Credence would get like this. It wasn’t often, but when he did, his mind would think dark, violent thoughts. They build up in his head until anger and rage blinded him. He wanted to say something—do something. He probably would have too, if her voice hadn’t rung in his ears, immediately calming his nerves and the growing anger inside him. 

“Credence, I did it!” 

He saw you rushing excitedly towards him with a big smile on your face. You came up to him, grabbed both of his hands, shaking them wildly. 

“Tell your mother that she can speak this Sunday at the end of the service!”

Credence swallowed the lump in his throat. His tightened chest released the tension it was holding and his hands unclenched to hold hers. Looking into her shining (e/c) eyes made all his violent thoughts disappear as if they were never there. 

He blinked a few times, already forgetting how upset he’d just been. “H-How?”

“Magic,” she winked. 

She hooked her arm around his and began walking him back down the aisle to the exit. “Do you want me to drive you home?” She asked, looking up at him.

Credence smiled, Ripley’s taunting comments fleeing his memory. “Yes.”

The drive took longer than expected. There had been an accident on Manhattan Avenue that detoured them to Harlem. Credence didn’t mind it. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. Driving through Harlem was an experience in itself. He’d never been past the Upper East Side. Harlem was a lively neighborhood. People played music and danced in the streets despite the cold. Murals lined the walls, and there was a hopping joint around every corner. Credence looked out the window in silent awe, taking in everything he saw. 

“Have you never been here before?” (y/n) asked, noticing his astonishment. 

“No,” he told her truthfully. “It’s really nice.”

“You know, I used to live here,” she revealed.

That, he found hard to believe. His doubt must have been visible on his face because she laughed and shook her head. 

“What? You don’t believe me? It’s true, I swear! I wasn’t always like... Well, we didn’t always live in Kings Point.”

Having something to prove, Credence watched as she made a sudden turn, off course from where they were heading. The townhouses they passed were tall, skinny, and faintly worn down. The further they drove from the commercial streets, the quieter it became. They rounded about four blocks before turning into a barren street. Some houses were completely dark, while others had lights in their windows. The car slowed to a stop in front of one of the dark houses. It wasn’t terribly worn, but chipping blue paint covered the exterior and there were cracks in the brick fence that protected it. 

(y/n) parked the car and moved to get out. Credence did the same, opening the door and stepping onto the pavement. (y/n) came to his side and eyed the house. 

“This was my house,” she spoke after a while. “I lived here until I was nine.”

She walked up to the gate and pointed at the mailbox inside it. Faded letters that spelled her last name were imprinted on the stone from where a sign used to be. He tried to imagine her living it; it was almost comical. He only knew her to wear mink coats and designer clothes. He’d only pictured her living in a palace—somehow it felt fitting. Imagining her in such a small house and living an average life didn’t seem right. But perhaps that’s why she kept surprising him.

“No one lives here now. Sometimes I come back just to look around and remember as much about the place as I can.”

Credence walked to her side. “What do you remember?”

A smile fluttered on her lips. “I remember chasing my brothers around the house. We sat by the fire during the winter while my father read us stories and my mother knitted blankets and scarves. I learned how to ride a bike right on this street!” She looked down at the cracked pavement. “We were happier, I think.”

“Are you not happy now?”

(y/n) looked up at Credence and flushed. “I am! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just...” She sighed. “Now that my father has his own architect firm, he’s been so busy I rarely see him anymore. My mother and I were never really close, and it’s pretty easy for us to avoid each other in such a big house. I don’t know... Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it.”

“What about your brothers?” asked Credence. “You seem close.”

“We are,” she smiled. “We always had each other, and most of the time it was enough. Even when Aaron left to study at Oxford, Channing paid extra attention to me. Still, I want us all to be as close as we were.”

He could sympathize with that. Blood-related or not, Modesty and Chastity were his sisters. They’d been through a lot together, and that was enough for him. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a close relationship with a parent, having never had one in the first place—but he figured that’s what made it worse. 

“Anyway,” she elbowed him playfully. “D’you believe me now?”

Credence nodded. She chuckled softly, taking his hand and guiding him back to the car. They continued the rest of their drive uninterrupted. It was relatively quiet aside from the few comments she made along the way. By the time they reached Pike Street, it had started to snow again. It wasn’t heavy like the days before. The snowflakes fell slowly and softly, fluttering down gracefully on the window-shield. 

The care halted to a stop on the street corner. (y/n) turned to Credence, who was already looking at her. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me.”

She smiled and looked down at her hands. “You don’t need to thank me,” she blushed. “I was happy to.”

“Still, I want to. Thank you, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

They regrettably said their goodbyes, something Credence hated doing because he was never sure when he’d see her again. He stepped out of the car and onto the icy street, turning to wave goodbye at her one last time before watching her drive off down and disappear behind the buildings once she rounded the corner. Credence turned on his heels and walked back to the snow-covered chapel. His feet dragged behind him to stall his arrival. He walked up the creaking steps to the door and opened it lackadaisically. 

He began stripping himself of his outerwear when he noticed another presence in the room. He looked to the stairs and found his mother, Mary Lou, sitting there. Her icy blue eyes bore into his skull. Credence got a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, a vestigial remnant of primal instinct that signified impending danger. 

“Hello, Mother...” He said upon seeing her. She didn't respond. She only looked at him in a way that made him increasingly nervous. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I have some good news.” His mouth began moving before he could think. “Father Blackwell said he would let you speak this Sunday. It’s towards the end of service, and he is only giving us three minutes to speak, but that’s better than nothing, right?”

“Did your jezebel tell you that?” She spoke dangerously.

Credence’s body tensed. “What are you talking about, mother?” He asked, fearful he already knew the answer.

Mary Lou opened her hand to reveal the pink handkerchief. His stomach dropped as she threw the cloth down at his feet. Mary Lou rose from the stairs, her heels thumping loudly as she climbed down.

“I saw you at the cathedral, Credence. You and your little harlot,” she said as she walked towards him. “I was on my way to speak with Father Blackwell when I saw the two of you skip outside with her clinging to your arm.”

Credence kept his head down, staring at the handkerchief by his feet. Mary Lou circled him like a vulture ready to pick at a rotting carcass.

“I always knew your flesh was weak... but I didn’t know all it took was a pair of big (e/c) eyes to make you fall from grace.”

“Mother, I—” The sound of her heavy hand slapping across his face cut his sentence short, sending him to the ground. 

“Silence!” She ordered. Credence felt tears prickling behind his eyes. He stared at the handkerchief lying pathetically on the floor. Mary Lou’s pointed black shoe came into his view and stepped on the delicate silk. Mary Lou was never one to yell, that’s what made her anger so much more terrifying. She spoke barely above a whisper, in a sickeningly sweet and proper tone, the cruel words that left her thin lips.

“The worst part of it is: you tried to hide it from me. You knew what you were doing was a sin. You knew that God was watching, and you did it anyway.”

“Mother, it’s not what you think,” Credence said through his strained tears. “I didn’t touch her!”

“Don’t lie to me, Credence, I saw the way you looked at her!” Mary Lou seethed. “You think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking in late? That I wouldn’t smell the perfume on your clothes?”

Credence fell silent, realizing that denial was futile. It didn’t matter what he said. Mary Lou had already set her mind about his relationship with (y/n). He knew it was too good to be true. He had been happy for far too long. He should have expected it wouldn’t last. He always screwed everything up somehow. This was his own fault. He deserved this.

“You know what I have to do now, don’t you?” She whispered.

Credence did know. His heart thrashed in his chest, fear coursing through his veins. “Mother, please, don’t!” he begged feebly. “I won’t see her again, I promise!”

Mary Lou kneeled in front of Credence. Her hand reached up to lift his head. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, his vision blurred from his tears. They were unfeeling and as cold as the words that left her lips. 

“I know you won’t. We’ll make sure of that.”

More people die in winter than in any other season. That is a known fact. The blistering cold is more dangerous than the smoldering heat. During the winter, everything dies. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little.

“Credence?”

There was nothing worse than winter, he thought. There was nothing worse than being left in the cold, wet, nodding in and out of consciousness—somewhere between life and death. Maybe he was being dramatic. He’d survived this at least twice before. He will be allowed back home, eventually. He would be given a hot bath and warm clothes. He would be wrapped in a blanket and laid on his bed. He would be forgiven.

But, in this moment, he had no warmth. The clothes on his back were damp, sticking to his skin like icy sheets. His already pale skin looked almost as white as the blanket of snow that covered the city, save for the faint blue tint of his lips.

“Credence.”

At first he’d thought walking would make him warmer. Maybe if he moved his muscles, his body would produce what little heat it could. Thinking back on it now, it was a pretty stupid idea. If anything, it made it worse. The wind had picked up, and the snow fell faster than it was earlier. How long had he been out here? It could have been twenty minutes or an hour, he couldn’t tell. Time moves slower when you’re miserable. What he did know was that he had walked about four blocks from the chapel. He thought he might find a place, a warm place where he could sit and rid himself of the cold.

He’d try a tea shop, a restaurant, and a bookstore before giving up. No one would let him in. They were all closed early for the holiday season. He then became increasingly aware how late in the afternoon it was, and how much colder it would be once the sun finally set. And he would still be here, cowering in a filthy alleyway that smelled heavily of rotting food and urine.

“Credence!”

How did she always mange to find him? Her large eyes bore into his own, wide and unyielding. She was close enough that her short breaths gave him the first gust of heat he’d felt since he was thrown out of the chapel. Unlike before, it didn’t smell of coffee beans, but of the hot chocolate they had shared just hours before. If the sweet scent hadn’t filled his nose, he would have sworn she was a hallucination. This was the last place he’d expect to see her. Yet, she always had a knack for turning up in places he’d least suspect. Regardless of what she always said, it felt a little more than coincidence—something just shy of fate.

“What are you doing out here? Where’s your coat?” Her hands flew to his shoulders, her own body reacting to the lack of warmth jolted and shivered.

It was her kind eyes he liked the most. Her eyes had the greatest warmth, the kind that filled your chest whenever you looked at them. He could stare into them forever and never get cold. Her eyes are what he’d miss the most.

“You’re soaking wet! You’ll freeze half to death out here! Come to my car, It’ll warm you up.” She reached for his hand, but he would not give it to her.

“Go away.”

This he could not say while looking in her eyes. It would only make it harder. There was an unpleasant pause, one that continued for a second too long. Her voice, he would miss the sound of her voice as well. He wanted to remember it as best he could, even if the last words she would say to him were full of resentment.

“What?”

He turned his back to her, hiding his tears. He had to do this. It was bound to happen anyway. What was the point in watering a dead plant? The fantasy should have long since ended. It shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

“I’m fine. Just go away,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

But he wasn’t fine, and he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to follow her to the car, where she’d wrap him in the wool blanket she kept in the back seat, and she’d hold his hands to keep them warm.

She scoffed, her heels scuffing on the asphalt as she stepped back, exasperated. “Yeah, right, you’re one minute away from mummifying out here! Just get up and come with me!” She reached for him again, taking his hand. Her touch. He’ll miss her touch.

“No!” He jerked away from her gentle hands.

He didn’t need to see her face to know it hurt her. It hurt him just to say it. But he had to. He made a promise he had to keep. No matter how much it hurt. The next words to fall from his lips would be nothing but lies to mask the truth.

“I don’t need you.”

I do.

“I don’t need your help.”

Help me.

“I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Please don’t go.

Another pregnant silence. The lump in Credence’s throat was large enough to suffocate him. Every time he tried to swallow it down, it would grow bigger, prompting more tears to stain his cheeks.

“You don’t want to see me anymore?” She repeated. Her voice was as cold and steady as the snow that fell around them.

Everything dies in winter. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little. The sound of her heels knocking on the asphalt faded along with her warmth. He’d call out to her if he wasn’t a coward. He would tell her the truth and beg for her forgiveness if he had the strength. But when he couldn’t smell lavenders or vanilla, or feel her unwavering warmth, he knew that it was too late. She was gone.

He fell to the ground, burying his head in his knees to muffle his pained cries. The icy ground didn’t phase him. He felt nothing but the ache in his chest and the swell of his throat. He wondered if that pain would ever go away. Could he continue on like this? With the feeling that a part of him had been taken?

He unclenched his fist, revealing frayed pink fabric; the stitched golden letters staring back at him mockingly. It was the only surviving piece of the handkerchief his mother burned. He’d picked it from the ashes before she threw him out on the streets. The smell of ash and smoke dulled the scent of lavender and vanilla it once carried. But, if he focused hard enough, he could still smell the traces of her perfume. For now, it will be enough.

He sat in the alleyway until the early night sky replaced the setting sun. He would sit and listen to the passing cars and pedestrians in silence, until he could no longer feel the fabric in his hands, or the sting of his aching muscles. His swollen eyes grew heavy, barely staying open longer than a second. He closed them, letting his body relax and fade slowly into nothingness.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, he stayed curled in the alleyway, unaware of his surroundings. Unaware that a car had parked outside the alley entrance. Ignorant to the footsteps that neared his meek form and the shadow that loomed over him. He was oblivious to it all until he felt a weight on his head and shoulders. He pried his eyes open to find himself wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

A dainty (s/c) hand opened for him, tempting him to take it; his saving grace.

“I’m not going to leave you like this. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

Her eyes weren’t angry. They weren’t cold or full of resentment. They were as kind and warm as they always had been, perhaps even more. Her rosy lips held a gentle smile just for him.

“You don’t have to see me again after tonight,” she concurred. “But I need you to get in the car. Please, Credence. Just one more night, then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Had it been anyone else, he would have refused. The hold his mother had on him was stronger than the yearnings of his heart. His fear of her would keep him from acting on his desires—what he truly wanted. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. But now, with her hand outstretched for him to take, there was no nagging fear pulling him away. No voice in the back of his head vilifying him from acting on his whims. Because, for the first time, someone had heard what he didn’t dare to say aloud. For the first time, someone cared. 

Had it been anyone one else, he wouldn’t have taken their hand. He wouldn’t have stood from the frozen ground or walked towards their car. Anyone else, and he wouldn’t have gotten inside and felt the heat melt his frozen muscles. If it was anyone but her, he would still be wasting away in the freezing, damp alleyway. 

“Just try to relax and get warm,” she told him as they drove off. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He was far too tired. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was falling asleep. His head rested on the window, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open. She took his hand that rested in his lap. It was cold to the touch, like ice, as if no blood coarsed through his veins. 

She refused to let go, instead she held it tighter. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

If he wasn’t already drifting to sleep, he would have asked where she was taking him, but his eyes refused to open, and his lips would not open to pose the question. Instead he let the motion and hum of the car lull him to sleep. 

New York City was known for many things: its gigantic skyscrapers, the lively scene, the people. But it was easy for tourists to see what the locals could not. New York City was by no means as glorious as its reputation would like you to believe. Everything great about it was reserved for people who could afford it. Shopping, clubbing, broadway, the cinema; it was all novelty. The grit of New York City was something the average New Yorker would like to escape. If the city was as great as it was made out to be, then why did the wealthy live upstate in their palatial mansions? It’s because beyond the smog and stench of the city was fresh air, and acres of woodlands and grasslands to admire. 

That’s all Credence could see when he opened his eyes from what felt like a year’s rest. From the passenger window he could make out the shadows of tall, snow covered maples and oak trees rushing past. The road was long and winding, twisting through the scenic route with ease. 

Beyond the trees, he could make out the orange lights of houses drawing near. It wasn’t long before the trees were replaced by vast mansions with plunging yards, overly decorated for the holiday season. The drowsy fog had barely lifted from his mind to take in such a foreign sight. As his mind awoke, so did the rest of his senses. He became aware of his body, and how it was no longer cold and wet. He could feel his blood circulating in his hands and feet, allowing them to move and wiggle as he pleased. His nose was no longer stuffed, and the numbness in his face had left. 

Taking a peak through the corner of his eye, he saw her; her eyes focused on the road. The light from the passing mansions cast shadows over her features. She was otherwise relaxed, if it weren't for the faint wrinkle of her forehead, the kind that appeared when she was deep in thought. He was too afraid to say anything. Even if he wasn't, he wouldn’t know what to say. Things had happened so suddenly, he couldn’t keep up.

Instead, he kept silent and watched the houses roll by as she drove. Trapped in his thoughts, he began to realize just where she was taking him. He didn’t know why she thought to bring him here, or what she planned to do, but he concluded she was taking him to her home. He’d never been to Kings Point before and he never imagined going within his lifetime, but he could say with confidence that it did not disappoint.

Kings Point was exactly how he imagined it, save for a few minor details. Under different circumstances he would be awestricken, but tonight he didn’t have the energy for it. All he had the energy to do was count the mansions they passed in his head. It was better than thinking of the events that lead him there.

He counted seventeen pompous manors before the car’s speed gradually reduced to a cruise. He watched as a large manor with swooping gable roofs and multiple chimneys came into view. An untouched layer of snow blanketed its long front yard. Windows were plentiful, all of which were lit with those distinct orange lights.

The car pulled into the long driveway, normally protected by a gate, but tonight that gate was left open, allowing them to drive through with ease. As they drove closer to the main manor, he could see the two other sprawling houses that surrounded a large courtyard highlighting a marble fountain.

When the car came upon the front of the manor, there was a man in a black tailcoat tuxedo waiting for them. The car came to a stop, and the man came around the hood to the driver’s door.

“Miss (y/n), welcome home,” he said as he opened the door. (y/n) thanked him, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the scalloped cobblestone.  

When the door closed behind her, leaving Credence inside. The two were clearly conversing, presumably about him. She would steal a glance at him through the window a few times while she spoke. The man, who he could now see was no longer in his youth, only nodded compliantly. When the two seemed to come to an understanding, (y/n) walked around to his side of the car, opening it for him to step out.

“Follow me,” She said, taking his hand.

She wasted no time pulling him from his seat and leading him off to some side entrance of the manor. The door they entered was smaller than the wide, double-doors he saw at the front entrance. Inside was just as grand as the outside. The door they took lead to a kitchen as big as the chapel he lived in. Currently, it was packed with chefs prepping large platters of food and servers organizing the trays.

(y/n) clasped his hand tightly as they bulldozed their way through the kitchen. She apologized to the passing help, weaving her way through to the door that stood on the opposite end of the room. Credence kept his head low, allowing her to guide him. Once they reached the adjacent door, she pushed her way through, pulling him down a hallway that he could see led to a set of stairs.

They were rushing down the hall when they passed a side room they didn’t realize was occupied. Their footsteps prompted the voice of a woman to call out into the hall.

“(y/n), honey, you’re back already?”

(y/n) stopped in her tracks, cursing under her breath. She held her finger up to her lips, telling Credence to stay quiet.

“Yes.” She answered.

The woman called out again. “I thought the shops would be busy today.”

“They were.”

“Well, did you get everything you wanted?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment’s pause before the woman spoke again.

“Alright,” she said. “Don’t go picking at the food in the kitchen! You’ll just have to wait until tonight like everyone else!”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “Alright, Mom.”

She signaled for Credence to continue walking towards the staircase as her mother continued to talk from the room.

“And once you put your gifts away, come back and help me finish arranging the poinsettias in the foyer!”

“I will!” She yelled back while pulling Credence up the stairs.

She practically dragged him down the upstairs hall and pushed him into a room, closing the door behind them. That flowery scent that was distinctly hers immediately overtook his senses. The wide, circular room was lit up by various lamps and a sparkling chandelier made of iridescent crystals that hung at its centre. The dark wood panelling of the walls contrasted the rosy accents: blush pink art deco wallpaper, tall white drapes that covered balcony doors, the various mix-match carpets that covered the wood floor like patchwork. The broad circular bed enclosed in a silky white canopy sat against the wall next to a small fireplace. On the other side was a door he assumed led to a bathroom.

(y/n) stood awkwardly by a three-mirror vanity, bashfully fiddling with a silver hairbrush. She’d shed her coat.  

“Sorry about her,” she muttered. “She gets like this around the holidays.”

It was overwhelming, being in her room. He’d barely had a moment to register all that was happening. Now that he had the chance to breathe, his anxiety got the better of him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be in the city, on his knees begging his mother to forgive him, not miles away in King’s Point; and definitely not in her bedroom.  

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here—”

“You promised me, Credence,” she interjected, silencing him. “Please... Just let me have tonight.”

He clenched his jaw, turning his head to stare at the wall. It was better than looking in her eyes. He heard her move from the vanity. The sound of a cabinet being opened caught his attention. She had an armoire of her own, though hers was grander than his. It towered over her, composed of white and gold painted wood. From inside, she retrieved a blueberry colored suit. Credence recognized it as the suit she eyed in the window the week before. 

“I got you something,” she said, placing the suit on the bed, along with a fresh pair of brown oxfords. “I know you told me not to... but I just couldn’t help myself.”

Credence walked to the edge of the bed, brushing the material with his fingers. She got this for him.  

She moved to a dresser, where she pulled a neatly folded white towel and cloth from the drawer. She walked back to his side, holding the towels out for him to take.

“There's a bathroom behind that door. You can take a bath and get yourself ready. I’ll come back once I’ve finished helping my mother.”

He took the towels from her hands, leaning towards the idea of a bath. His body still hadn’t completely warmed from the ride, and his clothes still stuck uncomfortably to his skin. She left him alone in her bedroom, closing the door behind her as she left.

Credence stayed by her bed even after she had left. He took the suit into his hands. The material was thick and soft. He could tell by the fine stitches it was of high quality, unlike the suit he currently wore. He collected the pants and shoes in his arms and walked to the bathroom door. Much like the bedroom, her bathroom was big. A porcelain bathtub resting on top of golden legs facing a large window that looked over one of the gardens. Credence walked across the mosaic floor and turned the knob of the tub. Hot water rushed from the faucet and filled the tub. Steam rose into the air, forging the mirror above the sink. He placed his clothes on a stool away from the tub so it wouldn’t get wet.

Stripping himself of his clothes, he dipped his foot into the warm water. Pleased by the feeling of the hot water heating his skin, he pulled the rest of his body into the tub and submerged himself until only his head remained above water. He sat in the water unmoving for a while with his eyes closed. The water relaxed his tense muscles, ridding his body of the prickling cold. As he sat there, resting his head against the edge of the tub, he thought about how long this would last. Why did she bring him here? 

Credence opened his eyes and found a rectangular bar of soap sitting on the tub’s edge. He lifted his hand from the water and took it, bringing it to his nose. Lavenders. 

He really shouldn’t be here. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that was sure something would go wrong. His mind went back to what she’d said. He promised her he would stay with her tonight. He supposed he did, even if he hadn't explicitly say the words ‘I promise’. Taking her hand was more than an answer. 

But he had made another promise—a promise to someone he never dared to disobey so brazenly. He promised he would never see her again, to wipe her from his life and pretend like she never existed. And yet, here he was, laying in her bathtub, washing himself with her soap, wearing the clothes she bought him, and standing in her room. 

Credence stared at himself in the mirror by the armoire, now dressed in the blueberry suit she’d given him. It fit perfectly, as though it were made for him. It probably was. The shoes on his feet were comfortable. At first, he didn’t think they would fit; they were much larger than the pair of shoes he always wore. But after he pulled his socks up and slid his foot inside, he realized it wasn't that the shoes were too big, but his were a size too small. He could walk in them without his toes uncomfortably pressing against the tip. His toes could breathe and soles of his feet didn’t ache with every step. 

He almost didn't recognize his reflection. It was like another person was staring at him in the mirror. He looked like one of the men he admired in Times Square. The handsome scholars who came down from The Eggs to frequent the speakeasies to unwind after a long day of doing whatever rich boys do. He looked like the kind of man she belonged with.

A knock came from beyond the door.  “Are you decent?” Her muffled voice called from behind it. 

The door opened, and she peaked her head inside, meeting his eyes immediately.

“I knew it’d look good on you,” She smiled brightly, making her way towards him. “Does it fit nicely? I tried my best to guess your measurements. I was afraid it would be a bit off.”

He let her place her hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric of any wrinkles. His heart beat in his chest loudly, like it always did when she got this close. He watched her closely as she looked him over, avoiding his eyes. Her hands flew up to the black tie around his neck. 

“Your tie is a bit crooked.” She chuckled softly, taking the tie into her hands. “Let me.”

“Why are you nice to me?” He spoke lowly as she untied the knot. 

She furrowed her brows, her hands halting. “I’m sorry?”

“Most people would have ignored me had they saw me lying on the streets like I was today, and the day we met. Many people did. But you...” Credence struggled to find the words. “You helped me after I had fallen and dropped my papers, then you drove me home. The other week you insisted on buying me a coat, even though I told you I was fine without one, and then you took me to that restaurant. And then today, you convinced Father Blackwell to let my mother speak. You’ve been kind to me without even knowing me. Why?”

(y/n) lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Do I need a reason?” She countered. “Can’t I just want to?”

When he didn’t answer, she understood that wouldn’t be enough. She sighed, focusing her attention back on the tie. 

“Why did I do those things?” She bit her cheek in thought. “The night we met, I saw what that jerk did and wanted to help you. You looked so... sad. People walked over you—ignored you. It was like you didn’t exist, like I was the only one who saw you. I didn’t like it—seeing you like that. I just thought it would be nice to see a smile on your face. Maybe if I saw you smile, it would make me feel better.”

“Now that I’ve seen your smile, I’ve become a bit fond of it. Addicted is probably the better word. After seeing you smile for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to see it all the time. If stuffing you full of burgers and teaching you how to skate put a smile on your face, I would do it. I would do anything to keep you smiling.”

She looped the tail of the tie and pulled the knot, tightening it around his neck. She adjusted his collar and let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. 

“So, I guess the answer to your question is: I did those things because I like you.”

Credence swallowed the lump rising in his throat, sending it back down to his chest. His eyes glistened in the light, glazed with rising tears. His heart ached in his chest, still hanging on to her words. ‘Like’? She liked him?

“And now?” His voice cracked. “Do you still fell that way? Even after the things I said?”

“Why did you say those things?” It was clear she had been wanting to ask this for a while. “Did I do something—say something to upset you?”

Credence vigorously shook his head. “No!” 

He clasped her hands tightly, taking her by surprise. “It’s not you,” he tried to explain. “It was never you.”

She held his hands just as tight, like she was afraid he would fade away if she let go. “Then?”

He swallowed again, looking down at his feet. “It’s my mother... she...” 

(y/n) frowned. She lifted Credence’s hand, turning his palm upward to expose the raised scars on his palms. 

“Was she the one who did this to you?” She whispered, though it sounded as if she already knew the answer. 

Credence stayed silent. He didn’t have the strength to say it out lout. 

“Did she leave you out on the street?” She asked, anger rising in her voice. 

“She doesn’t want me to see you anymore,” He muttered, shamefully. 

“Is that what you want?” 

Credence stilled. Nobody had ever asked him what he wanted. They locked eyes, (y/n)’s stared deeply into his, yearning for an answer. He barely opened his mouth to answer when a knock came from beyond the door, the person behind it bursting into the room. 

(y/n) dropped his hands, turning to face the culprit.

“Aaron, how many times have I told you to wait for me to answer before coming in my room?”

Aaron was a stocky man, just a few inches shorter than Credence. His angular face was covered with a tapered beard. He had the same (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair as (y/n), but his eyes were a light brown. He wore a black formal tuxedo with a matching bowtie. The smile on his face fell slightly as he looked between her and Credence. 

“Sorry sis, I didn’t realize you had company.”

(y/n) sighed, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

Tearing his eyes from Credence, Aaron turned his attention to his sister, his smile widening. “I just thought you might like to say hello to someone.”

(y/n) raised a curious brow. “Who?”

The answer to her question walked in not a second later, dressing in a black fitted full dress tuxedo. He too shared a similar complexion to (y/n) and Aaron, but unlike Aaron, his eyes were the same has hers. He smiled, displaying a row of perfectly straight white teeth. “Hey. Did you miss me, street rat?”

(y/n)’s eyes widened, “Channing?”

Channing chuckled as she sped towards him. “The one and only—Ow!”

(y/n) had punched him hard in the shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?!”

Aaron snickered to the side. “Told you she would do that.”

“Well, that would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, now wouldn't it?” He said, clutching his sore shoulder. “Can’t you act like a normal sister and be happy I’m back?”

“I am happy, you jerk,” she smiled, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back gladly. It was clear the two missed each other greatly. 

“(y/n), who’s this?” Channing asked, looking over her shoulder at Credence.  

(y/n) too looked over her shoulder, her lips still holding her elated smile. “Aaron, Channing, this is Credence. He’s my plus one for tonight.”

“Right.” Aaron skeptically squinted at Credence. “And do Mom and Dad know that you have a boy in your room?”

(y/n) placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t know. Do Mom and Dad know about you and Mr. Finnegan’s daughter?” She deflected with a glare. 

Aaron cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around his younger brother and pushing him towards the door. “We’ll see you downstairs.”

“Wait,” (y/n) went to grab Credence by the hand and pulled him towards her brothers.  “Why don’t you show Credence around? You can bond and do whatever boys do while I get ready.”

They all looked at Credence, who was too petrified to protest the proposition. Aaron gave Credence a look that made him think he wasn’t too keen on the idea, but kept his otherwise cheerful smile. 

“I don’t see why not,” said Channing kindly, flashing an inviting grin much like the one (y/n) had given him many times before. He was starting to see the similarities between the two. 

“Yeah, come on, Credence,” Aaron agreed, throwing his free arm around Credence’s shoulder. “Hang with us guys for a while, we’re much more fun than she is.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes, escorting the men out of her bedroom. Credence’s pleading eyes silently asked for her not to leave him on his own, but she said nothing to stop them. She only gave him a comforting smile from the doorframe as they pulled him from the door. 

“I’ll see you in a bit.” She promised. 

Aaron and Channing dragged Credence down the hall, guiding him to another set of stairs. Unlike the ones (y/n) had sneaked him up an hour before, these stairs weren’t hidden in a corner at the end of the hall. It was a grand bifurcated staircase, with wide, velvet-clad sweeping steps that plunged into a wide landing that split in two directions: upwards to another wing of the manor, and downwards to the foyer. He could hear the music and babbling chatter clearly from the top of the staircase. The two brothers led him down the many steps, and again down the steps to the foyer where a great crowd of well-dressed men and women conversed under dropping garlands and mistletoe.

Without warning, they pulled him into the crowd, weaving their way through fur shawls and padded tuxedos. Tucked away in a corner of the room, Credence saw something he’d least expected: a familiar face. 

There, resting against a paneled wall, was Edmund Tully, drinking from a half finished glass of brandy. His eyes were distant and seemed to dart around the room, looking for something or someone. He wasn’t entirely sure if Edmund found what he was looking for, because when Aaron had called out to him, he gave up on his previous endeavor. 

It appeared that Edmund was not only friendly with Aaron, but Channing as well. They greeted each other as old friends do, with open arms, harmless roughhousing. Credence stood idly by, feeling out of place. It was only when Edmund set his green on him that Credence was pulled into their circle. Aaron noticed his friend’s stare and pointed his attention towards him. 

Aaron gestured to Credence, snapping his fingers. “Eds, this is uh—this is—give me a second—”

“Credence,” Edmund made up for Aaron’s forgetfulness. “Am I right? We met before.”

Aaron and Channing looked between the two unlikely acquaintances. “You have?” The eldest brother asked. 

Credence nodded, confirming Edmund’s claim. 

“Through (y/n), of course,” Edmund clarified. 

“I see,” Aaron hummed. 

A server in a tight vest came up the group of men with a tray full of glasses filled with a pinkish liquid. Credence watched as they each took a glass from the tray. 

“Do you drink, Credence?” Asked Channing, noticing Credence’s empty hand. 

“Sure he does!” Aaron exclaimed, taking an extra glass and shoving a it into Credence’s unsuspecting hand. “It’s Christmas!”

Giving into the pressure of the situation, Credence accepted the drink. It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done today. The gentleman made a simple Christmas toast, before taking their own respectable gulps. 

Credence brought the glass to his lips, letting the strange liquid slow past his lips and hit his tongue. Somehow the cold liquid felt like heat on his tongue, vibrating down his throat and spreading that warmth into his chest. It was a strange sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. While it was strong with alcohol, the sugary sweet after-taste made it palatable. He took another sip. 

Credence found Aaron and Channing to be decent men. Channing was more friendly to Credence that Aaron, but it had more to due with the age difference and the extenuating circumstances in which they’d met. He supposed it must have been hard warming up to the strange man who was found alone in your younger sister’s room. 

Edmund on the other hand didn’t address him much at all, only speaking to him when obligated. He had the sneaking suspicion that Edmund didn’t like him at all. Credence could care less. To be fair, Credence wasn’t sure he liked him either. 

Like (y/n) had asked, the two brothers, along with Edmund, showed Credence around the mansion. They took him upstairs and downstairs, through long halls and into opulent rooms that were also filled with partygoers. All the while, they continued to keep a full glass in their hands. Credence had drank four full glasses of pink drink by the time they circled back to the foyer—and they hadn’t even venture half of the vast manor. He wasn’t fully convinced that just one family lived in such a palace. 

They loitered the foyer, the music in the next room traveled well, distracting him from the conversation he wasn’t completely involved in. His eyes darted around the room, glossing over the painted and shaven faces of the other guests. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it—or rather— her. 

Descending from the heavens that was the staircase landing was her elegant figure, clothed in a velvety red dress that hung off her shoulders. Her hair fell in waves around her face, adorned with pins that resembled holly. The long pointed sleeves clung to her skin along with the rest of the dress, hugging her figure dangerously. He was the first to see her, and in parallel, she saw him first; her painted red lips curling into a wide grin once their eyes met. 

His chest was filled with a fluttering excitement as his eyes followed her movements drawing nearer. She walked straight towards him, bowing her head shyly as she got closer. The others noticed her too, hooting and hollering as she came, embarrassing her more. 

“The Princess has finally decided grace the party with her presence,” Aaron playfully jeered. 

“It’s not easy being the most attractive in the family, it takes a lot of work to look this good,” She bantered. 

“Tons of it, if you ask me,” Channing muttered snidely as he took a sip of his drink, causing a fit of harmless laughter between all of them but Credence. 

“You look amazing,” Edmund complimented over the giggles. 

(y/n) thanked him, her eyes drifting back to Credence expectingly. Flustered, Credence sputtered the first words that came to mind. “You look beautiful, you always do.”

(y/n) blushed, her girlish smile reaching her ears. Her brothers found the interaction equally amusing, stifling their laughter. Though Edmund didn’t find it so amusing, his once joyous expression faltering. 

“I have to steal my brothers for a moment,” (y/n) revealed. 

“What for?” Channing asked, unaware that he was needed. 

“Mom wants to see us all for a portrait. You were supposed to have been there by now. Daddy’s getting restless,” she told them.

Aaron cursed under his breath, having forgotten about the detail. He turned to his friend and handed him his drink. “It will only be a minute.”

Aaron and Channing hurried off towards the stairs whence (y/n) had come. Before she left, she met Credence’s eye. “Just wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

She then disappeared up the stairs with her brothers, leaving him alone with Edmund. And then there were two. 

“Why don’t I show you to the gardens,” Edmund suggested after an awkward beat of silence. 

Credence didn’t get the chance to deny the offer before Edmund turned on his heels and headed towards the door, beckoning him to follow. Out of pure obligation, Credence followed, venturing from the manor and out into the cold (though the consistent warm buzzing in his head and chest kept him warm enough). 

Edmund guided Credence around to the main garden that sat in the center of the sprawling houses. Snow covered the hedges and statues that scattered the grounds. 

“Where are you from, Credence?” Edmund asked suddenly as they walked the garden path. 

Credence shrugged his shoulders. “Here.” 

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You might be from New York, but you’re not from here.”

Credence’s brow furrowed. What was he playing at?

“How did you meet (y/n)?” He pestered. 

“In Times Square,” Credence answered. “She helped me when I fell on the street. We kept running into each other ever since.”

Credence wasn’t sure why he was telling him all this, but he felt if he wanted to know, why not tell him? 

“You know, it's charming,” said Edmund. “How you’re sweet on (y/n). It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like a little puppy dog. It’s almost endearing. But it’s pointless.”

“Pointless?” Credence repeated. 

Edmund stared blankly at the younger boy. A sly smirk teetered on his lips.  “Oh, come on. Do you... Do you actually think you have a chance with her?”

Credence’s silence only amused him more, spurring him to laugh tauntingly. “Oh my God, you do! I almost feel bad for you!” It was only now that Credence noticed the subtle slur of his words. “Listen, mate, I’m only saying this because I feel like we could be friends. It's not going to happen. (y/n) is a sweet girl, almost too sweet. She’s oblivious to these kinds of things, you see?” He leaned against a stone post.

“How should I explain this? I’ve watched her grow up, and I have seen many young chaps like you fall all over her. She doesn’t realize her kindness attracts people. There have been many broken hearts left at her feet. You don’t want yours added to the pile, trust me.”

Yes, Credence decided in that moment he didn’t like Edmund at all. He took too much of a likeness to Ripley; they had the same condescending leer. The buzzing of his head wouldn’t allow him to hide his obvious disdain, and for the first time Credence would speak his mind, unafraid of the consequences. 

“Is yours one of them?” He asked boldly. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your heart,” he reiterated. “Is it one of the ones she broke?”

“I—”

“Do you feel threatened by me? Are you afraid that she might not like you as much as you think?” 

“What did you just say to me?” Edmund sputtered. 

Credence continued, feeling no shame for what he was about to slur and stutter. “She’s only nice to you because you’re friends with her brother and she’s known you for so long. But that isn’t enough to win her affection. Deep down, you know that.”

Edmund took Credence by the collar, “I suggest you stop talking,” he whispered dangerously. 

“You say that I don’t have a chance, then what do you have?” Credence chuckled provokingly. “She said she likes me. Has she ever said she likes you?”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” Yelled Edmund, red in the face. “To her, you’re just a pet. A sad little puppy she has to take care of. She’ll give you treats and dress you up like a doll, but it doesn’t mean anything. She’ll never see you as a man.”

“Is this what you do?” Asked Credence. “You drive away any person who you think might come between you and (y/n)? There’s nothing to come between. She’s not yours. She never was. And she’s not mine either. I don’t care if she doesn’t feel the same way I do. That doesn’t matter. But she said she liked me... and I like her.” Credence smiled. “And that is more than anything you’ll ever have with her.”

A powerful fist collided with his left cheek, sending him to the ground. The pleasing buzz in his head was replaced with rushing blood pounding against his temple. 

“I told you to stop talking,” the assailant heaved. 

Credence struggled to his hands and knees. The punch left a metallic taste in his mouth, and a bubbling rage in his stomach. Without thinking, he lunged forward, tackling Edmund to the ground. The two fell in a heap on the cobblestone, wrestling and thrashing violently. Credence got the upper-hand, landing a satisfying punch in the face, leaving Edmund with a bloodied nose. It didn’t last, because as soon as Credence wrestled his way on top, he was back under him, taking blows to the face and ribs. 

He couldn’t react fast enough to defend himself, and honestly, it was a miracle he landed a punch in the first place. He curled into himself to protect his face and ribs. The same vibrating rage he felt earlier that same day with Ripley danced under his skin. His thoughts faded in and out between consciousness, each unfamiliar thought being one of violence and rage. Pure, dark rage. 

Edmund may have got a peak at this entity—a glimpse into it’s glassy white eyes. If he had, he didn't say so. He only hesitated, a look of both confusion and fear flashing over his once blinding anger when their eyes locked. If he had seen those shining white eyes, they disappeared as soon as they came, her voice retreating the beast inside. 

“EDDY! CREDENCE! STOP IT!”

It was a trick of the lights, Edmund would later conclude. A figment of his drunken imagination. But it wasn’t true. The truth was Credence had a part of himself he couldn’t control—a part of himself that could destroy buildings and uproot roads—a part of him he couldn’t control, that is, until he met her. Until the sound of her sweet voice reached his ears and calmed the blackness to its dormant state.  

Edmund was pulled off of him, pushed several feet back while she dove for him on the ground, dirtying her red dress. The light from the lamppost and house gave the illusion that she glowed in the night.

Her eyes were big with worry. “Credence, are you okay? Does it hurt?” She helped him sit up, taking his face gently in her hands. It didn’t hurt. He couldn't feel anything but her warm hands caressing his cheeks. 

“I’m hurt too, (y/n),” Edmund croaked from his place. Aaron and Channing were there, barricading him away. “I got hit too. Why don’t you ask me if I’m okay? Huh?!”

(y/n) glared back at him. “You’re drunk!”

Edmund’s red face became wet with hot, angry tears. “WHY DON’T YOU ASK ME, (Y/N)?! DON’T YOU LIKE ME TOO?”

She held on to Credence's arm, holding him close. “I think you should go,” she muttered. 

Edmund sniffed, a look of pure heartbreak slapping over his chiseled features. “(y/n)...” He called for her one last desperate time, but she turned away, shutting him out completely. 

“Come on, man,” Aaron said sternly, pushing him back. “Let’s take a walk, okay?”

“GET OFF ME!” Edmund pushed Aaron away from him, staggering backward. He took one last long look at (y/n), hoping that she would look at him again. But she didn't. Her eyes stayed trained on Credence. He stepped back, defeated. 

“I can walk by my bloody self,” he slurred bitterly, retreating further into the garden, Aaron chasing after him. 

“Can you stand up?” (y/n) asked softly, taking Credence by the hand and pulling him to his feet. 

Channing helped as well, guiding them both back into the house. They stayed away from the festivities, taking the hidden stairs back up to her room. Channing had retrieved a medical kit after they reached her room, leaving once (y/n) insisted she could care for Credence on her own. 

Now, he sat next to her on her bed, while she shifted through the medical kit. His eyes trained on a young, black, hairless cat played curled up in a stuffed bed by the fire. This must’ve been the cat she had told him about. 

“Do you mind telling me what that was about or are you just going to stay silent?” Asked after the long silence. 

“It was nothing,” he told her, as she took his face in her hands to examine the wounds on his cheek and lip. 

“Yeah, right.” She muttered, taking a wet cotton swab and dabbing it on his scraped cheek. It burned, causing him to wince. She stopped immediately, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

She went for the medical kit again, rummaging through it messily before stopping abruptly.

“You know what, I’m not sorry! Serves you right worrying me like that! I leave you for one minute and you’re picking fights in the street! Just look what he’s done to your face!” She cupped the side of his face where Edmund had punched him. She sighed, taking another cotton swab from the kit. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell. I don’t like seeing you hurt is all.”

He looked at her deeply through lidded eyes as she dabbed the cut on his lip. 

“We were fighting about you,” he confessed.

She stopped, her eyes flickered to his for a moment, before focusing back on his lip. “Me? Why on Earth would you be fighting about me?”

He didn’t say. She waited for an answer, but soon concluded she wouldn’t get one. He hissed when she began applying cream on his cuts. “Fine, then,” she mumbled irritably. “Don’t answer me. Just hold still—”

His lips were on hers before she could finish her harping. The swab fell from her hand in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. He was kissing her. His eyes were closed, his lips plush against hers. He ignored the sting of his cut as he pressed his lips onto hers like he’d seen couples do many times before. His heart pounded in his ears. He would have kept kissing her if he hadn’t held his breath for too long. When they parted, and he opened his eyes to see her staring, awestruck. 

His ears turned red, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over him, realizing what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I shouldn’t have—”

Her soft lips crashed into his with passionate force, her hands flying to caress the nape of his neck. Now, it was his turn to be taken aback. Credence had kissed her how shy young couples do: pressing his lips onto hers. But she kissed him like lovers do, moving her lips feverishly against his, licking his lips coyly with her tongue. Imitating her actions, Credence let his eyes fall shut, opening his mouth for her. Her tongue slipped passed his lips and swirled around his, welcoming the foreign sensation.

“(y/n)...” He whimpered out of pure instinct. 

She pulled away, leaving him a blushing, panting mess. 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my name,” she whispered. A smile stretched across her lips.  “Say it again.”

Credence’s cheeks burned, but he gladly did what she asked. 

“... (y/n),” he called her name again.

“Again.”

“(y/n),” he repeated.

“Credence,” she whispered his name, sending shivers down his spine.

“(y/n),” he whispered breathlessly. 

“Credence.”

“(y/n).”

She captured his lips in another sensual kiss, pushing him back onto the bed. The medical kit fell to the ground, forgotten. She laid on top of him, her legs wrapped around his thin waist, pressing her body against his like he’d imagined many times before. His heart thundered in his chest, his mind consumed by her. Lavender and vanilla, it was all around him; pressing against him, kissing him, caressing him.

“Credence,” she said between fiery kisses. “I want you.”

“Y-You want me?” He flushed, making her giggle. 

“Yes,” she chuckled, taking his hand. “Do... Do you want me too?” Her voice was small and unsure. 

Credence nodded, lacing his fingers between hers. “I’ll always want you.”

His words seemed to spur her on, reviving her confidence. “Is this okay?”

The touch of her hand on his thigh traveled down to his waist, sending shivers up his spine. The beat of his heart pulsed powerfully in his chest, ringing in his ears. He watched expectantly as she drew nearer, hovering over him. One of her hands rose to tenderly cup his cheek. Her hand was soft and warm against him. The way she touched him was unlike any other. She was always so gentle with him, so kind. 

Their lips were mere inches apart. So close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. She looked at him through hooded lids, her eyes darkened to a deep shade of (e/c).

Credence swallowed. “I...I’ve never...”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” 

She grinned, kissing his lips tenderly to calm his nerves. He felt her fingers move to unbutton his suit jacket. She pulled it off his shoulders, discarding it to the floor.

“Just relax,” she cooed. “I’ll take care of you.”

His black tie slipped off with ease, the buttons of his white dress shirt opened one by one the sound of fabric rubbing against each other and sultry sighs filling their ears. His shirt joined the jacket onto the ground, leaving him half-naked under her. He felt exposed, his eyes nervously fidgeting around the room. 

Her warm hands grazed the sides of his waist, delicately dancing up to his chest. She noticed the change in his breathing, his chest rising up and down in anticipation. He’d never been touched like this by anyone, not once. But now, as her hands glossed over his torso causing goosebumps to rise even though his skin was burning hot, he realized he wanted to be touched by her all the time, in every way. He wanted to kiss her over and over again; to feel her lips against his. He wanted to be close to her in the closest way possible.

As if answering his silent prayers, she pressed her chest against his, her breath tickling his cheeks. She kisses the mark on his cheekbone tenderly, then the corner of his lips, then his jaw. His eyes lull back. He let his head fall to the side, presenting his neck to her. Her hot breath on his neck excited him. Her lip pressed soft kisses down his jaw and neck, marking him with her red lipstick. Her wet tongue licked a stripe up his jugular, and he made a sound he’d only made once before in the confines of his room. 

She did it again, licking, sucking, and biting at the sensitive flesh of his neck. Credence bit his lip, muffling his desperate mewls. 

Her lips kissed up to the spot just under his ear. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “No one else can hear us. It’s just me.” 

Hoping to drive out more sweet moans, she sucked on the flesh of his neck she learned to be the most sensitive. His hips bucked upwards, grinding between her legs. He squirmed pathetically under her, his desperate pants and moans filling the room. 

His body was sensitive to her every touch, each kiss sending jolts of electricity through his body. She left love bites on the expanse of his neck and collarbone, coloring his pale skin purple and mauve. 

She caught his lips in another open-mouthed kiss, assaulting his mouth with his tongue at her pleasure. 

“Is... C-Can I touch you?” He asked through her kisses. 

She pulled away, her nose brushing against his. “Always,” she breathed. 

His hands daringly glided over her arms, reaching around her back. His fingers found the zipper to her dress and pinched, pulling it down her back until it stopped at her waist. She slid out of the dress with ease, slipping it off her body and letting it pool around her waist. His eyes glued to her bare chest, turning red from the neck up. She took his hands and guided them up her sides, outlining her feminine curves. 

She brought his hands to cup her breasts. His touch was hot on her skin, her own blush burning undeneath. He could feel her heart pounding wildly in his chest, and he knew she was just as excited as him. He let his body act on its own, his hands massaging her breasts. She let out a shaky breath, her mouth falling open. 

He continued, brushing his thumbs against her hardened nipples. Her hips rocked sensually against his twitching member. Her name slipped past his lips, his eyes trained on her figure above him. Her hands pressed on his chest, her hips moving in circles over him. Credence sat himself up, snaking his arms around her hips, gripping them firmly. They stared at each other breathlessly through half-lidded eyes. Credence’s already dark eyes turned to black pools reflecting in the moonlight. 

He mimicked her affections, placing chaste kisses under her jaw. He kissed the expanse of her neck, tasting her soft skin. He pulled her hips into him, guiding her movements in his lap. His length strained against his trousers, aching to be touched. 

“You said you want to touch me, right?” She panted. “Touch me here.”

She moved his right hand from her hip, slipping it under the velvety veil that covered where she wanted him most. He could feel her through thin lacy fabric, her heat already slick with arousal. He experimentally rubbed his fingers up and down her slit, studying the twitches and jolts of her body. She seemed to really enjoy when his fingers brushed against a certain spot, so he kept his attention there, rubbing steady circles around the sensitive area. 

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her head falling to rest in the crook of his neck. He enjoyed hearing her high-pitched moans, even as they were muffled against his neck. He pressed harder, picking up his pace to hear more. Her hips jut against his hand, jerking every so often. Her breaths quickened, and she whimpered his name in his ear. 

“Faster,” she’d pant desperately, her grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He did, circling his fingers as best he knew how. Her thighs tightened around his legs, her body stilled but he didn't stop. Only when he felt her body shake and relax against him did he stop, her sweet satisfied moan reaching his ears. 

He held her in his arms, peppering kisses on her shoulder and neck as she steadied her breathing. When she did lift her head from his neck, she pecked his lips and cheek. She held his face in her hands and moved to lie on her back, pulling him down in the process. 

He planted his hands on either side of her head. He admired her from above. Her red lipstick was faded, smudged messily on her chin, having been transfered on his own lips and neck. She didn’t break eye contact as her hands unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down his waist and kicking them off with her feet along with his boxers. They lingered like that, just staring and admiring one another. He didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt strangely calm. The rest of the world seemed to float away. Nothing else mattered. Not the party down stairs, or the people laughing and drinking. Not Edmund and his jealousy, and not his mother and her vilification. Nothing mattered but her and him together in this room, together in her bed. 

He bent down to kiss her with all the passion and love he could muster. She was everything he could ever want and more. She was his saving grace, his goddess. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. ‘Closer,’ he thought. He needed to be closer to her.

Their lips and hips magnetized, their bodies melded together. He whispered her name like a mantra because he knew she liked hearing it as much as he liked saying it. He felt her hands slip between their bodies, grasping his length. She guided him to where she needed him, his tip pressing teasingly at her entrance. With her help, he eased inside, feeling her wrap tightly around him. They sighed in each others mouth, devouring their intoxicated moans. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him further. 

She opened for him like a flower in bloom. His hips moved without having to think. Being with her felt so natural. Every move he made came to him like second nature. His thrusts were slow and gentle, drawing wanton moans from her lips. Her hips rocked into him with equal fervor. She collected his moans with her kiss, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair. 

He lost himself in the feeling of her, his pace quickening. He watched her pretty face morph into varying expressions of pleasure, each thrust of his hips creating a new one. He’d never felt so good in his life. His body tingled and his skin burned pleasantly. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such pure, utter euphoria. 

He fisted the rosy silk sheets, his breath stopping in his throat. She tightened around him, and like a wave crashing down on a cliff side, he came. His body vibrated and twitched above her. He called her name into the air, his spastic thrusts edging her to her end, which—by the sounds of her shameless cries—was as powerful and illustrious as his. 

There was a moment of stillness; a moment in which they heard nothing but their shallow breaths and the crackle of the fire. They could do nothing but stay in their connected position with eyes locked. Credence fell to his side next to her on the bed. His muscles ached and his skin was slick with sweat, but he was filled with unwavering adulation. Eyes still locked, they said so much without needing to say anything at all. His hand found hers, lacing his fingers between her small ones.

They laid there, staring lovingly in each other’s eyes for what felt like hours. He silently adored her, memorizing the details of her features until his eyes grew heavy from exhaustion, slowly falling shut as graceful as the falling snow outside.  

Credence pried open his tired eyes. The fire still burned beside him. It crackled and danced, keeping the exhausted pair warm under the thin sheets. The moonlight broke through the balcony glass door and cast shadows of the curtains across the room. There was no music heard from downstairs and the manor outside sounded empty of all festivities. 

He took the time to embrace her presence. She laid on her side, facing him. Her eyes were still shut, soft snores falling from her lips. She held his hand between their bodies. Her thick (h/c) hair sprawled wildly around her, messed by their passionate love affair. And still, even with her hair a mess, and the corner of her lips wet with drool, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He reached his free hand to brush the fray hairs from her eyes, watching her lips twitch and curl into a sleepy smile when his thumb brushed against her cheek. That smile alone rid his mind of any and all doubts that still lingered. 

There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive, and when they weren't, they were bleak and agonizing. He’d been through it many times before, taking in so much pain he thought death was a kinder fate. But, as he lay next to her, listening to her slow steady breaths, watching the rise and fall of her chest while she slept; he knew he would face it all again, if it meant he could have more of these moments with her.  

[bitchassbucky]

.avi

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning/s: nsfw! (literally) stalkerish themes. dark!bucky x dark-ish!reader. cybercrimes being committed. f & m masturbation. sex toy (vibrator mention). this is kinda meta, tbh.

A/N: the long-awaited part two of .exe mwahaha. we're delving not-that-deep into bucky's little thingy methinks. as always, reblogs and comments are welcomed! <3

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ii - .avi

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Jesus Christ, you’re insatiable.

Bucky barely woke up when he caught you masturbating with a rabbit vibrator on your bed—laying on your stomach. The towel you thoughtfully laid on was folded halfway. He assumes that you’re a squirmer too when you come. The Friday night show was his favorite though, shame that he didn’t get any footage of it.

His dick is already hard but he’s got no time to waste just yet. Clicking open a screen recording app, he gets to work. Bucky’s already got some footage of you sleeping, cleaning up, and tidying your sheets. In his little mind palace, he’d never let you do any of these things—he’ll be the one to change the sheets, he’d tuck you in bed too.

Bucky let the program run on the desktop as he went to get his breakfast. His mind keeps drifting back to you in his office.

How do you like your coffee?

Do you even like coffee?

You look like a tea kind of person.

Maybe he’ll ask you for breakfast, as soon as he learns how your morning routine goes.

When he came back to his desk, the bed was already made up (again). He got worried for a second until your face came into the frame, your glasses fogged up with vapor.

You bring the laptop with you to the living room, along with a big mug of… something.

He’s gotta learn what you like so he can like it too.

On his side of the things, he sees that you keep your word processor running in the background. More work, perhaps? He hadn’t had the chance to check out your files just yet. He kept himself busy with your pictures and candids. Bucky had his favorites all printed out—he, of all people, knows that technology can’t be trusted, so why were you uploading these pictures of yourself?

There were ones taken in your bathroom, he presumes. On your bed. In the kitchen. By a fucking window, for crying out loud.

He wants to be the one to take these pictures, to imprint them into his memory. Seared in his brain. But not yet.

For now, he just needs to get back at making sure you’re safe in your apartment.

You’ve been staring and smiling at your phone for a while now.

What are you up to?

—

Turns out Mr. IT Guy isn’t very social-media savvy.

All his pictures are out in the open for everyone to see. You wonder what he’s like in private, then.

Maybe he likes posting candids of his new girlfriends and deleting them when it’s over? For a man who has a face of a god, you’d expect to see at least a girlfriend within the past few months.

But he doesn't. No corny pictures, no hashtags of anniversaries, no tagged photos.

You spent your morning working up yourself with your trusty vibe, the image of him fucking you by the kitchen sink fresh on your brain.

Holy shit, does he have that effect on everyone?

What if you wander into his office after a shift and you’d find him stroking his cock? Would you close the door and never speak of it? Maybe you’d smirk and walk over him, sinking down on your knees to suck him off.

God, now you’re all worked up again. Horny, hot, and bothered. That’s good though, then you’d have the energy to finish the chapter you left a week ago.

—

So you’re a writer by choice. Bucky knew that much.

What he wasn’t expecting though, is you write the most explicit things.

The all-white collar girl he met last week likes to get fucked roughly. Overstimulated. Choked. Gagged. Slapped. Spit on.

He’s gotta show you how to make love. Slow, sensual love. Preferably after the roughhousing, that is.

Oh, the things he’d do to you—how he’ll worship your body, head to the tip of your toes. Bucky wants to bury his cock between your lips and praise you for the good girl you are. He wants to let you know that you don’t need to be degraded in order to come.

You just need him.

Bucky’s cock twitches in his sweatpants, still painfully hard. The thick vein on the underside of his shaft protrudes, waiting for him to just fuck something warm.

His hand will do for now.

By the time he got his hand gripping the base of his cock, he’s got you in fullscreen. The recording app still running in the background.

You’re busy. Typing. Researching. Looking for words to replace ‘say.’ Your sleep shirt is loose on your soft frame.

Bucky focuses on you, then. Imagining you on your knees, right here in his apartment. You’d be wearing those glasses you have on. He knew he had a thing for girls with glasses.

He closes his eyes to indulge himself in his own movie.

Your tongue laying flat against his girth, drooling all over the thick base of his dick. He’d let you take your time licking, all the way from his balls to tip. Your lips would close around his leaking head, teasing and tasting his precum.

One of his ties would be around your wrists so you’d learn how to use your mouth.

Bucky swears to God that he felt your mouth closing in on his cock as he pistons his fist faster. A guttural moan spills out of his mouth as his toes curl, the carpet gripping the pads of his feet.

“God, fuck—Y/N.”

Bucky forgoes any kind of underwear last night, only dressing himself up with baggy sweatpants. It was for the better too. He doesn’t think he’d come so much from watching someone—well, not just someone—on the screen.

He sighs, wiping himself clean on the underside of his pants. He needs to do his laundry soon.

Bucky looks at your face longingly from his side of the screen; God, is this how long-distance couples feel?

Maybe he’ll shoot you a text later.

—

Unknown Number: I hope you’re doing well.

Unknown Number: How's your laptop?

Unknown Number: Shit, sorry, it’s Bucky from IT. :)

Your head spun in three different directions as the texts came in.

Hey, Bucky! I’m doing well. The laptop is too.

Was it too curt? Well, you didn’t want to come off too strong. It’s not like he’s been on your mind for the better half of your weekend morning.

Your stomach made a worrying flip as the message status turned Read 10:44 AM. But there was no typing bubble.

Whatever, you’re fine. You’re a busy girl. A strong, independent woman who—

IT Guy Bucky: Good! Just checking on you. We had some downtime due to system maintenance last night.

Oh, it’s work.

No problems on my end! You type in quickly, sending it. To be fair, all you had in common was a band.

Hey, I have a question. It’s not work-related.

—

Oh.

Oh, he fucked up, didn’t he?

Y/N: Do you know any restaurants near the office? I’m sick of eating take-out food. Other than the hipster hideyhole you told me.

Bucky breathed out a sigh of fucking relief when he read your text. He chuckles mostly at himself and composed a reply.

Yeah! I have a non-hideyhole spot a block away from the office. You wanna check it out sometime?

You already got inside jokes.

Is 11:30 good?

Yeah, Bucky types, a smile forming on his lips, 11:30 it is.

[jaskierswolf]

An Ocean Away

Geraskier soulmate AU - A gift for my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde.

Words: 3.8k

CW:  Big mutual pining, long distance friendships, and a lot of swearing, fucking the ocean is not advised...

Read on AO3

___________

Jaskier stared at his phone and sighed loudly. Geralt was still asleep and really Jaskier should be working but he missed him. How that was even possible he wasn’t sure, they’d never even met. Geralt was all the way across the other side of the fucking ocean. Jaskier hated it. The soul bond had snapped into place on Jaskier’s birthday. He’d waited up until midnight, shaking with excitement. He’d known there was a chance his soulmate was younger than him but he didn’t care, his soulmate would be worth the wait.

Luckily for him, Geralt was a couple of years older. 

Unluckily for him, Geralt also lived in America. 

He sighed again and thumped his head against his desk, earning a withered glare from his boss across the room. God, he really needed to get out of his job. He was an artist, a musician! He shouldn’t be stuck in an office inputting data. 

‘Geralt….’  He called out mentally, hoping to reach his soulmate in his dreams but it was no use. Geralt was down for the count and probably wouldn’t wake up for several hours. 

Instead, Jaskier sighed loudly for the third time and remembered their first conversation with a fond smile. 

‘Helloooooo’ he called out, fidgeting with his bedsheets. ‘anybody there?’

‘What the fuck?’ a gruff response came and Jaskier could just about make out the image of some kind of restaurant if he focussed hard enough, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention.

‘You’re American?!’ he wanted to cry. He couldn’t afford to fly out to America, not unless he followed his sisters into the family business and regained access to the Bank of Dad. 

‘Fuck.’

Ah so his soulmate was a man of many words. He grinned a flopped back onto his bed. ‘I’m Jaskier, by the way, I’m from England.’

‘I’m at work, can this wait?’ his soulmate growled. 

Jaskier’s heart sank. ‘Right, yes, yes… of course. I umm… well I need to go to sleep. I’m bloody exhausted. Wake me up when you’re finished?’

‘Hmm.’

Geralt hadn’t managed to wake him up. Although he still maintained to this day that he’d yelled out as much as he could without actually yelling aloud, and Jaskier had slept through the whole damn thing. Geralt’s mind was pretty quiet. He didn’t often project his thoughts unless they were actively conversing. Jaskier on the other hand kept up a steady stream of thoughts, showing Geralt the pretty flowers that he saw on the way to work, or humming new songs just for his soulmate to hear, anything that he thought Geralt might find interesting. 

He pressed the home button on his phone again. Barely five minutes since the last time he’d checked. It wasn’t even time for lunch yet, let alone time for Geralt to wake up. He hoped they’d have time to video chat before Geralt had to go to work that evening but he was pretty sure that his soulmate was on an early shift. He groaned, and reluctantly started angrily jabbing at his keyboard. The endless stream of emails and shitty clients were not helping his mood. Why couldn’t Geralt be on a closing shift? At least then they’d be able to talk properly before Jaskier had to go to sleep. 

“Would you stop being so pathetic, Julian?” Valdo sneered from the desk opposite Jaskier’s. 

“You’re just angry because your soulmate hasn’t made contact yet,” Jaskier snapped back. 

They were both twenty-four and Valdo’s soulmate was either ignoring him or was still underage. Jaskier almost pitied the man; almost. 

“Just get on with your work, Julian and stop clock watching.”

Jaskier muttered a few rather inappropriate for work words under his breath and turned back to his computer. He managed to get one whole email dealt with before losing focus again. He shifted in his seat so he could sit cross-legged on the chair, and then tried again. After another few emails his feet started to tingle. 

“Oh bollocks,” he whined and jumped off the chair, hopping around the office. 

“For god’s sake, Julian!”

“My name… is Jaskier!” He snapped “and I’ve got bloody pins and needles!”

‘Jaskier?’ Geralt’s voice was bleary and slurred in his mind.

He squeaked and promptly fell on his arse, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from grinning madly. “Geralt’s awake!” he announced to the office. 

“Take your lunch early,” Tissaia sighed “God only knows you won’t get anything else done until you’ve spoken to Geralt.”

Jaskier beamed at his boss. Fuck he could kiss her. She was so understanding and wonderful and… 

And he still hadn’t responded to Geralt!

‘Geralt, darling, hello!’ he trilled happily in his mind, spinning his chair around so he was sitting backwards. 

‘Are you ok?’ Geralt hummed ‘Felt angry.’

Jaskier squeaked, unable to contain the swell of love in his chest. God damn it he just wanted to hug Geralt. It wasn’t fair. Priscilla and Essi had only lived two towns away from each other. Triss had grown up with Yennefer, and yet Jaskier was stuck with a soulmate on the other side of the fucking planet. 

‘Fuck the ocean,’ he grumbled

He heard Geralt’s laughter, echoed with a phantom feeling of mirth that wasn’t his own. ‘Fuck the ocean’ he agreed. 

‘I’m moving to America, I’m going to invent portals and I am never letting you go,’  Jaskier sighed. 

Geralt hummed again. He was tired, Jaskier could feel it. ‘Go back to sleep, darling.’

‘When’s your lunch break over?’

‘I have half hour.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Jaskier smiled dopily at his phone. There was a picture of Geralt and his horse, Roach, on the lock screen. He unlocked it quickly to check his clock app. He knew the timezone difference by heart at this point but he still needed to check. It was a habit that he had yet to break. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Jaskier felt like crying. He just wanted to hold his soulmate. He wanted to know whether that love was platonic or romantic or what? He just… he knew he would love Geralt with every fibre of his being, and would be happy no matter what. That’s how soulmates worked after all. They were your match, and not everyone’s match was romantic. 

Oh but how he yearned.  He was pathetic. 

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too’ Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt an ache through the bond that wasn’t his. He smiled sadly. He wasn’t the only one being pathetic. 

They fell silent, Jaskier gazing longingly at his lock screen, trying desperately not to fall apart in the middle of his office. Maybe he should go for a walk. Maybe he should just quit his job and move to America. His soulmate was American so he wouldn’t have to worry about visas as long as he could prove Geralt was his. He just…. 

“Fuck,” he groaned and buried his head in his arms. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and there was a lump caught in his throat. “Sorry, Tissaia. I’m, I’m, well, I’m going for a walk.”

He practically launched out of his chair towards the door. Not even bothering to grab his coat. He closed his eyes and reached out to Geralt, feeling a phantom embrace as Geralt reached back. It wasn’t as good as a real hug but no real hug could soothe the ache of having to live so far apart from his soulmate. 

‘Jask?’

Jaskier practically ran away from his office, down the road towards the woodland that surrounded the campus. His hands were pulling at his hair and he muttered nonsense under his breath. He counted every step that took him away from the building. He liked to imagine that every step brought him closer to Geralt but really he wasn’t entirely sure. 

‘I miss you,’ he hummed again. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘I know.’

‘We’ve never even met… six years Geralt! Fuck it, fuck this shit, fuck this job,’ he kicked at the ground. ‘I don’t even want to work in an office. It was supposed to be temporary.’

‘Then quit?’

Jaskier snorted. ‘I can’t afford it.’

His father’s face flitted in front of him. He could afford it if only he weren’t so bloody stubborn. He could work in his father’s company and he could go to America to see Geralt. Why couldn’t he just accept that? Why was he insisting on making his own way?

‘Jaskier, no. It’s not worth it,’ Geralt’s voice wrapped around him like a blanket. ‘Don’t compromise on your dreams for me.’

‘But I love you!’ he whined pitifully. 

‘I know and I love you too, but you’ll only resent me.’

Jaskier huffed and slid to the ground, his back resting against a tree. He rest his forehead on his knees and began to cry. Soulmates weren’t supposed to live apart for this long, it was too taxing on both parties but destiny had been cruel to them. He sobbed helplessly, his body shuddering as he dug his nails into the grass, tearing up chunks and throwing them away. 

It was only when he heard his phone ring that he managed sort of pull himself out of it. He wiped his eyes and peered at the phone. 

Geralt.

Of course it was, Geralt. His soulmate was video calling him. He swiped the screen to pick up and sniffed loudly. He didn’t need to sniff as loudly as he did, and he didn’t need to pout pathetically at the screen as he picked up… but he was sad and dramatic. He wanted extra sympathy points from Geralt. 

“Hi,” he whined, still pouting and widening his eyes slightly for added effect. Geralt’s room was dark, just a small light turned on just out of the camera. It was a shame because he couldn’t ogle the other man quite as much as he would normally like. 

Still, Geralt looked adorable. Stubble was starting to grow on his cheeks and his hair was a mess, falling in front of his eyes like rays of moonlight. “Hi.”

“I love you,” Jaskier whined as if he hadn’t already told Geralt that a hundred times today already. 

Geralt, the bastard, just laughed at him. “I know, love.”

“I know. I know… but… I love you?”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

Jaskier still hadn’t managed to work out whether Geralt’s eyes were really that colour or whether it was just some trick of the light. In all the photos and video calls they looked golden, but Jaskier had never met anyone with golden eyes before. He hadn’t even realised it was possible. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Then again, he’d seen Eskel and Lambert, Geralt’s brothers, and they also had the same molten gold eyes. 

Between Yennefer and Geralt’s family, Jaskier felt very plain. He was attractive enough but in such a normal way, nothing compared to Geralt’s silvery hair that made him look like he’d been blessed by the spirits of winter, and his swirling amber eyes that blazed like the sun, and then Yennefer with her locks of raven hair and piercing violet eyes. 

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip. God, why was he surrounded by such beautiful people. Brown hair, blue eyes and a dead end job. 

“Hey?” Geralt’s gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re important to me.”

Jaskier smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t entirely sure what emotions he’d been channeling through their bond but it was obviously enough for Geralt to be concerned. “I love you.”

Geralt tilted his head at the camera and smiled fondly, it was obscured by the darkness and the terrible quality of Geralt’s phone camera but it still managed to melt Jaskier’s heart. Stupid, dumb, soulmate. Why did he have to live in America?

“I have a plan?” Geralt said quietly, looking around his room and not meeting Jaskier’s eyes. 

“A plan?”

“The restaurant I work at has live music nights,” Geralt mumbled.

Jaskier frowned. He already knew that. Geralt had mentioned it before. Normally when he was complaining about the quality of the music. Jaskier adored him for that. He loved to judge other people’s music, and he rather smugly loved the way Geralt had only ever said nice things about his own songs. 

“Right?” he asked slowly, not quite understanding where Geralt was going with this.

“I spoke to Dad,” Geralt paused, licking his lips. Jaskier swallowed. It wasn’t fair. How could one man be so unreasonably attractive? He tucked at the sleeves of his jumper whilst he waited for Geralt to finish his thought. The cuffs had holes in and were fraying but it was soft and made the work day more bearable. If he gave a shit about his job he might wear nicer clothes but he’d rather be comfortable. 

“Vesemir?” Jaskier prompted gently. 

“He could help pay for the flights, a loan and we’ll have to pay him back,” Geralt mumbled, still not making any sense. “My apartment isn’t very big but you’re welcome to share until you find your own place? If you want your own place. I’m not making assumptions. I don’t expect you to share just because we’re soulmates but it would be cheaper and the restaurant wouldn’t be able to pay that much at first. You’d be playing music for a living though, and I know that’s what you really want to do,” Geralt cut himself of with a sharp sniff, letting out a low snarl. “Actually forget it, it’s a stupid idea.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s heart was racing. It almost sounded like Geralt was asking him to move to America? More than that, his own family was offering to help pay for the flights that neither of them could afford on their own. 

“I said forget it,” the phone snapped off and the screen went blank but Geralt was his soulmate and it wasn’t quite that easy to runaway. 

‘I don’t want to forget it,’ Jaskier told him, trying to push all the love he had for Geralt through the bond. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you, Geralt?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Geralt,’ he admonished gently. ‘I can’t quit my job on a maybe.’

‘Yes.’

Jaskier grinned. ‘I’ll resign after lunch.’

Jaskier had been tempted to just grab his bag and leave the office for good, but Tissaia had been good to him. She’d put up with his moping for the last three years and even allowed him flexible lunch breaks so he could talk to Geralt when he was awake. Not all bosses would be so forgiving. So he worked his notice. She hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when he announced his plans, if fact she seemed more surprised that it had taken so long to make the plans. He supposed most soulmates did move to be closer at the first available opportunity and he’d been pining over Geralt for six long years. 

Valdo had been his usual grumpy self, sneering that Jaskier hadn’t been able to cope with the job, but there was something in his eyes, a sadness that Jaskier hadn’t expected. They had known each other since university and their rivalry was almost an act these days, but he’d thought that Valdo would be pleased to see the back of him. 

His friends organised a wonderful goodbye party for him. Yennefer pulling out all the stops to make sure he had the best send off. If it weren’t for the pull of Geralt and his soulmate, he’d almost be tempted to stay. England had been his home since he was born and his life was there, his friends were there. 

But Geralt was not. 

And there was the promise of a career in music on the other side of the pond. It was too much to resist. So Jaskier packed up his flat. He pack a rucksack full of his favourite clothes and picked up his guitar. 

Then he drove to the airport, leaving England behind for good. The flight had been almost unbearable. It was long and cramped. He spent most of the time wittering to Geralt, not that his soulmate had responded much. The lucky bugger had been asleep whilst Jaskier tried desperately to block out the noise of screaming children. At one point he started singing a popular Disney tune to try and calm the children but it had only made them more excitable and he’d earned several disapproving glares from their parents. He’d been more than relieved when the plane started its final descent towards the airport.

And then the nerves kicked in. 

Six years of talking through their bond, text or video call… 

What if Geralt realised he didn’t like Jaskier once they met in person? 

Surely some soulmates didn’t get along. Not everyone could be that lucky… could they? 

He was currently waiting for his guitar case to come round the carousel and he was panicking. He should have packed more clothes. He should have brought more belongings. He should have, he should have, he should have. 

‘Jaskier!’ Geralt called and the effect was instantaneous. The tension melted from his shoulders and his fingers relaxed by his side. 

‘Sorry,’ he shot back ‘just nervous.’

He’d feel a lot calmer once he had his guitar strapped to his back and Geralt in his arms. He chewed anxiously as he followed the pieces of the luggage belt with his gaze. He’d always enjoyed watching the way they shifted around as they trailed like a conga line around the airport terminal. His eyes kept flickering to the entrance of the carousel where luggage was pushing through the large rubber drapes. 

“Come on,” he muttered, hopping from one foot to another.

The anxiety began to rise again with each new suitcase that wasn’t his guitar, but he could feel Geralt’s presence warm and constant in the back of his mind. It was stronger now. He’d not expected that. No one had told him that the bond would be stronger with less distance between them. They could already communicate perfectly well from across the world but now he could almost feel Geralt’s heartbeat in harmony with his own, he could feel each breath that Geralt took if he focussed on it. He could even smell the stale scent of coffee from the shop that Geralt was waiting in. 

It was almost too much, overwhelming. 

He could have had six more years of this if he hadn’t been a coward. 

He was so caught up in the new sensations of their soul bond that he almost missed his guitar case travelling along the belt. He squeaked and had to push passed a family that was blocking his way. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, umm, excuse me!”  he yanked the guitar from the belt and ran to the nearest bench. He unzipped the case quickly and inspected his precious instrument. 

There wasn’t even a scratch!

He laughed brightly and hugged the instrument to his chest. One thing down, one to go. Next stop… Geralt! 

He zipped up the case, flinging it onto his back along with his rucksack and then ran as fast as he could through the airport. It gained him a few strange looks but he was done. He’d had enough of waiting. He stumbled a few times as the case fell down his arm but he was persistent. He bustled through the last security check with nothing to declare and then he was free.

“Geralt!!” He yelled, scanning the sea of people for a shock of silver hair. 

He saw himself through Geralt’s eyes and turned on his heels until he spotted his soulmate gazing back at him with open arms. He was here. Geralt was here. He stopped frozen to the spot for a second whilst the world seemed to slow to a halt. 

Geralt.

In the flesh.

And he could hug him. 

“Oh fuck,” tears were already falling down his face, a waterfall of emotions. “Geralt.”

The only word he had left, echoing through the bond, and then he was running again. His bag and guitar case dropping to the floor just in front of Geralt as Jaskier leapt. His arms flung around Geralt’s neck and his legs wrapped around Geralt’s waist. Geralt’s hands supported his weight with ease as Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck, one of Geralt’s hands threading into his hair. God, he even smelled divine. That just wasn’t fair. 

“I love you,” Geralt murmured in his ear. 

The first words he heard his soulmate say in person, and fuck. If he hadn’t already been crying then that would have pushed him over the edge. He was a complete mess but he’d never been happier. He was here, with Geralt. He sobbed into Geralt’s shoulder until his soulmate lowered him gently to the floor. His legs felt weak and Geralt had to keep his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s middle to stop him from falling to the floor. Fingers brushed his cheek, wiping away some of the tears. 

“Hey?”

Jaskier looked at Geralt through a sea of tears. “Hi,” he laughed weakly. “I love you.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s “I love you too, fuck… I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jaskier laughed. “Holy fuck, I’m actually here, and you’re here, and the world hasn’t fallen apart. Oh bloody hell, stop fucking crying, Jask!” he snapped, pulling away from Geralt just enough so he could wipe his face. He smiled sheepishly and gazed at his soulmate through his eyelashes. If it weren’t for the bloody ocean on his face, then he would have tried to be seductive, but that ship had long sailed. “Can… can I kiss you?” 

Geralt’s ridiculously gorgeous and actually golden eyes softened. He nodded, hand still cupping Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier almost fainted on the spot. He hadn’t been expecting Geralt to agree but he was too weak not to ask. He couldn’t even close the gap to finally kiss his soulmate, too stunned that Geralt even wanted it. Luckily Geralt still had his wits about him. A rough calloused finger stroked Jaskier’s cheek and then they were kissing. 

It was magical. He felt everything, and more. Geralt’s lips on his, Geralt’s love in his heart and his own love weaving into the fabric of Geralt’s soul. It felt so strange, after all this time to actually be here. If the emotions weren’t quite so intense then he’d almost think he was dreaming. 

‘I love you’ one of them sighed happily as their lips moved together, breaths mingling, souls completely entangled. 

I love you, I miss you, I want you, I love you…. The thoughts never stopped as they clung to each other in the middle of a shitty airport terminal. 

It was the end of Jaskier’s life as he knew it, and the beginning of a new life with Geralt by his side.

[skiyoosmi]

– caramel frappucino | 22

marga’s notes. because no one deserves to be confronted just through texts ♡ i recommend y’all to listen to the songs below while reading cause… the feels!! + some of the lyrics fit in their story :((

♪ CHAPTER PLAYLIST ♪

tokyo by joseph & maia | i can’t make you love me covered by dave thomas junior | still feel it all by maro

previous | masterlist | next

Every chime of the small bell hanging by the café’s glass doors had your head snapping up, anxiety plastered on your face while doing so. Sweat kept on forming on your palms as time seemed to tick slower. I probably look like a fool looking at every new customer right now, you thought as you looked around the area, nervous that he might’ve already arrived and you just didn’t notice it yet. Too occupied with your unnecessary thoughts, you have failed to notice the figure making its way towards you, hands deep in the pocket of his denim jacket.

“You look like a mess,” his monotonous voice told you, chuckling by the end of his statement as you gasped and sat up straight, acting as normal as possible. Your somewhat sympathetic eyes followed his figure as he took a seat in front of you.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s still too early to break my heart, you know?” he joked although there was a stinging pain that passed in his heart as he said that… but you don’t have to know that, he thought.

The café was quiet; too quiet that as more seconds pass by, the faster your heart beats. If you were to be honest, you didn’t know where to start. You didn’t even know how you have gathered enough courage to meet him today. After what Tooru had told you last night, you hadn’t even slept a wink. You just couldn’t.

“Uhm… so… Tooru… uhh,” you stuttered, mind going blank as you tried to form your words that you have practiced so many times while you were in the bathroom, getting ready a while ago. What in the world are you doing, [y/n]? Speak! you internally screamed, already imagining yourself regretting your decision by the end of the day.

“I know. He told me that he told you,” he softly spoke, giving you a small smile of reassurance; just like what he’s been doing in the past years and with that, you felt your heart shatter as your thoughts flooded you once more.

How could you have not noticed it? Looking at him, you could see it now – the eyes that stared at you lovingly; the hand that twitches every now and then as it longed to touch you, or pull you close; the smile that held back so many feelings; and the heart that holds his love that was solely kept for you… how could you have not noticed it?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you felt tears welling up. Frustration grew inside you when you heard him chuckle. How could he even manage to laugh right now? You had no idea how he did it. In your case, guilt surged in your insides as if it was an ocean threatening to swallow you whole. If you could shrink yourself into oblivion, you would probably do so.

Slowly, he reached over your hand that was neatly folded together on the table, caressing it with his thumb as he held onto it tightly. You were sure that if anyone who doesn’t know both of you sees you, they’d probably think you were just another couple out on a simple date but no. You two were best friends who fell in love with each other, both in wrong times. You were two young adults who danced in fate’s hands, clueless that you were being played by time.

“Don’t say sorry. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault except time, [y/n],” he told you, lightly squeezing the hand he held. You sniffed a little bit, finally gathering the courage to look back at him after your short turmoil.

“I should’ve told you…” you both said at the same time, catching each other off guard. Light chuckles turned into a fit of giggles as you shook your heads at your silliness. Unbeknownst to the two of you, your thoughts matched one another’s while you had your lovely moment. You were made for me, but not in ‘that’ way, you both thought; hands still intact with each other.

“I expected you to be more… crybaby,” he commented after a few moments of talking. You sadly smiled after releasing a deep breath.

“I had my crybaby moment last night already,” you shrugged as you fiddled with your fingers out of nervousness. The deafening silence has returned once more as Hajime stared at you, rather longingly… but again, he thought you don’t have to know that.

“Stop being so guilty, you baby. It’s not our fault time was against us,” he softly spoke with reassurance and comfort.

“You like that Sakusa now, don’t you?” you meekly nodded, an eyebrow rising at the sudden query.

“Then be happy with him.”

You opened your mouth to say something against his statement, only to be shut down as he held his hand up. When it comes to Hajime’s firmness, no one can go against it; not even you, his sole weakness.

“Don’t think about me. I’ll be fine soon… having this closure with you… it’s enough for me,” once again, the small wound in your heart burst open and soon, tears formed in the corner of your eyes while you hastily wiped them off. He was too kind, too pure for this world, even for you. He whispered a quiet ‘stop crying’ while wiping the salty liquid that escaped your eyes.

“W-what did I do to deserve someone like you?” you whimpered, not even caring if the other customers looked at the two of you weirdly.

“W…what can I do to repay this kindness?” you asked him as you looked with a pair of melancholic eyes.

“Just spend this day with me like what we normally do… then be happy.”

And you did. From going to an amusement park, watching a movie and at some point during your friendly date, he managed to ask you one of the questions that kept him up from his sleep as well.

“So… uhm… I may or may not have read one of your texts with Sakusa about the strawberry ice cream,” he muttered, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he looked at you, who in turn, shrugged.

“I used to love it; you know? Those boxes of strawberry milk you got me throughout middle and high school. It gave me the hope that maybe, I was special to you too…” you softly told him while you both walked along the park, having had enough of the rides that almost made you two puke your internal organs out. “… until third year came when I accepted that it won’t happen; we will never happen. Anything that had strawberry in it tasted bitter. I felt bitter.”

He never said anything back and soon, you found yourselves eating dinner in a fancy restaurant that he told you he’d been saving up for to take you someday.

Little did you know, Hajime’s heart has been erratically beating due to the fact that the time he dreaded neared as you were almost done eating. You were already at your desserts and soon, he will have to say goodbye; not as your friend but as your lover. As soon as the day ends and tomorrow comes, he will – finally – have to let you go.

“In our next lives…” you looked up from the caramel custard you were poking with your teaspoon as he spoke up. You hummed, signaling him to continue, unaware of the gulp he took while trying to formulate his next words.

“In our next lives, I will love you first… I will make you happy and I will give you the love you have always deserved. For now, be happy with Sakusa in this timeline.”

The walk to the train was quiet, but no longer the same quietness you hated that morning – it was comforting, it felt like home as you walked together hand in hand, no pain lingering around your hearts as you both accepted your fate.

“Well, today was… fulfilling, Haji. This… this is my ride ho–”

“I’ll take you home. Let’s go,” he announced as he pulled you inside the train packed with office workers who were dying to go home and rest. You wonder why he suddenly thought of taking you all the way to your house. He literally has to travel for another hour because of this, you internally screamed while glaring at him for his impulsiveness.

“Stop glaring at me. It’s only right that I take you home for the last time,” he spoke, not even bothering to look at you. How did he know you were glaring? You honestly have no idea.

Thirty minutes later and here you both were, walking side by side along the empty street leading to your home. His firm statement back in the restaurant lingered in your mind as you remembered how it struck your heart when you heard it. Because of that, you didn’t even know how to respond and remained silent. Still, he held no sadness nor remorse in his face, only a determined look that almost convinced you that it will happen soon.

As your simple house came into view, you both stopped, knowing that he has to go back to the station now or else he will have to wait another thirty minutes for the next train to arrive. He was quick to ruffle your hair, silently bidding his goodbye.

You knew that if one of you speaks at the moment, you were sure as hell that one of you will also go into full-blown crying. But you know what? Damn this all, you thought.

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” you yelled as soon as he was about twenty steps away from you. You could see him stiffen but slowly turned around. You didn’t care if you woke some of your neighbors; you could deal with their complaints tomorrow.

“In our next lives, I will choose you… you better find me, okay, Haji?”

Tears were spilled from both of your eyes as he solemnly smiled and nodded, choosing to mouth his reply. Nonetheless, you understood it with your whole heart.

“I’ll come to you… so please wait for me.”

[bebepac]

Rough And Tumble

Original Post Date: 06/23/21 at 6:35PM EST

This is Episode 5 of The Life of Riley: Book Two.  To catch up with what’s been going so far in Book Two Please click Here: The Life Of Riley Book Two

Or if you’re completely new to my series and want the full background life I have created for my version of the MC Riley Brooks, Please Click here: The Life of Riley Book One.

The Book:  TRR

Pairing:  Liam x Riley

Rating: PG-13

Warnings:  A few curse words / knife fight.  Blood is drawn during fight.

Word Count: 2379

Summary: Riley deals with the press after her actions during a garden party luncheon.  Riley completes her first of many tasks given to the suitors by King Constantine, Defend Your Prince.

A/N:  I am finally to the point where portions of this Life of Riley book will intersect with another series I started writing called Heroes and Villains.

So if my LOR chapter carries this, there is a companion chapter to it via Heroes and Villains.  You will see the assignment from Heroes and Villains in LOR but from a different perspective.  This is the first tie in chapter.

If you would like to read the companion Heroes and Villains chapter:  Please Click Here:  FIGHT

"I saved you a seat!" Hana chimed out as Riley walked up to the table.

Riley sat down with her plate of food.

She stared at the plate. Cucumber sandwiches, something she had no clue what it was, a small bowl of soup and lemonade with mint.

"Not your idea of a meal, Lady Riley?"

"This is a drop in the proverbial bucket. I’ve eaten snacks bigger than this."

Riley cleaned her plate in two minutes flat. Riley stared at her plate.

"Since they talk about me anyway, I mine as well do it."

"Oh goodness what are you planning?"

"You'll see."

Riley was typing away on her smartphone.

Twenty minutes later she saw a courier carrying a bag, heading towards their table.

"Lady Riley you didn't?!?!"

"Whaaaaaat…. Mama haungry."

His eyes landed on hers.

"Lady Riley Brooks, third table from the left."

He smiled at her as she took her food.

"You're a lifesaver! I tipped you on the app already."

"Thank you."

Riley dug into her food.

"I can't believe you did that!"

Riley shrugged her shoulders. “Well at least I'm not pretending to be full."

"Holy hell where'd you get that from Brooks?" Drake was eyeing her food longingly.

"Had it delivered."

"Are you sharing?"

"That's a negative. I am eating  this all by my damn self."

Nico smiled.  "Enjoy."

She hadn't recognized him. It made sense though. He was wearing a Lythikos Sabrewolves baseball ball cap and sunglasses. He had seen her with Prince Liam not quite three weeks ago and just like that, she was one of his suitors. She looked just as beautiful as the last time he saw her.

Nico turned walking away.

She glanced across the way; All the color had left Bertrand’s face.

Liam walked up to their table.

"Lady Riley you have created quite the stir."

He glanced down at her plate.

"Is that from Taverna tou Oikonomou?"

“Yes, would you like some?”  

Liam paused.   He was practically salivating as he stared at her plate.  

“My apologies Lady Penelope, would you mind if I pull up a chair?”

“Not at all Your Highness.”   Penny scooted, letting Prince Liam sit next to her but he moved his chair even closer to Riley.  

“Up close and personal, Your Highness?”

He winked at her.

Riley glanced across the table at Olivia, giving her a smile.

I’m going to have the Scarlett Duchess seeing red behind this one. Riley used her fork feeding Liam, a mouthful of Moussaka.  

Duchess Olivia stood up in annoyance.  “You’re really using your own fork to feed him?”

“Doesn’t seem like Prince Liam minds and trusts me; he knows where my mouth has been.”  

Prince Liam’s face flushed a little pink as he glanced at Riley.

“Yes I am fully aware of where it has been Lady Riley.”  

Olivia walked away in anger.

Later that Evening

“What the hell were you thinking Lady Riley!?!?!??!  You don’t order food from another restaurant at a catered event!!!!!!  The food was catered from a restaurant with Michelin stars!”

“Are you sure?!?!? I could barely find anything edible.  One dish I had no clue what I was eating.”

“Look at this, you’re already trending online!”  

Pictures of her from the garden party had already surfaced.

A picture of her feeding Liam a mouthful of food with the caption, “Is the American Suitor A Bad Influence on Prince Liam?”

Riley laughed out loud.  “Are you serious?  Because I fed him food?  He didn’t have to eat it.”

“Look at the comments Lady Riley.”  

Crownwatcher425: She’s bewitched His Royal Highness!!!

ClassyNotTrashy: Trust the American to not know proper decorum at a palace event.

HanaSola2319: I heard the food wasn’t good anyway.

OhDannyBoyNYC: I think it was hilarious! Go Riley!!! We know you like to eat Boo!  

Leeavemealone848: You know the food is bad at an event when you have to order out. IJS.

ScarletDuchessForHire:  Prince Liam is following Leo's footsteps chasing after that American skirt. SMH.

KickinItToTheMAX69: Yeah the food wasn’t that great so I hear. Maybe Prince Liam has already made his choice.  Don’t hate on the Beaumont’s Babe.

SaveTheMonarchy1234: Lady Riley should be disqualified from participating as a suitor. She’s not of royal blood.  What will happen to the royal bloodline of Cordonia if we give this non-royal a chance at the crown and she actually wins Prince Liam’s heart?”

Justintime: A minor mis-step that she can recover from gracefully.

ValtoriaBabe24: She’s embarrassing herself.  She should just go back to waitressing. AND TO NEW YORK!!!!

BabyHipposAreBae22: First off, the fact that other people find Baby Hippos are Bae is shocking to itself, but I really do like Lady Riley. She’s real.  What’s wrong with ordering more food if you’re hungry?

OhDannyBoyNYC:  EXACTLY!!!!! @BabyHipposAreBae22  these people need to relax! It’s food!

The comments went on and on.

Riley looked at Bertrand and shrugged.  

“You really have nothing to say for your behavior Lady Riley?  There’s scores of negative comments about you.”

“And scores of positive ones too defending her Bertrand! Look. A few of them might be Hana but that's besides the point.”  Maxwell jumped to her defense.

"Just Hana?" Bertrand gave  Maxwell a knowing look.

“I heard this saying on a show I saw once:  ‘There’s not much of a difference in a stadium full of screaming fans, and an angry crowd screaming abuse at you. They’re both just making a lot of noise; how you take it is up to you.  Convince yourself they are cheering for you.’ They’re cheering for me Bertrand.  You’ll see.”

Maxwell smiled.  “And that’s how Sue  C’s it.”  

"Who is this Sue? She clearly is not well versed in royal decorum."

“Never mind Bertrand, good grief, did you grow up under a rock?”

“No more of those antics Lady Riley.  This is not only your reputation, this is ours. We have an impeccable one.”  

Bertrand left her room slamming the door.

Riley glanced again at the comments.  She decided to make her own.  

AmericanRye23: I will never apologize for having a healthy appetite.  Shout out to @TavernaTouOikonomou who delivers piping hot food fast to a Palace in a pinch.

TavernaTouOikonomou: Not a problem.  We’re here anytime you need us.  We encourage healthy appetites here.

Nico smiled at the response he sent on the comments that she liked.

He scrolled through  her social media.  Nothing existed of Riley before the age of sixteen or so.  There were pictures of her with a guy that looked like a boyfriend and friend.  Pictures of Riley and another friend Daniel in rainbow colored shirts, Riley with her hair in pigtails with rainbow streamers in it.  Posing with a large picture frame around them that said ‘I completed the Pride To Be Alive 5K NYC.’ 

“Well that explains OhDannyBoyNYC commenting.”  Nico smiled.  

Kings Guard Academy

Bastien watched the new recruits spar with the current guards.  He took notes as he watched each of the guards in training highlighting the strongest competitors on the list.  

A lot of the new recruits showed promise, especially the young Nico Karahalios.  He had looked into Nico’s past quite thoroughly as he was going to be added to staff.  Intelligent kid in school.  Grew up with his mother, and four sisters.  Nico’s father was a known philanderer, with multiple other children outside of wedlock.  Mother raised children on her own as a single mother after the divorce.  Never remarried.  Nico works multiple jobs and sends money to his mother to help with his younger sisters.  The kid worked twelve to fifteen hour days and was still one of the fastest runners and strongest competitors  in his class of trainees.

Bastien blew his whistle.  The sparring immediately stopped and everyone turned to face him giving his full attention.  

“Cadets.  We rarely offer these sort of opportunities for you all to get immersed in the life of what it would be like to make it to the rank of Kings Guardsmen, but King Constantine deciding to run Prince Liam’s social season a bit differently has allowed me to offer some of you a unique opportunity.  Number one I need three volunteers.”

Nico’s hand was the first to shoot up along with several others.  

“Everyone else is dismissed for the day.”  

Bastien looked at his recruits.  

“Being part of the guard you will be privy to a lot of things that the general population may or may not be aware of or become aware of later.   One of these things, especially right now, is going to be Prince Liam’s social season.  King Constantine has been coming up with challenges; the first one starts tomorrow.”

“What sorts of challenges?” Nico asked.

“Things to test the potential suitors for Prince Liam: strength, agility, confidence, you name it. King Constantine has an idea to test it. The first task is that the suitors will have to fight each other.  The winner of course wins alone time with Prince Liam as in the form of a special date. The Game is called `Defend Your Prince’.”

The group laughed.

“This is going to be interesting with some of these noblewomen fighting.”  

“My money is on the American.”  Nico said.  

Bastien raised his eyebrow.

“Olivia is going to wipe the floor with her.  Yes, The American is cute, but does she really look like she can fight?”

“I think she’s already fought a lot just to get here.  She isn’t like the rest of them, and that’s what makes her unpredictable, and I think that’s what Prince Liam sees in her, and likes about her.”

Nico showed up at the arena early the next day, disappointed at the view already.    

Lady Kiara and Lady Penelope were the ones out on the arena for today’s challenge.  He quickly scanned the crowds seeing Lady Riley laughing while she sat next to Lady Hana.  He hoped he would get his chance again to talk to Lady Riley again soon.

“I can’t believe they are making us do this. Like for real Hana. Like what the hell?”

“Nothing like this was done with Leo’s social season.  Maybe King Constantine wants to make things exciting.”

“We’re about to see two people who clearly look like the only thing they’ve ever fought for is the last…. Who am I kidding? They've never fought for anything in their lives, they had their servants do it!!!!”

Hana laughed.  “You’re not wrong.  I’m not much of a fighter myself to be honest.”

When the day came  for the final fight it came down to Lady Riley and Duchess Olivia.  

Neither Nico or Demitri had to assist with the last challenge so they both got tickets to the event instead and were sitting in the stands.

“Still rooting for the American?”  

“Yes,  and she’s going to win.”  

They focused their attention on the arena floor.   Riley came walking out into the arena wearing a yellow and black jumpsuit.  

She looked ready to fight.  

She approached Duchess Olivia for the coin toss.  

“Weapon of choice? Goes to the winner Lady Riley.”

Riley held up her hands.

“Let’s fight like women Scarlet Duchess.  Hand to hand combat.”  

Riley kept the information that Liam had shared with her in the back of her mind.  She wanted to win, yes,  but she didn’t want to use it against Duchess Olivia only if she had to.  

“That’s a fighter,” he whispered, hitting  Demitri’s arm.  “Look at her fighting stance.”

She was so much more than what the people had given her credit for.  Nico watched in awe as Lady Riley not only fought with skill but heart.  Taking Lady Olivia down the arena floor three times for the win.  

Nico cheered from the audience as Lady Riley was declared the winner.  

“You might not want to do that yet… this isn’t over.”  

As Riley’s back was turned as she was waving to the audience, Olivia grabbed one of the dueling swords from a nearby display charging Riley at full force.

“Riley Behind you!!!!!” Hana screamed.

The fight was not over, not by a long shot in Olivia’s eyes.  

When Riley turned, there was fear in Riley’s eyes for the first time.  She tried to dodge out of the way but she wasn’t fast enough.  Olivia tackled her to the ground hard.  

Riley with nothing but sheer grit and determination managed to kick Olivia off of her doing a kip up to get her back to her feet.

“This is not a fair fight!!!!”  Nico screamed from the audience.  

Riley was desperately scanning the area for a weapon or something to defend herself, but had nothing. She was merely  running and dodging, anticipating Olivia’s swipes of the sword.  Which worked for a while, but Olivia faked her out slicing Riley’s arm drawing blood.  

Prince Liam called Riley’s name sliding a bo staff across the floor to her.  Not only was Riley able to use the staff, she was able to maneuver with expert precision landing hit after hit on Olivia before she could barely recover.

“Still betting on Olivia?”

Nico thought he was the loudest in the section he was in, cheering for the American, Riley Brooks.  He jumped to his feet screaming.

Riley spun the staff one last time in the air, above her head and landing it on the final blow to Olivia’s right knee.  

Olivia crumpled to the floor in pain grabbing her knee.  The fight was over.

They underestimated her.  They all did.  And she proved him wrong.  

Riley smiled and waved at the crowd again as the medics carried Duchess Olivia out of the arena, the bo staff at her side.  

That night  Riley got a visit from her Prince to have some quality time with him.  

“I remembered something Liam.”  

“Really?”  

“Just one thing.  Me and my Dad. He’s the one who taught me how to use the bo staff.”

“Very well apparently, because you could give me a run for my money. I’m serious.”  He kissed her softly.  “What exactly did you remember?”

“Just me and him, spinning our bo staffs  in sequence in the grass in front of our house.  My mom is watching us from the porch.  And I was happy, so happy. I wish I could remember more about them, Liam.  They loved me so much.”  

“I know.  I believe your memories are going to come back someday.”

“It’s just been so long Liam.”  

Liam pulled her close in a tight embrace. As he pulled away he softly kissed her bandaged arm.

“It will happen Riley.  I promise.  Don’t lose hope.  Never lose hope.”  

[derekmorganscrocs]

Last Summer: Ace x Reader (OneShot)

Here’s an adorable Ace gif for you because I love him.

Word Count: 2, 064

Summary: You and Ace are best friends but it turns into something more.

Quick Note: This is the first thing I’ve written that I’ve fully finished and am posting so I’m like freakin our right now. Also this isn’t my usual style but I’m super happy with how it turned out and I hope you (anyone who reads this) likes it! I’m considering a series but I also have several other things in the works, so it might not be soon. Anyways, let’s get this show on the road!

Ace and Y/n. Best friends since they could walk. Inseparable through elementary, middle, and high school. Where do we start?

To be honest, there’s not a lot to explain. You and Ace kind of just... were. It made sense. Best friends, always had the other’s back. You both work at the Claw, you’re both a little burnt out and worn down, but still clever and funny. Everything always made sense.

You always joke, laugh, and do stupid shit together. You’ve bailed him out of trouble more times than you can count. He’s done the same for you. He’s your favourite person, you’re his.

And you’ve been in love with each other forever. Except neither one of you can tell that the other loves you back. So we’re at a roadblock.

You got weird when Ace dated Laura back in the day.

Ace got weird when you dated James, the biker dude in high school.

You got weird when Ace started crushing on Bess.

Ace got weird when you mentioned that Ryan Hudson was hot in a douchebag kind of way.

Summer was different though. Had you known it’d be your last summer before you spotted Dead Lucy, saw Tiffany Hudson’s ghost, were introduced to the spirit world, and started doing seances and rituals every other day, you may have appreciated it more. But oh well, right?

Not right. The start of summer was when you started realizing you couldn’t go on the way you were, but that you also couldn’t live without Ace. So how do you confess? You don’t.

A couple weeks go by before you start to notice the way Ace looks at you, how he always stands just a little closer than anyone else does. How he puts himself between you and the guys that ogle you as the two of you walk to the pier. The way his jaw clenches when someone cute hits on you. His hand always right beside yours, and you wonder if he gets the urge to grab your hand like you do his.

And by the end of June, you’re this weird something. Not just friends, you’ve both seen the way the other stares. But it’s unspoken. You don’t know if you can bring yourself to tell him. He doesn’t know if he can bear the risk of losing you.

Don’t get it twisted, despite the buried feelings you and Ace are the best pair of best friends anyone in Horseshoe Bay has ever seen. Constantly laughing and cracking jokes, seeing who can get more tips in a day. Ace is always the one you turn to, you’re the one Ace turns to. For pretty much anything.

When July rolls around, you both get more time off. The fourth comes quickly, and you make plans to watch the fireworks from the roof of the claw. Upon climbing up at sunset, you decide to just hang out for a few hours until it’s actually time for the fireworks. You talk and joke, and you and Ace carve your initials into one of the shingles. Laying against the shingles, he only carves an A, and you ask if you’ll ever find out what his last name is.

“Maybe when you take it.”

Those are the five words that change everything. He looks up from his knife, startled at his own words. You’re frozen in place as the sky finally reaches its full darkness. And the first boom grabs your attention. You look over in the direction of the beach, and see red sparkles in the sky. Turning back, Ace is sitting up now, both of you still shell-shocked at his joke. Was it a joke?

His knife is long gone, tucked safely in his pocket, and he grabs your face and kisses you. You kiss him back, obviously. He kisses you passionately, slowly but strongly, and fireworks erupt. Both metaphorically and literally. You both end up laying side by side on the roof, kissing and watching the fireworks. It’s the best night ever.

But it’s never made official. There’s still no blurted out confessions, and it never happens again. His eyes still dart to your lips when you speak to him, you still imagine his arms around your waist, and you both still stare longingly at the other whenever their back is turned.

Until August rolls around, a month filled with storms and fog. And death. Ryan Hudson and his goons pull up for dinner. You and Ace serve them when all the others bail, make jokes about insufferable rich people and stare at each other’s mouths, both trying to not get caught as you wish you could just have what you want.

Then the lights go out. Screaming outside from Nancy, and Tiffany Hudson is dead. You and Ace are pretty much free to go, alibis confirmed. The next day Nancy comes to you with evidence that Tiffany Hudson was killed by Lucy Sable. Dead Lucy. Oh god.

The case unfolds and you’re wrapped up in a supernatural mystery. All the while trying to figure out your very natural mystery. What the hell is going on between you and Ace? It’s normal but not, and you don’t want to lose him, but you can feel the drift starting. It’s so uncertain. For once in your life, nothing makes sense.

You cover well though. Burying your feelings is a lot easier than it should be, and you and Ace still joke and pull stupid shit all the time. George and Bess are tired of being caught in the crossfire of your pranks, Nancy would be, but the only time she’s actually noticed anything is when you shot her with a nerf gun because Ace dodged. Nick, the guy from the garage, makes his way into your crew, and takes immense amusement from you and Ace. It’s fine. Great, even.

Then in September, after Tiffany Hudson’s funeral, you go to the Claw to talk to Ace. But he’s beyond talking. He’s got his tongue in Laura Tandy’s throat. And you knew she was back in town, hell, that’s what pushed you to finally talk to Ace. Only you’re too late. You’ve wasted the summer, your summer, being afraid of losing him. Just to lose him anyways.

So you spend a miserable month pretending you’re fine and fake gagging every time him and Laura have their backs turned on you. You bitch to Bess, who’s all too keen on the drama. Nancy’s so wrapped up in the paranormal and her own love life that she’s barely bothered to notice that you’re drowning. George on the other hand... she’s supportive. Well as supportive as George can be. Mostly threatening Laura and saying she’ll fire Ace if you want her to. But you can’t do that. He may only be a dishwasher at the Claw, but he loves it. He loves being part of the team.

And then you walk in on Laura asking Ace to go to Paris with her. You nearly lose it, but manage to keep it together, hiding around the corner with a hand clamped over your mouth as tears threaten to finally spill free. When they’re out of sight, you call Bess, then George, then Nancy, all to no avail. And so you’re hyperventilating and alone, sitting on the front porch of the Claw when Nick swoops in to save you.

Of course it was Nick. The only one who doesn’t know about the whole mess with Ace. So he makes you explain and watches in horror as you refuse to let tears fall and successfully convince yourself to just not be sad. Over the next few days he turns into a brotherly figure, managing to help you realize that feelings are okay to have.

So the garage is your new hangout, and you don’t realize that Ace is actually missing you. Because the only one he wants to ask about going to France was you. Nick sends you back to work on the fourth day, you don’t want to go but he forces you. He says ‘mixing shitty Caesars is the best remedy for any amount of pain.’ It’s the first time he’d seen you laugh in a while. Actually, the first time you’d laughed in a while.

The first person you see when you walk in the diner, of course, was Ace. Sitting at the bar, staring into the wall’s soul. You manage a quiet ‘hey’, and when he turns to see you looking mostly back to normal, he nearly tackles you into a hug. He manages to restrain himself though, not sure what to do. You two never fight. Is this even a fight? How do you make up from a not-fight-fight? Instead he asks you to sit with him. You do, reluctantly, but only because he insists and you can never say no to him.

“Say the word and I’ll stay. Say you want me here and I won’t go.”

And there he goes, changing everything again. You freeze, just like on the Fourth of July, and stare at him in shock. This time though, he isn’t surprised, it’s just you who’s shell-shocked. It takes you a while to understand that he is actually saying what he’s saying, and you kind of just stare at him for a minute. Then you make your decision.

“I can’t tell you what to do. You need to make this call on your own.”

And then, you mix Caesars. And more Caesars, and more Caesars. The restaurant could be supplied for a week if it weren’t a festival day. You would’ve kept going, but what’s left in the bottom of the vodka bottle looked pretty delicious, so you down it instead. Still mostly sober, but tipsy enough to manage a smile, you patted George on the back and said goodbye before heading to the garage.

Nick makes you crash on his couch in the loft, and after a power nap and a glass of water you’re back to completely sober. Good as new. The only thing that’s missing is... your phone. You left it at the Claw earlier. Which means you have to go back. And probably see Ace again.

So back you go. You get the phone without running into anyone, but pause at the sound of voices in the dining area. Frozen in the kitchen, you watch as Ace tells Laura he’s staying. That he has a ‘purpose here. And a person.’ She tells him to miss her, which gives you mixed vibes, and leaves.

“Ace?”

“Jesus! Oh, Y/n! You’re-you’re here. Oh that’s great, you saw that. How much did you hear?”

“That you have a purpose here. And a person.”

A smile finally appears on your lips, and he reciprocates. You walk into the dining room, toward Ace. He watches your every move intently, as if he’s entranced with you. He is, because he hasn’t seen you smile since Laura came to town. And even though he’s been playing it happy, he’s been miserable. He loves Laura, he really does, but it’s more of the ‘maybe in another world’ kind of relationship.

You and Ace. That’s the ‘perfectly perfect, made for each other, soulmates, in any world’ type of relationship. Best friends to something more, with ups and down. Real. Not some whisk you off to Paris and live in a movie. Horseshoe Bay’s ugly, scary, haunted, real life.

Sitting on a barstool, back to the kitchen, you lean against the bar and look at Ace. You think about what to say. There’s so many things you could do. That you want to do.

Slap him.

Kiss him.

Throw him off the roof.

Hug him until he has to peel you off of him.

Throw a bottle at his head.

Jump into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist and stay there forever.

Stick Lucy on him to suck out his soul.

Kiss him until you run out of air.

Maybe you’ll say something instead. There’s lots of things you could say, but you’re not sure how many of them are true.

Did he really betray you by seeing Laura?

Are you grateful for this because you met Nick and gained a brother?

What would’ve happened if Laura never showed?

Are we still us?

Instead, you decide to go with something you know is the truth.

“I’m your person.”

And he smiles like he’s won the lottery.

Tags: @vexfulfun

[thisiswhatshefelt]

For Olivia | Chapter Three

Author’s Note: We’re still in fluffy territory right now, but things pick up in the next part. I’m having so much fun writing this! Hey, look at me. Writing fluff. Who would have thought? Not me. Characters: Chef Coco Cruz & Black OC

Chapter Summary: Coco and Olivia officially meet for the first time. Previous Chapter: Two

Chapter Three On Park Sundays, Olivia’s always the first one to stir in the apartment. There’s an initial panic just as Shanice remembers what’s supposed to happen on this particular Sunday, but the feeling subsides to an undercurrent as she’s getting Olivia ready. Shanice takes her time in the closet, carefully considering her wardrobe this morning. She opts for a fitted tee and jeans instead of her usual hoodie and hat combo.

She catches her reflection in the mirror and slows her movements, suddenly finding this extra work is ridiculous for someone who may not even show. The anxiety begins to creep up again, slinking into the room.

What if she hates him? Shanice thinks. Or worse, what if she loves him and then he abandons her?

She doesn’t dwell on these thoughts for very long because Olivia is pulling her out the door soon after finishing breakfast. Shanice is still chewing a piece of toast when they get onto the highway.

They’re only at the playground for half an hour and Olivia’s disheveled clothing already looks like she’s halfway through finishing a decathlon. Shanice is watching Olivia go down the slide when she receives a text from Coco, signaling that he’s five minutes away. She beckons to Olivia, and she reluctantly trudges over.

“I don’t wanna leave yet,” Olivia begins to whine in protest.

“No, no, we’re not leaving,” Shanice shakes her head. “Remember I’ve been telling you that mommy’s friend from the other night might come to the park?”

Olivia shrugs, longingly gazing over at the rush of kids now heading to the wooden pirate ship. “The man that bringed the pizza?”

“He didn’t bring–” Shanice shakes the thought out of her head. “Yes, him. He’s coming over here to say hello.”

“How come?”

“Well, you know, he really likes the park, so when I told him we were going to be here, he asked to join us,” Shanice explains in logic that only makes sense to a child. “All you have to do is say hello and remember your manners. That’s it.”

Olivia waits impatiently, fidgeting back and forth on her feet. Shanice is thankful when she finally catches a glimpse of Coco rising from a car in the parking lot. She lifts Olivia and sets the child on her hip as Coco closes the distance between himself and the girls.

“Glad you made it,” Shanice greets him with a smile, and she’s genuinely relieved he’s kept this first promise. “Olivia, can you say hi to Johnny for me?”

Olivia shrinks at the attention, as she usually does with strangers. “Hi,” she says, turning into Shanice’s shoulder.

Coco’s lips part into a crescent, but he can only suck in a quick, soundless breath. His mouth wordlessly falters before smiling and giving way to simple yet weighted beginnings. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. You can call me Coco if you want.”

“Kay,” Olivia’s voice comes out no more than a breath as she lays her head on Shanice’s shoulder and pulls a few of Shanice’s shoulder-length twists over her eyes. Olivia curls in closer, attempting to disappear against the woman.

“It’s alright,” Shanice whispers back, giving a small squeeze. It’s alright, it’s alright. “Do you want to go back?”

Olivia nods slowly and Shanice lets her slink back to the ground.

“Where I can see you!” Shanice calls out to the small, retreating figure before stepping off to the side with some of the other parents. Coco sidesteps to follow her lead.

“Sorry.” Shanice can’t help but apologize. “Olivia’s just really shy around people.”

“Not your fault I’m a stranger,” Coco says. “Maybe I should’ve brought her a gift or something-”

“She doesn’t need gifts,” Shanice shakes her head, holding up her hand to stop him mid-sentence. “Just a little time, if you’re willing to give her yours. She’s a completely different kid when she’s comfortable.”

Coco’s sheepish gaze lands on Olivia and it follows her as she chases another girl over to the ship’s nautical wheel. Without taking his eyes off the children, he starts speaking. “I got another daughter, you know. That hostess at the restaurant?” He turns to Shanice, and she nods to both acknowledge and encourage. “My mom pretty much raised her as my sister until she was twelve. That’s when we let her know, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so pissed. Got her a laptop and a new phone, thinking it would make her happy. She set them both behind my car one day, so I rolled right over them when I was backing out.”

Shanice suddenly snorts and Coco looks at her strangely at the outburst. She cups her mouth with both hands, but it does little to stifle her growing laughter. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say all that.”

“I didn’t even mean to unload that family drama on you,” Coco chuckles, watching her laughter settle. His face contorts into an incredulous half-grin. “Don’t know why I even told you that.”

Shanice understands what he means. Their first two meetings they share are tense, but she allows herself to be nicer today until she’s given a reason not to be. As they speak, this moment is oddly comfortable. Like meeting an old friend…under the strangest circumstances.

“I haven’t been a teacher very long,” Shanice begins, composing herself, “But I’ve learned that teenagers are some of the most vindictive people in the world. Exceptional grudge-holders. It’s pretty impressive, actually.”

Coco smiles as he nods, thoughts briefly somewhere else. “Yeah, Letty’s good at that.”

“Couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t in school,” Shanice leads, trying not to seem like she’s being judgmental or prying, but she is pretty nosy.

“We’re in the middle of moving her into my place. I gotta get her registered for school and all that, so my mom can go traveling Europe and shiiii…” Coco’s voice strains towards the end when he realizes he’s about to swear in the middle of the playground. “She deserves to travel and have some fun after raising Letty. But it’s about to be all on me, and I’m just…”

“Scared?” she offers, and he shrugs. “Understandable. I’m not an expert, but kids mostly just need to feel safe, be encouraged, and be able to trust you.”

“I had all that and still ended up in jail.”

“Good point,” She playfully concedes with a shrug. “Sometimes you just gotta cross your fingers and hope for the best.”

After a beat, he knits his eyebrows together as he recalls something. “Wait, where do you teach?”

“I’m an English teacher at Damon Pope.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, “That’s where Letty starts on Monday.”

“Really?” Shanice shares a similar look of disbelief. “So, you don’t live too far away from us.”

“Right at the edge of town,” he tells her. They get quiet, leaving things unsaid. He’d been living so close to Olivia and didn’t even realize until recently. Within the same school district.

Their conversation is benign after the awkward break. They opt for small talk until Olivia runs over with wood chips sticking to her feet and her hair coming out of her puffs.

“Can we go eat?” she asks, huffing and puffing.

“You want your PB&J?” Shanice asks, reaching to fix her hair.

“PB&J and pizza!” Olivia exclaims with a smile, throwing her tiny fists in the air.

Shanice makes a disgusted face, “Pizza again?”

Coco chimes in with an idea. “How about somethin’ with less preservatives? You two could come back to the restaurant.”

Olivia’s stomach answers for them both. ________

Once at Tres Reyes, Shanice is again overwhelmed by the amazing smell coming from the kitchen. She’d been secretly craving the food since stepping foot inside the restaurant. Letty’s at the front desk and she does a double take when she sees Coco being followed in by Shanice and the little girl.

“This is Letty,” Coco tells her, tapping his hand on the podium twice to pull her attention towards him. She is unabashedly staring at the child. Her little sister. “Letty, this is Shanice and Olivia.”

Shanice and Letty share very heavy nice to meet you’s.

“Where’s jefe?” He asks with a nod.

“Next door, yelling at Chucky again,” Letty tells him, staring at Olivia.

Letty puffs out her cheeks and crosses her eyes, making Olivia giggle through her teeth against Shanice’s shoulder.

“She’s so cute,” Letty gushes, but her voice is low as she seems to be speaking only to herself.

Coco surveys the restaurant with a glance. “It’s pretty slow, you want to help me with something?”

Letty nods.

“I’m gonna bring out a few things,” Coco says as he leads them through the restaurant before landing at a booth near the service window.

Coco throws an arm over Letty’s shoulder and whispers something in her ear as they walk towards the kitchen. By the soothing look in his eyes, Shanice can tell it’s an apology. He doesn’t expect to have his two daughters meet this way, and the weight of the moment doesn’t fully register until now. They go to the back for a while and an older woman with long dark hair approaches the table.

“I’m Vicki,” the waitress greets them. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just a ginger ale for me, please,” Shanice says.

Vicki turns to Olivia, “And what about you, princesa?”

“Apple juice, please,” Olivia speaks slightly muffled, biting the collar of her shirt. Shanice tugs the fabric from between her teeth.

Vicki smiles, giving them both a knowing look before walking away from the table. She wonders how many people Coco has told about what’s happening. Everyone is in on this big secret except Olivia.

Coco and Letty soon walk out with three trays filled with small bowls of toppings. On a single tray was a small tortilla. They place them on the table and Letty seems to linger until the restaurant door opens. She hesitates but leaves to tend to the incoming customers.

“This is kinda like a pizza. We can put anything on it,” Coco explains, picking up the first bowl.

Shanice encourages the moment, “This all looks so good, doesn’t it, Mushroom?”

Olivia only nods, still uncomfortable about her surroundings. She settles onto her knees with her hands flat on the table as she leans closer. She scrunches her face up, squinting with one eye at something in particular. “Where’s a’sauce?”

“We’re gonna spread this on it instead,” Coco says, holding up the bowl of refried beans. He demonstrates spreading it on half the tortilla. “You wanna try?”

Shanice watches as the words spark excitement in Olivia’s eyes. What Olivia actually hears is ‘You wanna help me make a mess?’ Her favorite pastime. She takes the spoon Coco’s offers and starts spreading the beans on the rest of the tortilla.

“Good, now you can put anything you want on it,” Coco tells her, pushing a bowl of shredded cheese towards her.

She dips her little fingers in the bowl and starts sprinkling it all over the pizza, but it mostly gets on the table. She takes some of the cheese from the table in the other hand and stuffs it in her mouth.

“Hey!” Shanice says, briefly tickling both Olivia’s sides, eliciting a loud laugh. She involuntarily brings her arms down to shield her sides. “Don’t eat all the ingredients!” Olivia just eats more, laughing louder.

Coco gets a playful look on his face before taking a small piece of diced tomato. He throws the piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. Olivia is astonished, immediately tries to do the same with the cheese, but it ends up all around her like confetti. Some lands in her hair, but Olivia only laughs again.

“Boy…” Shanice slowly sets her gaze on Coco, giving him a comically blank stare.

Olivia has a diced tomato in her hand aimed like a baseball. She throws the tomato at Coco and he expertly catches it in his mouth. Before Shanice can say anything else, Olivia throws a handful of cheese at her, expecting Shanice to also catch it in her mouth, but it catches her off guard. Cheese falls on her chest and soldiers.

“Sorry,” Olivia sings, but she doesn’t look sorry at all. She’s smiling from ear to ear, stuffing more cheese in her mouth.

Coco lets out a laugh as Shanice eats the cheese from her shirt. In that moment, Shanice can see what Mel found attractive about him four years ago. She notices the dimple in his cheek deepening every time he smiles.

“Love that you taught her that,” Shanice says with playful sarcasm, as she picks cheese out of her hair. “Alright, let’s finish so we can eat the, uh…”

“It’s called a tlayuda,” Coco finishes.

“A yuda?” Olivia questions.

Coco smirks at her pronunciation “Yeah, it’s almost like a pizza.”

“Kay,” Olivia says, focusing on putting more toppings on the tlayuda.

A few moments later, Letty returns with a much neater version of the dish. Her mouth waters at the strips of steak, cheese, and fresh avocado loaded onto the tortilla.

“Sit with us?” Shanice suggests. Letty doesn’t hesitate, sliding next to Coco and bumping him in the process. Coco dramatically crashes into the booth’s half wall, eliciting another giggle from Olivia. Slowly, the little girl Shanice is familiar with begins to emerge.

“Hi, Olivia,” Letty greets her again. She’s trying to make eye contact with a preoccupied Olivia, as if she’s trying to get the attention of the cool kid at school. “I’m Letty.”

“Hi,” Olivia croaks out between haphazard bites of the tlayuda she’s made. She greets Letty out of reflex and immediately looks up when she realizes three sets of eyes are on her. Olivia suddenly plops down on Shanice’s lap, pushing the back of her head against her chest.

“So Letty,” Shanice begins, wrapping her arm across Olivia. “We’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other. I teach over at Damon Pope.”

“Forreal?” Letty asks slyly as she takes out her waitress pen and pad from her apron. She wets the pen with the tip of her tongue. “And which class is that again?”

Shanice lets out a small laugh when Coco’s eyebrows furrow suspiciously. “Why you wanna know?”

“I’m just assuming it wouldn’t hurt to know the teacher personally.”

“I teach English, but I’m kind of known for being a tough grader.”

“Ooh, then forget it,” Letty says, putting her pen and pad down on the table. Coco tsked.

Shanice can’t help but laugh, “Mr. Kochiss teaches British Lit, and I’ve heard a lot of students say that his class has a more…relaxed grading policy,” Shanice says, choosing her words correctly. “But you seem to be a very intelligent girl. If you want a class that’s a little more challenging, I teach Lit Comp. It’s an AP class, but if you’re serious, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“AP?” Letty’s eyebrows raise playfully. “So is that Kochiss with a K or a C?”

“Leticia,” Coco says, his voice coming out as more of a groan.

“Oh, what? I can’t joke now?” Letty asks innocently.

Shanice laughs into her first bite of tlayuda. She has to lean awkwardly over the table because Olivia is still parked on her lap with no intention of moving.

Shanice lets out an unexpected moan when she tastes the food. “This is so good.” She doesn’t realize the way she sounds until she looks up to find Coco’s half-lidded eyes on her. It’s just a flash, but it feels like an eternity when their eyes meet across the table. He quickly averts his eyes down to the table as he taps a song with his fingers.

“When will you…” Letty starts, oblivious to the previous interaction. It pulls Coco’s and Shanice’s attention back. “When are you going to, you know…tell her?”

Shanice loudly clears her throat. “Uh, not for a while. We all still need to get to know each other better. Get comfortable.”

“About that,” Coco interjects. “I was thinkin’ next time we could meet up at the beach.”

Olivia perks up again just then.

“We don’t say eachbay or oolpay or any large bodies of aterway around this one.” Shanice practically hisses the words as she pushes them through her teeth.

“Can we go to the eachbay today? Pleeeease?” Olivia begs.

Shanice threw her hands up in defeat. “Great, now I can’t even say it in pig Latin.”

Coco speaks up, “You know what would be better than going to the beach for just a little while today?”

“What?” Olivia surprisingly doesn’t shy away.

“Staying for the whole day on Saturday. If that’s okay with Shanice, of course.”

Olivia turns around so that she’s kneeling on Shanice’s thighs. The little girl takes Shanice by the face to whisper with wide eyes. “Can we go to the beach on Saddurday?”

Shanice whispers back, mirroring her animated expression. “Yes. As long as you’re good.” Olivia starts leaving greasy kisses all over Shanice’s forehead. “Alright, alright!” she says at full volume now. “Girl, you’re gonna take off my eyebrows.”

“And I could come too, maybe?” Letty asks as Olivia sits back down. For a moment, she’s just a little girl asking to tag along.

“Aye, you gotta be good too,” Coco teases.

Somewhere along the conversation Olivia falls asleep against Shanice’s chest. She looks down at the little girl and is thankful the day doesn’t turn out to be the disaster she’d imagined.